Aunt Bessie Considers

by Diana Xarissa

  She stopped right in front of the man and Bessie bit back another laugh as she watched Helen lick her lips and toss her hair. “I’m sorry we took the things out of Bambi’s wallet to get the information the hospital needs, but I didn’t know what else to do. Anyway, I’m happy to answer any questions, really I am.”

  Corkill flushed and glanced over at Bessie. “I’d like you both to answer a few questions,” he replied. “But first I need to check on Ms. Marks. Please wait here.” He stomped out of the room and once he was out of sight, Bessie let herself relax.

  “You were flirting with him,” she said to Helen.

  “He isn’t bad looking,” Helen replied. “Any idea if he’s single or not?”

  Bessie shook her head. “I don’t know anything about him.”

  “Maybe I should try to find out,” Helen said with a mischievous grin.

  Before Bessie could reply, two uniformed constables came into the café. “I’m supposed to get Ms. Marks’s handbag from you,” one of them said nervously.

  Bessie quickly dumped everything they had taken out back into the bag and handed it to the young man. He took it by the strap and dropped it into a large plastic bag. “Thanks,” he muttered as he turned and left the room.

  The second young man smiled at them. “I’m just here to keep you two company for a short while,” he said.

  Bessie looked at Helen and then sighed. She could understand why the inspector had sent him, but she didn’t welcome the man’s intrusion.

  “Tell me,” Helen said to the man, “is Inspector Corkill single?”

  Bessie finally let herself laugh out loud as the young man gave Helen a bewildered look. Half an hour later, she felt far less like laughing. Helen had asked the young constable a long list of questions about the inspector but the man had refused to tell her anything at all. Bessie was bored, tired and getting grumpy when the inspector finally returned.

  “Ms. Cubbon, if you could just tell me what happened tonight as clearly and concisely as possible, we might all get out of here before midnight,” the inspector said in lieu of a proper greeting.

  “Can you please tell me how Bambi is doing, first?” Bessie asked plaintively.

  The long silence that followed Bessie’s request had her convinced that he was going to refuse. Eventually, however, he cleared his throat.

  “The doctors seem to think she’s going to be okay,” he told Bessie.

  “Oh, thank heavens,” Bessie replied.

  “Hurrah,” Helen said.

  “That fact doesn’t leave this room,” Inspector Corkill said sternly. “I’ve no idea if I’m dealing with an accidental overdose, a suicide attempt, or attempted murder, but whatever happened, I don’t want anyone sharing any information about Bambi’s condition, understood?”

  Bessie and Helen both quickly agreed. “Right then, Mrs. Baxter, I’ll be with you in a moment,” he told Helen. “I hope you’ll excuse Ms. Cubbon and myself.”

  “No problem, but it’s Ms. Baxter. I’m single.” Helen gave him a dazzling smile. “Here, you sit here,” she offered, getting to her feet. “I’ll go sit at the counter out of the way.”

  Bessie couldn’t help but notice how the inspector’s eyes followed Helen as she walked across the café. The uniformed constable followed after her, perhaps to keep her from telling the counter staff any secrets.

  With Helen safely out of the way, Inspector Corkill sank down into the chair she had just vacated. “What happened tonight?” he asked in a tired voice.

  Bessie found herself feeling sorry for the man, even though she still didn’t like him or the way he was conducting his investigation.

  “I’m not sure where you want me to start,” Bessie replied. She knew Inspector Rockwell would have asked her to start with what time she woke up that morning and taken her through her whole day, but Inspector Corkill shrugged.

  “I talked to Bambi after the scene at the discussion group this afternoon,” he told Bessie. “She said she was going to go back to her hotel to lie down for a little while after our talk. When did you next see her?”

  Bessie frowned as she tried to think. She remembered standing in the buffet queue and looking around the room to see who was there. She didn’t remember seeing Bambi.

  “I don’t think she was at dinner,” she told the inspector uncertainly. “I don’t recall seeing her, but I wasn’t looking for her, either.”

