Aunt Bessie Decides

by Diana Xarissa

  “Scott’s had too much to drink,” Candy sighed. “Again.”

  Sienna shrugged. “I guess the big guys can lift him, right?”

  Inspector Rockwell had been standing next to Bessie during the conversation; now he held up a hand. “I don’t think I want anyone lifting Mr. Carson,” he said in his senior policeman’s voice.

  He took the few steps needed to reach Scott’s side and bent down beside him. Rockwell shook Scott’s shoulder. “Mr. Carson? Scott?”

  There was no response, and Bessie’s heart sank. The inspector pulled a small but powerful torch from his pocket and focussed it on Scott. The torchlight glinted off the jewelled hilt of the small knife that was sticking out of Scott’s back.

  Sienna’s screams echoed around the castle grounds.

  Chapter Three

  Rockwell was already in police inspector mode, but he was a father first. He turned to Doona. “Get the kids out of here,” he told her. “I don’t want them being a part of this.”

  Grace and Doona grabbed Thomas and Amy, who both protested only briefly, and pulled them away from the VIP section. Hugh exchanged glances with his boss.

  “I could run them home,” Hugh suggested. “But I don’t want to leave you to cope with all of this on your own.”

  Rockwell frowned. “Tell them all to hang on for a few minutes. Once Inspector Warren gets here, we may all be able to leave.”

  Hugh nodded and walked over to have a few words with Grace, who was unnaturally pale.

  The inspector turned back to Sienna, who was still screaming. For a moment Bessie thought he might slap the girl, but instead he grabbed her shoulders and twisted her away from the body. After a long moment, the screams suddenly stopped.

  Henry and Bob came rushing up, presumably drawn by Sienna’s shouting.

  “What’s going on?” Bob asked.

  Henry took one look at Bessie’s face and then looked at Scott’s body. “Not again,” he moaned.

  Rockwell shook his head. “I’m afraid so, Henry. Can you call 999, please? Tell them I’m here and I’m securing the scene, but we need backup. As soon as you’ve done that, you need to get to the gate and stop people from leaving.”

  Henry nodded and pulled out his mobile. He started to walk away and Bessie watched him press the nine button three times. She sighed.

  “We need more lighting,” Rockwell said, his voice revealing his frustration.

  “I can try turning around more of the floodlights,” Bob offered. “There are some on the other side of the stage.”

  “That would be great,” Rockwell told him. Candy hadn’t moved from her chair, but now she stood up, grabbing her wine glass as she rose.

  “I’m going to need a lot more wine,” she said huskily.

  Sienna spun back around. “You’re still going to make me a star, right? I mean, you said you’d take me with you. You aren’t leaving this island without me.”

  Rockwell held up a hand. “No one is going anywhere right now,” he said firmly. “I’d like you both to just sit down at the far end of the section and just relax. I’m sure Inspector Warren will have questions for you when he arrives. In the meantime, I’d like you to keep quiet. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to take that,” he added, holding out his hand for Candy’s drink.

  “No way,” Candy argued. “My best client, heck, my only client just turned up dead. I need a drink or ten.”

  “Stop,” Rockwell barked as she raised the glass to her lips. “We don’t know what happened to Mr. Carson, but there’s a chance that he was drugged or poisoned. The only thing I saw him consume was that wine.”

  Candy laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “I’m no police detective, but even I can see the knife in his back.”

  “It’s a prop knife,” Sienna said quietly. “It couldn’t have killed him.”

  “You recognise the knife?” Rockwell asked her.

  “Yeah,” Sienna shrugged. “We used it in Macbeth; it’s a prop. The blade retracts when you push on it.”

  “So Scott’s not dead?” Candy demanded.

  Rockwell knelt down beside the man and shone his torch on Scott’s face. “He’s definitely dead,” he replied. “I really don’t think you should drink that wine.”

  Candy turned pale in the odd bright lighting and her wine glass slipped from her fingers. Rockwell just managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

  “Can’t have you messing up my crime scene,” he muttered.

  Hugh stepped forward now. “If you ladies wouldn’t mind, I think you’d be better off down here, out of the way.” He escorted the pair to the furthest corner of the VIP section where they both sank to the ground.

  Rockwell looked at the two bodyguards, who were still standing, motionless and expressionless, in their spots. “What exactly were you two meant to be doing here?” he asked.

  “Nobody said anything about Mr. Carson getting murdered,” one of them sputtered. “We were just meant to hold back the women, and then just the ugly old ones, that’s all.”

  The inspector shook his head. “Go and sit with Ms. Sparkles, please. Someone will take your statements shortly.”

