Aunt Bessie Considers
Aunt Bessie Considers
An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery
By:
Diana Xarissa
Text Copyright © 2014 Diana Xarissa
Cover Photo Copyright © 2014 Kevin Moughtin
All Rights Reserved
Author’s Note
Welcome to the third book in the Aunt Bessie Cozy Mystery series. For those of you who are new to Aunt Bessie’s world, Bessie first appeared in my Isle of Man Romance, Island Inheritance, as a distant relative of the heroine and the source of the inheritance that brings her to the island. That meant, of course, that Bessie had passed away not long before that book began. Her life story was told primarily through letters and diaries.
Unwilling to let go of such a wonderful character, I brought Bessie back to life to appear in my cozy mystery series. In order to accomplish this, I’ve set the cozy mysteries about fifteen years before the romance. The series begins, therefore, around 1998. I’ve tried to be careful with setting the stories in the recent past, especially with technology.
Some characters do make appearances in both the Aunt Bessie series and in my romance novels. In the mystery series they are younger versions of themselves and that gives readers a bit more background about them, should they be interested. The romances are all intended to stand on their own, however, as is the Aunt Bessie series.
I’ve used British spellings and British and/or Manx words and terminology throughout the book (although one or two American words or spellings might have slipped past me). A couple of pages of translations and explanations, mostly for readers outside of the United Kingdom, appear at the end of the book.
The Aunt Bessie stories are set in the Isle of Man, a small island located between England and Ireland in the Irish Sea. While it is a Crown Dependency, it is a country in its own right, with its own currency, stamps, language and government.
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.
The Manx Museum is real (and appears on the cover) however, all of the events that take place within it in this story are fictional. Manx National Heritage (MNH) is real and their staff work incredibly hard to preserve and celebrate the island’s unique history and culture. All of the Manx National Heritage staff in this story, however, are fictional creations. Please see the notes at the end of the book for more information about the Manx Musuem.
The Isle of Man Constabulary is also real; however, their members in this story are very much fictional and I’m sure I have them behave in ways that their real-life counterparts never would.
Manx Archeology and History Conference
Schedule of Events
Friday, 15th May
6:00 p.m.
Welcome Reception
Come and enjoy a glass of wine with hors d’oeuvres.
Education Level Foyer
7:00 p.m.
Dr. Harold Smythe will open the conference.
“An Update on the Isle of Man’s Roman Past.”
A.W. Moore Lecture Theatre
9:00 p.m.
American-style “Dessert Bar”
Enjoy tea and coffee with a selection of brownies, biscuits and other “American-style” sweets.
Education Level Foyer and Kinvig Room
Saturday, 16th May
8:00 a.m.
Registration and Breakfast
Education Level Foyer
10:00 a.m.
Session One:
Dr. Joseph Steele.
“What Paleogeography Taught Me About Archaeology.”
A.W. Moore Lecture Theatre
OR
Dr. Michael Brown
“Seventeenth Century Pottery Finds and Unique Origins.”
Kinvig Room
12:00 Noon
Lunch
Manx Museum Café (ground floor)
2:00 p.m.
Session Two:
Marjorie Stevens
“The Hidden Treasures in the Manx Museum Archives.”
A.W. Moore Lecture Theatre
OR
Bus Excursion
Visit Rushen Abbey and Castle Rushen for short tours led by experts in their history and archaeology.
Buses will load in front of the museum and leave promptly at 2:00 p.m. They will return to the Museum in time for dinner.
4:00 p.m.
Round Table Discussion
Join many of our guest speakers as they discuss alternative approaches to archaeology and history and how best to work together to deliver the best possible research.
A.W. Moore Lecture Theatre
6:00 p.m.
Italian Buffet Dinner
Manx Museum Café (ground floor)
7:30 p.m.
Session Three:
Paul Roberts
“Putting Manx Archaeology into a Wider Context.”
A.W. Moore Lecture Theatre
OR
Dr. Claire Jamison
“Island Doesn’t Mean Isolation. Considering the Similarities and Differences in Prehistoric Cultures on Anglesey and the Isle of Man.”
Kinvig Room
9:00 p.m.
Tea and Coffee
Education Level Foyer
Sunday, 17th May
8:00 a.m.
Registration and Breakfast
Education Level Foyer
10:00 a.m.
Session Four:
Mary Morgan, Gary Rose, Steve Duncan and Doug James
Join four of our favourite researchers as they each give a twenty-minute “short talk.” There will be a ten-minute question-and-answer session after each talk.
A.W. Moore Lecture Theatre
OR
Dr. William Corlett
“On Establishing a Centre for History and Archaeology on the Isle of Man, Possibilities and Problems.”
Kinvig Room
12:00 noon
Lunch
Manx Museum Café (ground floor)
2:00 p.m.
