Aunt Bessie Finds (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 6) (30 page)

“Thank you,” Bessie said, feeling foolish for having bothered the
man.
 
“As you say, it’s probably
nothing.”

On her walk home, though, she kept replaying his words about there
being something happening at Seaside Terrace that might concern the
police.
 
Was he talking about the
missing man or something else?

 
Bessie checked her
postbox when she got back to her flat and was surprised to find all of the
letters from Monday and Tuesday had finally arrived.
 
She shook her head.
 
She hadn’t posted anything today, and
now, with Howard’s disappearance, she wasn’t sure she cared very much about the
delayed post.

She knocked on
Bahey’s
door before she
stopped at her own flat.
 
One look
at her friend’s face told her what she wanted to know.

“You haven’t heard from him,” Bessie said flatly.

“No,” Bahey replied sadly.
 
“I went and did my volunteer hours, but it was hard.
 
Now I guess I’ll just sit here and
worry.”

“Maybe we should ring his daughter,” Bessie said.
 
“We just need to make up some excuse for
doing so.”

Bahey let Bessie in, and the pair sat down and discussed their
options.
 

“Maybe you could ring and say you’re trying to come up with ideas
for presents for his birthday,” Bessie suggested.
 

“The thing is,” Bahey said slowly.
 
“Carla and I don’t really get along very
well.
 
That is, we haven’t actually
met or anything, but she doesn’t like the idea of her father dating.
 
I’ve only spoken to her twice, and both
times she was openly hostile to me.”

Bessie frowned.
 
That
rather complicated things.
 
They
tossed around a few other ideas, but nothing seemed appropriate.
 
After a while, Bessie fixed them both
some dinner, but neither woman had much appetite.
 
Bessie finally headed for home at nine.

“Ring me or come over if you hear anything,” she instructed her
friend.

“I will,” Bahey promised.

Bessie let herself into her flat, where her answering machine light
was flashing.

“Bessie, it’s Doona.
 
I’m going to have to cancel for tomorrow.
 
The regular weekend receptionist has one
of those awful summer colds and just can’t seem to get rid of it.
 
I told her I’d take her shift tomorrow
so she can sleep.
 
Sorry.”

There were a handful of other messages, including two from Alan
Collins, asking if she’d made up her mind on the flat yet.
 
Bessie deleted them all.
 
It was too late to return
Doona’s
call, so Bessie got ready for bed and curled up
with one of her new books.
 
Within
minutes, she felt as if she couldn’t keep her eyes open and gave up on reading.

At exactly six o’clock the next morning she woke up feeling rested
and refreshed.
 
As soon as her mind
cleared, she immediately felt guilty.
 
Poor Howard was missing and Bahey was a wreck; the least she should have
done was sleep poorly.

After a shower and breakfast, Bessie headed out into a light rain
for a short walk.
 
The promenade was
deserted and Bessie stuck to its paved surface, rather than struggle her way
through the wet sand.
 
That was one advantage to living in Douglas
,
she had to admit
.
 
There wasn’t any pavement along the beach in
Laxey
.

Bahey was already dressed when Bessie knocked on her door just
after eight.
 

“I don’t know what to do,” she said as a greeting.
 
“I don’t want to ring the police, but
I’m worried about Howard.”

“I saw Inspector Corkill yesterday,” Bessie told her.
 
“I told him about Howard,
unofficially.
 
He’s going to stop by
today to talk to us.”

Bahey nodded.
 
“Maybe
Howard will ring before the inspector gets here,” she said, hopefully.

“Do you want to come over and wait in my flat?” Bessie
suggested.
 
“That’s where the
inspector is planning to meet with us.”

“Sure,” Bahey shrugged.
 
“Howard can leave a message on my machine if he rings,” she said,
sounding miserable.
 
She followed
Bessie to her flat and Bessie opened the door.
 
The sound of another door opening caused
them both to stop.

“Ah, good morning, ladies,” Bertie beamed at them.
 

“Good morning,” Bessie said.

“Bahey, you don’t look very happy,” Bertie said, putting an arm
around her.
 
“I do hope you aren’t
this sad just because Howard’s gone away.”

“How do you know Howard’s gone away?” Bessie demanded.

“I saw him getting into a taxi with a suitcase,” Bertie
replied.
 
“Why?
 
Is it meant to be a big secret or
something?”

Bessie shook her head.
 
“Sorry, no, we just didn’t know that everyone knew, that’s all.”

Bertie looked from one woman to the other and then shrugged.
 
“Anyway, if you’re lonely, I’d be happy
to take you to dinner tonight,” he suggested to Bahey.
 
“I know we both like that little Italian
restaurant on the corner.”

Bahey shook her head.
 
“Thanks, but I’m busy,” she said, almost mechanically.
 
She stomped into Bessie’s flat, leaving
Bessie to wind up the conversation with Bertie and then follow her.

“It sounds like Howard went willingly,” she said to Bahey once
she’d joined her.

“Yeah, without bothering to tell me,” Bahey said miserably.

“Maybe it was an emergency,” Bessie replied.
 
“Why don’t you wait and see what he says
when he gets back?”

Bahey shrugged.
 
“I
don’t know.”

 
Bessie tried to start
several conversations with her friend, but Bahey clearly didn’t want to
talk.
 
