1 Aunt Bessie Assumes

Aunt
Bessie Assumes

An Isle
of Man Cozy Mystery

By:

Diana
Xarissa

Text Copyright
©
2014 Diana Xarissa

All Rights Reserved

Author’s Note

Aunt Bessie originally came to life (sort
of) in my Isle of Man Romance,
Island Inheritance
.
 
She was the source of the inheritance
that prompted the heroine to visit the Isle of Man.
 
So, yes, in that book she had recently
passed away.
 
Her life story was
told through the recollections of other characters, as well as through letters
and diaries.

After I finished writing the book, I
couldn’t seem to let go of Aunt Bessie.
 
She fascinated me and I wanted to learn more about her.
 
When I decided to start a cozy mystery
series, also to be set in the Isle of Man (more about that later), I knew I
needed an interesting and unique protagonist.
 
Aunt Bessie seemed tailor-made for the
job.
 
Aside from the “being dead”
part, that is.
 

Of necessity, therefore, this book is set
circa 1998, about fifteen years before that romance novel, which was pretty
much intended to be set in the year it was written (2013).
  
Aunt Bessie is, thus, still very
much alive.
 
I’m hoping I haven’t
made any obvious errors in setting the story in the recent past.
 
The biggest changes have, obviously,
been in technology.
 
So, for example,
Aunt Bessie and her friends have mobile phones, but not “smart” phones.

For readers who enjoyed
Island
Inheritance
, or other of my Isle of Man Romance series books, you will
find the occasional character
who
crosses over between
books and series.
 
Obviously, in the
Aunt Bessie books they will be younger versions of themselves.
 
I hope you enjoy a little peek into
their personal histories in that way.
 
Similarly, if you start with the mysteries and go on to read the
romances, you can find out what happens in later life to some of the characters
from the Aunt Bessie books.

I’ve used British spellings and British
and/or Manx words and terminology throughout the book (although one or two
American words or spellings might have slipped past me).
 
A couple of pages of translations and
explanations for many of them, especially for readers outside of the United
Kingdom,
follows
this note.
 

As to the setting, the story takes place
in the incredibly beautiful Isle of Man.
 
The island is located between England and Ireland in the Irish Sea.
 
While it is a Crown Dependency, it is a
country in its own right, with its own currency, stamps, language and
government.
 

This is a work of fiction.
 
All of the characters are a product of
the author’s imagination.
 
Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
 
Similarly, the names of the restaurants
and shops and other businesses on the island are fictional.
 
I’ve also taken considerable liberties
with locations within the story, adding fiction shops and restaurants where
they are convenient to the story rather than where they actually exist.

The historical sites and other landmarks on
the island are all real; however, all of the events that take place within them
in this story are fictional.
 
 
(And I’m sure the food at the Ramsey and
Cottage District Hospital is much better in reality than Bessie finds it here.)

Manx National Heritage is real and their
efforts to preserve and promote the historical sites and the history of the island
are extraordinary.
 
All of the Manx
National Heritage staff in this story, however,
are
fictional creations.
 

The Isle of Man Constabulary is also real,
however their members in this story are very much fictional and they behave in
ways that I’m sure their real counterparts never would.

The island was my home for over ten years
and I hope that my writing conveys how much I loved it there.
 
It is a truly unique and fascinating
place, steeped in history and endowed with its own distinct culture and traditions.
 
I hope to visit soon and I encourage all
of my readers to do the same.

 
Glossary of Terms

Manx to English

House Names – Manx to English

English to American Terms

Other Notes

CID is the
Criminal Investigation Department of the Isle of Man Constabulary (Police
Force).

“Noble’s” is
Noble’s Hospital, the main hospital on the Isle of Man.
 
It is located in Douglas, the island’s
capital city.

When talking
about time, the English say, for example, “half-seven” to mean “seven-thirty.”

Bessie mentions
“getting a telegram from the Queen” – British citizens used to receive
telegrams from the ruling monarch on the occasion of their one-hundredth
birthday.
 
