Aunt Bessie Solves Read online

  Aunt Bessie Solves

  An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery

  Diana Xarissa

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Glossary of Terms

  Other Notes

  Acknowledgments

  Aunt Bessie Tries

  Also by Diana Xarissa

  About the Author

  Text Copyright © 2018 Diana Xarissa

  Cover Photo Copyright © 2018 Kevin Moughtin

  All Rights Reserved

  Created with Vellum

  For Jack and Maggie.

  Author’s Note

  Nineteen? How did we get to book nineteen already? In some ways I feel as if I’ve been writing about Bessie forever, but I also feel as if there are a great many stories left to write.

  I hope you are all enjoying your time with Bessie as much as I am. If this is the first Isle of Man Cozy Mystery that you’re reading, you should know that the books can all be read on their own, but the characters do change and develop as the series progresses. I always recommend reading them in order (alphabetically by the last word in the title). Bessie first appeared in my romance Island Inheritance, although in that title she had just passed away. Unable to let such an interesting character go, I set the cozy mysteries about fifteen years before that series and have been writing about Bessie ever since.

  As ever, I’ve used British and Manx terms and spellings throughout the book. There is a glossary of terms and some notes at the back of the book for readers who are unfamiliar with any of them. Since I’ve been living in the US for many years now, it is increasingly likely that “Americanisms” have snuck into the texts. I apologize for those and try to correct them when they are pointed out to me.

  This is a work of fiction and all of the characters are fictional creations. Any resemblance they share with any real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The Isle of Man is a wonderful and unique place. Any historical sites mentioned within the story are real. The various businesses in the story, however, are fictional and any resemblance that any of them bear to real businesses is also coincidental.

  Please get in touch with any questions, comments, thoughts, or just to say “hi.” I love hearing from readers. All of my contact details are available at the back of the book.

  Chapter 1

  “Bessie? It’s Andrew Cheatham. I understand John Rockwell has spoiled my surprise,” the voice in Bessie’s ear said.

  Bessie grinned. She’d been shocked when John had told her that Andrew was coming to the island for a visit. “John didn’t know it was meant to be a surprise.”

  Andrew laughed. “I didn’t really mean it to be, actually, I was just waiting to ring you until after my plans were finalised. Trying to organise eighteen people isn’t easy, you know.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  “Yes, well, Helen, my daughter, usually takes care of organising all of us, but since she wasn’t particularly interested in visiting the island, she left it all to me. I’ve had to change the dates three times to accommodate children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren who keep insisting on making other plans every two minutes. I’ve finally decided that enough is enough and given up.”

  “Oh, dear,” Bessie sighed. She’d been looking forward to seeing the handsome man again.

  “I haven’t given up on visiting. I’ve just given up on making it a family holiday. I’ve selected dates that work for me and booked a holiday cottage near your home. Last night I rang the children and told them when I’ll be away. If any of them want to join me, they’re welcome, but I’m not waiting for them to decide. I shall be there on the tenth.”

  Bessie glanced at the calendar. “As soon as that?” she exclaimed.

  “Yes, as soon as that. I’ve a conference in London later in the month, and I want to get over while the weather is still good, or at least as good as it ever is over there.”

  “The weather isn’t that bad,” Bessie laughed. “Especially if you like rain.”

  “I don’t much mind the weather, whatever it’s doing,” Andrew told her. “It will just be nice to get away. What exactly I’m getting away from is another matter, of course, being that I’m retired and live a life of leisure.”

  “It’s still nice to have a change,” Bessie suggested.

  “Indeed it is. Anyway, I’m quite looking forward to seeing you again,” the man told her.

  Bessie found herself blushing like a schoolgirl at his words. That would never do, she thought. Andrew was a very nice man, but they were both far too old for anything like a romance. “It will be nice to see you again, as well,” Bessie replied.

  “I’ve a cold case I want to go over with you and John Rockwell. I believe I know the solution, but I’d like to get some different perspectives on it.”

  Bessie shook her head at her foolishness. The man wanted to talk to her and John about a cold case. Romance didn’t enter into the equation at all. “That sounds intriguing.”

  “I hope so. I understand John has a case for me, as well.”

  “He didn’t mention it to me, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”

  John Rockwell was a police inspector with the Laxey CID. Andrew had once worked for the police in London. From what John had told her about the man, he’d held a very important position there. Bessie knew that he’d written several training manuals on investigative techniques. She was sure that both men would enjoy spending time talking about their work.

  “So I shall see you in a few weeks,” Andrew said before he ended the call.

  Bessie put her phone down and looked at the calendar again. She’d need to get her hair cut before his arrival, she decided. After putting a small star on the calendar to remind her of the date, something that she knew was completely unnecessary, she went back to the book that she’d been absorbed in when the phone had rung.

