Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) (12 page)

“When I first
heard that a body had been found, I immediately thought of poor Myrtle
Kincaid,” he replied.
 
“Mary Carr
used to watch her, you know.”

“I didn’t
know,” Bessie said.

“She loved
kids.
 
She minded just about every
child in Laxey, especially in the summer months.
 
I gather the Kincaid family were close
friends with one of the families she did a lot of minding for, and they
recommended her.
 
The
Kincaids
paid her extra for driving back and forth to
Lonan
.”

“Well, it
certainly wasn’t Myrtle that they found in the King house,” Bessie said.
 
“Is there anyone else it might have
been?”

Spencer shook
his head.
 
“I don’t know of anyone
else that went missing around that time, or even that moved across or
anything.
 
In those days it seemed
to me like nothing ever changed at home.
 
I suppose that’s why I was so shocked when I heard that Adam had moved
to Australia.”

“Who told you
that he’d moved?”

“I was good
friends with Hazel Gelling in those days.
 
She was just about the only person I stayed in touch with, really.
 
She rang me one night towards the end of
September and told me.”

“Do you
remember what she said?” Bessie asked.
 
Before the man could answer, she held up a hand.
  
“I know
,
that’s a dumb question.
 
It was
thirty years ago.”

Spencer nodded.
 
“I tried to remember this afternoon,
when I was talking with Inspector Rockwell, but it’s all fuzzy.
 
She actually rang to tell me about her
own plans to move to Manchester.
 
I
was studying in Liverpool and she was hoping we could get together once she
came over.
 
At some point, she
mentioned that Adam had gone, but I can’t recall exactly what she said.”

“Maybe she’ll
remember,” Bessie said with a sigh.
 
“I understand the inspector is arranging for her to be questioned.”

“She didn’t
come back for her mother’s funeral,” Spencer said, sadly.
 
“I was hoping to see her there.
 
I haven’t seen her in, oh, twenty-five
years or more.”

“It always
surprises me when I think about old friends and then
realise
just how long it’s been since I’ve seen them,” Bessie told him.
 
“Time passes much more quickly than it
should.”

“You’re right
about that,” Spencer agreed.

He drove her
home and walked her to her door.
 
“Thank you for everything,” he told her.

“Thank you for
dinner,” Bessie replied.
 
“Next time
you must let me treat.”

“That sounds
good,” he said.

Bessie was
lost in
thought
as she got ready for bed.
 
It bothered her that Adam was able to
simply disappear like he had.
 
She
supposed it would be harder for such a thing to happen today.
 
Kids all seemed have mobile phones now and
appeared to be in touch with one another constantly.
 
But surely Mark had missed his
friend?
 
And Mark would have known
if his friend was actually considering a move halfway around the world, as
well.

She knew that
John Rockwell was looking for Mark.
 
Bessie decided that if the investigation were hers to conduct, finding
Mark would be her top priority.
 
He
was the one person who should have missed Adam and not believed Frederick and
Nancy when they said he’d moved away.
 
Sarah had trusted her parents enough to ignore her doubts, but Mark wouldn’t
have been that trusting of the Kings.

Snuggling down
with an old Agatha Christie mystery that she’d read at least a hundred times,
Bessie read slowly through the familiar story.
 
While the surprise ending was no longer
a surprise for her, she still loved the way Christie constructed her
stories.
 
Bessie read until she
couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.
 
She slept restlessly, and her dreams were full of Belgian men with huge
mustaches, wielding magnifying glasses.
  
They kept circling around her and
whispering, “Find Mark,” in heavily accented English.

Chapter
Seven

Bessie woke up
feeling more tired than she had when she went to bed.
 
A longer than normal shower went some
way towards waking her up.
 
She
didn’t usually drink much coffee, but today she set a pot brewing before a
short walk up and down the beach.
 
After the second cup, she’d managed to put the ludicrous dreams out of
her head.

After a
second, somewhat longer walk, Bessie was feeling almost back to normal.
 
At home, she sat down at her phone and
began to ring her friends.
 
Someone
on the island had to know where Mark Carr was, if he’d actually come
across.
 
Her first call was to
Doona.

“I know I’m
not supposed to get involved in police investigations,” Bessie began when her
friend came on the line.

“I hear a
‘but’ coming,” Doona laughed.

“I was just
wondering if John had had any luck in tracking down Mark Carr,” Bessie
said.
 
There was no point in Bessie
spending all day hunting if the man had already been found.

“I’m glad you
asked,” Doona told her.
 
“John
actually asked me to ring you and see if you could ring around to a few of your
friends.
 
He’s hoping someone out
there might know where the man is.”

“Really?
 
That is good news, because that’s
exactly what I was planning to do,” Bessie replied.

“Here’s what
we know so far,” Doona said.
 
“Mark
definitely bought a ferry ticket as a foot passenger, and someone used the
ticket.
 
You know their security
isn’t always as good as it could be, but in theory he had to show
identification when he boarded.”

