Aunt Bessie's Holiday (12 page)

“I talked to Mai when I rang to reschedule
our walk.
 
She didn’t know about
Charles yet, so I pretended I didn’t either.
 
Instead, I asked about how I’d come to
win the contest.
 
It sounds like
Charles set it up so that as far as everyone here knows, I did actually win the
week’s holiday.
 
I gather the park
gives away similar packages several times a year.
 
Unless something changes, I’m guessing
we’ll be fine.
 
If we have to stay
after our week is up, that’s another matter, of course.”

“I can’t imagine they’d be able to
accommodate us,” Bessie said.
 
“Do
you think they’d have a place for us to stay?”

“I didn’t ask Mai that,” Doona replied.
 
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to
it.”

“Fair enough,” Bessie agreed.

“Margaret did tell me that I’m not to leave
the site without her permission,” Doona said with a sigh.
 
“I’m not sure what that does to our trip
to Torver Castle on Friday.”

“Friday is a long way off,” Bessie said
airily.
 
“Besides, I asked her and
she said we could go as long as it’s all been arranged by the park.”

“Oh, good.
 
I know you’re looking forward to that.”

“Aren’t you?”

Doona shrugged.
 
“After today, I’m not sure I’m up to
meeting any ghosts,” she replied.

“I don’t think anyone has seen the ghosts at
Torver Castle since the turn of the century,” Bessie told her.
 
“No one lives there now and there are
all sorts of reports of lights going on and off and mysterious noises from
behind the walls after hours, but there’s never been a confirmed sighting of
anything.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Doona demanded.

“I believe in unexplained phenomena,” Bessie
replied.
 
“The island has its own
set of ghost stories and I’ve spoken to people who swear they’ve seen ghosts
over the years.
 
Some of them are
very convincing.”
 
She shrugged.
 
“I suppose I’m willing to keep an open
mind, even though I’ve never seen a ghost myself.
 
What about you?”

“I know people who claim to have seen
Charlotte,” Doona replied, referring to Charlotte de la Tremouille, the wife of
the Seventh Earl of Derby.
 
“But we
all dragged our boyfriends down to Castle Rushen when we were teenagers, hoping
to see her.
 
I never did.”

Bessie nodded.
 
She was familiar with the legend.
 
Charlotte had been staying at Castle
Rushen while her husband travelled to England to fight on behalf of the king
during the English Civil War.
 
It
was there that she received the news that he’d been captured and beheaded by
the Parliamentarian forces.
 
According
to island folklore, Charlotte haunted Castle Rushen’s throne room, waiting
there anxiously for her husband to return from the war.
 

Local tradition had it that when a man takes
you to the castle for a visit, the countess will tell you whether he’s your
perfect match or not.
 
Charlotte’s
marriage, unusually for her social class at the time, had been a love match,
which made her story all the more tragic and was meant to give her the ability
to recognise true love matches in castle visitors.
 
Women visiting with their dates were
advised to leave their suitors behind and enter the throne room on their
own.
 
When Charlotte appeared, if
she was crying, you were with the wrong man, but if she
was
smiling, you’d found your soul mate.

The story had been around for hundreds of
years.
 
Bessie herself had never
tried it, but she knew others of her generation who had, one or two of
whom
claimed they’d seen the ghost.
 
Over the decades, the story seemed to go
in and out of favour.

“It’s been years since I heard of anyone
visiting Charlotte before they agreed to get engaged,” Bessie remarked.
 
“At one time, everyone seemed to be
doing it.”

“Well, I wish she’d have popped out and let
me know not to marry Charles,” Doona said.
 
“Although I never actually visited Castle Rushen with him, so maybe
that’s my fault.
 
She didn’t warn me
about my first husband though, either, and I visited the castle with him many
times.”

Bessie shivered.
 
“All this talk about ghosts is making me
feel uncomfortable,” she told Doona.

“I’m mostly feeling hungry,” Doona
replied.
 
“I never did get any
breakfast, aside from an odd biscuit while we waited to be questioned.
 
It must be time for some lunch, right?”

“It’s well past that,” Bessie exclaimed when
she checked her watch.
 
“It’s nearly
two o’clock.”
 
It felt as if the morning
had been very long, as she’d spent most of it doing nothing much, but it also
didn’t seem as if it should be two o’clock already.

“In that case, let’s go and find something
to eat before the restaurants shut,” Doona suggested.

“Did you have anywhere special in mind?”
Bessie asked.

“Not really.
 
Did you?”

Bessie smiled.
 
“I thought maybe we should go to
L’Ex
périence Anglaise
,”
she said.
  
“The food was
delicious last night and I was thinking that another visit might help me
remember more of what happened yesterday.”

“We are not snooping,” Doona said
sternly.
 
“Margaret Hopkins is quite
capable of solving this murder.”

“I didn’t suggest any such thing,” Bessie
said in a hurt tone.
 
“You have to
admit the food was wonderful there.”

Doona nodded.
 
“It really was,” she agreed.

“So, let’s go,” Bessie said.
 
“I’m starving as well.”

