Aunt Bessie Finds (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 6)

  Aunt Bessie Finds

  An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery

  Diana Xarissa

  Text Copyright © 2015 Diana Xarissa

  Cover Photo Copyright © 2015 Kevin Moughtin

  All Rights Reserved

  To the wonderful people of the Isle of Man who made

  us so welcome when we lived there.

  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 Goes

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  Welcome to the sixth book in the Aunt Bessie, Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Series. The book titles are in alphabetical order so that you can be sure you are reading the series in the right sequence. Every book is designed to stand on its own, but I think they’re best read in order so you can watch the characters grow and develop.

  For those of you who don’t already know, Aunt Bessie began her existence in my Isle of Man Romance Island Inheritance. She was the source of the inheritance there, so I’ve set the cozy mystery series about fifteen years before the romance, beginning the series in March 1998. The series moves along slowly, each book being set in the month following the previous book.

  There are characters who appear in both series (obviously, they are older in the romance series), so if you read the romances, you’ll find out more about some of the characters in Bessie’s world. You don’t need to read the romances to enjoy Bessie, and each romance is meant to be a stand-alone title, although some characters do appear in more than one book in that series as well.

  The romances and the cozies are both set on the Isle of Man. It’s an amazing little island in the Irish Sea. While it is a crown dependency (relying on the British Crown for defense and immigration control, among other things), it is an independent country with its own government, stamps and currency. It is approximately thirty-two miles by fourteen miles, which means you are never far from the sea, but each part of the island has its own unique character.

  Around eighty-five thousand people are lucky enough to call the island home. Many find employment within the banking and finance sector, but tourism, farming and even the space industry also offer opportunities to residents.

  The cover photo shows a section of the sunken gardens on the Douglas Promenade. The photo was taken in 2014, so it isn’t exactly how things would have looked in Bessie’s time. If I had known when I moved to the island in 1998 that I would one day be writing these books, I would have taken a lot more photos of the scenery for cover art!

  This is a work of fiction and all of the characters within it are fictional. Any resemblance between them and any real person, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The names of shops and businesses on the island are fictional as well. Manx National Heritage is real, but the employees of MNH in this story are entirely made up. Similarly, the Isle of Man Constabulary is real, but the policemen and women in this book are entirely fictional (and probably don’t behave at all like they should).

  All of the Bessie books are written using British English, with a smattering of Manx thrown in. Please see the Glossary of Terms and Notes in the back of the book for translations and explanations. As I’ve been living in the US for the last six years, it is probable that a few Americanisms and American spellings have snuck into the text. I do apologise for that and if you point them out to me, I’ll correct them.

  I hope you enjoy this little peek into life on a small island. I greatly enjoyed the time I spent living there and I hope to return to the island one day.

  Chapter One

  It was early August and it was already quite warm when Bessie woke up on a sunny Tuesday morning. She glanced at her clock and smiled to herself. It was one minute after six, the perfect time to wake up, at least in her opinion. She stretched and then got out of bed and had a quick shower. After patting on her rose-scented dusting powder and getting dressed, she headed down the stairs to her small kitchen.

  It was too warm for toast, she decided, so she fixed herself a bowl of cereal with milk to go with her tea. It was never too warm for tea, of course. Breakfast out of the way, she headed out for her regular morning stroll along the beach. She’d been walking up and down this beach for more years than she wanted to remember, and the addition of a row of holiday cottages a short distance from her home didn’t interfere with her routine.

  The cottages were full to overflowing this time of year, of course, but as it was still quite early in the morning, Bessie had the beach almost entirely to herself. In a short while, as small children began to wake up, the beach would begin to feel quite crowded. By that time, however, Bessie would be busy with other things.

  Back at her own little cottage, Bessie forced herself to focus on a few projects she’d been putting off. She’d given a paper at the Manx Museum in May and she’d never finished editing it for publication. The deadline for submitting it was fast approaching and she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. In the spare bedroom she used as an office, she got down to work.

  By eleven she felt like the end was in sight. A couple more hours on another day would finish the job. Now she had to get ready for lunch with a friend, though. Bessie changed into a light cotton dress and added matching low heels. She combed her short grey hair and added just a light dusting of makeup to her face. She frowned at the sticky feeling the lipstick she applied gave her lips. She rarely wore makeup and every time she did wear a bit she remembered why. With one last glance in the mirror, she headed back down the stairs.

  Having never learned to drive, Bessie relied on friends, public transport and a small taxi service to get her around the island she called home. She’d booked today’s taxi several days earlier and now she waited impatiently for the driver to arrive. Bessie hated being late for anything, even something as casual as lunch with a friend.

  She needn’t have worried, though, as Dave, her favourite driver, arrived right on time.

  “Good morning, Bessie, my dear,” he said as he climbed out of the car to hold the passenger door open for her. “My schedule says you’re off to Douglas this morning.”