  Corkill made a note. “After dinner, when you came back up to the foyer, was she already there?”

  Bessie nodded. “She was sitting in the same chair where I found her,” she told the man.

  “Was she alone?”

  Bessie thought hard. “I think the chairs on either side of her were occupied,” she said hesitantly. “But I wasn’t close enough to recognise the occupants.”

  “But you’re sure it was Bambi?”

  “She’s pretty unmistakable,” Bessie laughed. “Especially in that crowd. With all that blonde hair and that amazing figure, even sitting down on the other side of the room there was no mistaking her. Middle-aged historians, on the other hand, all kind of run together.”

  Corkill nodded. “Did you see anyone talking to her?”

  Bessie shook her head. “I’m afraid I was focussed on the biscuits and on getting a bottle of water.” She frowned. “I did see Claire Jamison talking to her,” she recalled. “Claire and Joe were collecting empty water bottles for recycling and I saw Claire asking Bambi for hers.”

  “Oh, wonderful, I bet she’s collected hundreds of them, and I’m going to have to have them all checked to make sure they only had water in them. My budget doesn’t stretch to that.” The inspector sighed deeply.

  “I could sit here asking you questions all night,” he told Bessie. “But we’re both tired and I still have to talk to Ms. Baxter, and then I have to go back to the museum and find all those da…, er, darn water bottles.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve complicated things for you,” Bessie said sincerely.

  “I’m more unhappy with Claire Jamison than you at the moment,” he admitted. “Anyway, one more quick question. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about the missing slides?”

  Bessie shook her head. “No one I’ve talked to seems to have any idea what happened to them,” she told him.

  The inspector sighed. “I’m going to let you go. I assume you’ll be at the conference again tomorrow if I want to talk to you.”

  “I’ll be there. Breakfast starts at eight and I’m giving my talk at two.”

  “Oh, I know,” he sighed. “I have the whole schedule memorised now.”

  Bessie stood up and took a few steps away from the table.

  “Oh, and Miss Cubbon? I’ve had you listed as a permitted contact for Ms. Marks, at least until her family gets here. You’ll be able to call and get information about her condition if you want to do so. I’ll ask you to keep anything you learn to yourself, though.”

  Bessie was so surprised she couldn’t think of a suitable reply for a long minute. “Thank you,” she finally said.

  “No problem,” Inspector Corkill said gruffly.

  Now Bessie headed for the door, wondering how she was going to get home. She hadn’t even had a chance to let Inspector Rockwell know what was going on. She hoped he hadn’t driven to the museum to collect her.

  “Ah, Bessie, there you are,” Inspector Rockwell’s voice came from behind her as Bessie emerged from the short hallway that led to the café. She turned around and smiled at the man who was leaning against the corridor wall.

  “Inspector Rockwell, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you and tell you what was happening,” she said. “Everything happened so fast and I was so worried about Bambi.”

  The inspector held up a hand. “Please don’t apologise and please call me John,” he told Bessie.

  She grinned at the repeated request. Somehow she still couldn’t bring herself to call the man by his first name, in spite of their growing friendship.


  “Dispatch called Doona to let her know what was happening and she called me,” the inspector informed her.

  “Oh, good. I was worried that you’d turn up at the museum and wonder where I’d gone.”

  “I hope you’re ready for home now,” the inspector said. “It’s getting late and we have a lot to talk about.”

  “We do indeed,” Bessie said with a sigh. “I can’t believe how much has happened in just this one day. It seems like at least a week has passed since Mack’s death, and yet it was only twenty-four hours ago that I found him.” She shuddered involuntarily as she recalled that unpleasant moment.

  Rockwell put his arm around her and led her slowly towards the building’s exit. “And tonight you found Bambi,” he remarked. “These have been some very traumatic days for you, haven’t they?”

  “They’ve not been as bad for me as they have been for Mack and Bambi,” Bessie said firmly. “I can’t allow my emotions to get the better of me. We have to figure out what’s going on.”