Cards replaced the
telegrams in 1982, but the special greeting is still widely referred to as a
telegram.

One character is
referred to as living in a “4-bed semi”, which is the short way of saying a
four-bedroomed, semi-detached house.
 
Semi-detached properties are two separate units that share a common wall
down the centre.
 
(In America they
are often called “duplexes.”)
 
Each
unit would be sold individually.
 
Such properties are common in the United Kingdom where space is at a
premium.

The “licence fee”
referred to in the story is a television licence fee.
 
This fee is required in the United
Kingdom for anyone who owns and operates a television set.
 
The money raised pays for public
broadcasting, the British Broadcasting Corporation (or BBC) stations (both
television and radio).

A charity shop is
a store run by a non-profit organisation that sells second-hand items that have
been donated to the store.
 
All of
the profits go to support the non-profit group running the store.
 
They are a great source for second-hand
books, furniture, toys, games, etc.

When
island residents talk about someone being from “across,” they mean that the
person is from somewhere in the United Kingdom.
 
(
across
the water)

In the United
Kingdom (UK) a doctor’s office is often referred to as a “surgery.”

Chapter One

Elizabeth Cubbon, known as Bessie to her
friends, rubbed her eyes and checked the clock by her bed.
 
It was 6:06, which meant her internal
alarm was a few minutes off today.
 
She frowned as she sat up in bed and pushed back the warm duvet.
 
Slippers in place, she padded over to
the window and looked out.
 
The glow
from the nearest street lamp gave her just enough light see the sheets of rain
that were falling.
 
She would
definitely have the beach to herself this morning.

Half an hour later she was showered and
dressed and waiting impatiently for the sky to lighten up a bit.
 
Sunrise, this early in March, was still
half an hour away.
 
As rainy and
overcast as it was, the sun wasn’t going to make much difference, but she waited
for it anyway.
 
A hot cup of tea and
toast with honey and homemade strawberry jam helped to pass the time as she
watched out the window for the sun to come up.

At quarter past seven, when the sun had
risen
enough to lift just a bit of the gloom, she pulled on
her thickest waterproof coat and a pair of Wellington boots.
 
An umbrella would have been useless in
the strong wind.
 
Bessie loved
walking on the beach and she wasn’t about to let a little rain or wind stop
her.
 
It was, however, colder
outside than she had realised and once she stepped out, she decided that
today’s morning walk was going to be a short one.
 

As usual, she headed straight towards the
water.
 
Some distance from the
water’s edge, she turned right and began her usual stroll towards the line of
newer cottages in the distance.
 
Most days she walked as far as the closest cottage before turning back
towards home.
 
In the summer she
might walk to the cottages and well beyond.
 
Today she planned to shorten her stroll
considerably as the strong wind began to pick up and the rain streamed across
her face.
 

In the dim light and pouring rain, she
supposed it wasn’t surprising that she didn’t see the man until she had nearly
tripped over him.
 
One look had her
turning around and heading for home.
 
Even if she had brought her mobile phone with her on the walk, she
couldn’t have used it in the heavy rain.
 
She walked as quickly as she could back to her cottage, hurrying faster
than she had in many years.

She dialled a number she knew well.

“Laxey Neighbourhood Policing, this is
Doona, how can I help you?”

The familiar voice was welcome.
 
Doona only worked the early shift once
or twice a week and Bessie felt fortunate that she was the one who answered the
phone today.
 
“Doona, it’s Elizabeth
Cubbon,” she said, suddenly formal.

“Bessie?
 
My goodness, aren’t we formal on a
Monday?”

“Sorry, Doona.”
 
Bessie felt flustered.
 
“It’s just that I’ve found a body, you
see.”

“A body?” Doona repeated.
 
“What sort of body is that, then?”

“Well, a human one,” Bessie answered.
 
“A man, probably middle-aged I would
guess, although it’s hard to tell since he’s face down in the sand.”

“And you found him where, exactly?”

“He’s just lying on the beach.”
 