Session Five:
Elizabeth Cubbon
“Surprising Secrets from Nineteenth-Century Wills.”
A.W. Moore Lecture Theatre
OR
Dr. Karen Cross
“Harvesting Prehistoric Pollen; a Look at Environmental Archaeology on the Isle of Man.”
Kiving Room
4:00 p.m.
Closing Remarks
Join Dr. Harold Smythe and Ms. Marjorie Stevens as they discuss what they’ve learned over the weekend.
A.W. Moore Lecture Theatre
Chapter One
Bessie’s taxi was late. She looked at her watch again and sighed deeply. She had plenty of time to get where she was going, but she’d ordered the taxi for half five, and it was now twenty-five to six and the car was nowhere in sight.
Elizabeth Cubbon, “Bessie” to nearly everyone in the village of Laxey, hated being late. She was due at the Manx Museum at six o’clock and if the taxi didn’t hurry, she might not make it on time. She sighed again and then pulled her mobile phone from her handbag.
“Doona, it’s Bessie,” she said when her call was answered. “I just need to talk to someone while I wait for my taxi or I might just work myself into a real state.” Doona’s laugh made Bessie smile in spite of her anxiousness.
“I told you I could take you to the museum,” Doona reminded her.
“But you don’t have any interest in coming to the conference,” Bessie replied to her close friend. “There isn’t any point in your driving me all the way into Douglas for a conference you don’t want to attend.”
“I’m just not that interested in history and archaeology,” Doona said in an apologetic voice. “I’m coming to hear your talk on Sunday, though.”
Bessie shuddered. “I’m trying hard not to think about that right now,” she told Doona. The blast of a car horn interrupted the conversation. “Oh, that’s my car,” Bessie said. “I’ve got to run.”
Doona said a quick goodbye before Bessie disconnected and dropped the phone back into her bag. As she locked her front door behind herself, Bessie frowned. The dark hair and unnecessary sunglasses she could see through the vehicle’s windscreen told her that Mark Stone, her least favourite driver, was behind the wheel of the car that was waiting for her.
“Hurry up, love,” he called to Bessie now. “I’ve got a pickup at the Sea Terminal after I drop you off.”
“You wouldn’t have to rush so much if you’d been on time,” Bessie couldn’t stop herself from saying as she climbed into the cab.
“Oh, I stopped for a quick extra fare on my way to your place,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I knew you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit. It isn’t like you’re going anywhere important, is it?”
Bessie bit back a dozen angry replies. “Actually, I’m going to the opening evening of the Manx Archaeology and History Conference at the Manx Museum,” she told Mark in carefully measured tones. “I’m giving a paper on Sunday and tonight is the opening address.”
“Gonna talk about your childhood?” Mark laughed. “I’m sure you’ve lived through a whole lot of history.”
Bessie bristled at the rude reference to her age. It wasn’t like the driver was a young man; he had to be in his late fifties or early sixties. Bessie sighed to herself. She’d stopped counting her birthdays once she’d turned sixty, but that had been a good many years ago now. One of these days she would have to admit to herself just how old she really was. But not today.
“I’ve been doing research into wills from the nineteenth century,” she told Mark. “And I’m working on learning how to read handwriting from even earlier times so that I can help with research into those periods as well.”
“So this conference thing is all weekend, is it?” Mark demanded.
“Yes, it starts tonight with an opening address and then there are a number of papers being given tomorrow and Sunday. Everything wraps up late Sunday afternoon.”
“At the museum in downtown Douglas?” Mark checked.
“Yes, are you interested in attending?” Bessie worked to keep the scepticism from her voice.
Mark just laughed. “Hel, er, um, heck no,” he told her. “I did enough history at school, thank you very much. But if there’s lots of folks from across here for the conference, they’ll be lots of folks needing taxis, won’t there? Maybe I’ll ask the boss to rotate me into Douglas for the weekend.”
“As I understand it, all of the attendees from off-island are staying at one of the big hotels on the Promenade. They’ll be able to walk to the museum from there. The museum is having the whole thing catered, so no one will have to go anywhere for meals, either. I think I’m probably the only person who is going to need a taxi to get back and forth.”
Mark shrugged. “From what I’ve seen of the schedule, it looks like Dave is going to be doing most of your picking up and dropping off.”
Bessie smiled. “That’s good to know,” she replied. “Now I’ll know who to look for in the crowds.” Dave was her favourite driver by far, but she didn’t want to say as much to Mark.
“Why aren’t you just staying in Douglas?” Mark asked.
Bessie wondered if he was genuinely curious or just making conversation. “It only takes a few minutes to get back and forth,” she pointed out. “Anyway, I prefer to sleep in my own bed every night, and I love my little cottage.”
