Bessie looked over her schedule again. She was now having trouble deciding which lecture she wanted to attend. Paul Roberts was a nice guy and usually an interesting speaker, but she was enjoying getting to know Claire Jamison and her talk sounded intriguing. Bessie knew little about Anglesey and she thought it might do her some good to learn more.
George was leaning against the back wall, deep in conversation with Harold. Bessie decided to let George make the decision for her. Whichever talk he decided to attend, she’d go to the other. She had no doubt that many of those present would follow George wherever he went; she’d try to help make up the crowd at the other presentation.
“Have you finished with your water?” Bessie jumped as someone spoke from behind her. She spun around and blinked at Joe Steele. “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” she asked.
Joe laughed. “I guess I sort of snuck up on you, sorry. I told Claire I would help her collect all of the empty water bottles,” he explained. “She’s very keen on recycling and she was getting upset that so many bottles were just being thrown away.”
Bessie smiled at the man. He was holding a large black bin bag that seemed to be about half full of bottles. “That’s a great idea,” she told him. “But I haven’t finished with mine yet. I’ll make sure I get it to you or Claire when I’m done, okay?”
“Great,” Joe grinned. “Claire went through the trash and managed to collect two bags full when we first came up after dinner. Now we’re trying to make sure to let people know what we’re doing, so no one else throws their bottles away.” He gestured to the other side of the room where Claire was chatting with Bambi. Bambi was shaking her head and holding on to a nearly full water bottle. Claire nodded and then moved on to tackle her next unsuspecting water drinker.
“She needs to get ready for her talk, doesn’t she?” Bessie asked Joe.
“Yeah, you’re right, I’d better go remind her.” Joe dashed off and Bessie grinned as she watched him catch Claire’s arm. The two had a whispered conversation that resulted in Claire heading towards the Kinvig Room with Joe on her heels.
“I wonder where that’s going to end up,” Marjorie said in Bessie’s ear as she joined her.
“Claire and Joe?” Bessie asked. “They are very cute together, aren’t they?”
“She’s a little bit older, but maybe he needs that little bit of maturity. He’s almost like an overgrown puppy.”
Bessie laughed at the accurate description. “I think she’s just about convinced him to do some work on Anglesey,” she told Marjorie.
“Ah, how romantic,” Marjorie replied. “Can’t you just see them snuggled up together in a trench full of mud and water, digging to their hearts’ content in spite of the rain?”
Bessie laughed again. “I can indeed.”
Harold called for attention now, asking everyone to make his or her way to either the Kinvig Room or the Ellan Vannin Theatre. Marjorie followed the bulk of the crowd down the stairs for Paul’s talk, but Bessie hung back, her eyes on George Quayle.
“Ah, Bessie, will you be joining me for Paul’s talk?” he asked as he and his entourage swept past her.
“You know, I think I’d rather hear what Claire has to say,” she told him. “It doesn’t look like she’s going to have as much of a crowd as Paul and I want to make sure she feels welcome here.”
“Very sensible,” George replied. “Maybe I should try her talk as well?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Bessie answered hastily. “I mean, you and Paul are old friends. You don’t want to let him down.”
George frowned. “I suppose you’re right.”
Bessie grinned to herself as she watched the man head towards the lift. She really did like him, but a little bit of George Quayle went a long way. She’d just about had her fill of his company for this weekend.
She took a few quick steps towards the Kinvig Room, not wanting to be late. The foyer was nearly empty now, but Bessie noticed that Bambi was still in her chair in the corner. For a moment Bessie thought about just ignoring the young woman in favour of getting a decent seat at Claire’s talk, but that seemed too rude. She’d drag Bambi along to the talk and see if that helped change the woman’s mind about how interesting history could be, she decided.
Bessie crossed the room quickly, hoping that Claire would turn out to be a more gifted speaker than Joe had been, for her own sake as much as for Bambi’s. When she reached Bambi, she was shocked to find that the young woman was asleep. Presumably, she hadn’t been sleeping well with all the stress from Mack’s death, but still, it was only half eight. Bessie was tired, but she’d never let herself fall asleep in a public place like that.
