Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) (22 page)

“Oh, goodness,
I’m so glad you’re here,” she told them both.
 
“I’m beyond frazzled and I’m making both
myself and my staff crazy.
 
Please
make me drink a glass of wine and stay out of everyone’s way for half an hour.”

Bessie and
Doona both laughed and then followed Mary into the house.
 
As Mary led them through the long
corridor towards the kitchen at the back, Doona grabbed Bessie’s arm.

“This is
seriously incredible,” she whispered.
 

“I’d forgotten
you’ve never been inside before, have you?” Bessie asked.

Doona shook
her head.
 
“The only other time I
was here was for the barbeque last month and that was all in the garden.”

Bessie
deliberately slowed her pace to allow Doona an extra second or two to gawk at
each elaborately decorated room as they passed it.
 
Mary charged on ahead, presumably
focussed
on finding that glass of wine.
 
As the journey to the kitchen was pretty
much a straight line, Bessie wasn’t too worried that she and Doona would end up
lost.
 
She didn’t think Doona would
mind if they did, anyway, as Doona seemed fascinated by the house.

“Sorry, I got
rather ahead of you there,” Mary said when they reached her at the door to the
kitchen.
 
“I really need that wine.”

“I was just
admiring your incredible home,” Doona told her.
 
“I can’t imagine what it must be like to
live in such a fabulous place.”

Mary
shrugged.
 
“Thank you,” she
said.
 
“It’s really more George’s
place than mine.
 
I would live much
less grandly if it were up to me.”

“But I like to
spoil you,” a voice boomed from behind Mary.
 
“And I think you deserve all the very
best things in life,” George added as he joined them in the kitchen doorway.
 

“Thank you,
George,” Mary said, sounding as if she were on automatic.
 

George smiled
at her and then bowed to Bessie and Doona.
 
“Bessie, my darling, it’s so wonderful to see you again,” he said,
engulfing Bessie in a huge hug.
 
“And Doona, now that we’ve met at least three times, I suppose a hug is
appropriate for you as well.”
 

Before Doona
could speak, George swept her into a bear hug that seemed to go on rather
longer than was appropriate.
 
When
he finally released her, Doona tucked a stray hair behind one ear and then
straightened her dress.

“I think that
glass of wine you mentioned would be perfect right about now,” she said to
Mary.

Mary nodded,
her face flushed.
 
“George, you run
along and get ready,” she told her husband.
 
“The girls and I will be having a drink
in the conservatory when you’re done.”

George nodded
and then wandered off down the hall.
 
When he was out of earshot, Mary turned to Doona.

“I’m so very
sorry,” she said.
 
“He’s always been
something of a flirt, but he seems to be getting worse with age.”

“It’s fine,”
Doona told her.
 
“It was just a hug;
it just seemed to go on a bit longer than necessary, that’s all.”

“I hope it
won’t keep you from spending time with me,” Mary said quietly.

Doona
laughed.
 
“He’d have to do a lot
more than just give me a unwelcome hug now and then to drive me away from a friend,”
Doona told her firmly.
 
“I’m really
enjoying getting to know you.
 
Don’t
worry about George; if he gets properly out of line I’ll make sure he knows
about it.”

Mary chuckled.
 
“I hope I’m there to see it if it ever
happens,” she told Doona.

In the kitchen,
Mary spoke to one of the seemingly dozens of men and women rushing about the
cavernous space.
 
A moment later the
woman reappeared with a bottle of wine and three glasses on a silver tray.
 
Mary waved the woman away and emptied
the bottle evenly into the three large glasses.

“Let’s go into
the conservatory,” Mary suggested.
 
“We can watch for people to start arriving and enjoy the autumn weather
at the same time.”

Bessie had
never been in the conservatory and she and Doona both admired the huge glass-walled
room that ran along one side of the house.
 
There were amazing views over the cliff to the sea below and Bessie
stood for several minutes watching the waves crashing against the rocks.

“It’s stormy
out there,” she remarked.

“It often is,”
Mary said.
 

“What’s
happening over there?” Doona asked, pointing to a small construction tent that
appeared to be perched on the very top of the cliff.

“George is
finally putting in some stairs down to the beach for me,” Mary told her.
 
