“No, not at all,” Elizabeth said, shuddering.
“What’s going on?” Susan demanded from the great room doorway.
“Inspector Rhodes isn’t well,” Mary said. “Just get everyone a drink. We’re calling for an ambulance now.”
“He’s just drunk,” Susan snapped. “I warned him that if he drank too much tonight I’d never use him again, but he never listens to me. Let me talk to him.”
“Not right now,” Bessie said. She’d rung John’s home number, but no one was answering.
Susan took a step forward. “I want to see him,” she said loudly.
Bessie caught Mary’s eye. “You have guests to worry about,” Mary reminded her. “Let’s get back to the party.”
“I invited the man. If he’s ill, I need to know about it,” Susan insisted.
Mary was struggling to deal with the still sobbing Elizabeth and an angry Susan when John answered his mobile.
“John, it’s Bessie. We have a situation at Thie yn Traie,” she said.
“At the murder mystery evening? What sort of situation?”
“You need to come,” Bessie replied, not wanting to say too much in front of Susan.
“Do I need a full crime scene team?”
“Yes, I think you do.”
“Someone is dead?”
“Sadly, yes.”
John sighed. “I’ll send the closest uniformed constable. He or she should be there in a few minutes. I’ll follow with my team. How many guests are at the party?”
“Maybe a dozen or so,” Bessie replied.
“And how many of them could have committed the murder?”
“Maybe a dozen or so,” Bessie repeated herself.
John sighed again and then ended the call. Susan was still loudly demanding to see the inspector.
“The police are on their way,” Bessie said loudly.
“The police? Oh, no, what’s he done now?” Susan asked.
“What do you mean?” Mary asked her.
“What has Inspector Rhodes done that has made you ring the police? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work things out without involving the police,” Susan replied.
“Let’s go and sit down in the other room,” Mary suggested.
Susan hesitated and then nodded. Elizabeth took a few deep breaths and then wiped her eyes.
“I should go and do something about my face,” she murmured.
“I think it would be best if you didn’t go anywhere right now,” Bessie told her.
The foursome walked slowly back towards the great room. As Bessie crossed the threshold, Susan suddenly turned away and ran back into the corridor. She pushed her way through the partially open door to the study where the body was located and then began to scream.
Bessie quickly grabbed her arm and tried to pull her out of the room. Michael Higgins was at her side a moment later. He succeeded where Bessie hadn’t, nearly dragging the still screaming woman back into the corridor.
“Daddy,” Susan sobbed. “Someone killed my father.”
A dozen questions flashed through Bessie’s head, but she didn’t let herself ask the girl anything.
“Maybe you should take her into another room,” Michael said. “Is there a key for the door to the room where the body is?” he asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth nodded and fished a key out of her pocket. Michael shut and locked the door to the study and then turned around to face Bessie.
“Take Susan somewhere and try to calm her down,” he told her. “I’ll go back in and deal with the party guests. I assume someone has rung 999.”
“I called John Rockwell,” Bessie told him.
He stared at her for a minute and then nodded. “That will do,” he said before he turned and his heel and strode back into the great room.
“You should be in there with the guests,” Mary told Elizabeth. “Don’t tell them what’s happened, though. That’s for the police to deal with.”
Elizabeth nodded and made her way through the door to the great room.
“Madam?” Jonathan Hooper said.
“The police will be here soon,” Mary told him. “Please bring them to me here.”
“Of course, madam,” he replied. He bowed and then disappeared in the direction of the front door.
“I need to take Susan somewhere,” Bessie said.
“There’s another study down the hall,” Mary told her. “The key should be in the door.” She led Bessie down the corridor. Bessie kept a tight grip on Susan’s arm as they went.
Mary opened a door and switched on the lights. The room was small and held only a few chairs and a large table.
“What did the Pierce family do with this room?” Bessie wondered.
