Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) (24 page)

“The young man
who was found dead in Mary’s storage unit?
 
I don’t think I knew him at all,” Grant said with a shrug.
 
“I may well have met him at some point
back in the nineteen-sixties, but if I did, I don’t recall.”

Bessie
nodded.
 
“Doona wanted a word with
you before we leave,” she told the man.
 
“I’m not sure where she’s gone, though.”

Grant looked
around the room and then smiled.
 
“I
can see her.
 
She’s just talking
with George.
 
I’ll go and see what
she wants.
 
I do hope she’s going to
say yes to at least one of my propositions.”

He turned and
walked away, the painting under his arm.
 
Bessie blew out a sigh of relief.
 
He’d apparently forgotten about his intention of giving it to her.
 
She continued on her way out, nodding
and smiling at a few people she knew, but not stopping.
 
She felt almost desperate for some fresh
air.

Outside, she
waited patiently for Doona, doing some casual people watching.
 
One of the valets approached.

“Do you need
me to get your car?” he asked.

“I’m waiting
for my friend,” Bessie replied.
 
“She drove.”

“What car does
she have?
 
I can bring it around.”

Bessie
frowned.
 
“It’s blue,” she said
after a moment.
 
“But I don’t
actually know anything about cars.”

The man smiled
at her.
 
“I think there are about
fifteen blue cars in the car park, so I’d better not try guessing.”

“I feel rather
foolish,” Bessie confided in him.
 
“I don’t drive myself, so I never notice what sorts of cars people
drive.”

“I’m sure you
know about all sorts of things that I don’t know about,” the man told her.
 
“I love cars and I started driving as
soon as I was legally able, so I know way too much about cars and not nearly
enough about other things.”

“But you’re still
young,” Bessie told him.
 
“You have
your whole life to learn things.”

“I’m thinking
about going back to school,” he said.
 
“I quit after my GCSE’s.
 
I
figured I was going to work on cars, so I didn’t need school learning, but I
think I need to go back and get some qualifications in computer science.
 
Modern cars have more computer parts
than
motorised
parts, it seems to me.”

“Going back to
school is never a mistake,” Bessie told him.
 
“Education is never wasted, even if you
don’t actually do anything with what you learn.”

“Bessie, there
you are,” Doona voice travelled through the darkness.
 
“I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I just needed
the fresh air,” Bessie said.
 
“It’s
a lovely evening.”

Doona was
holding a large parcel that worried Bessie, but she didn’t mention it.
 
Instead, she told the valet which car
was hers and the man went off to find it.
 
When he came back he held the door for Doona and then quickly opened
Bessie’s for her as well.
 

“It was nice
talking with you,” he told Bessie.
 
“Thanks for the advice.”

“It was nice
talking with you as well,” Bessie replied, giving the man a bright smile.
  
“Good luck with whatever you
decide.”

Doona drove
slowly back down the long drive, heading for Laxey.
 
“How do you do that?” Doona asked as
they turned out of the estate.

“Do what?”

“How do you
always end up talking with someone everywhere you go?” Doona replied.
 

“I guess I’m
just friendly,” Bessie said.
 
“I’ve
never really thought about it.”

“You are
friendly,” Doona agreed.
 
“You
struck up a conversation with me at our first Manx language class and now look
at us.”

“The young man
is thinking about going back to school and he needed someone to discuss it
with,” Bessie told her.
 
“I just
listened.”

“That’s what
you do so well,” Doona said.
 
“That’s what got me through when my marriage was falling apart.”

“I was happy
to do it,” Bessie said.

“Now how about
some advice on dealing with Grant Robertson?” Doona asked.

“You know I’m
going to suggest that you just stay away from him,” Bessie replied.

“In some ways he
reminds me of my second husband,” Doona said.
 
“Charles had a way of making me feel
like I was the only woman in the world, and Grant does the same.
 
It’s both compelling and scary at the
same time.”

“I think you
should stay away from him,” Bessie repeated herself.

“He radiates
power,” Doona said, clearly ignoring Bessie.
 
“Everyone in that room tonight, which
was full of very wealthy and important people, knew who he was and treated him
with respect.
 
That’s very appealing
as well.”

“He’s
dishonest at best and possibly a criminal,” Bessie said.

“You can’t
deny that he’s very charismatic,” Doona went on.
 
“And he’s very attractive as well,
especially considering his age.”

“He is
attractive, but that doesn’t make him a nice person.”

“He suggested
that, if I don’t want to work for him, I should try dating him instead,” Doona
said with a sigh.

“That would be
an even bigger mistake,” Bessie said, deciding not to hide her feelings.

