Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) (4 page)

“That’s good
to know,” Bessie told him, glancing at John.

He smiled
broadly at her.
 
“It is indeed,” he
said.

They followed
Alan through the interior door and down a short hallway.
 
The estate agent was already working on
damage control.

“I didn’t
realise
that they do security patrols,” he said as he put
the key into the lock.
 
“I’m sure
the residents appreciate it, though.”
 
He pushed the door open and then looked at John.
 
“And elderly
neighbours
are lovely and quiet, you know.”

The flat
itself was pretty much what Bessie had been expecting.
 
The walls and carpets were all beige,
the kitchen was relatively modern and spotlessly clean and the bedrooms were
small but functional.

“It’s fine,”
John told him after they’d been around the whole property.
 
“But I really don’t want a flat.
 
I really want a single-family home.”

“I just wanted
you to see what you can get for your money,” Alan told him.
 
“A single-family home in your price
range will need some work, especially if you want at least three bedrooms.
 
 
This flat has four bedrooms and it’s only
a few years old.
 
The kitchen has
all the modern appliances and there’s no garden maintenance to worry about,
either.”

John
nodded.
 
“That would be good,” he
admitted.
 
“Sue ended up cutting the
grass and dealing with the garden at our house in Ramsey.
 
I suppose, if I do buy a house, I’ll
have to hire someone to look after the garden.”

Back in John’s
car, following Alan to the next property, Bessie couldn’t stop herself.

“Why on earth
are you working with Alan Collins?” she demanded.
 

John gave her
a surprised look.
 
“What’s wrong
with Alan Collins?” he asked.

Bessie shook
her head.
 
“I guess I never told you
every last detail about my move to Douglas,” she replied.
 
“He was the estate agent who showed me
the properties there.
 
I just don’t
like him.
 
But I thought you’d go
with one of the three big agencies anyway, most people do.”

John
shrugged.
 
“Actually, Sue handled
putting our house on the market.
 
She had several different agents come through and she chose to use Mr.
Collins and Island Choice Properties.
 
As we’ve already had an offer at full list price, I can’t complain,
either.”

Bessie
nodded.
 
“Just because I don’t like
the man doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of doing the job,” she said.
 

They pulled up
and parked behind the man on a street not very far from Bessie’s cottage.
 
It was the same
neighbourhood
where Doona lived and where John had his rental home.
 

“There are two
different properties available in this
neighbourhood
,”
he told the pair when they joined him on the pavement.
 
“The homes here were generally built in
nineteen-forties and fifties and are primarily bungalows.
 
The two we are going to see are both
bungalows.
 
The first one is just
here.”

He nodded
towards the house that was right in front of them.
 
While it had been built as a small
three-bedroom, one-bath home on a tiny lot, it had clearly been extended in
recent years.
 
Bessie had known the
first owners of the home, back in the forties, but they had sold it some time
in the seventies to a Douglas man who was looking for investment
properties.
 
A succession of families
had rented the property after that, but Bessie had never really had a chance to
get to know any of them.
 
About a
year ago she’d seen the request for planning permission to extend the property,
but she hadn’t really paid much attention to what they’d done.
 
Now, as they walked toward the house,
she made a face.

“I don’t like
what they’ve done to it,” she remarked.

“It’s all been
done to the highest standard,” Alan told her.
 
“The owners have spent a great deal on
modernising
the home.”

“But now it
looks like some new-build home in a housing estate rather than a charming older
home in a post-war development,” Bessie replied.
 
“And it looks out of place.”

Alan
shrugged.
 
“The interior is
extremely well done,” he replied as he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

If by
extremely well done, you mean beige, Bessie thought to
herself
as she strolled through the property.
 
She couldn’t deny that the modern and spacious kitchen, which was a
large part of the new addition, was very nice.
 
The extra bedroom and bathroom that had
been added as well were a nice bonus for the inspector, too.
 
But she couldn’t help but feel that the
house was lacking in character now that it had been
modernised
.

 
John seemed to like it, however.
 
“It has just about everything I need,”
he told Alan.
 
“What’s the asking
price?”

The figure
Alan gave made Bessie blink.

“That’s more
than a little over my budget,” John told him, shaking his head.
 
“What a shame.
 
I quite like the property.”

“We can always
try to get them down a little on the price,” Alan suggested.
 

“We’d have to
get them down a lot,” John replied.
 

“There’s one
more house to see,” Alan said, his tone far less enthusiastic than it had
been.
 
“It’s just on the next
street, if you want to follow me.”
 
He headed towards his car and had Bessie calling after him.

“I’m sure we
could more easily walk,” she suggested.
 
“The weather’s fine.”

Alan looked at
the sky, which was slightly overcast, and then
back
at
Bessie.
 
“I guess we can walk, if
that’s okay with Mr. Rockwell.”

“It’s fine,”
John assured him.
 
“I feel like
stretching my legs anyway.”

Alan nodded
and then glanced longingly at his car.
 
“This way, then,” he told them, heading towards the corner.

As they
approached the next property, Bessie felt her heart sink.
 
She only knew of one house for sale on
this particular street and it was one she didn’t really want to spend any time
in.
 
Alan stopped exactly where she
was expecting him to stop.

“This is it,”
he announced.
 
