Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) (26 page)

“Doona, so
glad you could make it,” she said to her friend as she ushered her in.

“I can’t stay
long,” Doona said.
 
“But John said
he was bringing fairy cakes.”

“I did,” John
told her.
 
“Lots of them.”

Doona smiled
for a moment, but Bessie could see that she wasn’t her usual cheery self.
 

“Are you
okay?” she whispered to Doona as the men began fixing their plates.

“Yeah, just a
bit, well, distracted by everything that’s going on,” Doona told her.
 
“Grant sent me five dozen roses this
morning, with a note from his business manager detailing an incredibly generous
job offer.
 
I’m not sure what to
do.”

“Put it out of
your mind for a few hours and focus on the case at hand,” Bessie
suggested.
 
“Or focus on the lovely
food and the fairy cakes.”

Doona
chuckled.
 
“I’ll try,” she said.

The foursome
ate quickly, with Hugh getting through three plates of food to everyone else’s
single helping.
 

“How’s Grace?”
Bessie asked after he’d sat back down with his third helping.

“She’s great,”
Hugh said, his eyes shining.
 
“December seems a long way off, but I want to make the proposal special
and I keep thinking that doing it on Christmas, in front of her family, will be
the best way to do it.”

“It’s
romantic,” Bessie said.
 
“But I
think Grace will just be happy to be asked, whenever you get around to doing
it.”

Hugh
nodded.
 
“I know, but I only plan on
doing this once in my life, so I want it to be memorable.”

Doona
sighed.
 
“Neither of my proposals
were memorable, which is probably for the best, since I don’t especially want
to remember either of them.”

Everyone
laughed.

“How did you
propose?” Bessie asked John.
 

He
flushed.
 
“Actually, Sue proposed to
me,” he said.
 
“Did Sarah’s brothers
have anything interesting to say?”

Well, that’s
changed the subject, Bessie thought.
 
“They said they thought that Adam got the job at the bank by
blackmailing their father into it,” she replied.

“They said
something similar to me, although they didn’t seem to have any idea what Adam
might have blackmailed their father about,” John told her.

“He was having
an affair,” Bessie said.
 
“Apparently he had a girlfriend in London that Nancy didn’t know about.”

“Poor Nancy,”
Doona said.
 
“And how sad that her
children knew and didn’t tell her.”

“I think she
was happier not knowing,” Bessie said.
 
“She was madly in love with Frederick.
 
Finding out that he was cheating would
have been very hard on her.”

“I’d still
rather know,” Doona said.

“Couples
didn’t often get divorced in those days,” Bessie pointed out.
 
“In the fifties and sixties you expected
to be married for life.
 
If your
husband cheated, you cried or got angry, but you stayed.
 
Maybe she did know, but turned a blind
eye to it.
 
At least he didn’t have
a girlfriend here on the island.”

“Does that
make it more likely that Frederick killed Adam, then?” Hugh asked.

“I don’t
know,” Bessie said thoughtfully.
 
“Blackmail is such a dangerous undertaking.
 
I find it hard to think of Frederick as
a killer, but then I barely knew the man, and they say everyone is capable of
murder under pressure.”

“We’re still
going through the evidence, but so far there’s nothing that we’ve taken from
behind that wall that suggests that anyone other than Frederick and Nancy were
involved in hiding the body,” John said.
 

“But what
about Mark?” Bessie asked.

“We’re looking
very hard for Nigel Green,” John replied.

“Why would
Nigel put Mark’s body in Mary Quayle’s storage unit?” Bessie asked.

“That’s one of
the first questions I have for Nigel,” John answered.
 
“It’s possible he didn’t know who the
unit belonged to and he just wanted to get rid of the body.”

“So what
possible scenarios are there for the two deaths being connected?” Bessie asked.

“We are
looking into events from thirty years ago,” John told her.
 
“But as most of the key players are
deceased, it’s proving quite difficult.”

“I can’t help
but think that it’s tied to Adam’s job,” Bessie mused.
 
“Like he saw or heard something at the
bank that he shouldn’t have.”

