Aunt Bessie Enjoys

by Diana Xarissa

  “Is everything okay?” she asked the man, catching his eye.

  “Everything’s fine,” he said, looking away. “The Nancy King case is complicated, that’s all.”

  “Having spent the afternoon with the Raspberry Jam Ladies, I’m hoping I may be able to help,” Bessie told him. “They’re an interesting group of friends.”

  “They are,” John agreed. “And there’s no doubt in my mind that they’d lie to protect one another.”

  “You think one of them gave Mrs. King the poisoned jam?” Doona asked.

  “At this point, I suspect everyone,” John replied tiredly. “I find it strange that no one seems to know where the jam came from, but everyone was prepared to eat it anyway.”

  “It might seem strange now, but years ago I’d often come home and find a few eggs or a bag of potatoes on my doorstep,” Bessie said. “Sometimes there would be a note, but a lot of times it was just someone being kind and sharing their extra with their neighbours. The Raspberry Jam Ladies were well known, in the fifties and sixties at least, for leaving little jars of jam and preserves all over Laxey. Even if they’d known none of them had made the jam, they’d have probably thought it was just a small gift from someone who remembers them from that time.”

  John shook his head. “Accepting gifts from strangers is dangerous.”

  “Maybe,” Bessie shrugged. “But there’s no way any of the ladies could have suspected that there was poison in the jam. Who would want to kill one of them?”

  “Which brings us to our first question,” John said with a sigh. “Who was meant to be the victim?”

  “Agnes says Nancy just grabbed a jar at random,” Bessie said.

  “So if the poison was in the jar at that point, it was just random bad luck that Nancy was the one that got it,” Doona said.

  “Was it the only jar that had poison in it?” Bessie asked.

  John shrugged. “We won’t have lab results on any of the jars until early next week. Until then it’s pointless to speculate.”

  “So at this point we don’t know if there was a single target or multiple ones,” Bessie said. “Who could possibly have wanted to kill all of the Raspberry Jam Ladies and their friends?”

  “I’ve been studying terror attacks and serial killers,” Hugh said. “Sometimes a terrorist will target a group of people when he or she doesn’t agree with their beliefs or politics.”

  “So someone really hates raspberry jam?” Doona asked.

  Hugh shook his head. “I reckon if it was a terrorist thing, the idea was to disrupt Tynwald Day. Maybe the killer thought someone would try the jam right away and that would make them cancel the ceremony or something.”

  “Who would want to ruin Tywald Day?” Bessie asked.

  Hugh shrugged. “Take your choice between the people who argue for more independence from the United Kingdom, those that argue for closer ties with them, people with a grudge against the current administration on the island, or, of course, there’s always random crazies.”

  “It seems far-fetched to me,” Bessie said. “Besides, we know all of the jars weren’t poisoned. Some of the ladies told me they’d tried their jars before the police contacted them.”

  “If only one jar was poisoned, though, was Nancy the target?” Doona asked.

  “I think better with crumble,” Hugh announced.

  “I forgot about pudding,” Bessie exclaimed. She got up and pulled the crumble from the oven. Hugh pulled the tub of vanilla ice cream he’d also brought from the freezer, and he and Bessie served generous helpings of pudding to everyone. The group went back to eating for several minutes.

  “If only one jar was deadly, then there are two possibilities,” Hugh said after he’d scraped up the last of his ice cream. “It’s possible that the killer didn’t care who got the poisoned jam. He or she just wanted someone to die.”

  “Are you still thinking of a terrorist attack in that case?” Doona asked.

  “It’s possible, but less likely. Terror attacks tend to be about maximum impact. This strikes me as something else,” Hugh said. “Either we have a killer who’s happy with taking out anyone just for the thrill of it or we have a killer who is targeting someone specific, but trying to hide their intentions.”

  “I don’t think the island has ever had to deal with a serial killer,” Bessie said. “How do you even start looking if the target was completely random?”

  “It’s certainly a challenge,” Hugh said with a sigh.