“I believe Mrs. Pierce used it as a sewing room,” Mary told her. “There were some other lamps and things in here when we bought the house, but we’ve reused them elsewhere.”
Bessie nodded and then guided Susan into a chair. “Sit,” she said firmly.
Susan complied, her face still buried in her hands.
“I’ll wait in the corridor for the police,” Mary said. She shut the door behind her, leaving Bessie alone with Susan, who was still crying quietly.
“I’m sure I have tissues in my bag,” Bessie told the woman. She found a small packet and held it out towards Susan. The other woman peeked out over her hands and then reached out to take the tissues.
She blew her nose loudly and then wiped her eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly.
A knock on the door startled them both. Bessie opened it to one of the uniformed waiters, who was carrying a tray. “Mrs. Quayle sent me,” he told them as he put the tray on the table. The tray held a large box of tissues, a pitcher of ice water with two glasses, and two pots of tea with teacups. A plate of biscuits sat in the centre of the tray.
“I don’t want anything,” Susan said flatly.
“Have a drink of water,” Bessie suggested.
Susan looked as if she wanted to refuse, but after a moment she took the glass that Bessie offered. After a few sips, she sat back in her seat and sighed. “I don’t imagine you’ll keep your mouth shut about what I said when I saw the body,” she said to Bessie.
“About the inspector being your father? Surely that’s something you’ll want the police to know.”
“I’d rather no one knew,” Susan replied. “Although it’s mostly Elizabeth and her mother that I’d like to keep it from, and they were both standing there when I fell apart. It probably doesn’t matter who else knows now.”
“I don’t want to pry,” Bessie said, desperately wanting to pry, “but why wouldn’t you want Elizabeth and Mary to know?”
Susan sighed. “I may have exaggerated slightly when I said he was a retired senior police official. And I may have exaggerated slightly when I said I’d done lots of these parties before.”
“May have?” Bessie echoed.
“Yeah, okay, I lied,” Susan snapped. She took a sip of water and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to shout at you, but, well, I am a party-planner, at least part time, but it’s hard to find jobs. One of my friends heard about how Elizabeth was starting up a party planning business over here and suggested I get in touch and offer to give her a hand. I couldn’t see any harm in it, really.”
“I assume you’re charging Elizabeth for your assistance,” Bessie said coolly.
The other woman flushed. “Not as much as I charge for proper party planning,” she said defensively. “I have been helping her quite a lot, too. I did nearly all of the planning for tonight, you know. It was my idea from the start.”
“Was it, now?”
“Yes. I kept hearing about these sorts of parties and I thought they sounded like fun. I suggested to Elizabeth that we try one here on the island and see how it went.”
“Except you told her that you’d already done several,” Bessie pointed out.
“I don’t think I said that exactly,” the girl muttered.
“
Where does your father fit into all of this?”
“We needed a proper police inspector to take on that role. Elizabeth thought she had someone lined up, but he couldn’t make it at the last minute, so I asked my father to step in.”
“He was with the police?”
“He, well, he’s done a lot of security work,” the girl said quietly, “and he watches a lot of detective shows on the telly. It was only a pretend murder, so it didn’t much matter anyway.”
Bessien nodded. It wasn’t her place to question the woman. It would probably be smart for her to stop doing so before John arrived. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.
“Thank you,” Susan replied. “I’m devastated, obviously, surprisingly so. My father and I didn’t exactly get along well. I’m surprised at how I feel, really.”
“I think we’re often surprised by the emotions that we feel when we’re faced with tragedy,” Bessie told her. Someone tapped on the door. After a moment, Mary pushed it open and looked inside.
“John’s here with the crime scene team. He’ll be ready to start taking statements in a few minutes. He’d like to start with you, Bessie, and then talk to Susan next,” she said.
Bessie nodded. “I’ll wait here for him. Maybe you could find someone else to sit with Ms. Haymarket while I’m with John. I’m not sure she should be alone.”
“Who’s John?” Susan asked.