They were
nearly to Laxey and Bessie was suddenly very worried for her friend.
 
“Doona, don’t do anything hasty,
okay?
 
Promise me you won’t do
anything for at least a few days.”

“I won’t do
anything hasty,” Doona said.
 
“And I
won’t be dating him.
 
I think that
would be playing with fire, but the job offer is very tempting.
 
Grant told me to take my time and think things
over.
 
I’ve told him I’ll ring him
on Monday.”

“That isn’t a
lot of time,” Bessie argued.

“It gives me the
whole weekend to think,” Doona countered.
 

“Doona, what
if Grant is mixed up in the this whole Adam King thing?” Bessie asked.
 
“I think you should stay away from him
until John has figured out what’s going on.”

Doona pulled
up into the parking area beside Bessie’s cottage.
 
“I’ll just come in and check that
everything’s okay,” she told Bessie.
 

Bessie opened
her door and then stood back to let Doona go in first.
 
Bessie had learned a while ago that it
was easier to let Doona do that than to argue with her.
 
The cottage was small enough that Doona
was quickly done with her inspection.

“Don’t argue
with me,” Doona said when she returned to the kitchen where Bessie was
waiting.
 
“I have your painting in
my car and I really want you to have it.”

“I can’t
possibly accept a twenty-seven thousand pound painting from Grant Robertson,”
Bessie said emphatically.

“Then take it
from me,” Doona told her.
 
“Please,
at least for tonight, take it.
 
We
can figure it all out once I’ve decided what I want to do about Grant.”

Bessie opened
her mouth to argue, but she could see tears in
Doona’s
eyes.
 
For whatever reason, Doona
was clearly very upset.
 
Bessie gave
her friend a hug.
 
“I’ll take the
painting for now,” she said quietly.
 
“But only for you.
 
Once
you’ve told Grant you want nothing to do with him, I’ll have to return it to
him.”

Doona opened
and closed her mouth several times and then shrugged and walked away.
 
Bessie followed her to her car and took
the wrapped parcel from her.

“I don’t like
this,” she told Doona.

“I’ll figure
it out,” Doona whispered.

Bessie stood
and watched her friend drive away before she went back into her cottage.
 
She put the wrapped painting in her
spare room, shutting the door tightly to keep herself from opening the
parcel.
 
She really loved the
painting and she’d love to hang it in her home, but she simply couldn’t keep
it.

Grabbing a
book, she got ready for bed.
 
She
read for a short while, trying to will sleep to come for her, but she felt too
wide-awake.
 
A cup of tea helped a
little, and after she’d tidied the kitchen behind her, she slipped under the
covers and ordered her mind to rest.
 
It was a long and restless night for Bessie.
 
She woke up determined to do a thorough
investigation into Grant Robertson’s past.
 
She wasn’t going to let Doona get mixed up with a criminal.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time
Bessie got home from her walk the next morning, she was formulating a
plan.
 
She’d start by ringing
John.
 
He’d have access to police
records.
 
While he probably wouldn’t
share them with Bessie, there might be a way he could make sure that Doona saw
anything that was particularly incriminating.
 

Once she’d
spoken to John, Bessie had a vast network of nosy friends and
neighbours
, and she would bet they’d all have something to
say about Grant Robertson and his time at the bank.
 
There might not be much more than
rumours
and innuendo, but Bessie was determined to gather
as much of it as she could and share it with Doona.

Her answering
machine message light was blinking when she got home.

“Bessie, it’s
John Rockwell.
 
I’d like to talk to
you about some things.
 
Please give
me a ring back so we can get together.”

“Perfect,” Bessie
said out loud as she
dialled
his number.
 
As it was Saturday, he wasn’t at the
station, so he offered to come over right away.

“You’re more
than welcome,” Bessie assured him.

She tidied up
her breakfast dishes and put fresh water in the kettle, ready to switch it on
when John arrived.
 
He was knocking
on her door almost before she expected him.

“I’m glad
you’re here,” she told him as she opened the door.
 
“I was going to ring you this morning
anyway.”

“Do you want
to go first or shall I?” John asked once he was seated at Bessie’s table.

“You go
first,” Bessie said.
 
“What did you
need to talk to me about?”

“We’ve had the
results back from the DNA testing.
 
The body we found at the King’s house is Adam’s.”

Bessie sat down,
feeling suddenly deflated.

“Are you
okay?” John asked, his face full of concern.

“I’m fine,”
Bessie said in a shaky voice.
 
She
swallowed hard.
 
“This is silly,”
she said.
 
“It isn’t like I wasn’t
expecting this.
 
It didn’t make
sense for it to be anyone else.
 
