Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) (23 page)

Having
finished shopping, the pair made their way to the buffet.
 
Bessie had been right.
 
There was far more food there than necessary.
 
She and Doona fixed plates and found a
table.
 
Waiters were circulating
with glasses of wine and champagne, and they each grabbed a glass from one of
them as they took their seats.

“This is
really good,” Bessie said after several minutes.
 

“It is,” Doona
agreed.

Bessie
frowned.
 
Doona was mostly pushing
food around her plate, rather than eating.
 
“Are you seriously that tempted to take the job with Grant?” she asked
her.

“I don’t
know,” Doona shrugged.
 
“I really do
love my job, but the pay isn’t terrific and the hours can be long and
unpredictable.
 
I wish I knew more
about Grant.”

“Mary can tell
you more,” Bessie said.
 
“She
doesn’t like him, but that seems mostly because he takes up a lot of George’s
time.
 
Why don’t you try to find her
and see what she says?”

“I don’t much
like him, either,” Doona said.
 
“He
has a way of looking at me that makes me feel, well, vulnerable, I guess.
 
But he’s gorgeous and important and
people would be impressed if I worked for him, wouldn’t they?”

“They’d
probably think you were sleeping with him,” Bessie said bluntly.

Doona
flushed.
 
“Whether I take the job or
not, I’m not interested in a personal relationship with the man,” she said
firmly.

“I would
suggest you make that very, very clear to Grant if you do talk to him about the
job,” Bessie told her.
 
“I get the
feeling that he might be hoping to mix business and pleasure.”

“Maybe I’d
better forget all about it,” Doona said, sighing.

“If you aren’t
happy at the police station, I’m sure there are other jobs you could apply
for,” Bessie said.
 
“This thing with
Grant isn’t your only option.”

Doona
shrugged.
 
“I don’t know what I want
to do,” she admitted.
 
“Things are
complicated at work right now and money is a bit tight.
 
I just need to stop buying new clothes
and getting my hair done every month, I guess.”

“What’s wrong
at work?” Bessie asked.

Doona looked
around, as if checking to make sure they couldn’t be overheard.
 
“Grant sort of hit on it,” she
whispered.
 
“John is very attractive
and he is going to be available soon.
 
I know he’s in the middle of a divorce and I’m sure the last thing he
needs right now is a new girlfriend, but, well, I won’t deny that I’m attracted
to him.”

“But you’re
smart enough to give him some time,” Bessie said firmly.
 
“He has to work things out with Sue
before he’ll be ready to date again.”

“I know,”
Doona said sadly.
 
“And then there
will probably be a long queue of beautiful young women waiting for their turn
once his divorce is final.”

Bessie
chuckled.
 
“John’s very attractive,
but I don’t know about a queue,” she replied.

Bessie
finished the last of the food on her plate, washing it down with the rest of
her glass of wine.
 
“The auction’s
about to start,” she said to Doona.
 
“Let’s go and get good seats.”

Doona looked
down at her half-eaten plate of food.
 
“Maybe all this emotional upheaval will be good for my diet,” she said
to Bessie with a wry grin.
 
She
downed what was left in her wine glass and they both stood up and made their
way to the small stage that was set up next to the gallery space.

“Ah, ladies,
do come and join me.”
 
Grant had
detached himself from his crowd of admirers and now he stepped between the two
friends.
 
He took both of them by
the arm and led them through the crowd to the very front row of the seats.
 

“Here we are,”
he said.
 
He waved a hand and a
waiter appeared with more glasses of champagne.
 
Bessie and Doona each took a glass and
then settled into seats on either side of Grant.
 
He smiled at them each in turn and then
turned to Doona.

“Do let me
know what you like,” he said.
 
“I’ll
buy you a little present.”

Doona shook
her head.
 
“I’m not for sale,” she
said stoutly.

“My dear girl,
everyone is for sale.
 
It’s just a
matter of getting the price right.
 
Never mind, I’ll settle for buying something for Bessie instead.”
 
He turned his back on Doona and gave
Bessie an ingratiating smile.

“You will let
me buy you that little painting of Laxey beach, won’t you?” he asked.
 
“I love buying presents for my friends,
and Mary speaks so highly of you that I feel as if I know you.”

“I’d rather
you didn’t,” Bessie answered frankly.
 
“I don’t have the resources to repay your kindness.”

“But I can
afford to be generous.
 
Besides,
it’s all for charity, remember?
 
Mary will be so disappointed if we don’t raise enough.
 
I simply must buy something.”

“Why don’t you
buy something for yourself?” Bessie asked.

“I have more
than enough art in my home as it is,” he told her.
 
“I only purchase art now as an
investment and it goes right into storage.
 
It would be a shame to put that lovely painting of your beach into
storage, wouldn’t it?”

Bessie nodded,
feeling manipulated, but unsure how to politely rescue the situation.
 

“Bessie, my
dear, I thought I might buy that little picture of Laxey beach as a special
present for you,” George’s voice boomed from behind her.
 
“I suppose you already have the view,
but I thought the painting was very well done.”

“It’s lovely,
George,” Bessie said.
 
“But I was
just telling Grant that no one needs to buy me any presents.
 
I do appreciate the thought, though.”

“Grant wants
to buy it for you as well?” George asked with a laugh.
 
“Well, that should push the price up and
really help Mary’s pet cause, shouldn’t it?”

“I don’t want
anyone buying it for me.”
  
Bessie felt as if she were shouting into the
wind
as both men seemed to be ignoring her.