Pausing a step away from the girl, Bessie coughed loudly. She hoped she could wake Bambi without embarrassing her. Bambi didn’t move. Bessie coughed again, which brought on a genuine coughing fit. Glad she had kept her drink, Bessie uncapped it and took a sip. When she had composed herself, she was surprised to see that Bambi still hadn’t moved.
An uneasy feeling settled in Bessie’s stomach. She stepped over to Bambi and put a hand on her arm. Relief flooded through her when Bambi’s skin was warm to her touch. She shook the other woman gently, but got no reply.
“Bambi? Bambi, are you okay?” Bessie said, her volume increasing with every word. She pulled on Bambi’s arm and Bambi’s head fell backwards. While Bessie could see that the woman was still breathing, Bambi was clearly not just sleeping. She was completely unconscious.
Chapter Eight
As Bessie dialled 999 she wondered what Doona would make of the call she was going to get shortly. Bessie requested an ambulance for Bambi, giving the operator all of the information that she had, which wasn’t much. She had no idea what Bambi had eaten that day, whether or not the woman had any allergies or what sort of medications she might be on. The operator asked Bessie about illegal drugs as well, but Bessie was equally clueless.
“She often seemed to not be paying attention,” Bessie told her. “But whether she was under the influence of something or just bored out of her mind, I don’t know.”
Bessie was trying to keep her voice down, but in the empty foyer the sound obviously carried into the Kinvig Room. Joe Steele stuck his head out and frowned deeply at Bessie. He began to pull the door closed, but then stopped and left the lecture room to cross to Bessie’s side, closing the door to the Kinvig Room behind him as he exited.
“What’s going on?” he whispered.
“Something’s wrong with Bambi,” Bessie hissed back. “I’m on the phone with the emergency services now.”
Joe frowned and picked up Bambi’s wrist. “Her pulse is very weak,” he told Bessie. “I’d guess she’s overdosed on something.”
“That was my guess as well,” Bessie said. “But why?”
Joe shrugged. “Maybe it was an accident, or maybe she was really upset about losing Mack?” he speculated.
“Or maybe someone wanted to make her stop insisting to everyone that Mack was murdered.”
Joe looked surprised. “You think someone tried to kill her?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Bessie answered. “But I think the police should investigate.”
“And we will,” Inspector Corkill assured her as he crossed the room. He’d obviously just come out of the Moore Lecture Theatre, but Bessie and Joe had been so intent on Bambi that they hadn’t noticed him.
“I didn’t know you were still here,” Bessie said.
“Obviously,” the inspector replied in a cold voice. “That would be why I had to get a call from dispatch telling me that there’s been an attempted murder in the same bloody building where I’m working.”
“If I had known you were still here, I would have shouted for you,” Bessie said, trying to soothe his clearly ruffled feathers.
“Yes, well, it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” The inspector checked Bambi’s pulse and then shook his head. “I just hope it isn’t too late for the ambulance.”
Be
ssie watched over Bambi anxiously for several minutes as Inspector Corkill made what seemed to be an endless number of phone calls. Joe paced back and forth, debating loudly to himself as to whether he should interrupt Claire’s talk or not.
“For goodness sake,” Bessie finally erupted. “Either go back in and listen to Claire or sit down and be quiet.”
Joe looked at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I just don’t quite know what to do.”
The “ping” of the lift cut short that conversation, and Bessie watched wordlessly as the ambulance men raced in and began to work on Bambi. The inspector headed back inside the Moore Theatre, still talking on his mobile. Within minutes they had Bambi on their stretcher, heading for the lift and Noble’s Hospital.
“Any of you next of kin?” one of the men asked.
“No, her family is all across, I think,” Bessie replied.
“Any of you able to come along and fill out the paperwork, then?”