  “He’s arriving tomorrow,” Bessie told her friend Doona a few weeks later. “It seems to have crept up on me rather quickly.”

  “It will be nice to see him again,” Doona replied. “He was wonderful when we had all of that trouble across.”

  Bessie nodded. Andrew had been helpful, especially to Doona, when she and Doona had found themselves caught up in the middle of the murder investigation of Doona’s second husband when they’d been on holiday in the UK. Andrew had been staying in the cottage next door to theirs and he’d quickly become a good friend at a very difficult time.

  “I didn’t realise you’d stayed in touch,” Doona added.

  Bessie shrugged. “We haven’t, really. He rang me once or twice after I got home, but I hadn’t spoken to him in months when he rang to say he was coming. When John told me, I honestly thought that Andrew was planning to avoid me on his visit.”

  “Why else would he visit if not to see you?”

  “The island is a beautiful and special place,” Bessie argued. “I’m never quite sure why more people don’t visit, really.” Bessie had lived her entire adult life in the Isle of Man, and she was still fascinated by its unique history and stunning scenery.

  “Well, your cottage looks even more spotless than usual,” Doona said, glancing around. “You can come and clean my house if you’ve nothing else to do.”

  Bessie shook her head. “I hate cleaning. I do it regularly so there’s never very much to do at any one time, but
if someone invented a self-cleaning house I’d move into it in a heartbeat.”

  “You’d miss your little cottage.”

  “But not cleaning it. You wouldn’t believe how much sand I have to sweep up every day.” Bessie’s small cottage sat right on Laxey Beach. She had incredible views of the sea, and a long beach to stroll along whenever she wanted, but sand was a constant problem.

  “I’d love to live on the water,” Doona told her. “It would be totally worth it.”

  “So buy a house on the water,” Bessie suggested.

  Doona shrugged. When her second husband, whom she’d been trying to divorce, had died, he’d left his entire estate to Doona. She’d already inherited more money than she was comfortable with, and she was finding it difficult to spend. “We’ll see.”

  “Do you think my hair is too short?” Bessie asked.

  Doona studied her friend’s short grey hair. “It looks a tiny bit shorter than normal, but not too short,” she said after a moment.

  “Yours looks better that colour,” Bessie said.

  Doona had tried dying her hair red for a few months, but she’d now gone back to a nice medium shade of brown with a few blonde highlights scattered through it. Bessie thought it suited Doona much better than the red had.

  “Thanks. I simply couldn’t get used to the red,” she sighed. “John hated it, too, although he was too polite to tell me so.”

  Bessie hid a grin. She was convinced that John and Doona were perfect for one another, but they were taking their time reaching the same conclusion themselves. That Doona cared what John thought of her hair was a good sign, however. “I have Victoria sponge for pudding,” Bessie announced as she got to her feet.

  Doona quickly cleared away the dinner dishes, setting them in Bessie’s sink while Bessie cut them each a generous slice of cake.

  “This is wonderful,” Doona said after her first bite. “I’ve been avoiding sweets.”

  “I did notice that you’ve lost more weight.”

  “Not much more. Mostly I’ve just been really busy, but I’ve been trying to avoid eating things that aren’t worth the calories, like cheap chocolate or packet cakes. Your homemade cakes are a different story, though. I don’t know why my cakes never taste this good.”

  “I’ve a few years more experience,” Bessie suggested, not even hinting at how many years that actually might be. She’d stopped counting birthdays at sixty, preferring to simply think of herself as being in her later middle age. Doona, on the other hand, was in her forties, which made the pair unlikely close friends.

  “And I hardly ever bake, and then I get frustrated when I do try something and it doesn’t come out right,” Doona admitted.

  “There are always bakeries. Knowing how to bake cakes isn’t something women need these days, really.”

  “It’s still a useful skill to have,” Doona replied. “For men or women.”

  “Andy Caine is a much better baker than I am.”

  Doona nodded. “Just hearing his name makes my mouth water,” she laughed.

  Andy was a young man who had just gone back to the UK to finish culinary school. He credited Bessie with everything he knew about baking and puddings, but Bessie knew that his talent had taken him past her skill level some time ago. She was pretty sure everyone on the island was looking forward to the restaurant he was planning to open when he finished school.

  After pudding, Doona did the washing up, while Bessie tidied the kitchen for the ten thousandth time that day. It wasn’t like her to fuss over things, but for some reason Andrew’s arrival was causing her some anxiety.

  “What are your plans for tomorrow, then?” Doona asked as she drained away the washing-up water.

  “Andrew will be arriving around one. He’s hiring a car at the airport and driving up to Laxey from there. Once he’s checked into his cottage, he’s going to come over.”

  “And then he’s going to take you out for a fabulous dinner?”