George settled
heavily into the seat next to Bessie and winked at her.
 
“I owe you something for all of your
kindness to Mary.
 
She’s much
happier now that she has such a good friend.”

“Where is
Mary?” Bessie asked
,
mostly to change the subject.

“Oh, she’s
going to be doing the introductions,” George explained, waving a hand towards
the small stage.

Bessie was
instantly worried for her friend.
 
How would the painfully shy woman cope with speaking in front of the large
crowd?

A moment later
a man with dark hair, wearing a very expensive suit, walked up to the small
stage and took his place behind the podium.
 
“Ladies and gentleman, welcome,” he said
in a crisp voice.
  
“I’d like
to start the evening’s activities by giving our hostess, Mary Quayle, a few
moments to talk about the charity we are all here to support.”

Mary was
greeted with polite applause and she spoke for no more than five minutes about
how vital the funds that were going to be raised that evening were to the
people who would benefit from them.
 
Bessie was surprised and relieved that Mary turned out to be a very
capable speaker.
 
From her spot in
the front row, Bessie could tell that Mary was nervous, but she spoke clearly
and slowly, and by the end of the short speech Bessie found herself considering
her bank balance.
 
Perhaps there was
enough extra this month for her to buy a painting after all.
 
The cause was such a good one.

Mary’s speech
was followed by a short talk by a young woman who worked for the charity.
 
Her name was Lynda and she was less
eloquent than Mary had been, but was clearly passionate about her work.
 
After she finished, she and Mary sat
down on seats in one corner of the stage and the dark-haired man returned.

 
“Let’s get started, shall we?”

After the
third item had been successfully sold, Bessie sat back in her seat and
sighed.
 
All three items had sold
for more than double the amount the catalogue suggested that they would go
for.
 
There was no way that Bessie
could afford to compete against the men and women in this crowd.
 
Instead, she settled in to enjoy the
show.
 
After a while, she began to
work out the dynamics of the auction.
 
There were several groups scattered through the crowd.
 
Bessie assumed that most of them were
groups of work colleagues.
 
They
seemed to take great pleasure in bidding against one another, driving the
prices higher and higher.
 

Lynda, from
the charity, was sitting back looking both amazed and delighted as painting
after painting sold for ridiculously high amounts.
 

“Ah, time to
have some fun,” Grant murmured to Bessie when the painting of Laxey beach
finally got its turn.

Bessie looked
over at Doona, but couldn’t catch her eye.
 
She and Grant had been talking in low voices for several minutes, and
Bessie hadn’t managed to catch a single word.
 
Now Grant sat up and glanced over at
George.
 

“Let the games
begin,” he said loudly.

Ten minutes
later, Grant was twenty-seven thousand pounds poorer and George was shaking his
head.
 

“I give up,”
he told Grant just before the hammer fell.
 
“I’ll have to find something else for Bessie.”

“I don’t want
anything,” Bessie said, a bit more loudly than she’d intended.
 
She felt as though everyone in the room
was looking at her and she blushed.
 
Sinking down in her seat, she watched the rest of the rest of the
auction with morbid fascination.
 
George and Grant bid against each other on a couple of other paintings,
with each man winning once.
 
By the
time the sale was over, a staggeringly large amount had been raised for charity
and Bessie felt completely drained.

George and
Grant both joined the short queue to pay for their purchases, leaving Bessie
and Doona in their seats.

“That was just
stupid,” Bessie said.
 
“Everyone got
quite carried away with showing off how rich they are.”

“But it raised
a lot of money for a good cause,” Doona pointed out.
 

“Oh, Bessie,
wasn’t that wonderful?” Mary asked as she joined them, dropping into the seat
that Grant had vacated between Doona and Bessie.

“It was
interesting,” Bessie replied.
 
“And
it certainly raised a lot of money.”

“I know.
 
Lynda can’t quite believe it,” Mary
replied.

“Well,
congratulations on a very successful evening,” Bessie said.
 
She glanced at her watch.
 
“I’m feeling quite worn out,” she told
her friends.
 
“I think I might want
to head for home.”

“We can do
that,” Doona said.
 
“I just need a
minute with Grant before we go.”

“I can have
someone take Bessie home if you’re not ready to leave,” Mary offered.
 

“No, it’s
fine,”
Doona
said.
 

The trio stood
up and Bessie headed towards the exit.
 
She would wait for Doona outside in the fresh air, she decided.
 
She was halfway across the room when she
felt a hand on her arm.

“Bessie, you
almost forgot your painting,” Grant said, trying to hand her a large
parcel.
 
“I’ve had them wrap it up
carefully for you.”

“I can’t
accept it,” Bessie said.
 
“You’ll
have to take it home yourself.”

“I don’t want
it,” Grant told her.
 
“I bought it
for you.
 
Well, really I bought it
so that George couldn’t, but that’s beside the point.
 
You might as well have it, otherwise
I’ll just throw it in a storage unit somewhere and it will be wasted.”

Bessie opened
her mouth to protest, but something else altogether came out.
 
“Did you know Adam King?” she asked.

Grant shook
his head.
 
“George told me you like
to play detective,” he said in an amused tone.
 
“Here’s what I told the police:
 
I’m sure I must have met the young man
when he worked at the bank, but I have no direct recollection of him.
 
I have no idea what might have driven
his parents to hide his body and his suitcases behind a wall in their own
home.
 
Is that good enough for you?”

“What about
Mark Carr?” Bessie asked, ignoring the sensible part of her brain that was
telling her to stop pushing her luck.