Aunt Bessie Remembers

by Diana Xarissa

  “The south of France has lovely weather,” Norma interjected. “I shall be planning a long holiday there once we get out of here.”

  “Portugal is better,” Sean said.

  “I hate Portugal,” Vivian said, making a face.

  “Why?” Sean asked.

  “Oh, it’s just not for me,” she replied vaguely. “I’ve been thinking about moving to America, actually. I think somewhere like Los Angeles would suit me perfectly. I could do some modeling and spend my spare time at the beach.”

  “That’s where my mother is now,” Sean said. “She married an American, and they’ve settled in LA. It’s very hot, but no one ever goes out of their air-conditioned homes, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “Do you ever visit her?” Vivian asked.

  Sean looked surprised that she’d spoken to him. “I haven’t yet, but, well, I mean, I’d quite like to, but my father would prefer that I didn’t. Their divorce was not friendly.”

  Vivian shrugged and then looked over at Richard. “Do you have family in America anywhere?” she asked.

  He stared at her for a minute. “I might have a few distant cousins over there somewhere. My grandfather’s brother moved to the US when he was young, and he married and had children, but I’ve never met any of them.”

  “Are they in California?” was Vivian’s next question.

  “I believe they are somewhere in Montana, if that’s a place in the US,” he replied.

  “I have family in Michigan,” Susan said. “Maybe I should go and visit them once this is all over. I’ve never been to the US.”

  “I grew up there,” Bessie said.

  “Really?” Vivian gasped, “and you moved to the Isle of Man? Why would you want to do that?”

  “I was born on the island, but we moved to the US when I was two,” Bessie explained. “My parents decided to move back here when I was seventeen. As I wasn’t an adult yet, I didn’t have any choice in the matter.”

  “I would have stayed in the US anyway,” Vivian said airily. “I’d love to live there. It looks so exciting on telly and in the movies.”

  “It isn’t really that different from here,” Bessie told her.

  “Of course it is. They have Hollywood and year-round sunshine,” Vivian said.

  “We lived in Cleveland,” Bessie replied. “We didn’t have Hollywood, but we did have snow for six months of the year.”

  “You should have moved to California,” Vivian said.

  “California was a long way from all of our family and friends. I can’t imagine my parents ever gave it a single thought. In those days people tended to settle where they had family connections,” Bessie told her.

  “My father always wanted to move somewhere warm,” Susan said in a low voice. “He was saving up for it. He had all sorts of plans.”

  “That’s good news for you, then, as you’ll inherit, right?” Vivian asked.

  Susan looked stunned. “I would much rather have my father back than inherit money,” she said after an awkward pause.

  “Really? No offense, but your father wasn’t the most likeable man I’ve ever met. He drank a lot and he kept leering at me every time I walked past him,” Vivian replied.

  “Maybe if you didn’t dress like a whore he wouldn’t have leered at you,” Susan snapped.

  “I wear what I like,” Vivian said. “It isn’t my fault that men seem to like it as well.”

  “What is everyone enjoying from the buffet?” Mary asked in a loud voice.

  “It’s all fine,” Ernest said after a moment. “None of it is outstanding, but it’s all fine.”

  “Our chef isn’t as good as Andy,” Elizabeth said with a frown, “but Andy doesn’t want to come and work here.”

  “He still has to finish culinary school,” Bessie reminded the girl.

  “Yes, I know, but even after that, he doesn’t want to be a private chef. He keeps insisting that he wants to open a restaurant, even though he has enough money now to just sit around and do nothing,” Elizabeth sighed.

  “Not everyone is lazy like you,” Vivian said. “I have plenty of money, but I still work.”

  “You do an hour of modeling once a month or so and then complain about it for weeks afterwards,” Elizabeth replied. “Standing in front of a camera looking bored while someone snaps your picture isn’t working, anyway. You know I’m putting a lot of time and effort into my party planning business.”