  “What did you mean when you said they might be targeting someone but hiding their intentions?” Doona asked.

  “There have been cases where someone decides to kill a family member or friend and they kill a few others, almost at random, to confuse motive,” Hugh explained.

  “If that’s the case, the other Jam Ladies could be in danger,” Bessie said.

  “They’ve all been warned to be extra careful until we have Mrs. King’s killer behind bars,” John said quietly.

  “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill any of the ladies,” Bessie said.

  “Having spent time with them all today, I’m not so sure about Elinor Lewis,” Doona said. “She’s bossy and overbearing and I could just about imagine one of the other ladies deciding to get rid of her.”

  “Surely the killer isn’t one of the ladies,” Bessie protested. “They’re all in their seventies and I doubt any of them have ever had so much as a parking ticket.”

  “We’re taking a close look at all of their families,” Hugh said. “But none of them seem to be close to their children. Nearly all of the kids have moved away.”

  “I think the ladies themselves would pick Sarah, Nancy’s daughter, as the most likely murderer,” Bessie said. “Is it possible that she switched the jars of jam when she arrived to visit her mother, and then called the police after her mother died?”

  “A neighbour saw her going into the house and heard her screaming about ten seconds later,” Doona told Bessie.

  “That’s classified information,” John snapped.

  “I didn’t get it from the police report,” Doona told him. “I live in the same neighbourhood, remember? I bumped into Ted, the man who lives next door to Nancy, last night on a walk around the block. He told me that he’d seen Sarah going in and heard her screams. From what I could tell, he’s been telling everyone he meets. It’s the first bit of excitement he’s had in years.”

  Bessie chuckled. “Ted needs to get out more,” she said. “Since Betty died he just sits around the house and watches the neighbours. I can’t imagine there’s all that much to see in that neighbourhood.”

  “I love that it’s a nice quiet area,” Doona said. “This is first time we’ve had the police there since I moved in. Well, other than when John picks me up or drops me off or whatever.”

  “Sarah wasn’t meant to visit until later in the day,” Bessie said. “At least that’s what Agnes was told. Did she give a reason for why she turned up when she did?”

  John shook his head at Doona, who opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. “I’m sorry, Bessie,” he said, sounding exhausted. “We’re keeping everything we can as quiet as we can at this point. And I think, in this instance, it would be best if you stayed as far away from the investigation as possible. I’d rather you didn’t spend any more time with the Raspberry Jam Ladies until Nancy King’s killer is behind bars.”

  Bessie drew a deep breath and forced herself to count to ten before she replied. “I’m sorry, John, truly I am,” she said eventually. “But Nancy was my friend. I’ve known her and the other Raspberry Jam Ladies for too many years to stay away from them now. I’ll try hard not to interfere with your investigation, but I don’t intend to avoid my friends, not when they need me.”

  John nodded. “I knew I was wasting my breath,” he said. He stood up. “I really need to get home,” he told the others.

  Bessie followed the inspector to the door, uncertain of what she should say to try to defuse the strain between them.


  “I’ll let you know if I hear anything that I think might be relevant,” she said as she pulled her front door open for him.

  “I’d appreciate that,” he replied tightly. John stepped through the door and then stopped and turned back towards Bessie. “I’m sorry. I have too much going on right now and I’m taking all my problems out on you. Please be very careful if you do spend time with the ladies. I worry about you.”

  Bessie gave him a hug. “I worry about you as well,” she said. “If you need to talk about anything, you know where I am.”

  John nodded. “I might just take you up on that,” he said with a small smile that looked only slightly forced.

  Bessie shut the door behind him and returned to the table.

  “That was weird,” Hugh said. “I mean, I know we aren’t supposed to talk about stuff we learn in interviews and whatever, but the inspector has never really worried about that with you, Bessie.”

  Bessie shook her head. “Maybe I’m too close to this one,” she suggested. “I was given one of the jars of jam, remember? And I’ve been friends with the Raspberry Jam Ladies for as long as they’ve been meeting.”

