Aunt Bessie Solves

by Diana Xarissa

  “We were just talking about how much things have changed. If this happened today, all of the girls would have had their own mobile phones with them. But what happened next?”

  “My colleague did a thorough examination of the grounds of the chalet. Everything was covered in a tremendous amount of snow, of course, but that allowed him to check for footprints. Aside from where the resort work crew had dug the opening to the front door, the snow appeared completely undisturbed everywhere else around the chalet.”

  “But the work crew could have destroyed evidence.”

  “They all swore that there weren’t any footprints anywhere when they’d begun to dig out the chalet. Remember that the girl was only missing at this point. Everyone was concerned with working out how she’d left the chalet.”

  “If she’d left right after the maid and cook, her footprints would have disappeared under the subsequent snowfall.”

  “And that was my colleague’s theory in the beginning. He began a methodical search of the entire resort. Considering that the other four girls were lying about the phone call, he assumed that nothing they said could be trusted.”

  “That seems a fair assumption.”

  Andrew nodded. “As half of the resort staff carried on clearing away the snow, the other half got to work looking for Betty Jones. The entire resort was checked, every chalet was searched, even the cars in the car park were examined. My colleague was starting to consider where the girl might have found a taxi or some other form of transportation at two or three in the morning when he had another idea. He rounded up a few men with shovels and headed back to the chalet.”

  “Oh, dear,” Bessie sighed.

  “They dug their way around the entire chalet, in increasingly larger circles. It only took them an hour to find her.”

  Bessie brushed away a tear. “I can’t believe I’m crying over a total stranger who died thirty years ago,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I think it’s kind of you to care,” Andrew told her, patting her hand. “I only wish her friends had cared a bit more, but I’m getting ahead of the story.”

  “She wasn’t found far from the chalet, then?” Bessie asked after she’d wiped away one last tear.

  “Not too far, maybe a few steps away, in the small garden behind the building. She was lying on her stomach, and at first my colleague thought that maybe she’d simply stepped outside to get some fresh air, unaware of the storm, and had frozen to death.”

  “But she hadn’t?”

  “When he turned her over, she had a knife in her chest.”

  Bessie gasped even though she’d known that something awful was coming. “The poor girl.”

  “There was no evidence of a struggle, although the snow could have simply hidden any that might have been there.”

  “Was she wearing a coat?”

  “A light jacket that wouldn’t have protected her from the cold but did manage to soak up most of the blood, leaving the snow fairly clean around the body.”

  “I don’t understand,” Bessie said.

  “Neither did my colleague. All he could do was ask more questions, but the more questions he asked, the harder it became. The four women all stuck to their story. Nothing he did or said could convince them to tell the truth.”

  “Maybe they were all in on it together?”

  “It certainly seemed that way and that was my colleague’s initial conclusion. There didn’t seem to be any other possible explanation.”

  “I can’t think of one, that’s for sure,” Bessie sighed.

  “And then one of the women confessed to killing Betty.”

  Chapter 3

  “Which one?” Bessie asked.

  “Do you want to guess again? You did so well the first time.”

  Bessie thought for a minute. “Tell me more about them all first, and then I’ll guess. Abby was the leader of the group and the oldest. What else do you know about her?”

  “As I said, she came from old money and was something of a snob about it. She’d done some modelling work when she’d been younger, but she’d mostly quit by the time of the skiing weekend. She still described herself as a model, but she hadn’t worked in almost a year.”

  “By choice or because she was getting older?”

  “That’s a good question, and I’m sorry I don’t know the answer to it. I’m sure if she’d been asked, she would have insisted that it was her choice, but there’s no way to be certain, not at this late date, anyway. She didn’t need to work, though.”

  “Did she have a boyfriend back in the UK or elsewhere?”

  “She did, although from what my colleague could piece together from what the other girls said, either they were having difficulties, or they weren’t at all serious, or Abby was more serious than the man in question was. My colleague could never quite pin down anyone to clarify the situation. Abby told him that she and her boyfriend were very close, practically engaged, even.”

  “And did she end up marrying the man eventually?”

  Andrew shook his head. “I don’t know the answer to that, actually. I don’t believe that my colleague kept track of them after the confession.”

  “Okay, what did your colleague think of Abby, then?”

  “He didn’t like her, but he didn’t like any of the women. He found Abby bossy and rude. It was evident that she considered herself far superior to nearly everyone else, especially anyone with the police. She was demanding to be allowed to go home within an hour after the body had been found.”

  “What about Betty? What do you know about her and her fiancé?”

  “Betty had had something of a wild reputation before she met the man she was planning to marry. He was the second son of an earl and as such his family didn’t approve of Betty at all. He’d been left a great deal of money by an aunt or some other relative, which made him one of London’s most eligible bachelors. While Betty’s family had some money, it was really only after she started seeing, well, let’s call him Albert, that she and Abby became friends.”