  Vivian laughed. “And it’s going so well, isn’t it? Wasn’t someone murdered at the wedding you planned last month? And now again at your murder mystery evening, someone has ended up dead. Having you plan a party is like writing a death warrant for some unsuspecting individual.”

  The colour drained from Elizabeth’s face as she jumped to her feet. “I don’t have to listen to this. You’re meant to be a guest here. Maybe you should leave.”

  “I so wish I could, darling,” Vivian drawled, “but the police aren’t letting anyone go anywhere at the moment. We’re all stuck here together like miserable peas in a horrid little pod.”

  “Perhaps you’d all like to move to a hotel,” Mary suggested in a cool voice. “We can arrange that for you if you’d prefer, at our expense, of course.”

  Vivian looked around at the others. “What do you think?” she asked them. “Should we stay or should we move to a hotel?”

  “I like it here,” Madison said so quietly that Bessie could only just hear her.

  “I do as well,” Richard said. He smiled at Madison. “And I like the company.”

  Vivian narrowed her eyes at the man and then looked over at Sean. “What about you? Are you happy here, too?”

  “I’m not unhappy,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t want to put Mrs. Quayle to any expense or bother, either.”

  “I’d like to leave,” Susan said loudly. “Right now, if that’s possible.”

  Mary nodded. “I’ll just ring Inspector Rockwell and check with him,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Are you happy here?” Ernest asked his sister as Mary left the room.

  “Not especially, but we’re stuck, really. I certainly wouldn’t expect Mrs. Quayle to make other arrangements for us. I’m sure the police will have everything worked out in a day or two, anyway,” Norma replied.

  “I wish I shared your confidence in the local police,” Vivian said. “I rang Daddy last night and asked him to send someone from Scotland Yard, but he said it wasn’t that easy.” She sighed. “They do it on telly all the time.”

  “This isn’t telly,” Susan snapped. “This is real life and a real person has been murdered. That person was my father, and I think you should all stop worrying about yourselves and think about other people for once.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Madison said in her quiet voice.

  “Thank you,” Susan said.

  “We’re all sorry for your loss, although you and your father didn’t seem terribly close earlier in the evening,” Sean said. “You barely said two words to each other.”

  “We were working,” Susan replied through gritted teeth. “He was playing a part, and I was trying to keep the evening running smoothly. We didn’t have time to sit and chat together.”

  “I can’t understand why anyone killed him,” Vivian said. “I mean, are the police sure it was murder? Maybe he simply drank himself to death.”

  “He was stabbed,” Susan said flatly.

  “Maybe he was just holding the knife and it slipped out of his hand or something,” Vivian suggested. “Maybe he was cutting something and his hand slipped.”

  “Or maybe he was stabbed by someone who took advantage of the murder game to sneak away and kill him,” Susan shot back.

  “But none of us even knew the man,” Sean said. “We didn’t have any reason to kill him.”

  “Maybe one of us is a serial killer,” Vivian said. “They just kill people at random, right? I see them on telly all the time.”

  “I don’t think anyone here is
a serial killer,” Sean said.

  “Then why do you think someone killed Inspector Rhodes?” Vivian demanded.

  “Maybe the killer knew him from London,” Sean replied. “We all live in London, after all.”

  “Did he tell you that he’d seen someone he knew?” Vivian asked Susan.

  The girl shook her head. “We didn’t really talk during the party. He was in character.”

  “Surely he would have said something if he thought his life was in danger,” Vivian said. “Maybe he didn’t recognise the person, but the person recognised him.”

  “Or maybe it was a case of mistaken identity, or maybe one of the other guests knew my father from somewhere, or maybe a dozen other things,” Susan snapped. “This is why I want to go and stay somewhere else. I can’t stand listening to all of this.”

  “I’m terribly sorry,” Mary said as she walked back into the room, “but Inspector Rockwell doesn’t want anyone going anywhere just now. He’s actually on his way here to talk to each of you again.”