“I don’t
suppose there are any security cameras that might have recorded his departure
or arrival?” Bessie asked.

“They aren’t
quite that sophisticated, at least not yet,” Doona told her.
 
“Most of the cameras that are in place
are monitored, but don’t record.
 
The ones that do record overwrite themselves every twenty-four hours.”

“Terrific,”
Bessie muttered sarcastically.
 
“And
once he got to Douglas he disappeared without a trace?”

“Pretty much,
assuming he actually arrived in Douglas,” Doona told her.

“Are you
suggesting he jumped off the ferry?” Bessie asked.

“It has,
sadly, been known to happen,” Doona told her.
 
“We don’t have any reason to believe
that the man was suicidal, although we also have no explanation for his
disappearance.”

“And he hasn’t
been in contact with his mother’s advocate?
 
I’d have thought he’d be eager to get
his hands on his inheritance.”

“Scott Meyers
is going to get in touch if he hears anything,” Doona replied.

“I didn’t
realise
that Nancy used Scott Meyers as her advocate,”
Bessie exclaimed.
 
“I thought he
only handled Grant Robertson’s affairs.”

“From what I
understand, he works for Grant, but does a few things here and there at Grant’s
request.
 
Remember that Frederick
worked with Grant for many years when they were both younger.
 
Apparently, after Frederick passed away
rather young, Grant made a point of looking after his widow in some small ways,
like providing her with an advocate when she needed one.”

“Interesting,”
Bessie said.
 
“I don’t suppose
anyone has asked Grant Robertson if he’s seen Mark?”

Doona
laughed.
 
“As we’ve no evidence that
the two ever met, that seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”

Bessie hung up
and fixed herself a cup of tea while her brain processed what she’d heard.
 
She didn’t like Grant Robertson, but, as
Doona said, there was no reason why he’d have ever met Mark, even if he did
know Adam.
 
There must have been
hundreds of people who’d worked with Grant over his long career at the island’s
main bank.
 
It was probably unlikely
that he would remember Adam, who’d only run errands at a small branch somewhat
distant from the corporate headquarters where Grant had his offices.

Sarah had told
her that Adam had had disagreements with the man, but having met Grant, Bessie
was fairly certain that wasn’t especially unusual.
 
There was no doubt in her mind that
Grant would have been a difficult person to work under.
 
Presumably, Adam had only been given his
job because of his father.
 
Perhaps
that connection wasn’t enough to help him keep his job if he disrespected his
father’s boss.

Tea in hand,
Bessie began ringing people.
 
Everyone wanted to hear every gory detail about her finding the body
behind the wall, and they all seemed disappointed when she told them that she
hadn’t actually seen a thing.

“Not even one
skeletal hand, stretched out as if trying to escape?” one woman had asked.

“I didn’t see
anything at all,” Bessie answered firmly.
 
“And you have an overactive imagination.”

The same woman
was certain that she’d seen Mark Carr, but when she told Bessie that he’d been
wandering around her back garden, wearing a fuzzy bathrobe and slippers, Bessie
quickly ended the call and immediately rang the woman’s daughter.

“Your mother seems
to be having trouble with reality,” she told the younger woman.

“Yeah, she
keeps getting everything confused,” the woman agreed.
 
“I have a nurse coming in every
afternoon to check on her, and we’re looking for a place for her where she can
be more closely watched.”

Bessie hung up
feeling sad.
 
The daughter had
thanked her profusely for her concern, but Bessie felt shaken.
 
One of her biggest fears was dementia
and it upset her when she saw signs of it in her friends.
 
She rang a few more people and ended the
morning feeling better.
 
None of her
friends were any help, but most of them were in good health and spirits.
 
As most were in their seventies or
eighties and still going strong, Bessie decided not to waste any more time
worrying about her own mental health.

Lunch was soup
from the freezer with some crackers and more tea.
 
Bessie had left one important phone call
for last.
 

“Mary?
 
It’s Bessie.
 
I was wondering if you’d like to have
lunch with me tomorrow.”

Mary Quayle
was usually happy to meet with Bessie, unless she already had other plans.
 
On this occasion, she apparently didn’t,
as she was quick to agree.
 
Bessie
hung up and spent some time thinking through what she wanted to discuss with
her friend.

Mary was a few
years younger than her husband, George, a man somewhere in his sixties.
 
Bessie had only recently found out that
George had begun his career working at the Manx National Bank with Grant.
 
Apparently George had only spent a few
years there, before moving across and starting his own business.
 

Over the
years, George had met with great success running a number of companies, selling
everything from cars to insurance.
 
He’d chosen to retire to the island, bringing his wife and their adult
children with him.
 
Bessie liked the
man well enough; he was friendly and generous with local
organisations
,
especially Manx National Heritage, even if she could only appreciate his brash joviality
in small doses.
 

Mary, on the
other hand, was quiet and rather shy.
 
