Aunt Bessie Joins Read online

  Aunt Bessie Joins

  An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery

  Diana Xarissa

  Text Copyright © 2016 Diana Xarissa

  Cover Photo Copyright © 2016 Kevin Moughtin

  All Rights Reserved

  For all of the volunteers that help non-profit groups around the world. They work tirelessly on committees and for organizations that wouldn’t be able to do all the good that they do without them.

  Author’s Note

  As this is the tenth book in the Aunt Bessie series, I feel as if there is very little I need to say here. If you haven’t read any of the previous books, I always recommend that you do read them in order so that you can follow the changes and challenges in the characters’ lives. Each story is designed to stand on its own, however, if you prefer to just read a single title.

  If this is your first “Bessie” story, you should know that Bessie first appeared in my Isle of Man Romance, Island Inheritance. She provided the inheritance that brought the heroine of that story to the island. Being that she was already dead when that book began, the mysteries are set about fifteen years before the romance, beginning circa 1998. There are characters that appear in both series, so if you decide to read one of the romances, you may recognise one or two people you encounter.

  As the books are set in the Isle of Man, I use British spellings and terminology for the most part; some Americanisms have probably snuck in, as I now live in the US. I also try to include a few words of Manx in every book. There are translations and explanations at the back of the book for readers in other parts of the world.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Similarly, the names of the restaurants and shops and other businesses on the island are fictional. I’ve also taken considerable liberties with locations within the story, adding fictional shops and restaurants where they are convenient to the story rather than where any shops actually exist.

  The historical sites and other landmarks on the island are all real; however, all of the events that take place within them in this story are fictional. Castle Rushen is an incredibly beautiful medieval castle in what was once the island’s capital city, Castletown. A photo of the castle appears on the cover of the book. “Christmas at the Castle” is an entirely made-up event that also appears in the romance Island Christmas.

  I can’t ever say enough about the hard-working and wonderful people who work for the real Manx National Heritage on the island. My characters who work for MNH are fictional, however.

  The island is a unique and fascinating place; one that I hope to visit again very soon.

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Glossary of Terms

  Other Notes

  Aunt Bessie Knows

  By the Same Author

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “No, no, this is all wrong,” the man shouted, waving his arms and stomping his feet. “I said mauve. This is a sort of purple-red that simply won’t do at all.”

  Bessie bit her tongue and counted to ten before she opened her mouth. She was quite old enough to have learned how to deal with unpleasant and demanding people. “Of course,” she murmured. “We’ll get it taken care of right away. It will be fixed by this afternoon.”

  “See that is,” the man snapped at her.

  “You go and tour the rest of the castle,” Bessie told him. “Mark will be waiting for you right inside the first doorway. I’ll work with Laura to get this sorted.”

  The man made a derisory sound and then stomped across the courtyard and into the main castle building. He was short, about Bessie’s height, so only a few inches over five feet tall. He wore his brown hair in a long ponytail, but it was obviously thinning on top. His clothes seemed to have been chosen at random. His trousers were a vibrant red and green plaid with a silver thread running through it. The jumper he’d paired with them was orange, and the whole effect was almost headache inducing, at least as far as Bessie was concerned.

  Bessie followed a short distance behind him, holding up her hand to stop Laura from speaking. It was only when Bessie heard the man arguing loudly with Mark Blake, Manx National Heritage’s head of special projects, that she stepped back and smiled at the other woman.

  “Bessie, it took three days to put up all of these decorations,” Laura began. “We don’t have the time or the staff to redo the whole thing before the grand opening on Friday, even if we had different decorations to put up.”

  “It’s fine,” Bessie assured her. “It’s a beautiful sunny morning, but it’s going to rain this afternoon. By the time Mark finishes showing Mr. Hart around the castle and they’ve enjoy the lunch that Mark has arranged in the banquet room, it should be pouring. When they come back through here, the ornaments will look a totally different colour, and I’m wiling to bet Mr. Hart won’t hang around in the pouring rain to inspect them anyway. Get Henry to move a few of the larger pieces around and when Mr. Hart comes back through, we can say we hope he likes things better now, without actually saying what we’ve changed.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Laura said. “But I’m not sure it will work.”

  Bessie took down the nearest bauble and held it out to Laura. “Look how different this looks in sun and in shade,” she said as she moved the ornament in and out of the light. “I actually noticed it the other day when I came through. The whole courtyard looks much more purple in the morning and much more red in the afternoon.”

  “But when does it look mauve?” Laura asked.

  Bessie laughed. “Whenever Mr. Hart is here,” she said firmly.

  Laura laughed too, but nervously. “I’ll get Henry,” she said, heading towards the ticket booth.

  Bessie watched her go with a smile on her face. Laura had only been on the island a short time, but Bessie had been working with her for nearly all of that time on Manx National Heritage’s new fundraising event, “Christmas at the Castle.” Bessie was a volunteer, talked into joining the planning committee for the event by Mark Blake, while Laura was a member of MNH’s staff, but the pair worked well together and Bessie was enjoying getting to know the pretty, shy, and bright woman.