“Aye, and I can see why, with your spot on the beach and all,” Mark agreed. “Anyway, there’s no place like home, right?”
Moments later he pulled up along the road behind the Manx Musuem. “Wanna hop out here and walk?” he asked in a hopeful voice. “The car park is such a nightmare.”
Bessie thought about arguing, but she could see the queue of traffic trying to turn into the tiny museum car park. It would take far longer for Mark to get into the car park to let her out near the door than it would for her to walk the short distance.
“This is fine,” she told him. “Have them put the trip on my account.”
Mark nodded and was gone before Bessie had taken more then a few steps. She made her way towards the museum, watching with interest as more cars arrived and parked. She spotted several familiar faces and waved to a few old friends as she reached the museum’s front door.
The museum’s foyer felt quiet and cool. The day had been warm, especially for the middle of May, but the museum was comfortable. The foyer was unexpectedly empty and Bessie figured she must have just missed one crowd of people and beaten the next. She waved a quick hello at the two men sitting at the information desk. They knew her on sight and one of them quickly handed her a registration packet.
“The conference schedule is inside,” Doug told Bessie. “If you have any questions, Henry and I are going to be here all weekend.”
Bessie thanked him, wishing she had time to chat with them further. They were both old friends, but she didn’t want to arrive at the welcome reception any later than necessary. No doubt she would have plenty of opportunities to talk with Henry Costain and Doug Kelly throughout the weekend.
The lift whisked her up to the building’s top floor quickly and quietly, but the noise that greeted Bessie when the doors opened was considerable. She left the lift and walked into the spacious foyer of the museum’s “education” level with a small sigh. Already there were way too many people around for her to feel completely comfortable. The welcome reception was due to last until quarter to seven and Bessie was suddenly sorry that Mark hadn’t been even later than he had. She’d forgotten how much she disliked crowds.
She began to work her way around the room, sticking to the edge of the crowd that appeared to number somewhere near a hundred people. She could only hope that they weren’t all planning to attend her talk on Sunday. While she’d been giving papers at these sorts of conferences for years and she loved sharing her research, she still wasn’t totally comfortable in front of a large group of people.
Many of the faces she saw were familiar, but only in an “I know that person from somewhere” sort of way. Bessie knew that she ought to recognise some of the more important historians and archaeologists that were there, but at the moment she felt too overwhelmed by the noise and sheer number of people in the small space to start making sense of them all.
She headed towards the long table where food and drinks were being offered. That seemed the best place to station herself while she gathered her thoughts. She could get herself a drink and try out a few of the hors d’oeuvres without looking like she was avoiding talking to people. A few steps away from her goal, however, she was intercepted.
“Bessie? How wonderful to see you again.” Helen Baxter sounded nervous and slightly desperate as she took Bessie’s arm. “And thank goodness I found you. I was about to hide in the ladies’ loo until time for the talk to begin.”
Bessie laughed lightly. “Now don’t do that,” she told the woman. “Everyone is very friendly; you could have started a conversation with anyone.”
Helen looked at Bessie sceptically. “I tried to start a chat with one guy and he was so insulted that I didn’t know who he was that he scared me off doing anything more than nodding and smiling at the rest.”
Bessie laughed again. Helen was a very pretty blonde in her mid-thirties; Bessie couldn’t believe that any man wouldn’t be happy to have her strike up a conversation. Helen was a nurse at Noble’s Hospital with a special interest in the medical history of the island. She’d only recently started doing some of her own research and attending conferences and she wouldn’t previously have had a chance to get to meet many of the people at this one
.
“Which guy?” Bessie asked.
Helen wrinkled her nose and then looked around the room. “That’s him, over there,” she gestured towards the far corner of the room. “The man with the unnaturally dark hair. The one with the overinflated blonde hanging on his arm.”
Bessie turned to see which man Helen was talking about. “Oh my,” she replied. “His date doesn’t look like the sort of person who usually attends these things.”
“She must have been in the loo or something when I tried talking to him,” Helen said. “He was standing on his own and so was I. I was just being friendly.”
Bessie took another look at the mismatched couple. “That’s Mack Dickson,” she told Helen. “He’s an archaeologist.” Looking around to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard, Bessie leaned in closer to Helen. “He likes to think he’s more like Indiana Jones than a serious scholar, if you know what I mean?”
Helen grinned. “He’s too old and fat to be Indiana Jones,” she giggled.
Bessie smiled. “He’s in his mid-forties and he only comes to these sorts of things when he thinks he has something shocking and terribly exciting to announce. I wonder what he’s doing here?”
Helen shrugged. “I have no idea. I didn’t see his name on the programme.”
Bessie nodded. “He isn’t on the programme. I’m sure of it.”
“What about his sexy blonde girlfriend with the huge, um, assets? Does she usually come along?” Helen asked.