“You’re trying
to pin something on Grant,” Doona said.
 
“He was only a junior manager back then and he didn’t even know Adam.”

“He knew Adam
well enough for Adam to complain about him to his sister,” Bessie
countered.
 

Doona opened
her mouth, but Bessie held up a hand.

“I’ll admit
that I don’t like the man and I don’t trust him, but you have to agree that
he’s a connection between the two dead men.
 
He worked with Adam, and Mark was hiding
in a building that he owns.
 
Nigel
worked for Grant; if Grant asked Nigel to hide Mark, he would have done it.”

“Or Mark and
Nigel might have become friends in prison and Nigel agreed to help him out, or
any other of a dozen things,” Doona argued.
 
“I think you’re looking for some
thirty-year-old conspiracy that simply doesn’t exist.”

“It must be
time for the fairy cakes,” Hugh said loudly.
 

Bessie blinked
and looked at him, the words taking a moment to sink in.
 
Then she laughed.
 
“I’m sorry,” she said to Doona.
 
“I don’t want to fight with you.”

Doona
nodded.
 
“I know, I’m just a bit,
well, things are just weird right now.”

“I’ll get the bakery
box,” Hugh offered.

Bessie
laughed.
 
“Go ahead,” she told the
man.

Hugh put the
box in the
centre
of the table.
 
Inside were a dozen fairy cakes in
several different
flavours
.
 

“I get
chocolate,” Doona announced as Bessie passed around small plates for everyone.

“Me, too,”
Bessie said.
 
“Although those white
ones are really pretty.”

No one spoke
while the sweet treats were being eaten.
 
Doona and John both had a second cake, while Hugh managed three.
 
Bessie felt stuffed after her single
one.

“Those were
wonderful,” Doona said, wiping icing off her fingers.

“They came
from that little bakery in Ramsey,” John told her.

“I was
thinking while I was eating,” Doona said.
 
“There’s another person that connects Adam and Mark.
 
What if George Quayle is the one who’s
involved in both deaths?”

Bessie
frowned.
 
“I like George,” she
said.
 
“And I really like Mary.
 
I hope he isn’t mixed up in all of
this.”

“But he used
to work at the bank with Adam, just like Grant did,” Doona persisted.
 
“And he is partners with Grant on the
property on Seaside Terrace.
 
Not
only that, Mark’s body was found in George’s storage unit.”

“And that’s
the one thing that makes me think it wasn’t George,” Bessie said.
 
“Surely he’d be smart enough to hide the
body somewhere other than his own storage unit.”

“Maybe he
planned to move it, but he didn’t get time,” Hugh suggested.
 

“Both men are
being looked at,” John said quietly.
 
“But that fact isn’t to leave this room.
 
They are both very wealthy and
influential people who have a lot of friends in very high places.”

“Which doesn’t
mean they should get away with murder,” Bessie said.

“No, but it
does mean they can afford the very best in legal representation.
 
We have to be sure, if we go after one
or both of them, that our case is very strong.”

“Are you going
after one or both of them?” Doona asked.
 

“At the
moment, we’re still investigating a number of leads,” John said.
 
He shook his head.
 
“At least that’s the official line.
 
In truth, Adam’s death is pretty much a
dead end, if you’ll pardon the unintentional pun there.
 
And with Nigel missing, we’re struggling
to figure out Mark’s murder as well.”

“Is Nigel your
number one suspect?” Bessie asked.

“He has to be
at this point,” John told her.
 
“We’re certain that Mark was staying in his storage unit and the
wardrobe that the body was found in has been identified by his mother as one of
her old furniture pieces.
 
Apparently Nigel told her that he sold all of her belongings, but
instead he put them in storage in
Jurby
.”

Bessie sat for
a moment, thinking hard.
 
“I don’t
know what I can do to help,” she said eventually.
 
“None of my sources here in Laxey will
know anything about Nigel.
 
Someone
has to be hiding him, but who?”

“We’re
considering the possibility that he’s left the island,” John said.
 
“At this point, that actually seems like
the most likely scenario.”

Bessie shook
her head.
 
“This is very
frustrating,” she said.
 

