Aunt Bessie Finds (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 6) (2 page)

“I’d love to see it some day,” Howard told her.
 
“Maybe Bahey and I could pay you a visit
one afternoon, or something.”

“I’d like that,” Bessie said.
 
“You’re more than welcome, both of you.”

A buzzing noise from the small kitchen interrupted the
conversation.
 
The kitchen itself
was more like a corner of the large room than a space of its own, and Bahey
jumped up quickly.

“That’ll be lunch ready,” she said, crossing the room in a few
steps.
 
She grabbed oven gloves and
pulled open the wall oven.
 
Bessie’s
stomach growled as wonderful smells reached her nose.
 

Bahey pulled a casserole dish from the oven and then carried it
carefully to the small table that took up another corner of the large
room.
 
There were four chairs around
the table, but only three place settings were laid.
 

“Come on, then,” Bahey called.
 
“Let’s not be too formal.”

Bessie and Howard joined Bahey at the table.
 
A bowl of salad was in the
centre
, with a basket full of bread rolls beside it.
 
Bahey placed the steaming casserole next
to the rolls and stuck a spoon in it.

“Everyone help
yourselves
,” she
invited.
 
“It’s just a cottage pie,”
she said to Bessie.
 
“It was quick
and easy.”

“And it smells wonderful,” Bessie said.
 
Howard waited politely until the ladies
had fixed their plates before fixing his own.
 
The trio ate quietly for a few moments.

“Bahey, this is delicious,” Bessie said after several bites.
 
“The rolls taste homemade.”

“They are,” Bahey replied.
 
“But they’re nothing special.
 
I used to make all sorts for the Pierces, before Mrs. Pierce decided
that they needed a proper chef, that is.”

“If you wanted to make things like this for me every day, I would
never complain,” Bessie told her.

“Me either,” Howard said, patting
Bahey’s
hand.
 
“But you know I love your
cooking.”

Bahey flushed.
 
“Oh, but
I’ve forgotten drinks,” she said, jumping up from the table.
 
“Bessie, what would you like?”

“Oh, anything,” Bessie replied.
 
“Something cold would be nice, maybe
iced tea or something fizzy?”

“I can do iced tea,” Bahey assured her.
 
She took a large pitcher from the refrigerator
and poured out three glasses full of tea, carefully adding ice cubes to each
glass.
 
Howard jumped up and carried
two of the glasses across the room for Bahey.

“Oh, thanks,” Bahey said as she rejoined the others at the table,
carrying her own glass.

The conversation over lunch ranged from the weather to the state of
the island’s economy.
 
Once lunch
was finished and Bahey had served generous helpings of a Victoria sponge, the
conversation finally came around to the reason for the luncheon.

“So, Bessie, the thing is,” Bahey began.
 
“Well, it’s just that some weird things
seem to be happening in the building.
 
I know you’ve done some investigating with the police, what with what
happened with Danny Pierce and all the other things that have happened
since.
 
I thought maybe you’d have
some idea about what’s going on.”

“If you need something investigating, you should ring Inspector
Peter Corkill of the Douglas CID,” Bessie said.
 
“He’s a professional and a rather nice
man, really.”

Several months after their first meeting, Bessie and the inspector
were slowly beginning to appreciate one another.
 
Now Bessie had no qualms about
recommending the man to her friend.

“Oh, no, it isn’t anything to worry the police about,” Bahey said
insistently.
 
“In fact, Howard
thinks it’s all in my head.”

Howard sighed.
 
“That
isn’t true,” he said.
 
“I’m just not
as bothered as you are, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m not sure about any of it,” Bahey said, shaking her
head.
 
“That’s why I want Bessie to
investigate.”

“Investigate what?” Bessie asked.

“The things that keep happening,” Bahey answered.
 
“It’s all just stupid little things, but
it doesn’t make sense, like.”

“What sort of things?” Bessie asked.

“There’s a mirror in the hallway that keeps moving,” Bahey
said.
 
“One day it’s outside my door
and then the next day it’s downstairs.
 
It never seems to be in the same place for more than a day or two.”

“Have you asked the building manager about it?” Bessie asked.

“I did,” Bahey replied.
 
“He said that sometimes it gets moved when the cleaners come through,
but they don’t come through all that often, leastwise, not as often as that
mirror goes walkabout.”

“Is that it?” Bessie asked.

“No,” Bahey said.
 
“The
flat underneath mine is empty and it has been for months, but every once in a
while I can hear people talking down there.”

“Maybe someone has been showing the flat to prospective
purchasers?” Bessie suggested.

“Whenever I ask Nigel about it, he tells me I’m wrong and that no
one has been in the flat,” Bahey answered.
 
“And it’s never at the sort of time that you’d expect them to be showing
the flat, either.
 
It’s usually in
the middle of the night or very early in the morning.”

“Could it be someone’s television in another flat and the sound
just travels strangely through the building?” Bessie asked.

Bahey shrugged.
 
“That
makes more sense than Nigel Green’s explanation,” she said in a frustrated
voice.
 
“He told me I must
be
dreaming.”

“So the hallway mirror won’t stay in one place and there are
sometimes strange noises from an empty flat.
 
What else?” Bessie asked.

“The post takes too long to get here,” Bahey said, looking sideways
at Howard.
 

He sighed and shook his head.
 
“I told you the building management has no control over how badly the
postman does his job,” he said.
 