  “I’m sure John doesn’t think you’re involved,” Doona said stoutly.

  “But there’s a good chance someone I know is,” Bessie replied sadly. “What possible motive is there for Nancy’s death?”

  “Money,” Hugh said. “It’s at the root of a lot of murders.”

  “And Elinor said Nancy was thinking of changing her will. Surely that gives her daughter a strong motive,” Doona added.

  “What about opportunity, though?” Bessie asked. “When could she have given her mother the jam?”

  “She might have given her the jar weeks ago,” Hugh said. “Maybe the jam at Tynwald was all absolutely fine, and the jar that killed Nancy came from somewhere else altogether.”

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” Bessie said slowly.

  “Anything seems possible at this point,” Doona said, frustration evident in her voice. “The more we talk, the more confusing it all gets.”

  “Maybe we should call it a night,” Bessie suggested. “I’m going to make a few phone calls tomorrow and see what I can find out.”

  “Please be careful,” Hugh said as he stood up to go. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Bessie gave him a hug and then let him out. Doona was clearing away the pudding dishes when Bessie turned back into the kitchen. Bessie ran a sink full of hot water while Doona dumped John’s barely touched pudding into Bessie’s bin.

  “It isn’t like John to leave pudding,” Bessie commented.

  “He’s been working out in the gym almost every day,” Doona told her. “Maybe he’s worried about his weight.”

  “He could do with adding a few pounds, in my opinion,” Bessie replied. “He looks thinner lately.”

  “He does,” Doona agreed. “I don’t know if it’s this case or something else that’s bothering him. He seemed okay on Tynwald Day.”

  “I’m sure Nancy’s death has him working very hard,” Bessie said. “Once her killer is found, he’ll probably get right back to his old self.”

  Doona nodded slowly, but didn’t look convinced. “I hope so,” she muttered as she dried the last of the dishes. Doona left after that and Bessie headed straight to bed.

  At breakfast the next morning Bessie sighed deeply as she spread marmalade on her toast. She had a sudden craving for raspberry jam that she knew was just her mind being contrary. “There isn’t any raspberry jam,” she told herself loudly. “Stop thinking about it.”

  After a short walk in the early morning July sunshine, she sat down in the kitchen and flipped through the island’s telephone directory. It took her several minutes to remember Nancy’s daughter’s married surname. She dialed slowly, mentally rehearsing everything she wanted to say to the woman. The phone rang several times before an answering machine picked up.

  “This is Mike and Sarah; leave a message after the tone.”

  “Hello, Sarah, this is Bessie Cubbon. I was just calling to tell you how very sorry I was to hear about your mother’s passing. I don’t know if you remember me, but I certainly remember you and your brothers playing on Laxey Beach as children. Anyway, I would very much like to pay my respects to you and your family and attend whatever service you decide to hold for Nancy. If you can find the time to return my call, I would appreciate it very much. I understand how difficult this time must be for you. Please accept my deepest sympathies.”

  Bessie hung up and frowned at the phone. She wasn’t sure she’d said the right things and she wished now that she could do it all over again. She shook her head at her own foolishness and then got up to make a cup of tea. Before she could switch on the kettle, however, her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Ah, Ms. Cubbon? It’s, um, it’s Sarah Combe, returning your call.”

  “Hello, Sarah, how are you, darling?” Bessie asked in her most sympathetic voice. To her surprise, it sounded as if Sarah burst into tears.

  “I’m not very well,” Sarah said tearfully. “I mean, mum and I didn’t really get along well, but I’m ever so sorry that she’s gone. I can’t believe how much I miss her.”

  “I find that’s often the case,” Bessie said soothingly. “I was estranged from my parents for many years, but when they passed I still felt as if a hole had suddenly opened up in my life.”

  “That’s it, exactly,” Sarah said. “I can’t seem to stop crying.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to come over for a visit?” Bessie suggested. “I can offer you tea and sympathy.”