“I’ve been nagging for them since we
bought the house.
 
Of course,
putting them in just as the weather is getting colder isn’t exactly helpful,
but I suppose I’ll appreciate it once spring gets here.”

The trio took
seats on a long sofa that could have seated five or more.
 
They sipped their wine and chatted about
nothing much.
 
Bessie could see Mary
relaxing, at least a little bit, as the conversation and wine flowed.

“This was
exactly what I needed,” Mary told them.
 
“I don’t know why I’m so anxious about this auction.
 
The company from across is handling the
auction itself and we’ve caterers doing all the food and drink.
 
I could go to bed now and it would make
no difference to the end result.”

“And aren’t
you tempted to do just that?” Bessie said.

“Oh, yes,”
Mary said with a sigh.
 
“But that
simply wouldn’t do, of course.”

“Well, I’m
looking forward to it,” Doona said.
 
“I never get to go to fancy things like this.”

Mary
laughed.
 
“You’d soon tire of them
if you did them all the time,” she told Doona.
 
“Especially if….” she trailed off,
looking out at the edge of the driveway that was just visible.

Bessie frowned
as she watched the tension flood back into Mary’s body.
 
“Mary, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,
really,” Mary said tightly.
 
“Grant’s here, that’s all.
 
I
suppose I should go and greet him.”

“Let’s all
go,” Bessie suggested.
 

Mary gave her
a grateful smile.
 
“Yes, let’s,” she
agreed.

Chapter Twelve

Bessie and
Doona followed Mary back through the house.
 
Mary turned down a side corridor and
Doona had a chance to stare at another selection of perfectly decorated spaces
before they reached a large side entrance to the house.
 
Grant Robertson was just handing his
coat to a uniformed member of Mary’s staff.

“Take good
care of that,” he barked at the man.
 
“It’s worth more than you’ll make this year.”

“Yes, sir,”
the man said, bowing and then turning and leaving the entryway.

“Grant, how
nice to see you,” Mary said, her voice brimming with what sounded to Bessie
like fake enthusiasm.

“Mary, you
look lovely, as always,” Grant said, giving Mary a perfunctory hug.
 
Mary stepped back quickly and then
gestured towards her friends.

“You remember
Bessie
Cubbon
and Doona Moore?
 
You met them at the barbeque, if not
before.”

Grant
nodded.
 
“Miss
Cubbon
was going to buy that troublesome flat from me,” he said.
 
“I’m still very sorry you changed your
mind,” he told Bessie as he took her hand.
 

“It just
wasn’t the right fit for me,” Bessie said, annoyed with
herself
for feeling apologetic.
 
It wasn’t
as if the man had to sell the flat because he needed the money.
 

“I understand
your little cottage is quite beautiful,” he said smoothly.
 
“If you do ever decide to sell that, I’d
love to have a look at it.”

“I think
you’ll have to deal with my heirs,” Bessie told him.

He nodded and
then turned to Doona.
 
“Ah, the
lovely Ms. Moore,” he said silkily.
 
He took
Doona’s
hand and then squeezed it
between both of his own.
 
“You fascinated
me when I met you at the barbeque,” he told her.
 
“I rang a few people to find out more
about you.”

“That’s a bit
creepy,” Doona said sharply.

Grant laughed,
a sound that grated on Bessie’s nerves.
 
“I’m a businessman.
 
I’m used
to gathering information when I see something that interests me.
 
I know no more about you than you do
about me.
 
My every move is
chronicled in the local papers, of course.”

“You’re
assuming I’d actually take the time to read such articles,” Doona said, pulling
her hand away.

Grant
laughed.
 
“Fascinating,” he said,
glancing at Bessie and Mary.
 
“Women
usually use me to get a few fancy trinkets before they start treating me
badly.”

Doona
shrugged.
 
“I’m not interested in
trinkets,” she said.

“Are you
interested in making money?” Grant asked her.
 

“I’m not sure
what you’re suggesting,” Doona snapped.
 
“But I hope it isn’t what it sounds like.”

Grant laughed
again.
 
“That was rather badly put,
wasn’t it?” he said.
 
“What I was
trying to do was offer you a job,” he explained.
 

“I have a
job,” Doona told him.
 