“Inspector John Rockwell is the head of the Laxey CID,” Bessie told her.
“CID?”
“Criminal Investigation Department,” Bessie explained. “He’s a police inspector, a proper one.”
“Police? I don’t want to talk to the police,” she replied.
“Your father was murdered,” Bessie said as gently as she could. “We will all have to talk to the police, probably several times.”
“It must have been an accident,” Susan said insistently. “No one would have murdered him on purpose. I’m the only person who hated him that much.”
“Why not save all of that for Inspector Rockwell,” Bessie suggested. “He’ll have a great many questions for you.”
“Can I refuse to speak to him?” the woman asked.
Bessie looked at Mary, who shrugged. “Surely you want to do everything you can to help the police find the man or woman responsible for your father’s death,” Bessie replied eventually.
“I don’t know what I want,” Susan said, “or rather, I do. I want to wake up and have this all be a horrible nightmare. I think I need to get some fresh air.”
The woman got to her feet and took a step towards the door.
“It’s raining quite hard,” Mary told her. “You’re better off staying inside.”
“I don’t care about rain. I’m feeling quite claustrophobic in this little room,” Susan said sharply. She kept walking, forcing Mary to step back out of her way. Bessie followed the woman into the corridor.
“I’ll just go get some air,” Susan told them both, heading towards the front door.
Mary looked as if she wanted to say something, but Bessie shook her head at her. Bessie knew John well enough to know that there would be a constable at the door, stopping people from leaving. Susan strode down the corridor, stopping short as she walked into the foyer. Bessie followed and was relieved to see that she was correct. Not only was there a uniformed constable at the door, it was someone she knew well.
“Good evening,” Hugh Watterson said politely to Susan. He caught Bessie’s eye and gave her a smile.
To Bessie, the young man still looked not much more than fifteen, even though he’d been with the police for several years and had recently married. He and his wife, Grace, had a baby on the way, and Bessie was delighted for them. They were in the process of buying one of the new houses that had been built along the beach some distance from Bessie’s own cottage, and Bessie was looking forward to having them nearby.
“Hi there,” Susan said. She walked over to Hugh and said something in a low voice.
He shook his head. “I’m awfully sorry, but for now the inspector wants everyone to remain in the house.”
“But it was my father who was killed,” Susan said, tears beginning to stream down her face again. “I just need a minute or two to clear my head before I talk to the police about it, that’s all.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Hugh told her.
“So I can go for a short walk?” the woman asked.
“Perhaps in a little while,” Hugh said. “Maybe after you’ve spoken to the inspector.”
“Please, please, just give me two minutes,” the woman begged. “I’m so devastated that I’m barely able to think straight. I just need a few minutes to myself.”
Hugh nodded. “I understand that,” he said. “I’m sure Mrs. Quayle can find you somewhere quiet where you can gather your thoughts.”
Susan opened her mouth again, but she was interrupted by a new arrival. “Is there something wrong out here?” John Rockwell asked in a serious voice.
Bessie was grateful to see the man. He looked incredibly handsome in a dark suit that made her wonder where he’d been when she’d rung him. His brown hair looked as if it had been recently cut, as well. His bright green eyes focussed on Susan.
“You’re Susan Haymarket?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “Are you in charge here?”
“I’m Inspector John Rockwell. I will be conducting the investigation into your father’s death, if that’s what you mean.”
“Good. Then you can tell this man to step aside and let me get some fresh air,” the woman replied. “He’s refusing my very simple request.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t quite that simple, not during a murder investigation,” John told her. “Until we’ve had a chance to question everyone, no one is going to be going anywhere.”
“You can’t make me stay here,” the girl said angrily.
“I can, actually,” John replied evenly, “but as you’re so eager to get away, why don’t I talk to you first, before anyone else? Then once we’re finished, you can take your walk in the rain.”
Susan frowned. “I don’t want to talk to you,” she told him.