  Rockwell grinned at her. “Don’t say that too loudly, or Inspector Corkill might hear you. You know how he feels about anyone getting in the way of his investigation.”

  “I think he’s starting to like me,” Bessie replied. “He remembered to call me ‘Miss Cubbon’ when I was leaving and he’s also given me permission to keep track of how Bambi is doing.”

  “No one can resist your charms forever,” Rockwell grinned. “Not even grumpy old police inspectors.”

  “He isn’t that old,” Bessie argued.

  Rockwell laughed. “I notice you didn’t say anything about how grumpy he is,” he teased. “But no, I’d guess he’s about my age, just a bit north of forty and fighting it as much as possible.”

  Now Bessie laughed. “Don’t fight it,” she counselled. “You can’t win, so you might as well enjoy the wisdom and experience that come with your age.”

  “Sound advice as always,” he replied.

  “Is Inspector Corkill single?” Bessie asked curiously.

  “No offense, Bessie, but he might be a little bit too young for you,” Rockwell grinned

  “But he seems the perfect age for Helen Baxter, and she’s in there right now, probably flirting up a storm with him.”

  Rockwell laughed. “Poor Pete. He is single, although that’s fairly recent. His wife got tired of the hours and the unpredictability and walked out, maybe six months ago. From what I’ve heard, he isn’t in any hurry to replace her.”

  They had reached the hospital entrance now and the inspector dropped Bessie’s arm to hold the door for her. His police car was parked immediately outside the door, in front of the “No Parking - Emergency Vehicles Only” sign.

  “Are you sure collecting me counts as an emergency?” Bessie couldn’t help but ask.

  “It’s been a long day,” Rockwell replied as he helped Bessie into the car. “I didn’t have the energy to try to find a legal parking space around here.”

  Even though Bessie didn’t drive, she knew that parking around the hospital was always difficult to find. She slid back in the seat, suddenly exhausted and grateful that the inspector had parked so near to the door.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to fall asleep on the journey home,” she told Rockwell after he’d slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Go ahead and nod off,” he suggested. “We have a lot to discuss, but it’s probably best to wait until we get to your cottage to talk. You have a quick nap and I’ll concentrate on my driving and then we’ll figure out who killed Mack once we get you home.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Bessie smiled. She leaned back in her seat and let her eyes close. Even if she didn’t sleep, the rest would feel wonderful.

  Chapter Nine

  “Bessie? Bessie, we’re home.”

  Inspector Rockwell’s voice slowly began to penetrate the fog in Bessie’s brain.

  “Aunt Bessie? Are you awake?”

  Bessie sat up in her seat and slowly opened her eyes. The inspector had parked his car in the small space next to her cottage. She blinked when she noticed that another car was already there.

  “I can’t possibly have company at this hour,” she muttered.

  “That will be Hugh and Doona,” the inspector told her. “They wanted to get involved, so I told them they could meet me here. Hugh brought Doona over, and I said I’d run her home when we’re done.”

  As Bessie emerged from the car, she was grateful again for a convenient parking space. She stretched slowly and then sighed. She was getting too old for such late nights.

  Doona was by her side before she’d finished her stretch. “Bessie, my goodness, how are you? I can’t believe you’ve found two more bodies. I should have gone to the blinking conference with you. I’m picking you up tomorrow for sure and I’m not letting you out of my sight at that conference.”

  Bessie sighed as her friend took her arm and the pair walked up to Bessie’s front door.

  “You know I hate it when you fuss,” she reminded Doona. “And anyway, Bambi should be fine. I only found the one body.”

  “It’s still one too many,” Doona argued as Bessie opened her door and then flipped on lights. Bessie turned and looked at her friend. Doona’s heavily highlighted hair was something of a tangled mess and her brilliant green eyes looked worriedly back at Bessie.

  “I’m fine, Doona,” Bessie insisted. “Stop fussing.”