  “And the pair were happy together, planning a wedding?”

  “That was generally what people thought, right up until the night Betty died, anyway.”

  “I thought the phone call from Albert never actually happened?”

  “It definitely didn’t happen at the time the women claimed it had, but there was some debate about whether it could have happened earlier in the day.”

  “I thought Albert denied ringing Betty?”

  I’ve read and reread the statements, and his denial was oddly phrased. My colleague noted it as well, but could never work out the significance of the phrasing. What the man said was ‘I never rang my fiancée after midnight that night.’”

  “Had he spoken to her earlier in the day?”

  “We don’t know, but we believe so. Remember that my colleague was in Switzerland, being told a particular story. When he rang London and asked someone there to question Albert, he had very specific questions for the man, all pertaining to the phone call that couldn’t have taken place. That was the answer that Albert gave when asked about the call. He wasn’t asked anything else at that point and when an inspector visited a second time to ask additional questions, he was referred to the family solicitor.”

  “That’s suspicious.”

  “Perhaps, but there’s no way the man had anything to do with Betty’s death. He was definitely in London when she died.”

  “But he could have paid someone else to kill her, or at least have been the motive behind the killing.”

  “We’ve no reason to believe that any of the women would have killed their friend for money. As I said, they were all quite wealthy already. And there was no hint that Albert was involved with any of the others, either. He and Betty were reportedly devoted to one another. He was practically living with her, although he did have his own flat.”

  “What about her sister? She was younger?”

  “Yes, and as I said, she was also the most successful mod
el. She travelled a great deal and was, I was told, a last-minute addition to the party. She was meant to be in Milan for work but changed her plans at the last minute.”

  “Was she close friends with the others?”

  “Not especially, as I understood it. Betty was the popular one, but, as I said, Cindy traveled a great deal.”

  “Did she have a flat in London, too?”

  “No, when she was in London, she stayed with her sister.”

  “Interesting,” Bessie said. “Tell me about Dorothy. You said she was new money?”

  “Yes, and that’s about all I know about her, aside from the fact that she was Betty’s friend and that Abby didn’t like her.”

  “She was also a model?”

  “Some of the time. She worked more than Abby did, but not nearly as much as Cindy. Mostly she went to parties and shopped, at least that’s the impression my colleague got of her.”

  “And Flora was plump and only worked when her father was footing the bill?”

  “Yes. She was actually the only one of the women that my colleague didn’t dislike. He said she was quite sweet, really, and only too aware of her shortcomings in spite of being not very bright otherwise. He felt that she was happy to simply coast through life spending her father’s money.”

  “She doesn’t sound very likeable.”

  “No, not to me, either, but perhaps she was only likeable when compared with her friends.”

  Bessie nodded. “I forgot to ask. Did any of the other women have boyfriends in London or elsewhere?”

  “Cindy, like her sister, had something of a wild reputation. I understand she was involved with a number of men, but none of the relationships were serious. Dorothy had a boyfriend. He was old money, which was another thing about Dorothy that annoyed Abby. I don’t know how serious it was, but I know he flew over to Switzerland after the body was found and Dorothy refused to see him.”

  “How odd.”

  “There was no way he was involved in the murder. He was in London at a party with friends on the night that Betty died.”

  “Was Flora involved with anyone?”

  “No, at least not at the time of the murder. There were rumours that she’d been spending some time with Abby’s younger brother, but both Flora and Abby denied that they were anything more than friends.”

  “Abby didn’t approve?”

  Andrew shrugged. “I doubt she would have considered Flora the sort of sister-in-law she wanted, but Flora was from the right sort of family and they were wealthier than Abby’s family, so I can’t see her saying anything against the relationship, either. It’s possible, maybe even probable, that the pair were just friends.”

  “What about Betty’s parents? I assume they flew over when they heard what had happened.”

  “They didn’t, actually. They were on some sort of world cruise holiday or some such thing. Remember that this was thirty years ago, so there weren’t any mobile phones. I believe my colleague sent a telegram to the next port on their itinerary, but by the time the message caught up with them, Betty had already been buried and the murderer had already confessed.”

  “They weren’t planning on attending Betty’s wedding?”

  “Apparently not. I’m not certain if the wedding was planned before they decided to take their cruise or after. From what I’ve been told, Betty wasn’t close to her parents, which may have been a factor.”

  “Aside from whatever the killer said in her confession, was there anyone at the party who had a clear motive for killing Betty?”

  “None that my colleague ever discovered.”

  “What about means? What do you know about the knife?”

  “It was from a set in the chalet’s kitchen. The cook had used it during dinner. The maid washed and dried it and put it back in its place in the chopping block before she left.”

  “Fingerprints?”

  “A few smudges that were eventually attributed to the maid and the cook.”

  “And we don’t know anything about opportunity, as the statements the women made can’t be trusted,” Bessie sighed.

