“My goodness, what an exciting life you must have had. Were you with the police?” Susan asked.
“No, I’ve just been in the wrong place at the wrong time rather too often,” Bessie replied.
Susan looked as if she wanted to ask more, but then she glanced at Elizabeth and frowned. “You should have had everyone dress appropriately,” she told her. “It’s much more fun if everyone is in fancy dress according to a theme.”
“I know, but there simply wasn’t time to arrange it properly,” Elizabeth replied. “The island isn’t like London. We don’t have a dozen fancy dress shops where people can get period costumes on a moment’s notice. We’ll have to do the best we can for tonight, and I’ll have to investigate what’s actually available on the island going forward.”
“I’ve done my best to rewrite the story as a modern murder mystery, rather than the period piece it’s always been,” Susan said, “but I’m not sure how successful I’ve been. Certain things may not hang together exactly right.”
“How does it all work, then?” Bessie asked.
Susan raised an eyebrow. “The murder mystery, you mean?”
“Yes, how does it work?”
“You’re more than welcome to observe it all,” Elizabeth told her. “You can watch from the sidelines. I’d love your feedback when it’s all over, actually. I’m sure there will be things that we’ll need to improve.”
“The basic story is fairly simple,” Susan said. “The setting is an old country house. I usually suggest having the guests dress in late Victorian dress or twenties-era clothing and adjust the story accordingly. Each guest, as he or she arrives, is assigned a part in the story. Elizabeth, for example, is the daughter of the wealthy man who owns the country house.”
“Typecasting,” Elizabeth giggled.
“Along with character notes, one of the guests is also assigned the role of the murderer, and another is designated as the victim. When the lights go out, the murderer has to make his or her way to the victim and say a certain code word. That’s the victim’s cue to pretend to die. When the lights come back on, it’s time for the guests and the detective to try to work out who the killer was,” Susan explained.
“And there are clues?” Bessie asked.
“Yes, there are clues built into everyone’s character descriptions for a start. Careful questioning of all of the guests is the first job for the detective. He does his questioning in front of everyone, so that everyone has an equal opportunity to solve the crime,” Susan told her.
“I see,” Bessie said, not sure that she did.
“Other clues are handed out as necessary,” Susan continued. “There are dozens of red herrings, of course, as well. At the end of the evening everyone says who he or she thinks the murderer was, and then the actual killer is unmasked.”
“How often do people work out the right solution?” Bessie wondered.
“Maybe half the time,” Susan shrugged. “People seem to be happiest when they work out the right solution and the detective gets it wrong. That’s one of the reasons why I like working with Inspector Rhodes. He’s usually wrong.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I can’t wait to meet him,” she said.
“He should be here soon,” Susan replied. “Hopefully a good half hour before the rest of the guests.”
Bessie frowned. “I thought the party started at six,” she said.
“Oh, we had to move it back to seven because the inspector couldn’t get an earlier flight,” Elizabeth told her. “I had the car go and collect you early, though, because Mum was fussing.”
“Where is your mother?” Bessie asked, suddenly concerned about her friend.
“I’m right here, and I was not fussing,” Mary said from a doorway. “I simply said that I wasn’t certain what I should do with myself while I was waiting for Bessie to arrive. My daughter took that to mean that she should send a car for you straight away. I didn’t realise she’d done it, or I’d have been here to greet you properly,” Mary explained as she crossed to Bessie.
Bessie gave her friend a hug. Mary was a tiny woman who was always impeccably dressed and perfectly made up. Tonight was no exception and as Bessie stood next to Mary, she couldn’t help but feel as if she should have tried harder with both the outfit and her makeup.
“Come through and have something to eat while we wait for everyone else,” Mary invited her. “Andy’s already putting food out and there’s plenty of wine as well.”
Bessie followed Mary into the huge “great room” with its wall of windows that showcased the sea. A large rectangular table was set up in the middle of the room.
“We’ll be having dinner in here,” Mary explained, nodding at the table. “Susan wanted as much room as possible for the murder mystery, so everything will be happening in here.”
“How many people are coming?” Bessie asked.
Mary shrugged. “Elizabeth has a group of friends here, and I’ve invited a few people as well. It’s just a sort of test run of the whole concept, so the idea was to keep the numbers fairly small. I’m not sure that Susan agrees with that. I believe she’s been encouraging Elizabeth to invite more people.”
“Aunt Bessie, you look lovely,” Andy Caine said as he walked into the room with a tray of food in each hand. He put them down on a large table near the wall and then walked over to give Bessie a hug.
“Andy, I’m only here because Mary said you were doing the food,” Bessie said.
The man laughed. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed. Elizabeth didn’t want anything too fancy, really. The food is just to give everyone enough energy to solve the crime.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious,” Bessie replied. “And I’m not planning on taking part in the murder mystery part of the evening, so the food is important to me.”
“Not taking part? I was counting on you to solve the case,” Andy exclaimed.
“After everything I’ve been through lately, I really don’t want to get involved,” Bessie told him.
Andy nodded. “I can understand that. I’m just glad you came at all. I’ve made a special pudding based on your shortbread.”