  Doona shook her head and then headed over to the kitchen counter where she began to fix a pot of coffee. Inspector Rockwell had followed the women into the room and now Hugh brought up the rear.

  “Bessie, love, we need to find you a nice safe hobby. Maybe skydiving or something?” Hugh laughed and then gave Bessie a huge hug.

  “It’s great to see you,” Bessie told the young policeman. She’d known Hugh since his childhood and while he was now in his mid-twenties, he still looked no more than fifteen. Bessie sometimes had trouble taking him seriously, but she was coming to enjoy his company more and more and lately she’d been pleased to find that he was brighter than she’d realised and dedicated to his career in police work.

  “I’m just as worried about you as Doona is,” Hugh confided to Bessie in an undertone. “But I’m smart enough not to fuss at you about it.”

  Bessie laughed. “Let’s all sit down,” she suggested. Doona had flipped the coffee pot on and the foursome sat quietly while the smell of brewing coffee filled the small cottage’s kitchen.

  Once the pot was ready, Doona filled four mugs, waving Bessie back into her chair when she tried to get up and help. She put out cream and sugar as well as a plate of biscuits she had filled from Bessie’s generous stock.

  “Thanks,” Bessie told her friend as Doona sat back down.

  “I can make tea if anyone would rather,” Doona belatedly offered. “I just thought we all needed coffee for now.”

  “Indeed,” Rockwell smiled at her. “I think we all need rather a lot of coffee.”

  “So, Bessie, what’s new with you?” Hugh asked with a cheeky grin.

  “Oh, not much,” Bessie grinned back. “Just the odd murder, nothing special. Although, to be fair, Inspector Corkill seems to think it was all just a tragic accident, so maybe we don’t actually have anything to talk about except the weather.”

  Rockwell shook his head. “Whatever Pete is saying publicly, Mack’s death was no accident,” he told the others. “And I know I don’t have to remind you all that everything we discuss here is strictly confidential, but I will anyway.”

  “The police are sure it was murder?” Bessie asked.

  “Absolutely,” Rockwell told her. “The half-eaten brownie that was found next to Mack’s body was nothing like the ones on the so-called ‘dessert bar.’ We’re waiting for the lab results and it’s the weekend, so it might take a while, but we suspect that it contains a large portion of finely ground peanuts.”

  “But wouldn’t Mack have tasted the nuts?” Bessie questioned.

  “The coroner
is speculating that there was enough chocolate flavour in it to mask any other flavours. Short of taking a bite of it, I’m not sure how we can check that. What it does mean is that someone brought that brownie with them to the conference.”

  “Maybe they brought it for themselves, in case they got hungry, and Mack got it by accident?” Doona suggested.

  “That’s always possible,” Rockwell conceded. “But it doesn’t explain why Mack didn’t have his adrenaline injectors with him. Both his current girlfriend, Bambi, and his former girlfriend, Marjorie, have stated that he always carried three injectors with him at all times. There were none on the body or in the room with the body and only one was found in Mack’s hotel room. Bambi identified it as Mack’s quote ‘emergency spare’ end of quote.”

  “So it’s murder,” Hugh announced. “Time to look at means, motive and opportunity.”

  Bessie grinned. Hugh was very fond of talking through those three points.

  “For means, the main question is who knew about his allergy?” Rockwell told the others. “Anyone could have bought or baked the brownie and brought it along, but who knew it would kill Mack?”

  Bessie shook her head. “Just about everyone who knew Mack knew about his allergy,” she told them all. “Certainly anyone who’d ever organised a conference where he spoke, or ate a meal with him, or did any site excavations with him would have known. I suspect that includes just about every person that was there last night. Oh, they’ll be a handful that didn’t know the man, but not many.”

  “And that’s part of the problem,” Rockwell sighed. “There were over a hundred people there last night, and aside from a very few, they’ve all admitted to knowing Mack. Of course, the ones who claim they didn’t know him could be lying and have to be considered as well. For now, I suggest we focus on the people that Bessie knows well. The others will have to be investigated by Pete and his men.”