Free Aunt Bessie Invites (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 9) by Diana Xarissa Page A

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.   “One person either way won’t make a
difference.”
    William didn’t get a chance to reply before
someone shouted his name.   He gave
Bessie a quick hug and headed off to talk to the man.   Bessie picked up another biscuit and
turned to see who else she knew.
    “Marjorie, what a great turnout,” she said
to the Museum’s librarian and archivist.   Marjorie Stevens was a wonderful resource for Bessie’s research.   The woman also taught the Manx language
classes that Bessie had taken several times.
    “I’m pleasantly surprised at how many people
are here,” Marjorie replied.   “It is
a Tuesday afternoon in November.   I
thought we’d be lucky to have a dozen people turn up.”
    “I suppose William is very popular,” Bessie
said.
    “He’s a very talented researcher and the
Manx History Institute is going to be a wonderful resource once it gets up and
running properly,” Marjorie told her.
    “How are things in the library?” Bessie
asked.
    “Fine, although I’m missing you,” Marjorie
told her.   “It was so nice, when you
were living in Douglas, having you around so regularly.   Now that you’re back in Laxey, no one is
indexing my boxes.”
    “I’m sorry,” Bessie said.   “I have really been neglecting my
research, haven’t I?   I’ll try to do
better after Thanksgiving.”  
    Bessie had left school at seventeen, content
with her American high school diploma, but she’d learned a great deal about
historical research after years of working at the museum library on various
projects.   She worked mostly with
old wills and Marjorie was always grateful when Bessie was willing to go through
one of the old boxes of papers that the museum had received over the
years.   Bessie indexed the contents
and enjoyed the excitement of finding old and interesting documents that had
been long forgotten.
    “Thanksgiving,” Marjorie exclaimed.   “I don’t think I ever thanked you for
inviting me to your dinner,” she said.   “I’d love to come, if it isn’t too late to let you know.”
    “Of course it isn’t,” Bessie replied.   “And I’m delighted you can make it.   Did you want to bring a guest?”
    Marjorie shook her head.   “I’ll be quite happy on my own,” she
assured Bessie.   “Kyst t’ou?”
    Bessie laughed.   Marjorie never let her get away without
at least saying a few words in Manx.   “Ta mee braew,” Bessie answered her.
    Marjorie patted her arm.   “You’ll be fluent in no time,” she told
Bessie.
    Bessie just laughed again and then headed
for the stairs.   She’d spoken to
just about everyone she knew.   Mark
Blake, the director of special projects, caught her just before she reached the
first step.
    “Bessie, thank you for the invitation.   I’d love to come to your dinner,” he
told her.
    “Excellent,” Bessie said with a broad
smile.   “Will you be bringing a
guest?”
    Mark shrugged.   “My brother might be visiting that
weekend,” he said.   “I may have to
bring him so that he doesn’t complain about being abandoned when he went to all
the trouble to come across.   If
that’s okay, that is.”
    “It’s fine,” Bessie said with a laugh.   “I’d hate for him to feel left out,
especially after coming such a long way.”
    At the entrance to the museum, Bessie stopped
to chat with Henry Costain, who’d worked for Manx National Heritage since he’d
left school.   That had been a great
many years ago, and Bessie knew he had built up an extensive knowledge of the
various sites on the island in those years.
    “Bessie, that’s a terrible business out at
the old Clague farm, isn’t it?” Henry asked.
    “It is, yes,” Bessie agreed.
    “I was starting to worry a while back that I
was bad luck, you know,” he told her.   “I was finding dead bodies all around the place, but it turns out it
isn’t me.   I don’t seem to find any
when I’m not with you.”
    Bessie forced