  “Yes, I’m having lunch with a friend,” Bessie told him.

  “I do hope you’re all recovered from all of the recent unpleasantness,” Dave said, looking at her intently. “I’d hate to think my favourite passenger wasn’t at her best.”

  July had been a difficult month for Bessie, on top of several unsettling events in the months that preceded it. Bessie was still recovering emotionally from it all. She was starting to think that a change of scenery might be nice and was thinking seriously about a visit to Derbyshire.

  She’d recently met the Markham sisters when they had been holidaying on the island. She and Janet Markham had been corresponding back and forth since the sisters had returned home. Janet was very keen on having Bessie visit them and Bessie was beginning to think that some time away might improve her mood. Dave didn’t need to hear all of those things, though.

  Instead, Bessie smiled at the man. “I’m fine,” she told him, the words coming slightly more easily off her lips now than they would have even a week
earlier.

  “That’s good to hear,” Dave told her. He started the car and pointed it towards Douglas, chatting amiably with Bessie about nothing at all as they went. He dropped her off, as requested, on the Douglas promenade.

  “I’ll have to ring when I’m finished,” she told him. “I have no idea how long I’ll be visiting.”

  “I’m going to stay in Douglas for a while,” Dave told her. “I have a few hops around the area to do. Hopefully, I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

  “That would be nice,” Bessie told him with a smile.

  She made her way across the promenade towards a short road that ran behind it. Her friend lived in a small flat in a fairly recently built building just behind one of the hotels that made up the bulk of the properties along the sea front. A moment later, she was pressing the buzzer for her friend’s flat on the panel by the front door.

  “Hello?” a voice crackled at the intercom next to the door.

  “Bahey? It’s Bessie.”

  “Ah, come on up.”

  A moment later a loud buzz filled the small entryway as Bessie pulled on the glass entry door. The door suddenly unlocked and opened, allowing Bessie to step into the tiny foyer. There was a rather fat man with untidy hair sitting behind a small desk in one corner, and he smiled at Bessie.

  “Do you know where you’re headed?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks,” Bessie replied.

  Bahey had given Bessie very specific instructions for finding her, so now Bessie pushed the call button for the lift and waited patiently for it to arrive. She could feel the man at the desk watching her and she had to force herself not to turn around and speak to him. Bahey had warned her that once you started a chat with the building manager, you’d be there for hours, and Bessie didn’t want to risk being late for lunch.

  The car finally arrived and carried Bessie up to the first floor. Bahey’s flat, number eleven, wasn’t far from the lift. Bessie lifted her hand to knock on the door, but Bahey pulled it open before she knocked.

  “There you are,” Bahey exclaimed, putting Bessie into a hug. “I was worried that Nigel had started talking at you. I was afraid I was going to have to come down and rescue you.”

  Bessie laughed. “I remembered your warning and I completely ignored the poor man,” she told her friend.

  “Ha, the poor man kept me talking so long one day when I went to get my post that my dinner burned up,” Bahey replied.

  “Which just meant that I had to take her out for a meal, instead,” a rich baritone chimed into the conversation.

  Bessie smiled at the man who’d joined Bahey in the doorway.

  “Ah, Bessie, you remember Howard, right?” Bahey asked, flushing.

  “Of course I do,” Bessie said with a smile, as she took the man’s outstretched hand.

  “Anyway, you should come in,” Bahey said, clearly somewhat flustered.

  Bessie smiled and followed the others into the flat. The entryway opened into a living space that was larger than Bessie had been expecting. The room was graciously furnished with a mix of antiques and modern pieces that had obviously been carefully selected and arranged.

  “This is lovely,” Bessie exclaimed.

  “Thanks,” Bahey blushed. “The Pierces gave me a lot of bits and pieces over the years and I have a few things that were my mother’s as well. Joney had the lot until I moved back, but I dare say she was happy to offload some of them to me now I’m settled here. Her house was already full when mum died.”

  Bessie smiled. “It’s amazing how much we accumulate without even trying,” she said.

  “I moved over here with next to nothing,” Howard told her. “My daughter and her husband moved into the house that my wife and I had shared. When I decided to move across here, I figured it would be better to leave the furniture and everything else with them and start fresh.”

  “How long have you been here?” Bessie asked.

  “About six months,” Howard replied.

  “And is your flat just about full already?” Bessie couldn’t help but ask.

  Howard laughed. “Absolutely,” he said. “I’m running out of places to put things, which is silly, because I don’t feel like I’ve bought much of anything.”

  “There isn’t enough storage in these flats,” Bahey said. “I ran out of room ages ago. I keep buying more wardrobes and cabinets to put things in.”

  Bessie laughed. “I have two spare bedrooms and I haven’t enough space for all the things I’ve acquired over the last, um, many, many years. Although my biggest problem is books.”