Bessie smiled. “Is it time for pudding yet?”
“You can have a few starters while you wait,” Andy suggested. He waved a hand towards the table where he’d left the trays. It was full of trays of food, and everything looked delicious.
“I shall have to be careful not to eat too much,” Bessie murmured as she and Mary approached the table. “I must save room for pudding.”
The pair filled small plates while Andy headed back to the kitchen. A uniformed waiter was just pouring them each a glass of wine when another man rushed into the room.
“Aunt Bessie, my goodness, just look at you,” he exclaimed as he pulled Bessie into a hug.
When he released her, Bessie stared at the new arrival. “Jack? Jack Hooper? I’m not sure I would have recognised you if I didn’t know you were here,” she exclaimed. His ginger hair had darkened considerably, although Bessie could still see a smattering of freckles across his nose. When he smiled at her, she noticed that the gap between his front teeth was also still there. But he looked much older than the boy in her memories, especially dressed in formal butler attire.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” Jack said. “But you really must call me Jonathan now, and I really must calm down and behave.” He glanced over at Mary and then looked at the floor.
“Don’t mind me,” she said quickly. “I didn’t even realise you knew Bessie.”
“Oh, aye,” the man replied. He cleared his throat and when he spoke again, it was in perfect Received Pronunciation rather than his Manx accent. “Miss Cubbon’s cottage was one of my favourite places when I was a small child. I would spend hours on Laxey Beach in the summer, and she was often kind enough to offer my mother and myself a cup of tea and a biscuit at some point during the day.”
Mary smiled. “How fun for you,” she said.
“Yes, madam. Those are
some of my favourite childhood memories,” Jonathan said, “and now I must get back to the door to help Miss Elizabeth greet guests.”
Bessie gave him another hug before he left, and then settled into a chair next to Mary with her plate of food. She’d only taken a single bite when Elizabeth strolled in, in the company of an older man. The man appeared to be in his late sixties. He was heavyset and was wearing a rumpled brown business suit and scuffed black leather shoes. What little hair he had was combed into something like a circle on the top of his head, and Bessie could only imagine that it had been dyed dark brown as she couldn’t imagine the colour was natural.
“Mum, Aunt Bessie, this is Inspector Jerome Rhodes,” she said. “Inspector Rhodes, this is my mother, Mary Quayle, and her friend, Elizabeth Cubbon.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” the man said, nodding at them as his eyes scanned the room. “Oh, food,” he exclaimed. Before anyone could reply, he’d crossed the room and begun to fill a plate from the starters on display.
“Wine, sir?” the uniformed waiter asked.
“Oh, yeah, whatever you have,” the man replied, barely looking up from his plate.
“I’m going back to greet guests,” Elizabeth said loudly before she turned and left the room.
Bessie settled back in her seat and amused herself by watching as the police inspector added more and more food to his plate. He seemed to be doing so methodically, carefully arranging things by shape to maximise what he could fit onto a single plate. She exchanged glances with Mary and then they both stared as the man added still more to his selections. Bessie was certain that something was going to fall off the plate as he made his way back to join her and Mary, but even with a glass of wine in his other hand, he managed to get his heaping pile of food safely across the room.
“So, Mrs. Quayle, this is quite a house. How long have you lived here?” he asked before shoving a canapé into his mouth.
“Not long,” Mary replied. “We’re still settling in. I’d very much like to redecorate this room, but we’re having trouble working out what to do with it.”
“It’s too big,” the man said around another mouthful. “It’s rather similar to being in a bus garage.”
Bessie gasped and then quickly took a sip of wine before she could reply to the man’s rude comment.
Mary smiled graciously. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to work with it, eventually,” she said. “Have you ever been to the island before?”
“Nope,” he said, pushing the food around on his plate. “Lived in London most of my life. I like big cities.” As he took his next bite, Bessie and Mary exchanged glances.
“Isn’t it nice that everyone is different,” Mary said after a moment. “We lived in London for a while, but I never felt settled there. Are you staying on the island for long?”
“Going back in the morning,” he replied. “Susan didn’t reckon I could get a flight back tonight after the party, so she’s found me a hotel near the airport. I’ll be on a flight out at seven, and I don’t plan to come back.”
“Perhaps you should give the island more of a chance,” Bessie suggested, choosing her words carefully. “It really is lovely.”
“Too small. Nothing happening and nothing to do,” the man said.
“There are a number of interesting historical sites,” Mary told him.
“Not really interested in history. All those dates and dusty old documents? Not for me.”
“What are you interested in?” Bessie had to ask.
The man shrugged. “I go to the pub a lot,” he said. “There’s one just down the road from my flat.”
“Do you like to read?” was Bessie’s next question.
“Nah, not much,” was the not unexpected reply.
“It was kind of you to agree to come and help with the murder mystery evening,” Mary said after a moment.
“Kind? Ha,” the man said while chewing. “Susan is paying me for my time, you know. It isn’t a bad way to make some extra dosh really. I ask a few questions and pretend I don’t know who the killer is and the guests all leave happy. I could do this every night of the week. There’s always food, too.”
