Aunt Bessie Solves Page 8
“I think so, too, although he’s quite shy with women, isn’t he? I’m glad he’s taking things slowly, but I am starting to wonder if he just wants to be friends, rather than anything more,” the woman replied.
“I don’t believe he’s been in very many relationships,” Bessie replied. “If you aren’t sure how he feels, you could try asking him.”
Jasmina blushed. “I’m not sure I could do that, but I’ll think about it. But what would you like to eat?”
Andrew and Bessie both ordered the stew, and when it came it was just as delicious as Bessie had expected. While they were eating, two groups of four came in and took up the other tables. When another group of three arrived, there was nowhere for them to sit.
“I can do you some takeaway boxes,” Jasmina suggested to them.
“We’ll wait,” one of the women said. “We’ve heard you do the tastiest sandwiches on the island.”
Jasmina grinned. “I don’t know about that, but I do my best.”
The little group went back outside to wait. Andrew looked at Bessie. “Maybe we should get our pudding in takeaway boxes,” he suggested.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Bessie agreed. “I won’t be hungry for mine immediately, anyway. This stew is very filling.”
When Jasmina came over to clear the table a few minutes later, they asked her what they could get for pudding.
“I have a Victoria sponge, a chocolate gateau, or a jam roly-poly,” she replied. “I baked them all this morning between the breakfast rush and the lunch crowd.”
“You do seem to be busier every time I come in,” Bessie said.
“I’m getting more and more word-of-mouth advertising,” the woman said happily. “I’m actually looking around for a larger space, but everything is terribly expensive. Richard rented this for me for six months. That was all he ever did for me, really, but that’s another matter. Anyway, I have a few months left on the lease so I need to work out what I’m going to do soon. If I can’t find anything larger, I suppose I could stay here for another six months, but we’ll see.”
“I’ll have the chocolate gateau,” Andrew told her, “but box up our puddings and we’ll take them home. You need the table.”
“Are you sure?” Jasmina asked. “I don’t want you to feel as if you have to leave.”
“I’m not ready for pudding yet, but I don’t want to miss out on a slice of your chocolate gateau,” Bessie said. “Box them up and we’ll get out of the way.”
Jasmina looked as if she wanted to argue, but someone at one of the other tables called her name and she had to rush away. When she came back a few minutes later, she had their boxes and their bill.
Andrew took the bill before she could even put it down.
“Perhaps tonight should be my treat,” Bessie suggested as Andrew pulled out his wallet.
“I said I was buying while I was here,” he reminded her. “As I would pay considerably more than this for a single cold sandwich in London, you mustn’t feel the least bit guilty.”
Bessie didn’t argue, as she knew Jasmina’s prices were very low. They would probably go up if the woman moved to a larger location, but Bessie knew people would pay more for the woman’s excellent cooking. She had argued with Jasmina about her pricing more than once, but the woman always insisted that she needed to build up her business before she started charging more.
Outside, the group of three had been joined by a group of four who were also, presumably, waiting for a table. A small cheer went up as Bessie and Andrew walked out of the building.
“What did you have?” someone shouted at them.
“Beef stew, and it was excellent,” Andrew told him. A few people cheered again.
“I hope you didn’t get the last of the chocolate gateau,” someone else said.
Bessie glanced at Andrew, and he smiled at her. “No worries. I’ll protect your pudding.”
Bessie laughed. “I’m sure there’s plenty for everyone,” she said to the crowd. Just in case she was wrong, she picked up her pace, though. Andrew followed her to his car.
“You were nearly running there,” he said as he started the engine.
“I was afraid Jasmina might come out and tell them she was out of chocolate gateau.”
“Maybe we should have John step up his patrols here. I’d hate for a fight to start over a slice of cake.”
“Jasmina said she just baked today. Things should be okay for tonight.”
“I certainly hope so,” Andrew laughed.
As it was still early, Bessie suggested a drive along the coast road. They drove in silence for several minutes before Andrew pulled off the road and stopped the car.
“This view is amazing,” he sighed. “I’d love to have a house that looked out on this view.”
“There are several houses on the cliff above us,” Bessie pointed out. “I don’t know if any of them are for sale, though.”
“My children would have a fit if I moved to the island.”
“Do they visit you in London often?”
Andrew laughed. “No, not at all. But they all plan to visit quite regularly, and talk about visiting nearly all the time. They’re all just incredibly busy with their lives, you see.”
Bessie bit her tongue. It wasn’t her place to comment, really.
“Can we walk for a bit here?” Andrew asked.
“Of course we can. There’s a public footpath alongside the road.”
They both got out of the car and walked over to the path that was nearly at the water’s edge. “Which way should we go?” he asked.
“It’s probably best to go that way,” Bessie said, gesturing. “I think the tide is still coming in. The path in the other direction may get covered before the tide has finished.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying the view. After a while, Andrew reached over and took Bessie’s hand. She almost pulled her hand away, but then decided that it was pleasant strolling along hand in hand. Bessie felt as if she could walk forever, but after twenty minutes or so Andrew stopped.