Bessie exchanged glances with Joe, who shook his head. “I don’t think I exchanged more than three words with the woman,” he said anxiously.
“I’ll go,” Bessie sighed. “She shouldn’t be left on her own, the poor girl.”
As Bessie boarded the lift with the stretcher, she glanced back towards the Kinvig Room. She doubted that Claire had finished her talk, but presumably the noise and commotion caused by the ambulance crew had interrupted. The door now stood open and several people were crowded in the doorway, staring after Bessie and Bambi.
Downstairs, things weren’t any better. As Bessie followed the stretcher from the building, she saw that dozens of people were clustered around the museum entrance, their worried faces bathed in the flashing red lights.
“What’s going on?” Harold demanded of Bessie as she hurried past the crowd.
“Something’s happened to Bambi. I’m going with her to hospital, unless you’d rather go as the conference chair?”
Bessie knew what his answer was going to be by the look that flashed over his face. “Um, no, you go,” he stammered out. “I didn’t even know the girl.”
There was no time for Bessie to point out that she didn’t actually know the girl either. The stretcher was slid into place and one of the medics helped Bessie climb in after it. She was directed to a small seat along the side wall of the vehicle and she’d only just sat down when the ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring and lights flashing.
Bessie did her best to stay out of everyone’s way as they worked to keep Bambi alive on the short journey to Noble’s. When they arrived, Bessie was asked to go to the admitting desk while Bambi was whisked away.
Bambi’s handbag had been on the chair next to her and someone had handed it to Bessie after Bambi had been loaded on to the stretcher. Now, Bessie held it tightly, hoping it would contain contact information for Bambi’s next of kin.
At the admitting desk, the pile of paperwork that Bessie was asked to complete had her shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but I simply can’t answer ninety-nine percent of these questions,” she told the not terribly sympathetic woman behind the desk. “I only talked to the woman a few times and I certainly don’t know her National Insurance number or even her home address. I’m not even sure where she lives, although I’d guess London.”
“That’s pretty vague, isn’t it?” the clerk asked. “Wasn’t there anyone at the museum that knew more about her? Why was she even there?”
“She was dating the man who passed away yesterday,” Bessie replied. “My goodness, was that only last night? It seems a lot longer ago than that.”
“I heard about that,” the woman behind the desk said. “Anaphylactic shock, nasty that is. Guess your young friend took losing her boyfriend pretty badly if she’s gone and tried to top herself, no?”
“There’s no evidence to suggest that she tried to commit suicide,” Bessie said tartly. “It could have been an accident or….” she trailed off, unwilling to discuss attempted murder with a stranger.
“Bessie? What’s going on?”
Bessie spun around and smiled with relief as she met Helen Baxter’s blue eyes.
“I was happily listening to Paul’s talk and then the ambulance arrived and everything went crazy. I figured I might be more help here than I would be there.”
“I’m surprised that Inspector Corkill let you go,” Bessie said.
Helen flushed. “I’m not sure that he noticed,” she muttered. “Anyway, what’s going on?”
“I was going to go to Claire’s talk, but then I noticed that Bambi was still sitting in the foyer. I went over to talk to her, but I couldn’t wake her up.” Bessie frowned at herself as she heard her voice quaver.
Helen quickly enveloped her in a hug. “You poor dear,” she said soothingly. “But who on earth suggested your coming with the ambulance? Surely Harold or Marjorie could have done that. You look completely done in.”
“I guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Bessie said with a shrug. “But now I have all this paperwork to fill out and I can’t answer any of the questions.”
Helen smiled. “Carole,” she said to woman behind the desk. “Bessie and I are going to head to the café and get as much of this done as we can. I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.”
Carole nodded and then went back to reading her magazine. Helen led Bessie to the café, which was empty except for one man who was sitting, reading a newspaper and sipping a hot drink at the counter. The pair slid into seats in the corner and Helen went up the counter and had a quick conversation with the man behind it. A moment later she returned with a tray containing tea and biscuits for Bessie and herself.
