Aunt Bessie Finds (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 6) (7 page)

“He also asked a bunch of very nosy questions about your family,”
Doona said.

“My family?”

“He wanted to know how much family you had on the island, whether
you had children here or across, that sort of thing.”

“And how did he justify asking those questions?” Bessie demanded.

“Oh, he said he was just trying to figure out how large a flat you
might need.
 
You know, you might
have grandchildren across that came to stay with you for weeks at a time in the
summer holidays.
 
You’d need a guest
bedroom in that case, you see.”

Bessie nodded.
 
“He
certainly has an answer for everything,” she said.
 
“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that your family was mostly in America and I wasn’t
sure how often they visited or where they stayed when they came.”

“Fair enough,” Bessie said.
 
“Did he ask you anything else?”

“He wanted to know about your health,” Doona replied.
 
“He asked how old you were and if your
health was good.”

“What nerve,” Bessie said angrily.
 
“I’ve half a mind to ring him up and
tell him what I think of his nosy questions.”

“Again, he justified it by talking about the different types of
accommodation that are available.
 
There are buildings of flats for the over fifties or the over sixties,
for example.
 
He wondered if you’d
be happier in a building like that, or even somewhere with basic medical staff
available.
 
I told him your age and
your health were your concerns, not mine, and certainly not his.”

“Thank you,” Bessie said.
 
“I shall tell him much the same thing when I meet him.
 
If I were looking for a place with
medical staff, surely I would have mentioned it.”
 
She shook her head.
 
“I hope he’s better in person than he’s
been on the phone.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Doona said with a laugh.
 
“After he’d finished asking all those
rude questions, he actually asked me out.”

“He did say that you sounded ‘quite interesting,’” Bessie told
her.
 
“He asked if you’d be coming
on the house hunt with me.”

“I could ask John for the morning off, if you want me along,” Doona
said.

“Don’t be silly,” Bessie replied.
 
“You go and do your job and I’ll deal
with Alan Collins.
 
All I want is a
sneaky look around an empty flat so that I can set
Bahey’s
mind at ease.
 
It isn’t a big deal.”

Doona looked as if she might argue, but in the end she opted for a
second, somewhat smaller, helping of pie instead.
 
Bessie just had ice cream this time
around.
 

Thursday was uneventful for Bessie, although she found she was
appreciating her little cottage and her wonderful views even more than she
usually did as she flirted with the notion of a holiday.
 
She even let her mind play with the idea
of moving to Douglas.
 
Of course it
was just make-believe, but it was interesting to consider.
 

There had been a brief period of time in her life, many years
earlier, when she’d considered moving to Australia, but beyond that she’d never
really considered leaving her little cottage.
 
Now she let her mind run with the idea,
thinking about what furniture she’d keep and what she wouldn’t miss and how she
could possibly thin out her enormous book collection.
 
After everything that had happened
recently, it proved to be an interesting exercise for her brain.

On Friday she made her usual trip into Ramsey for shopping.
 
Her favourite driver, Dave, from her
regular taxi service, picked her up after her morning walk.

“How are you, my dear?” he asked, his usual cheery question
seemingly laced with some concern.

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

“Oh, I’m good.
 
I’m just
a little worried since I hear that my favourite customer might be moving to
Douglas, that’s all.”

Bessie sighed deeply.
 
“Really?
 
Should I ask where
you heard that from or is it such widespread skeet now that you can’t even
remember?”

Dave laughed.
 
“My
mother-in-law knows a girl who works part-time for Island Choice Properties, so
that’s where I heard it.
 
But you
can bet if my mother-in-law heard about it, the rest of the island has as
well.”

“It’s quite out of line for the girl to be gossiping about
customers,” Bessie said sharply.
 

“Oh, aye, but she’s young and stupid,”
Dave
told her cheerfully.
 
“It’s only a
part-time, temporary job anyway, and I hear she isn’t fond of the boss.
 
Maybe she’s hoping to get fired.”

“Well, I’m happy to talk to her boss and recommend just that,”
Bessie replied.
 
“I’m really unhappy
with the idea that people are talking about my moving.”

“So you really are thinking about moving?” Dave asked.

“I don’t know,”
Bessie
said, her mind
racing.
 
“I wasn’t really, and then
I had lunch with a friend at her flat in Douglas and she mentioned that there
was a flat for sale in the building.
 
It seemed like a nice place, and being close to the shops and the museum
for my research made it seem even more tempting.
 
Anyway, all I’ve done is ask to have a
look around the flat.
 
I’ll probably
hate it and that will be the end of that.”

“Well, let me know if you do decide to move,” Dave told her.
 
“I’ll have to get on to the boss and get
him to transfer me to Douglas for you.”

Bessie laughed.
 
“I’ll
let you know,” she promised.
 

Dave let her off in front of the large bookstore, agreeing to
collect her from
ShopFast
after she’d had time to do
all the shopping she needed to do.
 
Inside the bookstore, she spent a happy half-hour browsing the shelves.

“Ah, Bessie, but you aren’t moving to Douglas because they have a
better bookstore, are you?” the young assistant asked her when she went to
check out with her purchases.

“I don’t know that I’m moving to Douglas at all,” Bessie told her,
trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt.
 