“We should turn around. I’m getting tired quickly.”
“Of course,” Bessie agreed.
The walk back to the car took longer as Andrew walked more slowly. When they finally reached it, Andrew sat in the driver’s seat for several minutes, seemingly catching his breath. “I’m sorry about that,” he told Bessie eventually. “As I said, I’ve been having some problems with my health. I’m meant to be walking. The exercise is good for me, but I forget that I can’t simply walk forever. I get tired much more quickly than I should.”
“I’m sorry that you haven’t been well. I hope all of the sea air will do you some good,” Bessie replied.
“I’m sure it already has. That and the wonderful company,” Andrew said, glancing at Bessie.
She was glad the sun was setting as she could only hope he couldn’t see how much she was blushing from the compliment.
“But we need to get back and have our puddings,” Andrew exclaimed. “I nearly forgot about my gateau.”
When they reached Bessie’s cottage, Andrew pulled into the parking area next to it. “As my cottage is quite close, I may just leave my car here, if that’s okay with you,” he told Bessie. “The car park for the cottages is considerably busier than this.”
“Of course you can leave your car here,” Bessie assured him.
They made their way into Bessie’s cottage where she switched the kettle on straight away. “I shall want tea with my pudding,” she said.
“Tea sounds wonderful.”
A few minutes later they were sitting together at Bessie’s table with tea and their boxes from the café. Andrew took a few bites of his gateau and then sighed. “This is incredible. I need to holiday here more often.”
“You know you’re always welcome,” Bessie said. She felt herself flushing again and quickly focussed on her cake. “This was worth defending,” she told Andrew after she’d eaten the last bite.
“I think we’d probably have to walk to Douglas and back in order to work off all of that cake,” Bessie laughed. “I’m always happy to walk on the beach, though.”
Darkness had fallen while they’d been eating, but the moon was large and bright in the clear sky. Lights in the holiday cottages helped to show them their way as well. Bessie headed for the sea first and then turned at the water’s edge to walk along the wet sand. Andrew took her hand again as they went.
“I’m sure the sea air has restorative properties,” he said after a short while.
“I credit it for my long and healthy life,” Bessie replied.
They walked as far as Thie yn Traie before turning around. Bessie found herself watching Andrew closely, worried about his running out of energy, but he seemed fine. When they reached his cottage, he stopped.
“Maybe we should go inside and check my email,” he suggested. “There may be something there from my colleague in Switzerland.”
“Oh, yes, let’s,” Bessie agreed. She hoped he’d have a reply and that it would be interesting.
At first glance the cottage didn’t really look occupied. Andrew was obviously keeping most of his things in the cottage’s bedroom. There was a spare pair of shoes near the front door and a raincoat hanging on the hook behind the door, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest that anyone was staying there.
“Have a seat,” he told Bessie. “I’ll just go and get my laptop.”
Bessie sat down on the couch and frowned. The furniture in all of the cottages looked considerably more comfortable than it actually was. Andrew was back a moment later. He sat down at the small dining table and opened his laptop. Bessie crossed to him and sat in the chair next to his.
The small machine clicked and whirred for what felt like several minutes before anything happened. Bessie waited patiently while Andrew did what he needed to do. After a minute, he looked over at Bessie.
“I suppose I’d consider this bad news, really,” he said. “My colleague has tracked down the woman I’ve been calling Abby. She died in a skiing accident about twenty years ago.”
“He’s sure it was an accident?” was Bessie’s first thought.
Andrew nodded slowly. “It happened in Canada. The police there were convinced that it was an accident, anyway. My colleague is going to ask them for a copy of the full report, but he doesn’t want to suggest in any way that they were negligent or anything, so he’s treading very carefully.”
“What about the other women?”
“He hasn’t found any of the others yet.”
“And where was Cindy when Abby died?”
“He doesn’t know that, either. She was out of prison by then, of course, but she could have been anywhere in the world.”
“What about the charity?”
“He doesn’t know anything about that. It was a UK charity and he didn’t feel any need to investigate it. He never even found out the name, so I shall have to start by looking for Betty’s will to find out that detail. I know just the person to do that, fortunately. If you’ll pardon me for a minute, I’ll send an email.”
“You have Betty’s real name?”
“I do. My colleague was kind enough to share it in his reply. I won’t tell you, though, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” Bessie assured him. While he was typing, she tried to think what Abby’s death might mean. It may have genuinely been an accident, of course, but she was highly suspicious of accidents, especially under the circumstances.”
“Abby was on a skiing holiday in Canada?” Bessie asked when Andrew was finished sending his email.
“That’s what my colleague said.”
“She wouldn’t have been alone,” Bessie mused. “That’s a long way to go for a holiday, as well.”
“She had plenty of money and probably quite a few friends who would have been happy to go with her.”
“I wish we knew more about that holiday.”
“I do, too, but hopefully we’ll get more information tomorrow. I’ll send my colleague a long list of questions, but he can only tell me what he can learn from the Canadian authorities, of course.”
“He should concentrate on finding Cindy,” Bessie said. “I can’t help but think that she’s the key to the whole case.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you, and I believe my colleague would agree as well. From what he said in his email, finding Cindy isn’t proving all that easy, though.”