  Bahey shook her head. “I don’t read all that much,” she said. “Although I’ve been doing more of it in the last few years than I ever did when I was working. I try to get all my books from the library, though, so that I don’t end up keeping them.”

  Bessie grinned. “I should do more of that,” she said.

  “Oh, but please have a seat,” Bahey said, shaking her head. “I don’t know where my manners are today.”

  Bessie sat down on a comfortable-looking sofa that was angled to take in the view out the large window. From her seat, she had a somewhat obstructed view of the promenade. Mostly what she could see was the back of the hotel and their small car park.

  “I know the view isn’t much,” Bahey said with a sigh. “I can see more of the sea from my bedroom, though, and the location is very convenient. I couldn’t have afforded a flat with a real sea view. Those buildings are very expensive.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re in this building,” Howard said with a smile. “Otherwise, we might never have met.”

  Bahey flushed. “There is that,” she said, looking down at the floor.

  Bessie smiled at her friend’s reaction. She’d known Bahey for many years, as Bahey had grown up in Laxey, where Bessie had lived since the age of eighteen. Bahey was about ten years younger than Bessie, so Bessie rather felt as if she’d watched the other woman grow up. Bahey had spent most of her working years across, as nanny and then housekeeper to the wealthy Pierce family. The family had spent every summer on the island, though, so Bessie had never totally lost touch with her friend.

  After some thirty years of service, Bahey had retired a few years ago. She and Bessie were working on renewing their friendship in spite of Bahey’s decision to settle in Douglas. As far as Bessie knew, Bahey had never dated when she was younger, and Bessie was enjoying watching her friend working cautiously into something like a relationship with Howard Mayer.

  Bahey was around Bessie’s height, with grey hair and brown eyes. She tended towards plump, but Bessie was sure that her friend had trimmed a few pounds from her frame recently. Howard was several inches taller than the two women, and mostly bald. His eyes were grey and they sparkled with a real enthusiasm for life that Bessie found attractive. He seemed kind and his old-fashioned manners added to his appeal.

  Now he smiled at Bessie. “My flat is right next door,” he told her. “So I have a rather similar view. It was the first flat that I saw that was within my budget, and I was thrilled to have even an obstructed view of the sea. Bahey tells me that you have wonderful views from every room in your cottage, though.”

  Bessie smiled. “I live right on the beach,” she replied. “But I bought my cottage so long ago that it was very affordable.”

  “I’d love to see it some day,” Howard told her. “Maybe Bahey and I could pay you a visit one afternoon, or something.”

  “I’d like that,” Bessie said. “You’re more than welcome, both of you.”

  A buzzing noise from the small kitchen interrupted the conversation. The kitchen itself was more like a corner of the large room than a space of its own, and Bahey jumped up quickly.

  “That’ll be lunch ready,” she said, crossing the room in a few steps. She grabbed oven gloves and pulled open the wall oven. Bessie’s stomach growled as wonderful smells reached her nose.

  Bahey pulled a casserole dish from the oven and then carried it carefully to the
small table that took up another corner of the large room. There were four chairs around the table, but only three place settings were laid.

  “Come on, then,” Bahey called. “Let’s not be too formal.”

  Bessie and Howard joined Bahey at the table. A bowl of salad was in the centre, with a basket full of bread rolls beside it. Bahey placed the steaming casserole next to the rolls and stuck a spoon in it.

  “Everyone help yourselves,” she invited. “It’s just a cottage pie,” she said to Bessie. “It was quick and easy.”

  “And it smells wonderful,” Bessie said. Howard waited politely until the ladies had fixed their plates before fixing his own. The trio ate quietly for a few moments.

  “Bahey, this is delicious,” Bessie said after several bites. “The rolls taste homemade.”

  “They are,” Bahey replied. “But they’re nothing special. I used to make all sorts for the Pierces, before Mrs. Pierce decided that they needed a proper chef, that is.”

  “If you wanted to make things like this for me every day, I would never complain,” Bessie told her.

  “Me either,” Howard said, patting Bahey’s hand. “But you know I love your cooking.”

  Bahey flushed. “Oh, but I’ve forgotten drinks,” she said, jumping up from the table. “Bessie, what would you like?”

  “Oh, anything,” Bessie replied. “Something cold would be nice, maybe iced tea or something fizzy?”

  “I can do iced tea,” Bahey assured her. She took a large pitcher from the refrigerator and poured out three glasses full of tea, carefully adding ice cubes to each glass. Howard jumped up and carried two of the glasses across the room for Bahey.

  “Oh, thanks,” Bahey said as she rejoined the others at the table, carrying her own glass.

  The conversation over lunch ranged from the weather to the state of the island’s economy. Once lunch was finished and Bahey had served generous helpings of a Victoria sponge, the conversation finally came around to the reason for the luncheon.