  Laura was back a few minutes later with Henry in tow. “I should have known it was all going too well,” Henry said, shaking his head. “We finished the decorating out here last week. I should have known we’d have to redo it.”

  Bessie smiled at the man. In his mid-fifties, Henry had worked for Manx National Heritage since he’d left school. His grey hair was now thinning and his brown eyes needed glasses, but he still had as much enthusiasm for the island’s history as ever. Lately, he also seemed to be developing some enthusiasm for Laura, and Bessie was watching their relationship closely, not wanting to see her old friend get hurt.

  “Laura said Mr. Hart wants all of the decorations out here changed,” Henry said. “We don’t have time for that.”

  “We don’t have to change them all,” Bessie said soothingly. “We’ll move a few pieces around and make sure he doesn’t come back through until it clouds over. I’m sure he’ll see things differently when the light changes.”

  “I hope you’re right,”
Henry said, doubt in his voice. “Mr. Hart seems, well, he’s quite demanding. I found that out when I made him a cuppa.”

  “Don’t you worry about Mr. Hart,” Bessie said with confidence she didn’t feel. “If he gets too demanding, the committee will handle it.”

  Henry and Laura exchanged glances that suggested to Bessie that they didn’t put much stock in the committee’s ability to deal with Christopher Hart and his demands. She didn’t bother to argue, as she knew they were probably right.

  A moment later, a young man with a ladder joined them. Under Bessie’s direction, he moved several of the largest and most eye-catching of the decorations from one location to another. After about an hour, Bessie shrugged.

  “It looks different, anyway,” she said, thanking the man for his help. “I just hope it makes Mr. Hart happy.”

  “That’s not likely,” Henry said sourly. He’d just rejoined Bessie and Laura as Bessie spoke. “He was complaining constantly when I was up there,” he said, gesturing towards the large medieval castle. “He doesn’t like any of the rooms.”

  “I’m not sure I care what he thinks,” Bessie replied. “The charities were permitted to decorate in any way they chose. It isn’t his place to tell them what they can or can’t do. He’s just meant to be making sure the whole thing ties together, whatever that means.”

  “What does that mean?” Laura asked.

  Bessie smiled at the fifty-something brunette and then shook her head. “I wish I knew,” she said. “Carolyn Teare was the person who thought we needed a professional designer to, quote ‘bring the whole project together under one unified festive coherence,’ end of quote.”

  “I’m surprised she managed to talk the rest of you into hiring him,” Laura said.

  “Oh, she hired him,” Bessie told her. “She’s paying for his time as a donation towards the event. The committee couldn’t find a polite way to say no, really.”

  “You should have tried harder,” Henry muttered.

  Bessie laughed. “It will all work out in the end,” she said with pretend confidence. “He’s only here for a few days, after all.”

  “He won’t be here for the grand opening on Friday?” Laura asked.

  “No, he’s far too busy to spend more than a day or two here,” Bessie replied. “I think he’s meant to be flying back to London on Wednesday. I understand he’s starting to film a new television series on Monday next week.”

  “What sort of television series?” Henry wanted to know.

  “I’m hardly the one to ask,” Bessie said. She’d never owned a television in her life and she didn’t feel as if she’d missed anything as yet. “Carolyn said something about a new series about designing the perfect bedroom or something. I wasn’t really paying attention, but apparently home makeover shows are very popular right now.”

  “They are,” Laura confirmed. “I love watching them, although I’m not brave enough to actually try to recreate any of their designs.”

  “It’s all a lot of fuss for nothing,” Henry said grumpily. “As long as you have a roof over your head, what does it matter what colour your walls are?”

  “Oh, goodness, is that the time?” Bessie exclaimed. “I need to get cleaned up for lunch.”

  “I’m helping to serve,” Laura told her. “I’d better get ready as well.”

  “I’m going to find a quiet corner and have my sandwich,” Henry told them both. “If you need anything, ring my mobile.”

  “You take a proper break,” Laura said firmly. “Switch off your mobile and enjoy the peace and quiet. I’m sure the museum will be just fine for half an hour.”

  Henry flushed. “I won’t switch off, just in case it’s you who needs me,” he told Laura.

  She patted his arm and then, after a shy glance at Bessie, kissed his cheek. “Enjoy your break,” she whispered. “We’ll eat better tonight.”

  “We certainly will,” Henry said with a bright smile.

  “I’m making shepherd’s pie tonight,” Laura told Bessie as the two women walked across the courtyard towards the castle’s staff rooms. “Henry really loves my cooking. Although I think we’re both enjoying it rather too much at the moment.” The woman patted her hip and gave Bessie a rueful smile. “I did promise him apple crumble as well.”