  “No, they can’t. They were obviously lying, and it seems clear that they all had equal opportunity.”

  “Maybe they were all working together?”

  “It’s one possibility, certainly, but it’s difficult to find a motive that would make the four women work together to kill the fifth. They were meant to be there celebrating Betty’s engagement, after all.”

  “I could almost understand it if Abby had been the one who’d died,” Bessie said thoughtfully. “If she was as bossy and awful as you say she was, anyway.”

  “She was, or at least that’s what my colleague thought.”

  “But he didn’t like any of the women, correct? Except maybe Flora.”

  “You’re right. He didn’t like any of them.”

  “I’m going to guess that it was Cindy who confessed.”

  Andrew looked startled. “You’re right, but how did you know?”

  “I didn’t know, but it seemed the most likely answer. Sisters fight all the time. I have a sister, I should know. They’d been drinking, as well.”

  “They had, and quite a lot. Betty’s blood alcohol content was well over the drink drive limit when she died.”

  “What happened after Cindy confessed?”

  “The other girls still stood by their statements. Cindy stated that she went to talk to her sister after the others were all in bed and that she and Betty started arguing. They moved downstairs to avoid waking the others and eventually went outside because things were getting so heated. Cindy claimed that Betty grabbed the knife on the way out of the chalet and started waving it around and screaming at her. There was a struggle and Betty ended up dead.”

  “Was there any evidence at the scene to support Cindy’s version of events?”

  “Any signs of a struggle had disappeared under the snow,” Andrew sighed. “The body didn’t have any injuries consistent with a physical altercation, either, aside from one stab wound to the heart.”

  “What about bruises or anything on Cindy?”

  “She didn’t appear to have a scratch on her. As they were both wearing coats and gloves, it was deemed possible that the extra padding helped protect Betty from bruising, although the coroner couldn’t be certain.”

  “Did Cindy say what the fight was about?”

  “Nothing and everything was how she summarised it. She said she went in to make sure Betty was okay after the argument with Albert. Then, when she asked Betty what she and Albert had been fighting about, Betty went crazy. From there it degenerated into a screaming row about everything either sister had ever done to upset the other over the past twenty-odd years.”

  “If the case was solved, why was your colleague still talking about it after so many years?”

  “Because there was always something about the case that he didn’t feel was right. The women insisted on standing by their story about the phone call, for one thing. Cindy even included it in her confession.”

  Bessie sat back in her chair. There was something about the story that didn’t quite fit, but what was it? She had a theory, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to share it with the man. He’d been a senior police inspector in London. The last thing she wanted was for him to laugh at her, and her theory seemed rather far-fetched.

  “You’ve had an idea,” Andrew said, staring at her.

  “Maybe, but it’s an odd idea.”

  “I’d love to hear it. Maybe an odd idea is exactly what we need.”

  “Are you still in touch with your colleague?”

  “I am. He retired last year, but we still email one another once in a while. I’d love to share your thoughts with him, if they seem at all reasonable.”

  “You may be able to squash my idea in a second. It may not have even been possible.”

  “Now I’m really intrigued. My colleague was certain that no one from outside the chalet could have killed Betty, if that’s where you�
��re going, though.”

  “It isn’t,” Bessie replied. “If my crazy idea is right, then the murderer is probably the person who confessed.”

  “Go on, then, share your idea,” Andrew urged her. “I promise not to laugh, even if you suggest space aliens or an orangutan who climbed down the chimney.”

  Bessie laughed. “I don’t think my idea is that odd, but I’ll offer it as a question, rather than an idea. Is your colleague absolutely certain that it was Betty who died?”

  “What do you mean? You don’t think there was another woman at the party who was killed, do you?”

  “That’s an idea, actually. Maybe there were six women at the party and the sixth woman was killed…” Bessie trailed off. “I could get lost chasing after that thought, but my idea was that maybe it was Cindy who was murdered and the others all lied about it. Is that possible?”

  Andrew sat forward and rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. He stared straight ahead at nothing. Bessie could only assume that he was busy thinking. After several minutes, he sat up straight and looked at her. “I’ve been through everything my colleague told me about a dozen times in my head and I can’t find anywhere your idea doesn’t fit. He arrived at the chalet and was told that Betty was missing. When he found the body, he would have simply assumed it was Betty. I’m sure her sister made a formal identification, one he wouldn’t have thought to question.”

  “It was just an idea,” Bessie said. “From what you told me, I couldn’t see all of the women lying for Cindy’s benefit, but they were all close to Betty, so maybe they were willing to lie for her.”

  “I still don’t understand why they lied about the phone call.”

  “Maybe they didn’t lie about the phone call. Maybe they lied about the timing of the phone call. Maybe Albert rang earlier in the evening.”

  “If he had, the maid and the cook would still have been there.”

  “Maybe they were never asked about phone calls before they left.”

  “But surely they would have mentioned it if they’d overheard a screaming row?”