Aunt Bessie Needs

by Diana Xarissa

  An hour later there was a knock on Bessie’s door. She’d filled the hour by pacing around the kitchen, waiting for the phone to ring.

  “John, I’m glad you’re here,” she said, ushering the man inside. “I assume Doona told you why I rang?”

  “Yes, and I’ve seen the paper,” John said. “Julie Randall did look a lot like Laura, that’s for sure.”

  “What happened to her?” Bessie asked.

  “Pete’s working on that,” John replied. “I can tell you a bit more than the limited amount that was in today’s paper, as Julie’s husband has been talking to the press.”

  “She was married?”

  “She was. Her husband, Humphrey, is around sixty. They’d been married for about four years. In spite of their ages, it was a first marriage for both of them and they were both childless.”

  “Where did they live in Douglas?”

  “In the same building that Laura Meyers lives in,” John told her.

  Bessie frowned. “This is spooky,” she said.

  “It’s slightly odd,” John agreed. “But then again, it isn’t. The flats are small, only one bedroom in each. The building suits single people or couples rather than families. Most of the flats are owned by the building’s management and rented out, rather than being owner-occupied. I would expect the average age of the residents is fifty or higher. A great many of them are retired men and women who enjoy being close to all of the amenities of Douglas.”

  “But she and Laura could be twins.”

  “Apparently we all have several doppelgangers in the world,” John said. “It isn’t unheard of for people to meet one of theirs.”

  “Meeting is one thing,” Bessie argued. “Living in the same building is another.”

  “But it happened here and there’s no reason to suspect that there’s anything odd about it,” John told her. “Julie and Humphrey moved in over a year ago.”

  “Is it possible that Laura was the real target?” Bessie asked.

  “At this point, anything is possible. Pete has spoken to Julie’s husband and to her coworkers. As yet, he hasn’t found any clear motive for her murder.”

  “What happened to her, or don’t I want to know?”

  “She was stabbed once in the back,” John replied. “It appears that she’d parked her car in the alley behind the building and was heading inside. Technically, residents aren’t permitted to park there, but apparently many people use it as short-term parking if they need to stop at home but are going right back out.”

  “Of course, no one saw anything,” Bessie sighed.

  “It was after ten and dark,” John told her. “The one streetlight that illuminates the alley had a broken bulb.”

  “That’s interesting. When did it get broken?”

  “No one seems to know for sure,” John replied.

  “So she was walking through the alley behind her building in the dark and someone came up behind her and stabbed her?”

  “That’s how it looks at the moment. She’d gone to see a movie with some of her friends from work. Before she headed for home, she rang her husband and suggested that they go out for a drink. He was waiting for her to come home to collect him when the police arrived.”

  “The poor man,” Bessie said. “Who found the body?”

  “Another couple that lives in the building. They were dropped off by a taxi near the back of the building, as the driver didn’t want to have to go up the promenade.”

  Bessie nodded. She was sure many taxi drivers felt that way, especially on a Saturday night. “If it was dark, it would have been very easy for someone to accidently kill the wrong woman.”

  “It would, yes,” John agreed.

  “I don’t suppose you can tell me anything about Laura’s ex-husband.”

  “Pete’s checked him out, and on the surface he appears to be exactly who he claims to be. A middle-aged man who was recently offered a good job in the island’s financial sector.”

  “Where did Julie Randall work?”

  John frowned. “Coincidentally, for the same bank where Laura’s ex-husband works,” he said. “But she was only part-time and worked as a customer representative at one of the high street branches. He works in IT at the bank’s corporate offices. We’ve no reason to believe that the pair ever met.”

  “What about Julie’s husband?”

  “He’s a teacher at the local high school.”

  Bessie shook her head. “None of this makes any sense,” she complained.

  “You should know by now that murder investigations rarely do, especially at the earliest stages.”

  “But how do you solve a murder if you aren’t even sure who the victim was meant to be?” Bessie asked.