“Put extra sugar in your tea,” she instructed Bessie. “You’ve had a shock.”
Bessie did as she was told, nibbling a digestive in between sips. “Ah, that’s better,” she said after a few minutes.
“Then let’s see what we can do with this paperwork,” Helen suggested. “Do we know Bambi’s surname?”
“It’s Marks,” Bessie recalled. “But her name isn’t really Bambi. Her real name is Margaret.”
Helen raised an eyebrow and then shrugged and filled in the form in front of her. “Don’t suppose you know Margaret’s address?” she asked.
“I don’t,” Bessie told her. “But I have her handbag.”
“That’s a bonus,” Helen grinned. “Let’s hope her driving licence and a list of emergency contacts are in there.”
Bessie put the small handbag on the table and then sighed. “I hate to open it. Handbags are such personal things.”
“I’ll do it if you want,” Helen offered. “I’ve had to do this dozens for times for patients who, for whatever reason, can’t do their own paperwork. It isn’t a big deal.”
Bessie shrugged. “It feels like a big deal.”
Helen reached across and took the bag from Bessie. “You can be my witness that I’ve not taken anything I shouldn’t,” she told Bessie.
The bag was fairly empty, at any rate, containing only a small wallet and Bambi’s mobile phone. Helen opened the wallet and grinned.
“That’s what we need,” she said, holding it up to show Bessie that Bambi’s licence was in a clear pocket right in the front of the wallet.
Helen quickly copied down the woman’s address information, and then she slid everything out of the wallet and flipped through it with professional detachment.
“Nothing else useful,” she said with a sigh as she replaced credit cards and store loyalty cards into their slots.
Bessie checked the handbag again and then smiled. “Her passport is here, too,” she said, as she dug it out of the bag.
“No one ever fills out the emergency contact information in those things, though,” Helen laughed.
But Bambi was an exception. Bessie handed the passport to Helen, who copied the information that Bambi had provided.
“Now we just have to get in touch with Mr. Marks and let him know that Bambi’s in hospital,” Helen said. “For now, let’s f
ind out how she’s doing.”
“For now, you both have a few questions to answer.”
The voice from the doorway sounded angry, and Bessie couldn’t stop the sigh that she felt came from her toes as she turned in her chair to face Inspector Corkill. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.
“Ms. Cubbon, I’m sure you can’t begin to imagine how I felt when I got a call from our dispatch centre telling me that someone had called for an ambulance only a few feet away from me. Perhaps you’d like to consider what went through my mind when the ambulance crew left with Ms. Marks and I discovered that not just one, but two witnesses had left while my back was turned?”
“I was asked to accompany Ms. Marks here, to take care of her paperwork,” Bessie replied, keeping her voice calm.
“Indeed? I shall have words with the ambulance team about proper protocol, in that case. Ms. Baxter, did someone ask you to come along or was that your own initiative?”
Helen flushed. “I was worried about Bessie,” she said. “She was terribly pale when she left the museum and I thought she might need a bit of looking after.”
Corkill frowned. “Which one of you grabbed the evidence on your way out?” he demanded.
“What evidence?” Bessie asked.
“Ms. Marks’s handbag is missing,” he replied. “I’m guessing that’s it on the table in front of you. It certainly matches the description I was given.”
“One of the medics handed it to me when they moved Bambi,” Bessie told him. “I thought I’d better bring it so I would have her address and things like that.”
“Thus destroying any chance of our getting any evidence from it to prove attempted murder.” The inspector sighed. “I suppose I need to have several long talks with the ambulance crew.”
“They were just worried about Bambi,” Bessie said. “I’m sure attempted murder never crossed their minds.”
“I don’t need you to make excuses for them,” Corkill growled. “No doubt they’ll have plenty of their own.”
Bessie bit her tongue and exchanged glances with Helen. It was all she could do not to giggle at the absurdity of the situation. Helen winked, and then smiled at the inspector.
Aunt Bessie Considers (Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 13