“I’m going to have a word with that postman the next time I see him.”

“Is all your post delayed?” Bessie asked.

“No, just some of it,” Bahey shrugged.
  
“It’s hard to be sure, of course,
but sometimes it takes three days for a letter to get from my sister in
Foxdale
to here.
 
If I send her a letter, she always gets it the next day.”

“There could be a lot of possible explanations for that,” Bessie
said, thoughtfully.

“Aye, but it’s just strange, that’s all,” Bahey said with a
sigh.
 
“I told you before, it’s lots
of little things that just don’t seem quite right.
 
I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my
mind or something.”

“Is there more?” Bessie asked, patting her friend’s hand.

“The woman next door to me died about three months ago,” Bahey
continued.
 
“But she’s still getting
post.”

“Maybe her family never bothered to tell the post office she’s
passed away?” Bessie suggested.

Bahey shrugged.
 
“I
don’t know.”

“I told you,” Howard interjected, “it was probably just an
advertising circular or something that you saw.
 
Those come to everyone.”

“What exactly did you see?” Bessie asked.

“We all get our post in boxes off to the side of the foyer,” Bahey
explained.
 
“They’re mostly closed
up, like, so we can’t really see what everyone else is getting, but there’s a
little window in each one.
 
Anyway,
the flat next door has the box next to mine and one day last month I could see an
envelope through the little window.
 
It looked like a proper envelope, too, not advertising.
 
There was another one last week.
 
But why would a dead woman get any post?”

“Are you sure it isn’t just piling up because she isn’t collecting
it?” Bessie asked.

“Whatever was there was gone a few hours later, both times,” Bahey
said.
 
“Someone must have collected
it.”

“Do the dead woman’s relatives have her keys?
 
Maybe they are still coming and
collecting her post,” Bessie suggested.

Bahey shook her head.
 
“The flat’s been up for sale for over two months.
 
The woman was from across and her family
came over, cleared out the flat and then put it on the market.”

“And no one has purchased it yet?” Bessie checked.

“No, and I’m starting to worry about how long it’s been for sale,”
Bahey told her.

“I thought the housing market was very competitive right now,”
Bessie said.
 
“I’d have thought a
nice flat in a central location would go quickly.”

“It should have done,” Bahey agreed.
 
“We don’t have that much turnover, but
the last couple of flats in the building that have gone up for sale have sold
within a few weeks.
 
The one
underneath me isn’t even on the market, as far as I can tell, which I don’t
understand either.
 
It’s all very
strange.”

“Or maybe not,” Howard said with a chuckle.
 
“Who understands the property
market?
 
I certainly don’t.”

Bahey nodded.
 
“I told
you that Howard thinks I’m making something out of nothing,” she reminded
Bessie.

Bessie smiled.
 
“Each
thing is a little thing, but when you add them up, well, it does seem like
maybe something strange is going on.”

“So you’ll investigate?” Bahey asked excitedly.

“I was thinking maybe you should ring the police,” Bessie replied.

“No point in that,” Bahey said.
 
“It’s all just little things.
 
If I tell them that I have a bad feeling
about it all, they’ll either laugh or lock me up.”

“Inspector Corkill would listen and take your concerns seriously,”
Bessie told her.
 
“I’m not sure what
you want me to do, anyway.”

“Well,” Bahey flushed and looked down at the table.
 
“I was sort of thinking that maybe you
could take a look at the flat next door.
 
Maybe you could pretend that you’re thinking of moving down to Douglas,
like, and then you could see if there’s something wrong with the flat or
whatever, so we’ll know why it isn’t selling.
 
Maybe you could even find out about the
flat underneath mine, why it isn’t on the market, like.”

“I suppose I could do that,” Bessie said.
 
“Having a look around an empty flat
isn’t a big deal, and I am curious, in a way, what it could cost to move to
Douglas.
 
Sometimes I think it would
be nice to be so centrally located.”

“It’s brilliant,” Bahey told her.
 
“We can walk to all the shops and
restaurants and the beach is only a few steps away.
 
I know you have the beach on your
doorstep, but you have to admit that shopping is a lot of trouble for you.”

Bessie laughed.
 
“I
wouldn’t say ‘a lot of trouble,’” she replied.
 
“But the only shop I can walk to is one
that I’d rather not shop at, which is frustrating.”

“So you’ll take a look at the flat?” Bahey asked.

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Bessie answered.
 
“I shall feel bad wasting some estate
agent’s time, of course, but it shouldn’t take long.”

“I tried asking to see the place myself,” Bahey told Bessie.
 
“I was going to pretend to be someone
else, but the estate agent who’s handling the sale wanted all sorts of
information before he’d make an appointment.
 
I finally gave up.
 
I couldn’t persuade
Joney
to take a look, either.
 
She thinks
I’m trying to trick her into moving in here, and she wouldn’t listen when I
told her about all the weird things going on.”

“It would be nice for you both if she was closer, though,” Bessie
said.

“Ha, I think my sister being in
Foxdale
is just about right,” Bahey said stoutly.
 
“She’s close enough that we can see each other regularly, but we aren’t
on top of one another.
 
I definitely
wouldn’t want her in the same building as me.
 
Maybe I didn’t try to persuade her to do
the investigating all that hard because I was afraid she might fall in love
with the place and move in,” Bahey admitted sheepishly.