“If he’s gone
back across, he’ll turn up eventually,” John told her.
 
“He won’t be good at keeping himself out
of trouble.”

Bessie
nodded.
 
“So what do we do now?” she
asked.

“Talk to
people.
 
See if anyone can remember
any more about Adam or Mark.
 
I’m
going to look into the woman in London who was involved with Frederick
King.
 
I can’t imagine there’s
anything there, especially after all this time, but it’s worth checking, or at
least that’s what I’m telling myself, as I’m rather out of leads.”

“Let’s have
lunch tomorrow,” Bessie suggested to Doona as her guests prepared to leave.

“I’m not
sure,” Doona said.
 
“I’ll ring you.”

She was gone
before Bessie could argue.
 

“I didn’t want
to upset Doona,” John told her at the door.
 
“But I’m looking very closely at Mr.
Robertson.
 
I don’t trust the man
and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s mixed up in this somewhere.”

Bessie frowned
as she shut the door behind John and Hugh.
 
She needed to do something to get Doona away from Grant.
 
She looked at the clock.
 
It was too late to ring anyone tonight,
but tomorrow she was going to talk the person she should have rung first.

Chapter Fourteen

A rainy
morning meant a shorter than normal walk for Bessie the next day.
 
She’d showered, dressed and eaten cereal
with milk before she left, but she felt chilled all the way through by the time
she got back to her cottage.
 
She
made herself another pot of tea and slid bread into her toaster.
 
Her second breakfast made her feel
better before she grabbed her phone.

“Mary, it’s
Bessie.
 
I was wondering if you have
time to get together today?” she said when her call was connected.

“I’d love to,”
Mary said.
 
“But the decorators are
here.
 
George is having a couple of
rooms redone yet again.
 
I have to
be here so he can ask my opinion on carpets and drapes and furniture, even
though he won’t really listen to what I say.”

Bessie
chuckled.
 
“I’m sure it isn’t that
bad,” she said.

“No, I suppose
not,”
Mary
laughed.
 
“Anyway, since I’m stuck in, why don’t
you come here?
 
I’ll send a car for
you in about an hour and you can stay and have lunch with me.
 
I’m sure George will have an appointment
somewhere or something.”

“I didn’t ring
to invite myself over,” Bessie said.

“No, but
you’re more than welcome.
 
You can
even give George your thoughts on the various shades of cream he’ll be
considering for the walls.”

Bessie
laughed.
 
“If you’re sure, I would
really like to talk to you today.”

“I’m sure,”
Mary said firmly.
 
“I’ll send a
car.”

Bessie changed
into somewhat nicer clothes, conscious that Mary was always immaculately
dressed.
 
She dusted some powder
across her nose and gave her lips a coat of lipstick.
 
Mary also always had perfect makeup, but
Bessie wasn’t about to do more than that.
 
She ran a comb through her hair, grateful that it was short enough that
the rain hadn’t bothered the style.
 

It seemed only
a few minutes later that someone knocked on her door.
 
She opened it to the same driver she
remembered from previous visits to the Quayle mansion.

“How are you
this morning, ma’am?” he asked politely.

“I’m fine,”
Bessie said.
 
“How are you?”

“I’m very
well, thank you.”

Bessie chatted
with the man all the way to Mary’s door.
 
They talked about the weather, local restaurants and European
politics.
 

“Thank you for
the ride,” Bessie told him as he helped her out of the car.

“It’s always a
pleasure to drive you,” he replied.

Mary must have
been watching for the car, because she was already rushing down the front steps
to join them.

“Ah, Bessie,
there you are,” she said, taking Bessie’s arm.
 
“Come in and see what a mess we have
going on.”

They made
their way up the steps and into the foyer.
 
“They’re working in the east wing,” Mary told Bessie.
 
“I promised George I would come and
check on things as soon as you arrived.”

They walked
down a long corridor into a section of the house that Bessie was sure she’d not
seen before.
 
Halfway down another
hall, Mary stopped and opened a door.

The room they
entered had breathtaking views over the sea.
 