  “Henry seems happier than he has in years,” Bessie told the other woman. “If happiness adds a few pounds, it seems worth it.”

  “I’m afraid it’s adding more than a few, though,” Laura said. “I’m going to have to start watching things after the holidays, or I’ll have to start buying bigger clothes.”

  Bessie had always been slender, and aging hadn’t changed that. She credited her daily walks on the beach outside her cottage for her continued good health and fitness, even in what she considered “late middle age.” No one she knew was certain exactly how old she really was, and she wasn’t about to tell.

  A short time later, having changed out of her working clothes and into a skirt and jumper, Bessie washed her hands and then added a touch of powder and some lipstick to her face. “You’ll do,” she told her reflection. The grey-haired woman in the mirror smiled and then winked a grey eye at her.

  She made her way through the castle, unable to stop herself from admiring the many beautifully decorated rooms as she went. Castle Rushen had been originally been constructed in the twelfth or thirteenth century, although it had been added to and changed over the years. The thick limestone walls always had Bessie wondering about the men who had originally been tasked with moving them into place. The castle was divided into many small rooms, some of which had served as prison cells during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Now these tiny, cold and dark rooms glowed with fairy lights and colourful decorations, making the entire building feel almost magical to Bessie.

  “I must remember to thank Mark for asking me to join the planning committee for this,” she said to herself as she walked through one of the larger spaces that was stuffed almost full with Christmas trees. The ones nearest the entrance doorway were entirely covered in red decorations. As you walked through, you journeyed along a rainbow, so that by the time you reached the exit, the trees were all covered in beautiful violet baubles and ribbons. Bessie knew she would have visited the event even if she hadn’t been involved in the planning, but she loved feeling like an insider at such a very special happening.

  “I don’t eat meat,” Christopher Hart was saying as Bessie walked into the banquet room. “Or flour or dairy.”

  “I’ll have to talk to the chef,” Mark Blake said tightly.

  Bessie could tell that he was struggling to count to ten before he lost his temper. She quickly joined the pair.

  “We’ve just finished sorting out the courtyard,” she said brightly. “I’m sure you’ll like what we’ve done much better,” she told the man who was frowning at her.

  “Have we met?” he demanded.

  Bessie swallowed a bubble of laughter. The man was so ridiculously rude it was quite funny, really.

  “I’m Elizabeth Cubbon,” she replied. “We met when you first arrived, but I know you were focussed on the site, not me.”

  “Are you one of the committee people?” Christopher asked. “If you are, I suppose you must call me Christopher.”

  “I am on the committee, yes,” Bessie replied.

  “Well, you lot have a great deal of work to do,” he told her. “Every single room needs changes made. Some of them are absolutely appalling. Thank goodness Carolyn asked me to come over. There’s so much that’s wrong.”

  “We gave the charities free reign,” Bessie said. “They were allowed to come up with their own theme and do whatever they liked in their rooms.”

  “Yes, it does rather show,” the man said. He rolled his eyes. “Of course, they’re all amateurs, which is sweet, but so unprofessional.”

  “I think the rooms are all lovely,” Bessie said softly.

  “What is it that you do for a living?” the man shot back. “Or rath
er, what did you do when you were younger?” he added, after giving her a once-over.

  Bessie was saved from replying by a new arrival. Christopher looked past her before she’d even opened her mouth, and then he rushed away towards the door.

  “Caro, darling, there you are,” he shouted as he crossed the room. “It’s ghastly. Thank goodness I’m here.”

  Carolyn Teare was a very wealthy woman in her mid-fifties. She was always impeccably dressed, and she generally wore a great deal of very expensive jewellery whatever the occasion. Today she was wearing a dark navy suit, with sapphires and diamonds sparkling at her ears and around her neck. Her blonde hair was pulled back in an intricate twist.

  Carolyn had married a very wealthy and somewhat older man when she was in her early twenties, and she’d spent her time since working on keeping her body in perfect shape and volunteering all around the island. Everyone knew that she much preferred positions that would put her in the spotlight but not require her to actually do much of anything. When tasked with actual work, she usually simply threw large amounts of money at the problem, so hiring Christopher Hart to handle things at “Christmas at the Castle” was completely in character.

  Bessie stayed in place as the man walked away. “This isn’t going well,” she murmured to Mark.

  The young man flushed. “That’s a huge understatement,” he replied. “He wants to change every room, he has ridiculously expensive ideas for the room he’s meant to be decorating, and he’s incredibly rude.”

  “The committee will have to stand firm,” Bessie said. “We’re in charge, after all. He’s just meant to be helping.”

  “Carolyn will side with him, of course,” Mark answered. “I hope we can get Mary and Marjorie on our side.”

  “They’re both far more sensible than Carolyn Teare,” Bessie assured him. “I’m sure they’ll both love what the different charities have done.”

  “I need to go and talk to the chef,” Mark said. “Apparently Mr. Hart doesn’t eat anything.”