“A job that I
love.”

“I need a
personal secretary,” Grant said.
 
“The hours would be flexible and I can’t imagine I’d need you more than
a few hours a day.
 
I would pay you
twice what you’re currently making, with quarterly bonuses based on certain
performance targets.”

Doona glanced
over at Bessie and Bessie could tell her friend was tempted.
 
The offer was extremely generous, but
Bessie was sure there must be strings attached.

“I have a job
I
Iove
,” Doona repeated slowly.
 

“And you work
for a very attractive man who is about to become available, as I understand
it,” Grant said.
 
“I did wonder if I
might struggle to compete with that.”

Doona flushed
under his gaze.

“Grant, that’s
enough bothering my guests,” Mary interjected.
 
“Leave poor Doona alone.”

Grant looked
over at Mary and nodded.
 
“As you
wish, my dear,” he said.
 
He turned
back to Doona and then reached into a pocket and pulled out a business
card.
 
He scribbled something on the
back of it and then handed it to Doona.

“My private
mobile number,” he told her.
 
“If
you decide you’d like to discuss the offer further, give me a ring.”

Doona took the
card.
 
For a moment Bessie thought
she might tear it up or drop it on the floor, but she glanced at it and then dropped
it into her handbag.
 
Grant gave her
a satisfied smile, a look that suggested that he felt as if he’d won in some
way.

“Oh, there you
all are,” George’s voice echoed around the small foyer.
 
“The guests are arriving and I couldn’t
find anyone.”

“Sorry,
darling,” Mary said, giving her husband’s arm a squeeze.
 
“I saw Grant pull up so we came down to
welcome him.”

“That was kind
of you,” George said.
 
“But now we
have to get to the party.”

He took Mary’s
arm and led her back down the hall.
 
Doona took Bessie’s arm and they fell into step behind the
Quayles
.
 
Grant
followed them down the corridor.
 
The auction was set up in the large ballroom in the east wing of the
mansion.
 
Bessie had never been in
there before and she gasped when she entered it.
 

Crystal
chandeliers sparkled high above the wooden dance floor.
 
Bessie estimated that the room could
easily accommodate at least a hundred dancing couples, although tonight the
space had been divided into sections.
 
The largest section looked like a very high-class art gallery and Bessie
and Doona made their way there as George and Mary were swallowed up in the
crowd.

They walked
slowly through rows of paintings, most of which were of Manx scenes.

“Some of these
are really beautifully done,” Bessie exclaimed.

“And some of
them aren’t,” Doona added as they reached a rather amateurish-looking effort.

“The artists
are all local and at various stages in their careers,” Grant said from behind
them.

Bessie
jumped.
 
She hadn’t noticed that the
man was still following them.
 

“I did think
you’d quite like this one,” Grant said, taking Bessie’s arm.
 
He led her down the next row, stopping
in front of a painting of Laxey beach.
 
Bessie drew a deep breath as she looked at the painting that beautifully
captured the view she saw every day.

“The artist is
very talented, isn’t he?” Grant said.
 
“It’s almost as if he were standing in your cottage, isn’t it?”

Bessie shook
her head.
 
“It’s slightly off from
the view from my cottage,” she said.
 
“He might have painted it in the parking area next to my cottage,
though.”

She looked at
the small card that gave the artist’s details and then shook her head.
 
“I’ve never heard of the artist,” she
said.
 
“The card identifies him as ‘
Godred
,’ which is obviously not his real name.”

“Nothing like
a bit of mystery, is there?” Grant said.

“It’s a
wonderful painting,” Doona chimed in.

“It truly is,”
Bessie agreed.
 
“It’s silly to want
it, as I can see the real thing every day, but I do like it very much.”

“Maybe we can
pool our resources and get it,” Doona said.
 

“The estimate
is five thousand pounds,” Grant told her.
 
“It is a charity auction,” he explained, no doubt in response to
Bessie’s very shocked face.

“Maybe not,
then,” Doona laughed.

“Perhaps you’d
like it as your first bonus,” Grant suggested to Doona.
 
“I can easily make that happen.”

Before Doona
could reply, the lights dimmed slightly and then a voice came through the
speakers on either side of the “art gallery” section of the room.