  Bessie laughed. “We haven’t talked about dinner yet. We haven’t talked about anything past his arrival. He’s going to be on holiday. I’m sure the last thing he wants to do is worry about making plans.”

  “I know he and John are meeting on Saturday afternoon. John has a cold case he wants to discuss with Andrew.”

  “And Andrew said he has one he wants to talk about with me and John. I hope we don’t end up talking about crime the entire week he’s here. Of course, he may not be planning to spend more than a couple of hours with me, anyway.”

  “I’m sure he’s going to want to spend as much time with you as he can,” Doona predicted.

  “My goodness, I’d forgotten how lovely you are,” Andrew said the next afternoon when Bessie answered her door.

  Bessie blushed as the man pulled her into a hug. She’d forgotten quite how handsome he was, really, with his military-like bearing. He was bald, but it suited him, and his brown eyes seemed to twinkle with happiness, in spite of everything they must have seen during his years with the police.

  “It’s lovely to see you, too,” she said as he let her go. “Do come in.”

  “But what is your cottage called?” he asked, pointing to the small sign by her door.

  “Treoghe Bwaane,” Bessie replied. “It’s Manx for widow’s cottage.”

  The man repeated the words. “My first Manx language lesson,” he laughed as he followed Bessie into her cottage.

  “Oh, I can do better than that,” Bessie suggested. “Moghrey mie, although it isn’t morning, is it? Fastyr mie, then.”

  “Fastyr mie,” the man repeated. “What have I just said?”

  “Good afternoon,” Bessie explained.

  “And perhaps that is enough Manx for today,” Andrew laughed. “I can’t properly claim jet lag as it was such a short flight, but I am feeling a bit, well, out of my element, I suppose.”

  “I thought you told me that you’d been to the island before,” Bessie said as she ushered the man through to her sitting room.

  “Oh, yes, but during the war, which was a great many years ago. I was only here for a very short space of time and there was a war on. I didn’t have time to see the sites or anything. I don’t even think I knew then that the island had its own language.”

  “Have a seat. Would you like a drink?” Bessie offered.

  “Something cold would be wonderful,” the man replied. “It’s surprisingly warm for September.”

  “It is, at that,” Bessie agreed. “You relax and I’ll get you a fizzy drink.”

  “Perfect.”

  When Bessie walked back into the room a moment later, Andrew was working his way through one of her bookshelves. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist,” he said sheepishly.

  “Don’t be sorry. I do the same thing when I have the opportunity. You can learn a lot about a person by examining his or her bookshelves.”

  “Assuming they have books.”

  “Do some people not have books?” Bessie asked. “I can’t begin to imagine.”

  Andrew smiled and dropped back into a chair. “No, neither can I, but my wife and I were both avid readers and we were fortunate enough to instill the same love of reading into all three of our children. The grandchildren are all great readers, too, and I’m already working on the great-grandchildren, even though they are a bit young to actually read by themselves.”

  “I still can’t imagine what it’s like having as much family as you do,” Bessie told him. “My sister had ten children, but she’s on the other side of the Atlantic, so I’ve never actually met any of them.”

  “Ten children? I can’t imagine that. Three were quite hard work, even if my wife did do nearly all of it.”

  “You’re of a generation where that was expected,” Bessie suggested.

  “Oh, yes, of course, but when I see how much more my sons and then my grandson does at home, I can’t help but think things are moving in the right direction. Of course, my grandson’s wife has a much better job than he does and is much more suc
cessful. It’s only fair that he does his share at home, too.”

  “I met a man the other day who is a stay-at-home father. His wife is a doctor who is frequently on call, so it just makes sense for him to be at home so that she never has to worry about finding someone to look after their baby. He told me that he loves it, as well.”

  “Good for him. It’s a very different world to the one we grew up in, isn’t it?” Andrew asked.

  “Yes, very much so, and it seems to be changing more and more rapidly every day. All of this computer technology is fascinating. I don’t know what you’re thinking about doing while you’re here, but you’ll see a big difference if you visit the two main museums on the island. The Manx Museum is far more traditional, with display cases and the like. The House of Manannan is completely different. There are recreated prehistoric structures and interactive displays and more there.”

  “I’d like to see both,” Andrew said. “I’d be delighted if you could accompany me around the island, as well. I had hoped to make more plans with you in advance, but, well, things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I’ve just had a few health issues lately, that’s all. Part of the reason why my children didn’t want to come to the island was because of my health. They didn’t want me to be so far away from my doctors, in case I needed them.”

  “Oh, dear. I am sorry,” Bessie said.

  “It’s all to do with getting older, that’s all,” Andrew said with a wave of his hand. “But the children kept nagging so much that I wasn’t sure I was coming until I was actually at the airport. Now that I’m here, I can’t believe I ever considered not coming.”