  Sarah managed a small chuckle. “That’s very kind of you,” she replied. “But I’ve so much to do, I’m not sure I could manage it. I’m off to mum’s this morning to start sorting out her things, you see.”

  “Would you like a hand with that?” Bessie asked. She was shocked at how quickly the woman was acting, but that didn’t make her any less willing to help.

  “Oh, I couldn’t impose,” Sarah began.

  “It’s no imposition,” Bessie told her. “I can meet you at your mum’s whenever it’s convenient for you. You may find the job quite emotionally challenging.”

  “I might at that,” Sarah said with a sigh. “Can you meet me there in about an hour? I have to run a few errands on my way up, but I expect I should get there around ten.”

  “Of course I can,” Bessie assured her. “It’s a lovely day, so please don’t worry if you get held up. I can happily sit on your mother’s garden bench and wait for you.”

  “Ah, yes, I love that bench,” Sarah said. “I must remember to grab that at some point.”

  With that she disconnected, leaving Bessie with the impression that Sarah was more concerned about collecting what she liked from the house than sorting through her mother’s things. Presumably Nancy’s other children would soon be on their way to the island. Sarah was making sure she got in first.

  With an hour to waste, Bessie decided to walk to Nancy’s house. The neighbourhood was almost entirely made up of small detached bungalows built in the nineteen-thirties and forties on tiny lots. A few had been extended or remodeled over the years, but most looked exactly the same as they had for the last forty or fifty years. Bessie found herself strolling past some of the other Raspberry Jam Ladies’ homes as she went. When she walked past Agnes’s house, she decided to check on the woman.

  “Ah, Bessie, what brings you here?” Agnes greeted her at the door.

  Bessie forced herself to smile at the other woman, even though Agnes’s appearance surprised her. The other woman looked as if she hadn’t slept since Bessie had seen her last. She was wearing crumpled clothing and her hair obviously hadn’t been brushed in some time.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Bessie told her. “You were quite upset yesterday.”

  “I still am,” Agnes admitted. “I still can’t believe that Nancy is gone.”

  “That’s only na
tural,” Bessie said reassuringly. “She was a good friend for many years.”

  “She was my best friend,” Agnes said, almost angrily. “She was always there for me, no matter what, and I’ll never find another friend like her.”

  “It’s good you have Margaret and Joan and Elinor,” Bessie said. “I’m sure they’re being supportive.”

  Agnes shrugged. “They’re trying, but they don’t understand,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “They weren’t as close to Nancy as I was. She was just one of the group to them.”

  Bessie patted her friend’s arm. “Maybe you should go and stay with one of them for a few days?” she suggested. “You don’t have any family on the island, do you?”

  “No,” Agnes said softly. “All I ever had was my Matthew, and he moved away from me as soon as he could.”

  “I’m sure you must have missed him,” Bessie said, feeling quite lost as to what to say.

  “My husband, he was the one that drove him away,” Agnes said. “He didn’t want a son that wasn’t, well, like other men. He told Matthew to leave, he did. I never forgave him for that. When he died, I hoped that Matthew and I might get another chance, but Matthew was already sick by then.”

  Agnes shook her head. “Too much sadness,” she said, tears flowing freely now. “I don’t think I can take any more sadness.”

  “Bessie? What brings you here?” The voice came from behind her and Bessie turned slowly to greet Eliinor.

  “I was just walking past and I wanted to check on poor Agnes,” Bessie said, feeling as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

  “Oh, that is kind of you,” Elinor said briskly. “But, as I told you yesterday, there’s no need. We’re looking after poor Agnes quite well. Aren’t we Agnes?”

  Agnes nodded slowly. “They’ve all been very kind,” she said softly.

  “But we mustn’t keep you, Bessie,” Elinor said. “I’m sure you have many better things to do.”

  Bessie nodded. “Actually, I’m just off to Nancy’s house. I told Sarah that I would give her a hand as she starts going through Nancy’s things.”