  “The same way we solve every other murder, with slow and careful police work,” John told her. “Means and opportunity don’t have anything to do with who the intended victim was, even if motive gets tricky.”

  Bessie nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t doubt that you, or rather Pete in this instance, knows how to do the job. I’m just feeling incredibly upset by the whole thing. When I saw the paper, I really thought it was Laura who was dead, and now I’m quite worried about her safety.”

  “I’m planning on having a serious talk with her tomorrow night,” John said. “Whether she wants to talk to me or not.”

  “That’s good to know. Maybe I’ll be able to persuade her to stay here for a few days, as well.”

  John frowned. “I’d really rather you didn’t,” he said. “Maybe she could stay in that hotel in Peel that you mentioned?”

  “We’ll see what she wants to do,” Bessie replied.

  After John left, Bessie paced around the kitchen for a while longer. She reached for the phone several times, wanting to ring Laura just to hear her voice, but she stopped herself every time. If the woman hadn’t seen the local paper, there was no point in upsetting her, and if she had, no doubt Laura was upset enough without Bessie ringing.

  She went to bed as early as she possibly could, taking a book with her. Happily she was able to lose herself in a brief history of the French Revolution until she felt tired enough to sleep. When her eyes began to droop over the page in spite of the rising numbers of executions, she put the book on her bedside table and snuggled down under the covers. She slept restlessly, conscious each time that she woke that she’d been having a bad dream. She was never able to recall any details from them, however.

  At six the next morning she got up and got ready for the day on automatic. Time seemed to drag as Bessie watched the clock, looking forward to class when she would see Laura.

  Doona arrived at six with Chinese food and fairy cakes. “We should only talk in Manx while we eat,” Doona suggested as she filled a plate.

  “It will be a very quiet meal,” Bessie remarked.

  After they’d each said a few phrases, Doona looked at Bessie and shrugged. “I can’t remember anything else,” she admitted.

  “Me, either,” Bessie sighed. “I don’t think I’m going to get any further this year than I did last year.”

  “We’ve already practiced more this year than we did all of last year,” Doona pointed out. “Or at least I have, with John talking to me every day.”

  “I feel as if I’ve practiced a great deal more as well, but I don’t really feel as if it’s helping.”

  “What’s new with you, then?” Doona asked.

  Bessie shook her head. “I’m still worried about Laura and concerned about the murder in Douglas,” she told her friend. “I don’t suppose they’ve found the killer yet?”

  “That would be good news, but no. Dan Ross has been busy, though. I understand that tomorrow’s paper is going to be full of interviews with the woman’s nearest and dearest. That should make for interesting reading, I suppose.”

  “Has Pete discovered any possible motives yet?”

  “I think just the usual things,” Doona replied. “He’s looking at the husband, trying to work out if they were happy toge
ther. He’s looking into their finances to see if there is money there that shouldn’t be or more debt than average. He’ll be trying to work out whether either of them had another relationship on the side. Just the normal routine, really.”

  “What if Julie wasn’t the real target?” Bessie asked.

  “You think the killer might have been after Laura?”

  “It’s a possibility. You have to admit they looked a lot alike.”

  “No doubt you’ve pointed that out to John,” Doona said.

  Bessie nodded. “Although he’d already spotted the resemblance.”

  “So John will have passed that along to Pete. I’m sure Pete will talk to Laura and maybe look into any possible motive anyone might have for killing her, as well.” Doona looked at Bessie for a moment. “You know of a motive, don’t you?” she asked.

  Bessie sighed. “Laura’s ex-husband moved to the island recently. Let’s just say the divorce wasn’t friendly.”

  Doona nodded. “I wondered if it was something like that. I’m sure Pete will check Laura’s ex-husband’s alibi for the night of the murder, although alibis are tricky things, really.”

  “I know John has said before that it’s often difficult for people to prove where they were at any given time.”