I
think I just feel sad for Sarah.
 
She’ll be devastated.”

“I notified
her yesterday afternoon,” John told her.
 
“Her brothers were meant to be coming over on the late ferry last night
once she told them.
 
They were
waiting to come across until we were sure who we’d found.”

“I hope she
keeps Mr. Hiccup,” Bessie muttered.
 
“He’ll be a small comfort in the days, weeks and months to come.”

“I have one
other piece of news,” John continued.
 
“We’re pretty sure we’ve figured out where Mark was staying in
Jurby
.”

“That’s
interesting,” Bessie said.
 
“Where?”

“One of the
storage units had a mattress with a sleeping bag on it set up in one
corner.
 
There was a small microwave
in there as well and it appears that it was used quite recently.
 
We think Mark was camping in that unit
and using the portable toilets on the construction site at the far end of the
facility where they’re building more units.”

“So did
Mark
break into the unit?” Bessie asked.

“There’s no
sign of a break-in,” John said.
 
“We’re considering the possibility that the man who was renting the unit
knew that Mark was there.”

“Can you tell
me who the unit belongs to?” Bessie asked.

“I wouldn’t,
under normal circumstances, but this case isn’t quite normal.”

The kettle
boiled and Bessie fixed tea as quickly as she could.
 
She dumped biscuits on a plate and
dropped it in the
centre
of the table, handing John a
small plate for his selections.
 

“So, where
were we?” Bessie asked brightly once she’d sat back down and poured the tea.

“I was about
to tell you that the unit Mark was using was Nigel Green’s,” John said.

“Pardon?
 
The former manager of the building on
Seaside Terrace?” Bessie demanded.
 
“But, what does that mean?”

“We aren’t
sure,” John said.
 

“What does
Nigel say?”

“Nigel isn’t
saying anything,” John told her.
 
“He’s disappeared.”

“Like Mark
before him,” Bessie said, shaking her head.
 
“What’s going on?
 
Who’s behind all of this?”

“There might
not be anyone behind anything,” John told her.
 
“Nigel disappeared about a week
ago.
 
That’s why Pete was at the
building on Seaside Terrace.
 
He was
looking for Nigel, who’s out on bail, obviously.”
 

“I take it his
mother doesn’t know where he’s gone?” Bessie asked.

“She says she
doesn’t,” John answered.
 
“I got the
distinct impression that she wasn’t sorry he’d gone and would be quite happy if
he never came back.”

“After the way
he treated her, I’m not sure I blame her,” Bessie said.

“Anyway, we’re
now doing everything we can to track down Nigel.
 
He claimed, when Mark was found at
Seaside Terrace, that he didn’t know Mark was hiding there, but this new
evidence strongly suggests that he was lying.
 
We’re trying to find a connection
between the two that predates Mark’s stay on Seaside Terrace.”

“You think they
might have known each other across?” Bessie asked.

“We suspect
they might have served time together,” John told her.
 
“It’s harder than it should be, tracking
back through old prison records, but we know they both spent time in prisons in
the north of England.”

“So maybe
Nigel agreed to hide Mark, first at Seaside Terrace and then in his storage
unit,” Bessie mused.
 
“But something
must have gone wrong.”

“Yes, and once
we find Nigel, we’ll get some answers,” John said.
 
“What did you need to talk to me about?”

Bessie
frowned.
 
“I’m concerned about Grant
Robertson,” she said hesitantly.
 
“I
don’t like the man, and he seems to be determined to get involved with
Doona.
 
It worries me.”

“Involved with
Doona in what way?” John asked.

“He’s asked
her out a couple of times, but last night he offered her a job.
 
He needs a personal assistant, I
gather.
 
He’s offered her double her
current salary for working just a few hours each day.
 
I don’t like the man at all, but even I
can see why Doona would be tempted.”

“I can as
well,” John said.
 
“Unfortunately, I
can’t offer her more money, and she’s paid hourly, so if she wants to work
less, she’ll make less.
 
I’d like to
think the working conditions at the station are pleasant for her, but we do
have some very stressful days.”

“Grant has a
reputation for operating very close to the line in terms of what’s legal and
what isn’t,” Bessie said.
 
“I don’t
want Doona mixed up in anything criminal.”

“Grant’s been
investigated many times,” John told her.
 
“No one has ever been able to prove that he’s done anything illegal,
although some of his business practices might not be completely ethical.”

Bessie
nodded.
 
“That’s exactly my
point.
 
Doona shouldn’t even be
considering working for a man like that.”

“I didn’t know
Doona was unhappy working for me,” John said quietly.

“I don’t think
she is,” Bessie replied.
 