It was empty, with bare floors and walls,
and George was standing in the middle of it waving his arms around and yelling.

“…
relaxing
, peaceful and quiet,” he shouted.
 
“That’s what this space is all about.”

“Yes, sir, Mr.
Quayle, I quite understand,” the young woman with him replied.
 
“But I still think one red accent wall
would be really spectacular.”

“It would
clash with the views,” George disagreed.
 
“Perhaps I need to speak with someone else from your firm.
 
Someone who will better
understand
what I’m after.”

“Oh, no, sir,
that’s not necessary,” the girl said, her face flushed.
 
“I’m sure we can reach some sort of
common ground.
 
No red wall, that’s
fine, of course it is.”
 
She wrote
something on the pile of papers that were attached to the clipboard she
carried.
 
“What about red for the
furniture?” she asked.

George sighed
deeply and looked over at Mary.
 
“Ah, my lovely wife,” he said.
 
“Mary, you see if you can talk some sense into her, will you?
 
I’ll show Bessie what else is going on.”

Mary frowned,
but let go of Bessie’s arm and walked over to the young woman.
 
George crossed to Bessie and led her out
of the room.

“If I stay in
there, I think I might throttle that woman,” he told Bessie.
 
“She’s determined to put something red
in there and she just won’t listen to reason.”

“If you’re
paying for it all, surely she has to listen,” Bessie said.

“You’d think
so, wouldn’t you?” George asked.
 
“But she’ll tell you that she has these wonderful visions for the space
and as she’s the professional, I should just give her the money and let her do
what she likes.”

“I think red
is
all wrong
for that room,” Bessie told him.
 
“You have gorgeous views of the sea and
sand.
 
Why on earth would you want
to compete with that?”

“Exactly,”
George shouted.
 
“Anyway, I’m glad
you’re here.
 
Mary and I both need
the distraction.”

George took
her through several other rooms that were empty of furnishings.
 
“We had all the carpets taken up last
week, so we’re ready to redecorate,” he told Bessie.
 
“Now we just have to agree on what we
want to do with the rooms.”

“But what are
they all for?” Bessie asked.

“Oh, this is
our suite, Mary’s and mine.
 
The
bedroom is at the end of the hall.
 
We aren’t redoing that this time.
 
The other rooms are our private reception rooms, dining room, that sort
of thing.”

“Of course,”
Bessie murmured, wondering what it would be like to have so much space just for
herself
.
 
Of course, Mary had to share it all with George, which was something
Bessie couldn’t imagine doing.

They met Mary
back at the first room.
 
The young
woman was red-faced and apologetic.
 

“I totally
understand what you’re after now,” she told George.
 
“Let me go back to the office and draw
up some new designs.
 
I’ll be
back
tomorrow, if that suits you?”

“That’s fine,”
George said.
 
“Come after lunch.”

“Yes, sir,”
she said, nearly running out of the room.

“I do hope
that’s settled,” George told Mary.
 
“I so hate shouting at them.”

“It’s
definitely settled,” Mary said.
 
“If
these plans don’t work, I’m firing her.”

Bessie was
startled by the determination with which Mary spoke.
 
It seemed her shy and quiet friend had a
steel core after all.

“Since you
won’t need us anymore, Bessie and I will be taking a stroll around the
gardens,” Mary told George.

“Yes, dear,”
George said quietly.

Mary took
Bessie’s arm and led her out of the room.
 
They hadn’t gone far when Mary began to laugh.
 
“That was fun,” she told Bessie.
  
“George sometimes gets intimidated
by designers and the like.
 
If it
were left up to him, we’d have a red wall and red couches in that room for
sure.”

She swept
through the house, taking Bessie out through the large French doors into the
garden.
 
It had stopped raining and
the sun was doing its best to burn away the clouds.
 

“Let’s walk
through the maze,” Mary suggested.

“You have a
maze?” Bessie asked.

“Oh, yes,”
Mary answered.
 
“It’s
modelled
on the one at Hampton Court Palace, but with
enough little changes to make it tricky, even if you’ve been through that one.”

“I do hope you
know the way through,” Bessie said.