It wasn’t the girl’s fault that the
person at the estate agency had a big mouth.
 
“And if I do move, I shall be sure to
keep shopping here regularly.
 
You
know this is my favourite bookstore on the island.”

“That’s good to know,” the girl said as she bagged Bessie’s
books.
 
“Some weeks I think you’re
the only person keeping us in business.”

Bessie wandered through a few charity shops, but didn’t find
anything to add to her purchases.
 
Staff
in two out of the five shops questioned Bessie about her proposed move.
 
The other three were
staffed by quite young women who didn’t seem to care about much of anything
other than chatting on their phones or painting their fingernails
.
 

ShopFast
was busy, and Bessie fought back a sigh as she collected a trolley and pushed
it into the store.
 
She guessed that
she’d have at least a dozen people stop to question her, and she was only off
by one by the time she exited the store.

Maggie
Shimmin
was the first person she
saw as she made her way through the fruit and vegetable section.

“Bessie, tell me it’s all a vicious lie,” she called from the
bananas.
 

Bessie shook her head.
 
“I can’t believe how excited everyone is getting over something so
simple,” she told the fifty-something woman with the long dark hair.
 
“All I did was ask to see a flat,
because I was curious what it might be like.
 
Everyone is acting like I’ve put my
cottage on the market and packed my things.”

“If you do decide to sell,” Maggie told her, “please let us have
first refusal.
 
I know Thomas would
love to build more holiday cottages.”

Maggie and her husband Thomas owned the row of rental cottages that
stretched along the beach next to Bessie’s cottage.
 

“I’m not planning on selling,” Bessie said, just barely repressing
a sigh.
 
“But if I do, you’ll be
among the first to know.”

“The cottages are really hard work,” Maggie told her.
 
“But Thomas loves the work and he loves
working for himself.
 
He works far
more hours than he ever did when he was in banking, but he never complains.”

Maggie complained enough for both of them, as far as Bessie was
concerned, but she smiled.
 
“Are you
shopping for the cottages today?” she asked, glancing at her friend’s trolley.
 
It was already nearly full of staples
like bread and pasta and jars of sauce.
 
Maggie was adding bunches of bananas to the collection.

“I am, indeed,” she told Bessie.
 
“I have to shop for them folks every
single day.
 
Thomas insists that we
offer grocery delivery on a daily basis, since people are coming and going all
the time.
 
He doesn’t seem to care
that I’m the one who spends all her time running back and forth to Ramsey to
fill their orders.”

“At least it’s already August,” Bessie said.
 
“Only a few more months and tourist
season will be over.”

Maggie sighed.
 
“And
then I’ll be stuck with Thomas at home and underfoot until the spring,” she
said.
 
“Anyway, must dash.”

Bessie’s reply was lost on the woman’s back as she rushed
away.
 
Shaking her head, Bessie
decided she might as well buy a few bananas since she’d been looking at them
for so long.
 
The trip around the
grocery store took far longer than it should have.
 
In nearly every aisle Bessie had to
reassure friends and acquaintances that she was only just vaguely thinking
about moving and that nothing was decided yet.

“I suppose, at your age, being closer to Noble’s must be a
temptation,” one woman mused.
 
Bessie bit her tongue.
 

“I can’t believe you’d give up your views,” another remarked.
 
“I’ll bet Thomas
Shimmin
would pay a fortune for your place, though.
 
He’ll just tear it down and build more
of those ugly little cottages of his, more’s the pity.”

By the time Bessie was done with her shopping, she was beginning to
think that her simple little plan to help Bahey was turning into a huge
nightmare.
 
Dave was waiting for
her, as planned, and Bessie was happy to get home.
 
Of course, her answering machine was
full of messages from concerned and nosy friends and
neighbours
.
 
She listened to them all and then
deleted the lot, only returning a single call.

“
Doncan
, I’m not seriously planning on
moving,” she told her advocate when the call was connected.
 
“I’m just taking a little look at a flat
in the building where a friend lives.
 
It’s more about being nosy than anything else.”

Doncan
laughed.
 
“Well, that’s better than
what I heard.
 
Someone told me that
you’d already put your cottage on the market.
 
I told them I highly doubted it, but I
thought I’d better ring and check on you.”

“Make sure I haven’t lost my mind, you mean,” Bessie replied.

While the pair were chatting, Bessie’s post arrived.
 
She smiled excitedly as a large envelope
dropped through her letterbox.
 
That
had to be the details on the flat from the estate agency.
 

“Give my best to your lovely wife,” Bessie told the man, wrapping
up the call.
 
“You’ll be one of the
first to know if I decide to move.”

Hanging up the phone, she picked up the post.
 
The large envelope was printed with an
odd-looking logo that she could just about work out as the initials ICP, linked
together with all sorts of curlicues and swirls.
 
She couldn’t imagine who might have
designed such a ridiculous symbol for the company.
 
Her name and address had been printed
almost illegibly across the front.

Bessie quickly dealt with her other post, immediately discarding
the junk mail and tucking the postcard from a friend on holiday into the frame
of a picture on the sitting room wall.
 
It would sit there for a few days or weeks before Bessie added it to the
box of such things in her spare bedroom.