  “I won’t talk to him,” Vivian said. “I’ve already told him everything I know. Then again, he was really cute, even if he is really old. Maybe I will talk to him. Maybe I’ll talk him into running away with me to some exotic island in the South Pacific or something.”

  Bessie smiled at the thought of the girl trying to talk John into anything like that. While Vivian was pretty, John was far too sensible to let his head be turned by her questionable charms.

  “I don’t want to talk to him, either,” Madison said softly.

  “You’ll be fine,” Richard said, patting her hand. “All we can do is keep repeating what we’ve already said. Eventually, the man will get tired of hearing the same thing over and over again and give up.”

  “I hope not,” Elizabeth said. “I hope he doesn’t stop asking questions until he’s found the killer.”

  Richard shrugged. “Maybe someone was trying to break into the house and the inspector spotted them, or some such thing. I’m sure it was nothing to do with any of us.”

  The suggestion was impossible, but Bessie didn’t bother to point out all of the flaws in it. None of the ideas that anyone had offered had seemed likely to her, but it was interesting to hear what Elizabeth’s friends were thinking.

  She finished the last of her lunch and then sat back in her chair. “I should be going,” she said to Mary, who’d rejoined her at the table.

  “Stay until John gets here,” she requested. “I told him you were here and he mentioned that he’d like to speak to you.”

  “I already talked to him this morning,” Bessie said in surprise.

  Mary shrugged. “He asked me to keep you here. He didn’t give me any reason why.”

  Bessie nodded. “I don’t mind waiting for him, I was just surprised by the request.”

  “Inspector Rockwell has arrived,” Jonathan Hooper announced a short while later. “He’d like to speak to Miss Cubbon first.”

  Bessie got to her feet and followed the butler out of the room. She could feel the curious stares of the others on her back as she went.

  Chapter 7

  “Ah, Bessie, I should have expected to find you right at the centre of everything,” John said with a smile as Besise joined him in the small office that Mary had provided for him.

  “Mary invited me to lunch,” Bessie explained.

  “Yes, she told me that she had. And how has lunch been?”

  “The food was okay, but not great. The company was, well, interesting.”

  John grinned. “Go on then, tell me everything that was said over lunch.”

  Bessie took a deep breath and then did her best to recount the various conversations that had taken place over the past hour or so. John made several notes as she spoke.

  “They seem to have several interesting theories about the murder,” he commented when she finished.

  “None of them are plausible, but, yes, they do.”

  “It could have been a serial killer. At the moment, the killing certainly seems random, anyway.”

  “And are there other, similar cases to it elsewhere?”

  John sighed. “No, that’s one of the flaws in that theory,” he admitted. “There are other reasons why a serial killer is unlikely as well, but we’re trying to keep an open mind at the moment.”

  “Do you think one of Elizabeth’s guests killed the man?”

  “We’re investigating everyone who was at the party, and the household staff,” John replied.

  “So one of Elizabeth’s friends, or Leonard and Liza Hammersmith, or Mona Kelly,” Bessie concluded.

  “We’ve eliminated Ms. Kelly from our enquires.”

  “Because she was with Michael Higgins and he’s above suspicion?”

  “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but I can’t stop you from drawing your own conclusions.”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily count Susan Haymarket as one of Elizabeth’s friends, of course. And she must be a suspect.”

  “Everyone who was in the house is a suspect.”

  “Except Mona Kelly, Michael Higgins, and me,” Bessie said.

  John nodded. “I’m not sure the chief constable has crossed you off of his list yet, but you definitely aren’t on mine.”

  “Surely Susan must be near the top of the list, if only because she actually knew the man,” Bessie mused.

  “I don’t think this is a good time for us to start discussing the case,” John said. “I need to talk to each of the guests individually, and then I have a plane to meet.”

  “A plane to meet?” Bessie repeated. “Sue hasn’t decided to come back from Africa early, has she?”