“Ladies and
gentlemen, welcome to our charity art auction.
 
I hope everyone has taken the time to
purchase a catalogue for the event.
 
The catalogues are fifty pounds and, of course, all of the money goes to
the charity.”

Bessie and
Doona exchanged glances.
 
Even the
catalogues seemed overpriced.

“Here, ladies,
take mine,” Grant said smoothly.
 
He
handed Bessie the book he was holding.
 
“I’ll get another one later.”

Before Bessie
could protest, the speaker continued.

“We’d like to
invite everyone to take their time and enjoy seeing all of the lovely art that
has been donated tonight.
 
The bar
is open and there is an extensive buffet at the far end of the room as
well.
 
Please pick out a few art pieces
that you’d like to bid on and decide how much you’re willing to spend.
 
The auction will begin in about an
hour.
 
While you wait to spend some
big money, there is a small art
sale taking
place on
the west wall.
 
Please take the time
to buy a few of the smaller pieces that have also been donated.
 
All prices are clearly marked on these
items.”

“Let’s head
over there,” Bessie whispered to Doona.
 
“We can’t afford anything over here anyway.”

Doona nodded
and glanced at Grant.
 
He had an
amused look on his face.
 

“Off you go,”
he said.
 
“The offer will still be
open until the bidding starts.
 
Do
think about it.”

Doona turned
and grabbed Bessie’s arm.
 
They were
halfway across the room before either woman spoke.

“Bessie, I’d
love to get that painting for you,” Doona said.

“You’re not
selling your soul to the devil just to get me a painting of the same view I
have from my kitchen,” Bessie told her firmly.
 

“He’s offered
me double my current salary,” Doona said.

“But you’d
have to work for him,” Bessie reminded her.

“He’s very
sexy in an incredibly creepy way,” Doona replied, her tone thoughtful.

“I think you
should stay far away from him,” Bessie told her firmly.
 
“Money isn’t everything.”

“I know, but
with double my salary I could pay off my mortgage a lot faster,” Doona
said.
 
“And then….”

Bessie held up
her hand.
 
“Just stop,” she
said.
 
“There’s no rush for you to
decide.
 
You have his card in your
bag.
 
Think about it for twenty-four
hours or more.”

“Yeah,” Doona
said.
 
“You’re right.
 
It’s just so tempting.”

“He doesn’t
exactly have the best reputation,” Bessie whispered.

“Meaning what
exactly?” Doona asked.

“As I
understand it, he’s quite happy to skate very close to the line between what’s
legal and what isn’t,” Bessie told her.
 
“He left the bank under something of a cloud, but no charges were ever
filed.
 
It’s all just
rumour
and hearsay, but that’s how this island runs, isn’t
it?”

“If he’s so
dishonest, why is he so popular?” Doona asked, glancing back at Grant.
 

He was surrounded by people who appeared to be hanging on his every
word, including a stunning young blonde woman who was barely dressed
.

“He’s very
generous,” Bessie replied.
 
“He
supports local businesses, donates to Noble’s regularly and comes to these
sorts of fund raisers and spends a fortune.
 
Everyone reckons he made at least some
of his money through questionable means, but as he spends so much of it right
here on the island, they tend to look the other way.”

“Even the
police?”

“It was all a
long time ago now,” Bessie said.
 
“There’s probably a limit on how long they have to investigate such
things.
 
I don’t know really.
 
I suspect Grant has enough money, and
consequently power, to protect himself.”

“You could be
right about that,” Doona remarked.
 
The island’s Chief Constable had joined Grant’s group.
 
As Bessie and Doona watched, he greeted
Grant with a hearty handshake.

Bessie and
Doona reached the small art sale and Bessie held up a small pot covered with
the Three Legs of Man symbol.
 
“Now
these are lovely and affordable,” she told Doona.
 
“We should each get one.”

Bessie spent
several minutes looking around at all the pieces that were for sale before
selecting a few for her home.
 
Doona
was obviously distracted, and Bessie finally gave up on trying to make
conversation with her friend.
 
She
purchased a few things for Doona as well, knowing that Doona would like them if
she were paying attention.
 
They
would go into a box at home and Bessie would use them as small surprises for
her friend now and again.