“Surely you want the police to work out what happened to your father,” John replied. “Someone killed him. You don’t want them to get away with murder.”
For a moment Bessie thought that Susan was going to argue, but instead she sighed deeply. “Okay, then, let’s get this over with,” she said.
John nodded. “Mrs. Quayle has kindly provided me with a temporary office. If you’ll come with me, please.”
Bessie, Mary, and Hugh all watched as John led the woman away.
“How are you?” Bessie asked Hugh as the pair disappeared.
“I’m fine, thanks. How are you?” he replied.
“I’ve been better,” Bessie sighed. “I really didn’t want to get caught up in another murder investigation.”
“I’m sorry, Bessie,” Mary said.
“It isn’t your fault in any way,” Bessie told her, “and it isn’t Elizabeth’s fault, either. The only person who should be sorry is the murderer, and he or she probably isn’t at all sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have talked you into coming, though,” Mary protested.
“I made my own decision to come. If you want to blame someone, you should blame Andy for being such a wonderful chef. I only came because of his food, you know,” Bessie replied.
“Poor Andy. He looked very shaken when I saw him last,” Mary told her.
“Is everyone else in the great room?” Bessie asked.
“Yes, with a handful of constables watching over them,” Mary replied.
“Maybe we should go and join them,” Bessie suggested. She gave Hugh a quick hug and then she and Mary walked back to the great room. As they entered, everyone looked up, and Bessie thought they all looked disappointed as she and Mary entered the room.
“Bessie, what is going on?” Mona called from her seat on one of the couches.
Michael was sitting next to her, holding her hand tightly.
Having no idea what anyone knew, Bessie simply shook her head and then took a seat on the nearest couch. Elizabeth had been standing at the bar. Now she walked over to join Bessie and her mother, who’d sat down next to Bessie.
“Where’s Susan?” she asked in a low voice.
One of the police constables crossed the room. “The inspector would prefer it if you didn’t talk,” he said in an apologetic tone.
“I was just checking on the whereabouts of my friend,” Elizabeth told the man.
“She’s with John,” Bessie said quickly, earning herself a stern look from the constable.
The silence in the room was oppressive and Bessie found herself feeling desperate to speak, even though she had nothing to say. She looked around the room, taking time to study the partygoers, who were sitting together in an awkward cluster.
Vivian was sitting between Richard and Sean. The girl looked bored, but unconcerned. Richard was tapping his foot and staring at his watch, seemingly unaware of Vivian, while Sean appeared to be watching her closely through half-closed eyes. Bessie wondered if she were imagining it because of the things Sean had said to her earlier about his feelings for the girl, and then decided it didn’t really matter.
Madison was sitting on a chair next to the trio, staring straight ahead. Her face was pale and she looked as if she might cry if anyone spoke to her. On the next couch, Liza and Leonard Hammersmith were sitting with their hands tightly clasped. Liza was staring at the window while Leonard looked at the floor.
Norma and her brother, Ernest, were standing at the bar with drinks in front of them. Bessie hoped they were soft drinks. No one needed any more alcohol at this point. George and Andy were sitting in chairs next to one another a short distance from the others. Bessie caught Andy’s eye and gave him a smile that she hoped was reassuring. He shrugged.
George suddenly looked around the room and seemed to notice Mary for the first time. He silently got up and crossed to his wife, sitting down next to her. She leaned against him as he slid his arm around her. Elizabeth moved over to sit on the other side of her father and he quickly put an arm around her as well.
What felt like several hours but was only about twenty minutes later, John spoke from the doorway. “Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the Isle of Man Constabulary, thank you for your patience. I’m Inspector John Rockwell with the Laxey Criminal Investigation Department. I understand you were all here for a murder mystery evening, but unfortunately a real murder investigation takes precedence. For those of you who don’t know, the gentlemen who was introduced to you as Inspector Jerome Rhodes was murdered.”
Aunt Bessie Remembers Page 6