Chapter Six

Both women took a minute to freshen up.
 
Bessie ran a comb through her hair,
making faces at her reflection as she did so.
 
She brushed some powder across her nose
and added a slick of lipstick before heading out to meet Doona in the sitting
room.
 
Doona took a few minutes
longer to wash her tear-stained face and reapply her makeup.
 

“If we eat a big meal now, maybe we should
just stop in the little grocery store after we’re done and get a few things in
for an evening meal in our lodge,” Doona suggested as they walked to the door.

“That sounds good,” Bessie replied.

“I stuck my head in earlier and they have a
nice selection,” Doona told her.
 
“They even have their own bakery, so we can get some bread and cheese
and meat and just curl up with some wine and the telly, if you want.”

“I think I’ll have a book instead of the
telly,” Bessie told her.
 
“But
otherwise it sounds wonderful.”

They walked back to the village slowly.
 
Bessie smiled to herself as they crossed
the small bridge.
 
She’d have to
remember to tell Doona that their neighbour used to be with the police.
 
Now didn’t seem like the time to mention
that, though.

The restaurant was mostly empty when they
arrived.
 

“Table for two?” the girl at the front desk
asked.
 

Bessie recognised her as Monique Beck, the
chef’s wife.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

The girl led them to a small table in the
back of the room.
 
It wasn’t far
from where they’d sat the previous evening.
 
Monique handed them menus and took their
drink order.
 
Both women stuck to
soft drinks.

“Everything sounds wonderful,” Bessie said
as she read through the menu.

“I’m going to have that fish dish that we
had a tiny portion of last night,” Doona said.

“That was good, but I think I’d prefer the
chicken,” Bessie said as she remembered their feast from the previous evening.

A loud crashing noise interrupted their
discussion.
 
The door to the kitchen
swung open, and as Monique emerged, they could hear another crash from behind
the door.

“Is everything okay?” Bessie asked the girl
as she delivered their drinks.

“We’re all just a little on edge,” Monique
answered in her lilting French accent.
 
“We don’t know what’s going on in the main building and that has upset
Nathan.
 
Good chefs are very
sensitive.”

Another noise from the kitchen, less a crash
than a bang, had Monique turning pale.
 
“I’ll be right back to get your order,” she said quickly before she
headed back into the kitchen.

Bessie looked at Doona.
 
“I wonder what will happen in the
kitchen when Nathan finds out what’s actually going on,” she whispered.

“Unless he already knows,” Doona
replied.
 

“You suspect the chef of murdering Charles?”

“I suspect everyone,” Doona replied in a
tired voice.

Monique was back a moment later.
 
She took their order, but it was obvious
that she was distracted and Bessie had to ask her twice about side dishes
before Monique answered.
 
Finally,
after writing everything down, Monique turned back towards the kitchen.
 
She was stopped by
another customer
.

“This isn’t what I ordered,” the man said
angrily.
 
“We waited nearly an hour
for our food and most of it is wrong.”

Monique flushed.
 
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
 
“I’ll get it fixed right away.”

She took the plate of food and walked back
to the kitchen.
 
Bessie shook her
head.

“Monique is at least as upset as her
husband,” Bessie remarked.

Harold Butler walked into the restaurant and
headed straight for the kitchen.
 
Bessie thought about speaking to him, but he dashed past so quickly she
didn’t really get a chance.
  
A
moment later there was another loud noise from the kitchen.
 
After a few minutes, Harold emerged.

“I’m very sorry, ladies and gentlemen,” he
said in a loud voice.
 
“We’ve had a
very difficult morning here at the park and it’s causing troubles with
everything throughout Lakeview.
 
All
of your meals are on the house and I’m going to work with Monique to get you
what you ordered as quickly as possible.”

He began moving from table to table, talking
to each of the small groups that were there, making notes of everyone’s
complaints.
 
As so few tables were
occupied, it wasn’t long before he reached Bessie and Doona.

“Have you been waiting terribly long?” he
asked, his usually cheery tone absent.

“We just arrived a few minutes ago and
Monique just took our order,” Bessie answered.
 
“We’re fine.”

“Excellent,” he said.
 
“I would like a chance to talk to you
two, but first I have to sort out this mess.”
 
He was gone before Bessie or Doona could
respond.
 

“I wonder what he wants,” Bessie said.

“I don’t want to know,” Doona replied
sourly.

Monique was back a minute later with a
sliced baguette and butter.
 
She
dropped them on the table and left without saying a word.

Bessie and Doona ate their bread and watched
as Harold worked the room.
 
Wine
began to flow at several tables and Monique was suddenly busy delivering food
all around the room.
 
It was only a
couple of minutes before she was at their table, delivering their order.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she
muttered as she walked away.

Bessie looked down at her plate.
 
“It doesn’t look as good as it did last
night,” she said.
 
She poked at the
chicken breast.
 
“It’s not as
tender, either.”

Doona was inspecting her own lunch.
 
“This doesn’t smell the same as last
night,” she said quietly.
 
She took
a bite and made a face.
 
“It isn’t the
same and it isn’t very good,” she said.