  As Rockwell turned back around, he seemed to suddenly notice Bessie. She’d slipped back into the borrowed chair and was busy trying to look inconspicuous.

  “Ah, Bessie, what can I do with you?” the inspector asked with a sigh.

  “Don’t you worry about me,” Bessie told him sternly. “Get the kids somewhere safe with Doona and Grace. I’ll just stay out of everyone’s way until you and Hugh are ready to go back to Laxey.” For a moment she thought Rockwell was going to argue, but just then Bob managed to hook up another light and suddenly the outside of the small tent and the area around it were flooded with light.

  “It’s about time,” a voice shouted from inside the tent. “Maybe now I can find my pants.”

  Bessie guessed that the light had illuminated the tent’s interior as well. The voice was William’s and she hoped he was using pants in the American way, meaning trousers, and not that he was roaming around in the tent without underwear.

  A moment later sirens could be heard racing towards the castle. Inspector Rockwell sent Bob to meet the arrivals and escort them to the crime scene. Bob had a powerful torch with MNH stamped across it. Two uniformed constables were quickly led across the site to Rockwell.

  “For now we’re just securing the scene,” the inspector told the two young men after brief introductions. “I’m assuming Inspector Warren is on his way, along with the coroner.”

  “Not likely,” the shorter of the men said. “Inspector Warren had his appendix out this afternoon.”

  Rockwell frowned. “I didn’t hear about that,” he said. “Who’s running the CID while he’s off?”

  The two men looked at each other and then back at Rockwell. They both seemed to shrug at the same time.

  “Inspector Warren is pretty much the whole Peel CID,” the taller constable told Rockwell. I guess the Chief Constable will have to find someone to take charge.”

  Rockwell nodded. “We should....”

  The scream cut through his words.

  “Scott? Scott?”

  Penny, now dressed all in black, came running from the small tent, straight towards the body. Inspector Rockwell motioned to the two constables, and they quickly intercepted her just before she reached it.

  Rockwell looked down at the glass that he was still holding and frowned. He quickly and carefully set it down inside Candy’s open picnic hamper. From where Bessie was sitting, the hamper looked empty, so apparently it had held nothing but the pair of glasses and two bottles of wine.

  Penny was sobbing in the arms of a very unhappy looking constable.

  “Ms. Jakubowski, please.” Rockwell gave Penny an awkward pat on the back. “You need to calm down.”

  “What’s going on out there?” William’s strident voice cut through Penny’s wailing.

  “Oh, William, Scott’s dead,” Penny shoute
d.

  “Nonsense,” William shouted back. The tent flap opened and he strode out in long grey trousers and a matching short-sleeved shirt. “What are you shrieking about, my love?” William addressed Penny, ignoring everyone else.

  “It’s Scott,” Penny sobbed. “He’s, he’s, he’s, oh, I can’t say it.” She dissolved into more tears, while William slowly took in the scene.

  “Heart attack? Must have been,” William said to Rockwell.

  “We’ll know more when someone from the coroner’s office arrives,” Rockwell replied. “In the meantime, perhaps you and Ms. Jakubowksi would like to wait in the dressing room tent? Is there anyone else still in there?”

  William blinked. “Wait? No, thank you. I’d like to get back to the hotel and get some sleep. Come along, Penny, let’s go.”

  “I’m sorry,” Inspector Rockwell said in his sternest tone. “But I need you to wait here until someone had had a chance to take a statement from you.”

  “That’s preposterous,” William blustered. “I mean it’s tragic, old Scott passing away so suddenly, but it’s nothing to do with us. We need to get our rest. We have a lot of rehearsing to get through tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’m not going to disagree with that,” Rockwell said dryly. “But you aren’t going anywhere yet. Please wait in the tent.”

  The inspector turned away from William and Penny, while the uniformed constable that Penny was still clinging to began to try to usher them back into the tent. The constable pulled back the tent flap and then took a sudden step backwards as Adam appeared in the opening.

  “What on earth is going on out here?” he demanded, looking from Penny’s tear-stained face to Scott’s body.

  “Well, well, well,” he said as he took a step towards Scott. “Has someone finally done what we all wanted to do?” Adam stared at the body for a moment and then began to laugh heartily.

  Inspector Rockwell exchanged looks with Bessie and then took a step towards the man. “Mr., um, that is, I don’t think I caught your last name, but you need to calm down and stop laughing.”