  “Yes, and at ten o’clock at night, many of the people involved seem to have been home alone,” Doona told her. “Which isn’t suspicious, but it does complicate things.”

  The pair ate fairy cakes while they talked about more pleasant subjects, like Bessie’s friends who were arriving soon for a short stay on the island.

  “You’ll like Janet and Joan,” Bessie told her friend. “Joan bakes every day. When I visited their holiday cottage last year, they had cakes and biscuits and all manner of goodies.”

  “I like her already,” Doona laughed.

  “Which reminds me,” Bessie exclaimed. “The shop at the top of the hill has started doing individual slices of cake. The owner’s daughter is back on the island, and apparently she did some work in a bakery while she was across.”

  “I wonder how many rules she’s breaking, doing that,” Doona muttered.

  “Well, don’t tell John, then, but do drop in yourself. I tried a chocolate sponge and a Victoria sponge and they were both delicious.”

  “Two slices of cake?” Doona teased.

  “Only in the interest of giving them a fair try,” Bessie said. “Besides, I couldn’t choose between them. They both looked delicious, and surprisingly, they both were delicious.”

  “Is the girl any nicer now that she’s back?”

  Bessie shrugged. “She seemed to be trying harder, but maybe that was just because she really wanted me to try her cakes.”

  The pair left for class with a few minutes to spare. “Maybe if we’re early, we’ll be able to practice with Marjorie,” Doona said. “It’s really bothering me that John is doing so much better at this than I am.”

  “I wonder how Hugh and Grace are getting on,” Bessie said. “I haven’t spoken to either of them since the last class.”

  “Hugh talks to John every day,” Doona said. “He seems to be doing really well, but he did say that Grace is studying hard and makes him talk nothing but Manx at dinner or he isn’t allowed a second helping.”

  “Poor Hugh,” Bessie laughed. “But I’m sure that will help him learn a lot faster. Hugh’s always been motived by his stomach.”

  They were the first to arrive at the church again.

  “Good evening, Bessie,” James greeted her. “And Doona, wasn’t it? How are you both this evening?”

  The trio chatted together for several minutes, and then everyone else seemed to arrive at once. Bessie had no chance to talk to Laura as Marjorie swept in at the back of the rush and ordered them all into their seats.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said loudly over the greetings that people were exchanging. “I had a bit of car trouble and then Liz rang because her husband was tied up at work and couldn’t get home to watch the children and then…” Marjorie shook her head and said something in Manx that no one understood. “Let’s try this again,” she said cheerfully. “Good evening. I’m sorry that I’m late, but if we get started quickly, we won’t be more than a couple of minutes behind. We can easily make those up at the end.”

  Bessie and Doona slid into the same seats they’d occupied the previous week. As soon as she was settled, Bessie turned to look at Laura, who had followed Henry into the room, just ahead of Marjorie. In spite of her efforts, Bessie couldn’t seem to catch Laura’s eye. Feeling as if the other woman was avoiding her, Bessie turned around and tried to focus on Marjorie.

  By the time for the first break, Bessie felt a headache coming on. Marjorie had started with a review, but she’d quickly moved on to new material and even though Bessie knew she’d heard it all before, it all seemed to move too quickly for her. Doona was busy scribbling notes even after Marjorie announced the first break.

  “Let’s try to speak only in Manx during the break,” Marjorie suggested. “I’ll just get the tea started.”

  Bessie sat back and sighed deeply. Doona kept writing, leaving Bessie feeling as if she’d missed something. Not wanting to ask Doona what she was writing, as she couldn’t possibly have done so in Manx, Bessie got to her feet and joined the others who were slowly assembling at the back of the classroom.

  The tea break was uncomfortably quiet as everyone muttered politely in Manx and then fell silent when faced with actual conversation. Marjorie did her best to encourage them, but it seemed that no one was comfortable enough to try saying much more than please and thank you. Laura remained in her seat throughout the break. Henry took her a cup of tea and a biscuit and then sat silently with her.

