Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) by Diana Xarissa Page B

partner and then fled the island,” Bessie said with
a sigh as she settled back in her seat.
    “Everyone
knows that Charlie has an overactive imagination,” Doona said.   “As theories go, though, I thought it
was quite interesting.”
    “I thought it
was horrible,” Bessie replied.
    “So you don’t
think there could be any truth in it?” Doona asked.   The drive to Bessie’s was a short
one.   They’d already arrived by the
time Doona finished the question.
    “Let’s walk on
the beach and discuss it,” Bessie suggested.   “I need the fresh air.”
    The afternoon
had cooled off, so Bessie stopped in her cottage to grab a cardigan.   Doona threw on a jacket that she had in
her boot before they began to walk.  
    “Adam did get
himself in a lot of trouble,” Bessie said after they’d walked for a short
time.   “He and the Carr boy used to
run around together and Mark Carr ended up in gaol across not long after Adam left.   But
I still find it hard to believe that a man who ate biscuits at my table could
murder someone and hide the body behind a wall.”
    “I’m sure Mark
is meant to be getting out soon,” Doona said.   “In fact, he may already be out.   Maybe he’ll be able to answer some
questions about Adam.”
    “He’d be the
best one to ask, outside of Sarah and her brothers, I suppose.”
    “I wonder if
Spencer knows anything,” Doona mused.
    “Perhaps I’ll
have to give him a ring,” Bessie said thoughtfully.  
    Spencer Cannon
was another of the children of the Raspberry Jam Ladies, a group of women,
including Nancy King, who’d originally met as new mothers.   They’d stayed friends, meeting once a
week for tea, for around fifty years.   Their children, Adam and Mark Carr among them, had all grown up together.   Spencer had been living across for many
years, but had recently returned to the island.   Bessie had helped him find a job in
Ramsey and he’d rung her just a week ago to thank her yet again for her
help.  
    “Maybe you
should ring Sarah, too,” Doona suggested.  
    “I intend to,”
Bessie replied.   “I can’t imagine
how she must be feeling.”
    At the foot of
the steep wooden steps that led to Thie yn Traie , Bessie and Doona turned
around.   Bessie had been so lost in
her thoughts on the first half of the walk that she’d barely noticed the other
occupants of the beach.   Now she
nodded and smiled at a few elderly couples who were
sitting on their patios, well wrapped up against the chill.  
    Doona insisted
on coming in to have a quick check of the cottage, a habit she’d developed
after someone had tried to kill Bessie some months earlier.
    “It’s the
middle of the day,” Bessie pointed out as Doona checked the downstairs loo for
intruders.   “No self-respecting
burglar or serial killer would break in at this sort of time.”
    “Not funny,”
Doona muttered as she headed for the stairs.   Bessie sighed deeply.   Her friend’s fussing annoyed her
immensely.   She tolerated it because
she knew it made Doona feel better and her friend’s happiness was important to her.
    When Doona
returned to the kitchen, Bessie had put the kettle on.  
    “I don’t
really fancy tea,” Bessie told her friend.   “But making tea seemed like the thing to do.”
    Doona laughed
and shook her head.   “I don’t want
anything.   I really should get home.”
    “I’ve taken up
a lot of your day off,” Bessie said.   “I am sorry.”
    Doona gave her
a hug.   “You don’t need to be
sorry,” she said stoutly.   “Think of
all the number of times I turned up here, sobbing and feeling sorry for myself,
while my marriage was breaking up.   I
owe you hundreds of hours of tea and sympathy.”
    Now Bessie chuckled.   “You weren’t that bad,” she
replied.   “And I was happy to do
it.”
    “And I was
happy to be there for you today,” Doona insisted.   “But if you’re okay, I do have some
things I’d like to get done.”
    “I’m