Read Online Aunt Bessie Finds (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 6) by Diana Xarissa - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Diana Xarissa
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and took a look at the brochure
for the flat in question.
The price shocked her, but it shouldn’t have. She knew property prices had gone up
dramatically in the last year or so. Her own cottage had to be worth at least as much as the flat she now
read about.
While the estate agent had done his best to describe the flat in
glowing terms, it was obviously just a small flat in a small building. Bessie read through the descriptions of
each room, thinking how much they reminded her of Bahey’s place.
Putting that paper aside, she flipped through the half-dozen or so
other properties that Alan Collins had included. If the price of the first flat had
surprised her, she was speechless at some of the others. The listings had been arranged in the
envelope in ascending price order and by the time Bessie reached the last
sheet, she was laughing to herself. Even if she could afford a million-pound property, there was no way she
would ever consider buying one. What on earth had Doona told the man that made
him think she might?
The property in question, a penthouse flat in a brand-new building,
sounded lovely. It was right on the
promenade and there was no doubt it would have amazing views from its “floor to
ceiling walls of windows,” but Bessie already had amazing views and she
certainly didn’t need three bedrooms and four bathrooms in downtown
Douglas.
She put the paperwork back, giving the letter a dirty look as she
slid it into the envelope. Something caught her eye that had her pulling the letter right back out
again.
“Interesting,” she said out loud as her brain registered what she’d
seen. Down the left hand side of
the page was a list of “Directors.” Bessie read the list again. There were only three names on it. Alan Collins, George Quayle and Grant Robertson.
Grant Robertson she knew more through reputation than anything
else. He’d worked for the Manx
National Bank for many years and had earned a reputation for being both
ruthless and slightly dishonest. He’d retired early and taken several board positions with local
companies. He was also well-known for being willing to invest in locals with big
ideas and small budgets. Bessie
knew of three or four small business owners who owed their success to his
assistance, which was often not simply financial. She’d been told more than once that the
man was very willing to get his hands dirty, helping a small business get
started.
George Quayle was another matter. He had grown up on the island and then
moved across. He’d made his fortune
in sales and had recently returned with his wife and their children and
grandchildren. He was a loud and
boisterous man that Bessie found she could only take in small doses, but she
was enjoying a growing friendship with his shy wife, Mary.
But what was he doing acting as a director for Island Choice
Properties, Bessie wondered. There
was only one way to find out.
“Mary? It’s Bessie Cubbon . How are
you?” Bessie began when the phone was answered.
“Oh, Bessie, I’m fine, thank you. What can I do for your today?”
“Two things,” Bessie replied. “First, can you meet me for tea on Tuesday somewhere lovely?”
“I’d like that,” Mary said. Bessie could hear the smile in her voice. “How about that new little tearoom in
Ramsey that wasn’t open yet when we tried to go last time? I’m sure it’s open now, but I haven’t
managed to get inside yet.”
“That’s perfect,” Bessie said. With their plans made, Bessie moved on to her next question.
“I had lunch with a friend the other day and she is trying to
persuade me to move into her building in Douglas. I told her I’d have a look at an empty
flat there and it’s listed with Island Choice Properties. They’ve just sent me the details and I
see that George is a director there. I’d never even heard of them before.”
Bessie stopped
for the flat in question.
The price shocked her, but it shouldn’t have. She knew property prices had gone up
dramatically in the last year or so. Her own cottage had to be worth at least as much as the flat she now
read about.
While the estate agent had done his best to describe the flat in
glowing terms, it was obviously just a small flat in a small building. Bessie read through the descriptions of
each room, thinking how much they reminded her of Bahey’s place.
Putting that paper aside, she flipped through the half-dozen or so
other properties that Alan Collins had included. If the price of the first flat had
surprised her, she was speechless at some of the others. The listings had been arranged in the
envelope in ascending price order and by the time Bessie reached the last
sheet, she was laughing to herself. Even if she could afford a million-pound property, there was no way she
would ever consider buying one. What on earth had Doona told the man that made
him think she might?
The property in question, a penthouse flat in a brand-new building,
sounded lovely. It was right on the
promenade and there was no doubt it would have amazing views from its “floor to
ceiling walls of windows,” but Bessie already had amazing views and she
certainly didn’t need three bedrooms and four bathrooms in downtown
Douglas.
She put the paperwork back, giving the letter a dirty look as she
slid it into the envelope. Something caught her eye that had her pulling the letter right back out
again.
“Interesting,” she said out loud as her brain registered what she’d
seen. Down the left hand side of
the page was a list of “Directors.” Bessie read the list again. There were only three names on it. Alan Collins, George Quayle and Grant Robertson.
Grant Robertson she knew more through reputation than anything
else. He’d worked for the Manx
National Bank for many years and had earned a reputation for being both
ruthless and slightly dishonest. He’d retired early and taken several board positions with local
companies. He was also well-known for being willing to invest in locals with big
ideas and small budgets. Bessie
knew of three or four small business owners who owed their success to his
assistance, which was often not simply financial. She’d been told more than once that the
man was very willing to get his hands dirty, helping a small business get
started.
George Quayle was another matter. He had grown up on the island and then
moved across. He’d made his fortune
in sales and had recently returned with his wife and their children and
grandchildren. He was a loud and
boisterous man that Bessie found she could only take in small doses, but she
was enjoying a growing friendship with his shy wife, Mary.
But what was he doing acting as a director for Island Choice
Properties, Bessie wondered. There
was only one way to find out.
“Mary? It’s Bessie Cubbon . How are
you?” Bessie began when the phone was answered.
“Oh, Bessie, I’m fine, thank you. What can I do for your today?”
“Two things,” Bessie replied. “First, can you meet me for tea on Tuesday somewhere lovely?”
“I’d like that,” Mary said. Bessie could hear the smile in her voice. “How about that new little tearoom in
Ramsey that wasn’t open yet when we tried to go last time? I’m sure it’s open now, but I haven’t
managed to get inside yet.”
“That’s perfect,” Bessie said. With their plans made, Bessie moved on to her next question.
“I had lunch with a friend the other day and she is trying to
persuade me to move into her building in Douglas. I told her I’d have a look at an empty
flat there and it’s listed with Island Choice Properties. They’ve just sent me the details and I
see that George is a director there. I’d never even heard of them before.”
Bessie stopped
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