Bessie sighed. “So now we just have to sit back and wait.”
“Unfortunately, yes, at least for that case. We still have John’s murder to solve, though.”
“I haven’t forgotten, but your case intrigues me more.”
“I’m flattered, but I’m quite interested in the death of Jeanne Stowe, especially as it appears that no one had a motive.”
“If I’ve learned anything from all of the different cases I’ve been involved with over the past year and a half, it’s that motives for murder can spring from just about anywhere. Besides that, they often don’t make sense to anyone other than the killer.”
Andrew nodded. “You’re right, of course, but from what I’ve seen of John Rockwell, he’s good at his job. There’s something about this case that’s bothering him, which suggests to me that something was missed the first time around. I think talking to the various, um, witnesses could prove interesting.”
“I’m happy to talk to anyone and everyone. If nothing else, it will help fill in the time while we wait for your colleague to get back to us.”
“I should give him a name, too,” Andrew laughed. “We keep calling him my colleague, which is sounding more and more awkward every time I hear it. Let’s call him Lukas, as I had another Swiss colleague called that.”
“We could probably use his real name. I’m highly unlikely to ever meet the man,” Bessie suggested.
“I’d rather not. I know I spent too many years working with MI5 and MI6 on different operations, but I prefer to keep things as anonymous as possible whenever I can.”
“You’ve had an interesting life.”
“I have, really, and most of it I can’t discuss,” Andrew laughed. “I can tell you a few stories, if you’d like to hear them. I’ll change all of the names, of course.”
“Of course,” Bessie laughed.
They moved over to the couch and sat together. Andrew told Bessie stories for hours, stopping to make tea after a short while and then continuing until Bessie was struggling to keep her eyes open.
“I’m boring you,” Andrew said as Bessie yawned.
“Not at all,” she replied quickly, “but it’s getting late and I’m nearly always in bed before now.”
“I should get you home, then. Tomorrow is another day.”
“And I shall be up at six, no matter what time I go to bed.”
“I usually set my alarm for seven, but I nearly always wake up well before it. I’m not great at sleeping these days, really. Maybe the sea air here will help with that as well.”
“I hope so, for your sake,” Bessie said. She rarely had difficulty sleeping, but she’d heard enough horror stories about insomnia to worry about it anyway.
Andrew insisted on walking Bessie back to her cottage. “I’ll just check that everything is okay,” he said when they reached it.
“Everything will be fine,” Bessie told him. “You may stick your head in the door if you really want to, but that will be more than enough checking for tonight.”
Andrew walked quickly through the ground level of Bessie’s cottage. “I won’t go upstairs,” he told her. “You know where I am if you need me.”
“I do, indeed,” Bessie agreed.
“What are we doing tomorrow, then?” he asked in the cottage doorway.
“Maybe we should find out about a loan,” Bessie suggested. “If Amanda McBride is free to discuss the matter, that is.”
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bsp; “And then we could have lunch in Port St. Mary,” Andrew suggested. “I’ll leave it up to you to decide where we eat.”
“I suggest we have a big lunch somewhere before we head to the café where Mabel works,” Bessie replied. “I think it would be best to go there for pudding or ice cream only.”
“If they do ice cream, I’ll be happy.”
“You only think you’ll be happy,” Bessie muttered.
“What time shall I collect you?”
“The bank opens at nine, but it’s only a short drive from here,” Bessie told him. “We actually drove past it today when we went into Ramsey.”
“I’ll collect you at about quarter to nine, then. I’d suggest we meet earlier and go somewhere for breakfast, but I’m going to try to stick to the diet my doctor gave me, for breakfast, anyway. Porridge and fruit is just about all I can eat.”
Bessie made a face. “I’d rather eat cereal, I think.”
“I can have cereal, as long as I chose from a very short list of incredibly healthy cereals. Luckily for me, I actually like porridge.”
“I hate it, but I wouldn’t mind the fruit part.”
“It’s my favourite part, too. Anyway, I’ll see you around half eight, quarter to nine.”
“I’ll be ready to go,” Bessie promised.
She let the man out and locked the door behind him. It was past her usual bedtime, but she suddenly felt rather wide awake. There were bookshelves all around the cottage, and it took Bessie several minutes to locate the book that she wanted. One of her friends had once gone on a skiing holiday and she had brought Bessie back a book full of glossy photos and glowing descriptions of various ski resorts around the world.
After getting herself ready for bed, Bessie climbed under the duvet and switched on her bedside lamp. She flipped through the pages, stopping when she reached the section on Switzerland. Page after page of gorgeous pictures of snowy white mountains were followed by brief guides to the different resorts. Bessie wondered whether Andrew would tell her which ski resort the women had been staying at when Betty died. She read all of the short resort descriptions, shaking her head at the level of luxury offered by some of them. She couldn’t imagine holidaying at a chalet with its own chef making gourmet meals three times a day, but clearly other people enjoyed such things. When she was done with Switzerland, she opened the book to the section on Canada.