After a while, Bessie handed
Bahey a book and then curled up with the one she’d started the previous
evening.
 
When she began to feel
drowsy again, she decided it was the book rather than her body that was at
fault and switched to an old favourite instead.

By midday Bahey seemed in better spirits.

“I don’t usually read much,” she told Bessie.
 
“But this is pretty good.”

Bessie smiled at her.
 
“Rex Stout is one of my favourite authors,” she replied.
 
“He wrote a great many books about Nero
Wolfe.
 
I can lend you dozens more.”

Bessie fixed a light lunch for them both, and they were just
sitting down to it when someone knocked on Bessie’s door.

“Good afternoon,” Inspector Corkill said formally when Bessie
opened the door.

“Hello, inspector,” Bessie replied.
 
“Please come in.
 
We were just having some lunch.
 
Would you like something?”

“A cup of tea and a biscuit would do nicely,” he told her.
 
He sat down next to Bahey at the table
while Bessie fixed his drink.
 
She
piled a dozen assorted biscuits on a plate and set that on the table when she
rejoined the others.

“Have you anything to report from last night or today?” he asked
Bessie after he’d finished a couple of biscuits.

“Bertie, who lives across the hall, told us that he saw Howard
getting into a taxi the other night,” Bessie said.
 
“Apparently he had a suitcase with him
as well.”

The inspector raised an eyebrow.
 
“That certainly suggests that he left
voluntarily,” he said.
 
“It doesn’t
mean you can’t file a report, but I question whether it’s necessary.”

“I don’t want to file anything,” Bahey said.
 
“He’s probably gone to see his daughter
and just didn’t bother to tell me.”

“I’m sure he was just in a rush,” Bessie said, soothingly.

“He hasn’t rung since,” Bahey pointed out.

The inspector looked at Bessie and then down at his cup.
 
He finished his tea and grabbed a couple
more biscuits as he stood up.
 
“I
guess you won’t be needing me, then,” he said.
 
“I’ll just go and have a little chat
with the building manager before I leave.”

Bessie showed him out.
 
“I wonder what he was going to talk to Nigel about,” she remarked to
Bahey as she sat back down at the table.

Bahey shrugged.
 
“Probably checking on Bertie’s story,” she said.
 

“Probably,” Bessie agreed.

After lunch Bahey insisted on returning to her own flat, leaving
Bessie with an empty afternoon.
 
The
museum closed at one on a Saturday, so that meant she couldn’t get any further
on her indexing today.
 
After a few
minutes of indecision, she headed for the nearest taxi rank.

The taxi ride into Ramsey was uneventful.
 
Her driver was a Manx native and he
filled the journey with complaints about all of the recent
comeovers
who were taking all the good jobs and driving up house prices.
 
Bessie simply bit her lip and let him
rant.
 
The trip to Ramsey was far
too short to change the man’s mind about anything.

Bessie spent an hour in her favourite bookstore, buying a few new
books and chatting with the helpful staff.
 
She stopped at each of the charity shops in town, checking their
second-hand book piles and just generally looking around.
 
After a couple of hours, she was ready
to head for home.
 
She had a taxi take
her to her cottage in
Laxey
, using
Bahey’s
new interest in reading as her excuse.

An hour back in her own little home improved Bessie’s mood
considerably.
 
She dug out a handful
of Rex Stout novels for Bahey to borrow and found a few books she wanted to
read as well.
 
A short stroll on the
beach reminded her of how much she loved her home and also why she was enjoying
her time in Douglas.
 
The beach was
crowded with large and noisy families who seemed determined to enjoy their
holiday in spite of the weather.
 
Although a light rain was falling, children were building sandcastles
and people were splashing in the sea.
 
Bessie dried off in her cottage and then rang her usual service for a
ride back to Douglas.

The driver was one she barely knew.
 
They chatted about the weather and his
favourite football team until they arrived at Seaside Terrace.
 
Bessie checked her postbox on her way
in, but it was empty.

“How are you, my dear?” Nigel asked as she walked past.

“I’m fine,” Bessie replied shortly.
 
She was in no way his ‘dear.’

“I thought maybe you’d like to get a drink tonight,” he said,
smiling at her.
 
“Maybe around
seven?”

“Thank you, but no,” Bessie said firmly.

“Oh, but why not?” Nigel demanded.
 

“I’m not much of a drinker,” Bessie replied.
 
“And I rarely go out on an
evening.”
 
And I find you rather
repellant, she added to herself.

Nigel opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.
 
“Nigel?” a voice shouted from the
corridor behind the man.
 
“Nigel?
 
I need you.”

The man rolled his eyes.
 
“Mother’s just awake from her nap,” he explained to Bessie.
 
He headed off down the hallway, leaving
Bessie to wonder at how clearly she could understand the woman today.

The rest of the weekend passed slowly for Bessie.
 
She spent much of Sunday watching the
rain coming down heavily and reading the books she’d bought in Ramsey.
 

Monday felt like a fresh start to her and she was pleased to see
the sun peeking out as she headed out of her flat for her walk.
 
Her welcome mat hadn’t moved and there
was no sign of the mirror, which made
her
feel even
better.
 
She waited patiently for
the lift, contemplating which direction she felt like walking today.
 
The soft “ping” warned her just before
the doors to the lift slid open.
 
Bessie took a step forward and almost fell over Howard, who was just
emerging.