Bessie felt she was explaining herself badly.
 
She took a deep breath and started
over.
 
“I went out for my morning
walk, and I nearly tripped over this man who’s lying on the beach.
 
I’m sure he must be dead.
 
It’s too cold and wet for anyone to lie
there otherwise.”

“Aye, dead drunk, more like it,” Doona
replied.
 
“How many complaints have
we had about the folks in the new cottages getting drunk and behaving badly?”

“I don’t think anyone’s staying at the
cottages yet, this season.
  
Anyway, I really think he’s dead,” Bessie told her friend.
 
“He’s lying face down in the sand and he
didn’t move when I shouted at him.
 
I
think you’d better send Hugh and he’d better be quick.
 
The tide’s on its way in and the gulls
are circling.”

“I don’t suppose you have any guests that
could go and stand by the body until Hugh gets there?” Doona asked.
 
“Someone should keep an eye on it, I
guess.”

“No one stayed over last night,” Bessie
answered.
 
“They usually don’t on
school nights.”

Bessie had never married or had children
of her own, so she acted as an “honorary aunt” to every child in the small
village of Laxey, where she made her home.
 
Her guest room was often occupied on weekends by some angry or unhappy teen
who
felt misunderstood by his or her parents.
 

“That’s a shame.
 
I’m calling Hugh on his mobile phone
now, but it will take him a while to get dressed and get down there.
 
He doesn’t usually roll in here until
half-eight or nine.”

“I’ll go and wait with the body,” Bessie
told her.

“Now don’t you be silly,” Doona replied.
 
“You stay in where it’s warm and
dry.
 
I’ll tell Hugh to hurry.”

“The poor man shouldn’t be out there all
alone,” Bessie argued.
 
“I’ll go and
stand with him and chase away the gulls and the tide.”

“You’ll struggle to chase away the tide, I
think,” Doona laughed.
 
“I’ll make sure
Hugh knows you’re waiting out in the cold for him.
 
I’m sure he’ll hurry faster if he knows that
you’re getting soaked and blown around.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of anything with
young Hugh,” Bessie replied.
 
“He’s
a nice kid, but I’ve never seen him hurry at anything.”

“Just as well he’s living here,” Doona
chuckled.
 
“Traa-dy-liooar, and all
that.”

In spite of her offer, Bessie was in no
hurry to get back outside in the nasty weather to spend more time with the dead
man.
  
After she’d hung up the
phone, she put the kettle back on and prepared herself another hot drink.
 
She carefully poured it into an
insulated mug and then, reluctantly, pulled her still wet coat back on.
 
The man on the beach hadn’t moved, which
didn’t surprise Bessie.
 
There was
no doubt in her mind that he was dead, whatever Doona thought.
 

The rain was easing off slightly, and the
sun was trying its best to warm the air as it rose, before Bessie finally
spotted Hugh’s police car pulling into a parking space in front of her
cottage.
 
Bessie headed
up
the beach towards him, waving to him as he emerged from his
car.
 
He was frowning and struggling
to pull on a light raincoat.
 
He
popped open an umbrella and Bessie held back a laugh as the wind immediately
blew it inside out.

“This is beastly weather,” he told Bessie
as she approached him.

“We mustn’t complain,” Bessie told
him.
 
“Plenty of places are worse
than here.”

The man looked at her for a moment and
then shook his head.
 
“Can’t think
where,” he muttered under his breath.
  
Then he spoke loudly.
 
“So what have we got then?”

“I nearly tripped over him,” Bessie told
the young policeman.
 
“I was out for
my morning walk and I didn’t expect to find anyone lying on the beach,
especially not in this weather.”

Hugh nodded.
 
“I expect he’s from the new cottages,”
he told Bessie in an impatient voice.
 
“Had too much to drink and now he’s gone and passed out on the sand.”

“I’m pretty sure the cottages aren’t being
used yet this year.
 
Besides, I
think he’s dead,” Bessie repeated what she’d already told Doona.