“I do,” Mary
assured her.
 
“But I’ll let you
lead.
 
You can see if you can figure
it out.”

Half an hour
later Bessie was feeling totally lost when they turned a corner and found
themselves in the
centre
of the maze.
 
There was a small gazebo there and Mary
and Bessie sat down opposite one another within the shelter.

“What did you
want to talk to me about?” Mary asked.

“Grant
Robertson,” Bessie replied.

Mary made a
face.
 
“Must we?”

“He’s trying
to get Doona to come and work for him,” Bessie told her.
 
“I don’t trust him, but he’s offered
Doona a lot of money and she’s tempted.”

“What sort of
job?” Mary asked.

“Apparently he
needs a personal assistant,” Bessie replied.

“Really?
 
That’s interesting,” Mary said.
 
“You know I don’t like him, but I’m very
suspicious of his motive on this.
 
Last I knew
,
he had two full-time assistants
working for him.
 
Why would he need
a third?”

“Maybe one of
them quit?”

“Or maybe he’s
after something else from Doona.”

“He has asked
her out several times,” Bessie said.
 
“Maybe he thinks he can get her to go out with him if he hires her.”

Mary
shrugged.
 
“That could be it,
although as far as I can tell, he’s never short of female company.”

“So what do
you think he’s after?”

“With Grant,
it’s impossible to say,” Mary said.
 
“Maybe he’s trying to hurt John by taking Doona from him.
 
Everyone knows that the two are close
friends.”

“Why would he
want to hurt John?”

“John’s
investigating him,” Mary said.
 
“Oh,
Grant isn’t supposed to know about it, but the Chief Constable had a quiet word
with both Grant and George.
 
Obviously George has nothing to hide, but Grant, well, I think he
probably has a lot to hide.”

“Why would the
Chief Constable tell Grant that?” Bessie demanded.
 

“Because Grant
has the governor’s ear,” Mary told her.
 
“And he owns several members of the House of Keys as well.”

“Owns them?”

Mary laughed
harshly.
 
“Perhaps he only rents
them,” she said.
 
“But you mustn’t
underestimate his power on the island.
 
John needs to tread very carefully if he’s determined to investigate
Grant.”

“Do you have
any suggestions as to where John should be looking?” Bessie asked.

Mary shook her
head.
 
“As far as I can tell,
Grant’s been careful.
 
Everyone
thinks he’s dishonest, but no one seems to be able to prove anything.”

Bessie
sighed.
 
“But what about….”
 

She was
interrupted by a loud buzzing noise.
 

 
“My mobile,” Mary murmured.
 
She patted her pockets until she found
the phone and answered it.
 
The
conversation was a short one.

“Lunch is
ready on the south terrace,” Mary told Bessie once she’d disconnected.

“That sounds
very fancy,” Bessie replied.

“I just hope
it tastes good,” Mary answered.

 
Since they didn’t want to make anyone
wait, Bessie let Mary lead her out of the maze.
 
The walk back to the house only took a
few minutes.
 
On the south terrace,
a table was set for four.

As Mary and
Bessie approached, the door to the house opened and George walked out.

“I hope you
ladies don’t mind some company for lunch,” he said.
 
“Grant and I are getting quite bored with
each other.”

Mary smiled
brightly at her husband.
 
“How
delightful,” she said.
 
She gave
Bessie a look that let Bessie know how unhappy she was with this turn of
events.

“Yes,
delightful,” Bessie echoed her friend.

Grant emerged
from the house carrying a bottle of champagne.
 
“There you two are,” he said.
 
“Time for some bubbly.”

“Champagne for
lunch?” Mary asked.
 
“What are we
celebrating?”

“I’m taking a
short trip,” Grant answered her.
 
“So
this is a going away party of sorts.”

“Where are you
going?” Bessie asked.

“I’m not
totally sure yet,” Grant said.
 
“Wherever the spirit moves me, I suppose.”

“So it’s a
holiday,” Mary suggested.

“Or something
like one,” Grant said with a shrug.
 
He poured champagne into four glasses, insisting that everyone take
one.