“What time does all of this start?” a voice asked from the doorway.
Bessie looked over at the girl who’d just arrived. She had to be one of Elizabeth’s friends. Her hair was platinum blonde and she was wearing a tiny silver slip of a dress that barely covered anything. Incredibly high heels made her legs look impossibly long, and Bessie guessed that she had to be at least six feet tall in her shoes.
“Wow,” the inspector said under his breath before letting out a long wolf whistle. “Maybe the island does have some redeeming features,” he said as he got to his feet.
The girl raised an eyebrow at him and then looked at Mary. “What time do we start?” she asked again.
“I believe Elizabeth is planning to start things around seven,” Mary told her. “Why don’t you have a glass of wine and something to eat while you wait?”
“I’m going to get the others,” the girl replied. She spun on her heel and disappeared just moments before the inspector would have reached her.
He watched her go and then ambled back over to the food table and began to fill another plate.
“It’s going to be a long night,” Mary whispered to Bessie.
Bessie nodded and then finished the last of the food on her plate. “Maybe we should go and help Elizabeth greet guests,” she suggested.
“I suspect Vivian will be back in a minute or two,” Mary said. “Now that she knows drinks are available, she won’t be gone long.”
The words were barely out of Mary’s mouth when the girl in the silver dress came back into the room. She was dragging several other people behind her, and they all quickly congregated around the food table. One of the young men nearly knocked the inspector over as the older man reached for a glass of wine.
“Oh, sorry,” Elizabeth’s friend said carelessly.
Inspector Rhodes gave him an angry look and then took his plate and walked over to an empty chair.
Bessie slid closer to Mary. “Tell me who everyone is,” she requested.
“All of the young people are Elizabeth’s friends from London. I believe they’re all part of the same social circle as the group that came for New Year’s Eve, but none of those people have come again.”
“I can’t blame them for that,” Bessie said, thinking about the murder investigation that had followed that party.
“Yes, well, let’s see now. The girl in the silver dress is Vivian Walker. She’s a model when she can be bothered to work, but there’s loads of family money, so that isn’t often. The other girl is called Madison Fields. Again, lots of family money. I don’t know that she does much of anything, besides attend parties and that sort of thing.”
Bessie looked at the brunette, who was sipping a glass of wine and staring at the sea. She was considerably shorter than Vivian, but she was probably still taller than Bessie, who wasn’t much over five feet tall. Madison was wearing a long blue dress that did nothing for her slender figure, and from where Bessie was sitting, didn’t appear to be wearing any makeup. Compared to her friend, the girl almost seemed to disappear into the background.
“What about the two young men?” Bessie asked.
“One of them is Sean Rice and the other is Richard Long,” Mary told her, “but I can’t really tell them apart.”
Bessie chuckled. While the two men didn’t exactly look alike, she could see what Mary meant. They were both very much of a type. They both looked like the sort of young men who worked in banking or investments in London and received multi-million-pound bonuses each year. One of them had hair that was beginning to thin, but beyond that, their brown hair was cut in identical styles and their suits looked exactly the same, at least from a distance.
“And here are Ernest and Norma McCormick,” Mary whispered, nodding towards the door.
Bessie looked at the pair. They both had
short brown hair and brown eyes. Ernest was wearing a suit similar to the ones worn by the other men, but his had more style somehow. Or maybe it was the bright red and blue tie that he’d worn with it that made it seem more stylish. The tie seemed to match his companion’s dress. It was also stylish, but reasonably modest, especially when compared with Vivian’s. Bessie felt that the girl was wearing too much makeup, but it had clearly been expertly applied. “They’re married?” she asked Mary.
“No, brother and sister,” Mary told her. “Actually, twins. Another family with a great deal of money, although I understand they both work in the family business.”
The pair joined the others at the food table as Elizabeth walked into the room. “Has everyone received his or her character cards?” she asked loudly in the doorway.
“Yes, and I don’t like mine,” Vivian complained. “I don’t want to be the nanny.”
Elizabeth laughed. “It’s only pretend,” she said. “Everyone has to be someone. You needn’t worry that anyone will think you really are a nanny. Not in that dress.”
Vivian glanced down at her dress and then laughed. “I don’t own anything more nanny-like,” she said.
“Or anything less nanny-like,” Ernest suggested with a wink.
“The other guests have all arrived and are just getting character cards,” Elizabeth announced. “We’ll sit down to dinner in a few minutes.”
“That means my friends are all here,” Mary said, getting to her feet. “I should go and greet them and make sure they’re all happy to play Elizabeth’s little game.”
“Take me with you,” Bessie requested. “I don’t want to stay here with the young people. I might have to talk to Inspector Rhodes again.”
Mary laughed. “Come on, then, although I suspect they’ll all be here before we get too far.”
She was right. As Mary and Bessie crossed the room, four more people walked into it. Bessie was slightly surprised as she recognised one of the new arrivals.
“Elizabeth Cubbon, I should have expected to see you here,” Mona Kelly said. “I’d heard that you and Mary had become friends, and you do live right down the beach, don’t you?”
Aunt Bessie Remembers Page 3