Bessie found herself liking the woman more and more as she got to know
her.
 
Mary had recently complained
to Bessie about the amount of time George was spending working on projects with
Grant Robertson.
 
Now Bessie
wondered just how close the two men were and whether George had ever worked
with young Adam King.
 
Mary hadn’t
met George until after he’d moved across, but she might be able to provide some
background information.
 
Anyway, it
gave Bessie a good excuse to have lunch with her friend.

Friday was wet
yet again, but Bessie had too much to do to worry about the weather.
 
She took a quick walk and then waited
for her regular taxi to take her into Ramsey so that she could do her weekly
grocery shop.

“Just
ShopFast
today,” she told Dave on the drive.
 
“I’m meeting a friend for lunch later,
so I don’t have time to explore the bookstore and the rest of Ramsey.”

She arranged
for him to collect her somewhat earlier than normal and headed into
ShopFast
.
 
Hoping she’d be early enough to avoid at least a few of the people who
always wanted to chat, Bessie’s heart sank when she spotted Maggie
Shimmin
in the bakery department.

“Ah, Bessie,
how are you?” Maggie greeted her.
 
She was a plump woman in her fifties.
 
She and her husband owned the holiday
cottages next door to Bessie and she enjoyed nothing more than gossiping about
her
neighbours
.

“I’m well,
thanks.
 
How are you?” Bessie
replied almost mechanically.

“Oh, can’t
complain,”
Maggie
replied.
 
Bessie stood patiently as Maggie then
spent five minutes complaining about her recent health.
 
“Still, mustn’t complain,” the woman
finally concluded.

“Indeed,”
Bessie murmured.

“But what’s
this about finding a body at the King place?” Maggie asked.
 
“I remember young Adam King, of course,
but my mother warned me about him when I was a girl and I stayed well away from
him.”

“The police
aren’t sure
who
they’ve found,” Bessie told her.
 
“They’re doing DNA testing now, but
apparently that takes some time.”

“Can’t imagine
who else it would be.
 
They’d have
known right away if it was Myrtle Kincaid, I reckon.”

“They’re
pretty sure it was a man in his late teens,” Bessie replied.

“So there you
go, Adam
King,
has to be.”

Bessie grabbed
a baguette and bit her tongue.
 
There was no point in arguing with Maggie.

“I hear you’re
hunting for Mark Carr,” Maggie said as she poked a few bread rolls before
turning away from them.
 
“Now
there’s a man I wouldn’t mind seeing again.”

“Really?”
Bessie asked.
 
“Why’s that?”

Maggie flushed
and glanced back and forth.
 
“He was
my first proper boyfriend, if you know what I mean,” she said.
 
“I hope he’s gone fat and bald since he
dumped me for Hazel Gelling right after I finally let him, well, never mind
that.”

“You know he’s
been in prison for many years,” Bessie told her.

“Oh, aye, but
that never surprised me.
 
He was a
troublemaker back when I knew him.
 
That was part of his appeal, really.
 
My mother was horrified when she found
out I was seeing him, which made him all that more attractive.”

Bessie
nodded.
 
“Well, I think you made the
right choice with Thomas,” she said.

“Oh, he’s a
good guy, my Thomas.
 
Not exciting,
like, but a good guy.
 
He worked
hard at the bank for many years, he did, and now he runs those holiday cottages
like a proper business.
 
I don’t
mind telling you that we’re making more money from them than we ever did from
his banking career, even if the hours are a lot longer.”

“Did Thomas
work with Grant Robertson, then?” Bessie asked, suddenly making the connection.

“Well, Grant
was the managing director at the bank while Thomas was there, but I don’t know
that he ever so much as spoke to Thomas.
 
My Thomas is a good, steady fellow, but he never managed to make it past
assistant branch manager.
 
I doubt
Mr. Robertson even knew Thomas’s name.”

“Which branch
was Thomas at?”
Bessie asked, certain that she could remember
the man working in the Laxey office.

“Oh, he
started out as a teller in Port St. Mary,” Maggie told her.
 
“Actually, I bet he worked in every
single branch, at least for a year or two, over the years.
 
He did do his final six years at the
Laxey branch, which was nice, because I’ve been a Laxey girl my whole life and
I wasn’t moving every time he got moved around at work.”

“I’m sure that
working in Laxey much nicer for him, then,” Bessie said.

“Yes, well,
you’d never have known,”
Maggie
replied.
 
“He is something of a complainer, my
Thomas.”
 
With that she spun her
trolley around and headed away from Bessie.
 

“Let me know
if you hear from Mark,” Bessie called after her.
 
Maggie waved, and Bessie took that as a
“yes.”

Aware that
time was getting away from her, Bessie sped through the store as quickly as she
could.
 
She was only stopped around
half a dozen times to answer questions about what she’d seen in the King
home.
 
By the time she’d finished
shopping and managed to get everything paid for, Dave was already waiting in
the taxi rank outside.