“I think
she’s just tempted by all the money and power.”

“Maybe I’d
better have a closer look at Mr. Robertson,” John said.
 

“I don’t
suppose there’s any way to tie him to Mark’s death?” Bessie asked.

“Oh, we’re
definitely looking into that,” John replied.
 
“He owns the building where Mark was staying
at one point and Nigel Green worked for him.
 
Grant even posted Nigel’s bail and is
paying for his advocate, although he insists it’s all simply out of loyalty to
his staff.
 
We are considering the
possibility that Nigel hid Mark on orders from Grant.
 
What we can’t work out is any connection
between Grant and Mark before Mark got out of prison.”

“He was Adam’s
best friend,” Bessie mused.
 
“Maybe
he met Grant at the bank when he was with Adam.”

“Anything’s
possible.
 
The problem is proving it
after thirty years have passed.
 
I’ll be spending a lot of Monday trying to track down some of the men
and women who worked at the Laxey branch of the bank over the last thirty
years, but it will probably be a complete waste of time.”

“Maybe not,”
Bessie said.
 
“I’m going to ring a
few people myself.”

John laughed.
 
“You’ll probably find out more than I
will, and faster.”

They finished
the pot of tea and the plate of biscuits without much more conversation.
 
John seemed distracted, and Bessie was
eager for him to leave so that she could start ringing her friends.
 
There had to be someone who knew the
truth about Grant Robertson.
 
If
anyone could tie him to Mark and Adam thirty years earlier, that would be a
real bonus.

Just a few
minutes after John left, while Bessie was finishing the washing up, someone
knocked on her door.
 
Bessie dried
her hands and then pulled open the door.
 
Sarah
Combe
smiled at her.

“I hope you
don’t mind us just dropping in,” she told Bessie.
 
“We were in the
neighbourhod
.”

“Of course I
don’t mind,” Bessie said.
 
“By ‘we’
do you mean you and Mike?”

“Well, yes,
but also James and Fred.”
 
Sarah
turned and waved at the car in Bessie’s parking area, and three doors swung
open.
 

Bessie sighed
as the three men walked towards her.
 
“And when did you two get so old?” she asked Sarah’s brothers.
 

They both
laughed and then gave her hugs.
 

“It’s
wonderful to see you, Aunt Bessie,” James said.
 

He and Fred
both looked like typical middle-aged men, and Bessie struggled to find traces
of their much younger selves in their grey hair and laugh lines.
 

“We’re both
glad you were here to help Sarah when mum passed,” Fred told her.
 
“I couldn’t get away.”

“Neither of us
could,” James added.
 
“But this, well,
losing Adam feels different somehow.”

“Although we
really lost him thirty years ago, didn’t we?” Fred remarked.

“Do come in
and let me put the kettle on,” Bessie said, stepping back to let everyone into
the cottage.
 

Bessie
directed Mike to the dining room so that he could carry in another chair to add
to the small table that seated four comfortably.
 
They’d be a bit cramped, but the kitchen
felt warmer and friendlier than the dining room.

Bessie
refilled the kettle and then filled two plates with biscuits and some miniature
Bakewell
tarts that she’d forgotten she had in the
cupboard.
 
The silence was beginning
to feel awkward when the kettle boiled and Bessie was able to fix the tea.

“So, tell me
how you’ve both been,” Bessie said once she’d joined them all.
 
“I don’t think I’ve seen either of you
since you finished at school.”

“Busy,” Fred
said with a laugh.
 
“I’m in
banking.
 
Between work and the kids
there isn’t much time for anything else.
 
Although the kids are getting older, so maybe I’ll be able to take up
golf again next year.”

James
nodded.
 
“We’re in Cornwall.
 
I work for a London import and export
business, but luckily I can work remotely most of the time.
 
My wife is from Cornwall and once we had
the children she really wanted to get back there.
 
I go into London a couple of times a
month, but otherwise I’m working from home.”

“That sounds
handy,” Bessie said.

“I enjoy it,”
James replied.

Everyone
sipped tea and nibbled politely on biscuits for a moment, while Bessie debated
her next question.
 
Finally, she
decided to just get on with things.

“So, what
brought you into Laxey today?” she asked.

“We came to do
some clearing out of the house,” James replied.

“I hadn’t,
that is, I’m having a hard time with going in the house,” Sarah said
quietly.
 
“I hired someone to clean
the kitchen after mum’s death, and I went through and packed up a few pieces of
furniture and things, but I really haven’t been back since.
 
The estate agent was meant to be selling
it ‘as is,’ with the furniture still in place.”

“But of
course, in light of everything that’s happened, we’ve had to change that,” Fred
said.