  “It’s far too quiet in here,” Marjorie said as everyone returned to their seats. “Let’s all go around the room and say a few words. I want you each to introduce yourself and then tell everyone one thing you like to eat, all in Manx, of course.”

  That was a fairly easy exercise, as they’d covered most of it the first week and had reviewed it that evening. Once everyone had had a turn, Marjorie moved on to another, more difficult challenge. An hour later, there was no doubt that everyone was speaking more fluently, but Bessie’s head was pounding and she was starting to regret being there.

  “You don’t look as if you’re feeling well,” Doona whispered to her after Marjorie finished for the evening.

  “I have a headache, that’s all,” Bessie said, trying to make light of the pain.

  “I have tablets in my bag,” Doona said.

  “I took some during the tea break, but they don’t seem to be helping,” Bessie replied. “I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning. I just need a good night’s sleep.”

  As she stood up, Bessie noticed that John was sitting at the table with Henry and Laura. After a moment, Henry stood up and walked away. He stomped to the front of the room and then stood, scowling at Laura and John.

  “How are you, Henry?” Bessie asked as she crossed the room towards him.

  “I’m not very well,” Henry replied. “Laura’s very upset about something, but she won’t tell me what’s bothering her. Now John’s involved for some reason and I still don’t know what’s happening.”

  Bessie patted his arm. “I’m sorry. Sometimes people have a hard time talking about their pasts.”

  “Do you know what’s upset Laura?” Henry demanded.

  Bessie hesitated and then nodded. “I think I do,” she said. “But it isn’t my place to talk about it.”

  Henry sighed. “I suppose it was asking too much to find someone after all these years on my own. Anyway, look at her. Laura’s beautiful and smart and funny and I’m just, well, me.”

  “You’re a wonderful man and I know that Laura cares deeply for you,” Bessie told him. “She’s just having a difficult time right now. You’re going to need to give her some space for a little while.”

  Henry shrugged. “Thank you for trying to help,�
�� he said. “But I think this is probably the beginning of the end for me and Laura. She’s, well, never mind.”

  Bessie frowned. She really liked Henry and she knew that Laura made him happy. “Just give her a little bit more time,” she suggested.

  “Maybe,” was all that Henry would say.

  Bessie looked over at John and Laura. Laura was shaking her head and looking angry while John spoke. After a minute, Laura stood up. She looked around the room and when she caught Bessie’s eye she glanced at the door. Bessie hoped she was right that the woman was suggesting that Bessie meet her outside.

  “I’m going out to get some fresh air,” Bessie told Doona, who was chatting with Hugh, Grace, and Joney. “No rush for you to follow.” Bessie inclined her head towards Laura.

  Doona caught the look and nodded. “I’ll be out in a few minutes,” she replied.

  Bessie gathered up her notes and her handbag and walked out of the room. She stopped just outside the front door and took several deep breaths. Her head still hurt, but not as much. When the door opened behind her a moment later, she turned and smiled at Laura.

  “How are you?” she asked the woman.

  “Not well,” Laura snapped. “But that doesn’t mean I want the police involved, either.”

  “I thought you were going to talk to John tonight,” Bessie said.

  “I changed my mind. That woman who was murdered, well, I don’t want to get involved.”

  “She looked a lot like you,” Bessie remarked.

  “Yes, and she lived in my building,” Laura replied. “And I’m sure that Marcus killed her, but the police will never be able to prove it.”

  “Do you really think your ex-husband killed her?”

  “Sure. It was dark and she looked like me. I told you I’ve been using the back entrance when going in and out of my flat. I was dumb enough to think that that would put Marcus off, but clearly he’s been watching it.”

  Bessie frowned. “I hope you told John all of this.”

  “I’m not talking to the police,” Laura said stoutly. “I’ve thought a lot about it and I’ve decided that I simply can’t.”

  “But if you’re right, Marcus might try again.”