“Unlike the last
property, this one hasn’t been
modernised
at
all.
 
Of course, that means the
price is considerably lower.”

“I’ve been in
this house before,” John told him.

“Oh, do you
know the current owners?” Alan asked.

“No, I was
investigating the murder that took place in the kitchen,” John replied.

Alan
flushed.
 
“I wasn’t, that is, I’d
heard
rumours
but I wasn’t certain that they were
true.
 
That explains why the price
is as low as it is, I guess.
 
People
can be, well, hesitant to live in a house where someone was murdered.”

“I can see
their point,” Bessie said, staring up at Nancy King’s house with a heavy heart.

“Do you know,
that is, well, was there much blood?” Alan asked.
 
“I mean, I guess they’ll have cleaned it
up, but I don’t really deal well with blood.”

“Mrs. King was
poisoned,” Bessie said sharply.
 

“Oh, dear, how
unfortunate for her and her family,” Alan muttered, looking slightly
unwell.
 

“Yes, it was,”
Bessie
agreed.

“Anyway, the
house is, as I said, in need of
modernising
, but the
location is excellent and it already has four bedrooms,” Alan plowed on with
his sales pitch in spite of everything.

“Bessie, are
you okay?” John asked with real concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,”
Bessie replied, working to keep her voice from shaking.
 
“I just wasn’t expecting to be coming
here.
 
I was here right after Nancy
died, helping her daughter, Sarah, go through things.
 
It’s just the shock of being here,
that’s all.
 
I’m fine.”

Bessie felt
John studying her face and she forced herself to smile.
 
The events that took place in July had
upset her tremendously, but she was determined not to let them continue to
affect her.

She and John followed
Alan up the walkway to the front door.
 
He unlocked it and then stepped back.
 
“After you,” he said.

Bessie stepped
into the house and sighed.
 
The
curtains were still drawn, exactly as they had been in July.
 
The house was dark and felt cold and
empty.
 
Alan switched on a light and
Bessie looked around the sitting room.

“They haven’t
even tidied up,” she exclaimed.

The room
looked almost exactly the same as it had when she’d last been there.
 
The used plates and cups were still
scattered around the room, although it appeared that someone had collected all
of the old newspapers that had covered the floor.
 
They’d dropped the pile onto one of the
chairs, which wasn’t much of an improvement as far as Bessie was concerned.
 
The layer of dust that had been present
months earlier now seemed thicker, and Bessie felt a tickle in her nose.

“Yes, well, I
gather the current owners are across and they simply want the property
sold.
 
They’re selling it ‘as is,’
so you get all of the furniture with it,” Alan said.

Bessie glanced
around at shabby couches and chairs, scarred tables and mismatched and battered
lamps.
 
“Oh, good,” she said
sarcastically.

“Perhaps you’d
like to see the rest?” Alan asked.

They headed
towards the back of the house, towards the small kitchen.
 
Bessie was worried what they might find
there, but it appeared to be a good deal cleaner than the sitting room had been.
 
The small wooden table in the
centre
of the room had three chairs around it.

“Mrs. King’s
daughter got rid of the chair that her mother was sitting in when she found
her,” John told Bessie quietly.
 
“And she had the kitchen professionally cleaned once we were done with
it.”

“It’s a shame
she didn’t have them do the whole house,” Bessie remarked.

They moved on
to the small bathroom that was reasonably tidy before heading to the bedrooms.

“This was
Sarah’s bedroom,” Bessie told John as they looked at the sparsely furnished
room.
 
The layer of dust on the bed
and desk made it obvious that the room hadn’t been used in many years.

The next room
was mostly empty, which Bessie considered a vast improvement.
 
“According to Sarah, all three of her
brothers shared this room,” she told John.

He raised an
eyebrow.
 
“That would have been a
very tight fit,” he commented as he looked around the small space that felt
crowded with only a small bookcase and a single bedside table in it.

The third room
along the hall was completely empty.
 

“Sarah said
her father used this as an office,” Bessie remarked.
 

John turned on
the light and then frowned.
 
“There’s some serious water damage in the corner,” he remarked.

Bessie looked
at the wet patch and shook her head.
 
“I pointed that out to Sarah when we went around in July,” she
said.
 
“She was going to get it
fixed, but it’s definitely worse now than it was then.”

John walked
over to the corner and felt the wall.
 
“It’s wet quite a long way down the wall,” he said.
 
“This won’t be cheap to repair.”

The last
bedroom was the largest and had clearly been the master bedroom.
 
Bessie noted that a few of the smaller
furniture pieces had been removed, but the bed and the massive wardrobe were
still in place.
 
Bessie couldn’t
resist walking over and pulling the wardrobe open.
 
The clothes she had seen there in July
were still in place.

“I’m sure we
can get the owners to get rid of those,” Alan said from behind her.
 
“The wardrobe itself is a lovely piece
of furniture.”

“Yes, it is,”
Bessie
agreed, not really paying attention.
 
She was thinking about Sarah.
 
Clearly the woman was having trouble
dealing with her mother’s death if she were selling the house and all its
contents in this condition.
 
Resolving to ring Sarah that very afternoon, Bessie turned back to the
men.

“What do you
think?” she asked John.

“I think
there’s something strange about that little bedroom next door,” he replied,
frowning.