Hugh managed to get his umbrella the right
way around again and he battled to keep it that way as the pair slowly
approached the body.
 
They watched
silently as a seagull landed on the man’s back and began pulling at the
thinning hair that surrounded a bald circle on the back of the man’s head.

“That has to hurt,” Hugh remarked as he
stopped walking.
 
“Maybe I’d better
get some reinforcements down here.
 
Dead people aren’t really part of my job description.”

Bessie sighed and turned towards him.
 
“You should at least check that he’s
really dead,” she encouraged the man.
 
“Think how embarrassing it would be to get Inspector Kelly down here
only for him to find that the man really is just passed out.”

Bessie watched as different emotions
flashed across the young man’s face.
 
She had known young Hugh Watterson since the day he was born and she
could almost read his thoughts as he looked from Bessie to the body and back.
 
His eyes and his hair were almost an
identical shade of brown.
 
He was in
his mid-twenties now, and had grown to around six foot tall, but he still
looked no more than fifteen.
 
He was
still sporting the same patchy attempt to grow a moustache that he had started
when he’d actually been that age.
 

Hugh had joined the Isle of Man Constabulary
as soon as he’d left school, but he was still as transparent to her as he had
been at six when he used to stop in to see her after school, pretending he just
wanted to say hi, while really hoping for a biscuit or a slice of cake.
 

While he was pretty smart, even his best
friend would never call him enterprising.
 
His worst enemy would simply say that he was lazy.
 
Bessie could almost see him trying to
figure out what move would cause him the most work.
 
She sighed and took a decisive step towards
the body.
 
The tide was still rising
and it wouldn’t be long before it would reach the man’s feet.

Hugh crossed to her side and then held out
a hand.
 
“Aunt Bessie, you need to
take a step back, please.”
 
Bessie
stopped and then moved back a few feet under Hugh’s suddenly serious gaze.

Hugh reached the man’s side and pushed
gently on his shoulder.
 
Nothing
happened.
 
He pushed a second time,
with more force.

“Sir?”
 
Hugh shook the man’s shoulder, shouting
loudly over the lightly falling rain and the sound of the wind and waves.
 
“Sir, you need to wake up.
 
Sir?”

With a sigh, Hugh walked over to hand his
umbrella to Bessie and then returned to the body.
 
He began struggling to roll the man over
onto his back.
 
Suddenly he stopped
what he was doing and looked over at Bessie.
 
Bessie looked expectantly at him, but
his look told her nothing.

“I need to call for backup,” he said to
Bessie.
 
“I know that this is no job
for a woman, especially an elderly woman, but could you stay with the body for
a few more minutes while I make the call?”

Bessie drew herself up to her full height
of five feet, three inches and glared back at the man.
 
“I’ll thank you to keep your sexist and
ageist remarks to yourself, young man,” she told the policeman.
 
“I am perfectly capable of standing here
for a few minutes while you do what you need to do.
 
The poor dead man deserves to have
sympathetic company while he waits for whatever is going to happen next.”

Hugh looked as if he wanted to argue, but
only for a moment.
 
“Keep the umbrella
for now,” he told Bessie as he headed back to his car.
 
“And stay away from the body.”
 

Bessie grinned as the wind howled and blew
the umbrella inside out yet again.
 
She wasn’t going to stay any drier with it than without it, but she knew
its presence made the young cop feel a bit better about leaving her out in the
storm.
  
Once Hugh was back at
his car, Bessie turned curiously towards the dead man.
 
What she could see of him looked vaguely
familiar, but she wasn’t sure why.

Bessie had lived on the Isle of Man for
almost her entire life.
 
Most of her
childhood had been spent in America, but that had been a very long time
ago.
 
She had purchased her little
cottage on the Laxey beach when she was just eighteen and had lived there ever
since.
 
While Douglas, the island’s
capital, had been growing rapidly recently, thanks to changes in tax law, Laxey
was still pretty much the same small town it had always been.
 
Bessie fancied that she knew just about
everyone in the area, and she felt sure that she could place the man if she
could just see his face.