  “No, not at all; in fact, she’s been talking again about staying longer. The poor kids don’t know what to do about school, but I’m just about ready to register them here for September. If Sue wants to argue about it, she can do so when she gets back, whenever that is.”

  Bessie patted the man’s arm. “I’m sorry. This isn’t easy for any of you.”

  “It isn’t easy, but I really love having the kids here. Amy has started making dinner for us all every night. Some attempts have been more successful than others, but she’s trying. After a long day at work, I don’t much care if things are a little bit overdone or whatever, anyway, I’m just glad to have a meal on the table.”

  “She seems like a good girl.”

  “She’s great, and Thomas has actually decided that he should be able to cook as well. He’s making dinner tonight, with his sister’s help. I’m really proud of both of them for dealing so well with everything that has happened.”

  “You should be proud. Should I not ask whom you are meeting at the airport, then?”

  “I can’t tell you,” John replied. “I will tell you that it’s business, not pleasure, though.”

  Bessie nodded. “I won’t ask any more questions, then.”

  “I have one more for you and then I’ll let you go,” John said. “Can you remember Susan saying anything about her mother or about any women in her father’s life?”

  “Not at all,” Bessie said after a minute’s thought, “but then, she didn’t tell anyone that Inspector Rhodes was her father until after he was dead.”

  John nodded. “Okay, that’s all I need for now. Thank you for your time. Are you going home now or staying here?”

  “I suppose I’ll go home. Maybe I’ll see if Mary wants to come back to Treoghe Bwaane with me. She might like a chance to get away from here.”

  “I’ll talk to her next,” John said.

  “Maybe I’ll wait for her, then,” Bessie said thoughtfully. “It might be interesting to see how everyone is holding up under the pressure of waiting to speak to you again, anyway.”

  “Maybe you should go home now,” John suggested. “I don’t want you in any danger.”

  “I won’t do anything silly,” Bessie promised. “I’ll just do what I’ve done all day, sit quietly and observe.”

  Bessie walked back into the dining room
. It seemed as if everyone jumped as she entered. Two members of staff were clearing the food away as Bessie sat back down next to Mary.

  “They’ll be bringing in pudding in a minute,” Mary told her. “You’ll want to stay for that.”

  “Oh, yes, please,” Bessie said.

  “Mrs. Quayle? The inspector is ready for you now,” Jonathan said a moment later.

  Mary gave Bessie a nervous smile and then followed the man out of the room. No one said anything as the staff carried in trays full of fairy cakes, biscuits, and other sweets. As soon as they were finished setting up the table, Sean was on his feet.

  “Pudding,” he said happily.

  “What did the police want now?” Susan asked Bessie.

  “Inspector Rockwell just asked more questions about last night,” Bessie said as she stood up. “He did tell me I could leave, but I wanted to wait until I had a chance to speak to Mary first.”

  “If the police had told me I could leave, I’d be out of here so fast your head would spin,” Susan muttered.

  “Well, I do only live a short distance down the beach,” Bessie told her. “Inspector Rockwell knows exactly where to find me if he has more questions.”

  She put two fairy cakes and a few biscuits on a plate and then made herself a cup of tea. When she sat back down, Madison stood up.

  “Everything looks delicious,” she said in her whispery voice. “Maybe just one fairy cake would be okay.”

  “If you aren’t watching your figure, neither is anyone else,” Vivian said. “I never eat sugary treats.”

  “One fairy cake won’t hurt a bit,” Bessie told Madison firmly. “I’m having two and biscuits besides.”

  Vivian looked as if she was about to say something, but she was interrupted by a new arrival. The woman who walked into the room appeared to be around fifty. She was wearing a black dress that was two sizes too small and her frizzy brown hair had several inches of grey roots showing. Her makeup had been applied with a heavy hand, seemingly with little care or attention. She stood at the head of the table, looking around the room.