Bessie was shaking her head.
 
“Mine isn’t very nice, either,” she
said.
 
“I imagine Nathan is very
distracted.”

The door to the restaurant suddenly swung
open.
 
Bessie froze as Jessica Howe
strode into the room.
 

“Where is he?” she demanded in a loud voice.

Harold walked quickly over from where he’d
been placating customers and grabbed Jessica’s arm.
 
“Please don’t shout,” he hissed at her.

“I won’t shout if you tell me where that
slimy, lying, cheating….
”
 
She trailed off when she spotted
Doona.

“You, I knew I recognised you last
night.
 
We got drunk together once,
about two years ago.
 
What are you
doing here?”

Harold glanced at Doona and then
back
at Jessica.
 
“Let’s not bother the other guests,” he said nervously.
 

“Where’s Charles?” she demanded.
 
“He’s hiding from me somewhere because
he knows I’m going to kill him when I find him.
 
Tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know,” Harold said, shrugging.
 
“I’m just doing my job.”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed.
 
“You’re lying,” she said fiercely.
 
“Before I kill Charles, I’m going to
have him fire you.”

Harold laughed, a strangely nasty
sound.
 
“Surely you realise that if
Charles could fire me, he would have done so before now.
 
He may have my old job, but he can’t get
rid of me.”

“Jessica?
 
What’s going on?”
 
The man standing behind Jessica looked
about sixty.
 
He was wearing the
sort of very expensive casual wear that suggested he’d have been much more
comfortable in a business suit.
 
His
eyes, as he scanned the room, were cold.
 
They settled on Doona for a moment before glancing at Bessie.
 
Bessie felt a chill as her eyes met his.

“I was just thinking about getting some
lunch,” Jessica said.
 
“But they’re
done serving lunch for today.”

“Really?
 
I thought perhaps you were looking for
your lover,” the man said.
 
“I know
where he ought to be, hell.
 
And if
I find him before you do, I’ll be happy to put him there.”

The crashing noise came from inside the
dining room this time.
 
Bessie was
surprised to see that Monique had dropped a tray full of dishes.
 
The girl looked pale and exhausted as
she bent down and started cleaning up the mess.

“Jessica, we’re leaving,” the man announced,
taking her arm.

Bessie braced herself for the argument that
was sure to follow, but Jessica’s reaction surprised her.

“Of course, darling.
 
Let’s go,” she cooed at the man.
 
“I can fix us both some nice lunch back
at our chalet.”

The pair left arm in arm, which had Bessie
shaking her head.

“What a strange couple,” she murmured to
Doona.

“Indeed,” Doona replied.

They both looked down at their half-eaten
lunches and then sighed at the same time.

“Was it that bad?” a voice asked at Bessie’s
elbow.

Bessie glanced up and then smiled at Nathan,
the chef.
 
“It wasn’t quite the same
as last night,” she said.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.
 
“We had a very late night, with the
party and the dinner, and then a very disturbed morning.
 
I’m simply not myself.”

“Sit down,” Bessie invited.

The man pulled an empty chair from the next
table over and sank into it.
 
“Thank
you,” he said.
 
“I do hope you’ll
try eating here again later in your stay.
 
I’m sure tomorrow will be a better day.”

“What’s going on that’s causing all this
trouble?” Bessie asked, hoping the man didn’t know she’d been involved in what
had happened next door.

Nathan shook his head.
 
“That’s part of the problem,” he said in
a confiding tone.
 
“No one is
telling us anything.”
 

He looked around the restaurant, which was
slowly emptying.
 
Monique had
finished picking up broken plates and glasses and had gone into the
kitchen.
 
Harold was talking to four
people at a table on the opposite side of the room.

Nathan leaned in towards Bessie and spoke
very quietly.
 
“The police have been
here all morning.
 
They took
Lawrence away, but no one has seen any sign of Charles Adams since they
arrived.
 
I think Charles and
Lawrence were involved in something criminal and they got caught red-handed.”

“What sort of thing?” Bessie asked.

Nathan shrugged.
 
“I don’t know, maybe stealing money from
the park?
 
Whatever is going on,
they’ve kept Charles tucked away all morning.
 
Monique has been ringing him constantly
to find out what’s happening and he hasn’t answered.”

Bessie glanced at Doona, but her friend was
busy studying her fingernails and pretending that she wasn’t interested in the
conversation.

“Harold was questioned by the police, so he
has to know what’s going on, but he won’t tell us anything,” Nathan continued.

“Did you need Charles for something this
morning?” Bessie asked, her mind racing through a dozen questions she’d like to
ask.

“He always comes in first thing in the
morning to go over the specials with me,” Nathan explained.
 
“Then Monique types them up and makes
copies of the sheet.
 
When he didn’t
arrive, Monique and I had to work it all out for ourselves, which took a lot
longer than normal and threw off our entire day.”

“When did you see him last?” Doona threw in.

“He left while we were clearing away the
last of the dinner plates last night,” Nathan replied.
 
“Monique walked over to his office with
him.
 
He had some new recipes that
he wanted me to take a look at, so she went with him to collect them.”