  Adam grinned at him. “It’s Misnik, but please, call me Adam. I suppose I’m a suspect. How very exciting. When does the crime scene team get here? Are you going to take my fingerprints? Of course, that’s our prop knife, so my fingerprints may well be on it. But then, if it’s our prop knife, it couldn’t have killed Scott, now could it? What a puzzle. Where is Sherlock Holmes when you need him?” Adam sighed dramatically.

  “Shut up, Adam,” Sienna called from her corner of the VIP area. “Just shut up before you talk yourself into getting arrested.”

  “Oh, Sienna, I forgot all about you. You were on your way to bigger and better things, weren’t you?” Adam laughed again. “I guess that big dramatic goodbye scene you just played through was a little premature, huh? Scott can’t make you a star now, can he?”

  “Mr. Misnik, please,” Rockwell stepped in. “I’d like you to go back in the tent with Mr. Baldwin and Ms. Jakubowski for now. Constable Hopkins will sit with you until we can get things organised here.”

  As Adam and the other players moved back into the tent with one of the constables, more sirens could be heard. A moment later Henry appeared with six more uniformed men. Before Rockwell could issue any instructions to the officers, his phone buzzed insistently. He took a few steps away from the group and answered it.

  Bessie watched the others during Rockwell’s call. Doona, Grace and the children appeared to be having a lively conversation about something. Grace was standing with her back to Scott’s body and every time one of the children started to look towards it, Grace slid sideways to block their view. Bessie smiled to herself. If she could learn to live with the uncertainty of the job, she seemed perfect for Hugh.

  Sienna and Candy were sitting on the ground in the dimly lit edge of the section. They were studiously ignoring each other and the two bodyguards who were kneeling on the grass next to them. Hugh stood between the two groups, watching Sienna and Candy closely, but occasionally glancing at Grace as well.

  Rockwell pocketed his phone and glanced around at the scene in front of him. He sighed deeply and then cleared his throat. “There’s a forensics team on its way,” he announced. “In the meantime, with Inspector Warren out of commission, I’m in charge of the investigation. Let me get a few things sorted out and then I’ll start taking statements from everyone.”

  Several people began to speak at once, causing Rockwell to shake his head. “I know you’re all tired and want to go home, but I’m sure you all understand how vital it is that we find out what happened to Scott. I know you’ll all be very patient as we proceed.”

  Bessie heard a few mutters, but no one wanted to argue with the inspector. He walked over to Hugh and had a short conversation. Hugh nodded and walked over to Grace. Rockwell then turned his attention to Bessie.

  “I’m sending Doona, Grace and my kids home with one of the uniformed constables. The kids can crash at Doona’s until I get there. I’m afraid that’s the best I can do under the circumstances. Unfortunately, there isn’t room in the car for you as well. I hope you won’t mind staying for a little while. I really need as many officers here as I can get.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Bessie assured the man. She tried to keep her voice calm, aiming to sound almost bored at the prospect. It wouldn’t do for the inspector to realise just how much she wanted to stay and watch things unfold. While Scott’s death was sad, she was intrigued by the prospect of having a front-row seat for a real-life murder investigation.

  Rockwell gave her a look she couldn’t read, and then nodded and walked away. Bessie listened as he gave instructions to various officers. The handful of audience members that hadn’t left before the body was found had to be questioned, and Rockwell set Hugh with the task of taking preliminary statements from them.

  “It’s highly unlikely that any of them saw anything that might help with the investigation,” Rockwell told Hugh. “I would think they were all rather too far away to see what was happening in our section, but they need to be questioned and we need contact information for them, just in case.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hugh said smartly. Bessie could tell that Hugh was excited at being involved in another murder investigation. Rockwell had been working with some of the officers in Laxey, training them in investigative techniques. Now Hugh had a chance to put some of that training to good use.

  “Get their impressions of the show as well,” the inspector added. “I’m curious what they thought and why they stayed for the second act.”

  Hugh smothered a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering why anyone stayed,” he muttered as he turned away.

  “Henry?” Rockwell called to the man who was standing at the edge of the VIP section. “I’m assuming you left a constable guarding the gate?”

  “Yes, sir, a young man called Constable Blake told me to come back up here in case you needed me.”

  “Excellent, is there an office or another similar space where Hugh can talk to the good folks who are waiting so patiently?” Rockwell asked.

  Henry nodded. “I can let him use the ticket booth,” he told Rockwell. “It isn’t a very big space, but it has lights.”

  “Lights would be a bonus,” Rockwell replied. “How many people are left from the general audience?”

  “I think there are about a dozen people or so that hadn’t actually left before I got to the gate,” Henry answered. “I don’t think more than one or two small groups left after the show finished and before I got there. One of your officers has everyone that was left on the grass over there.” Henry pointed towards the sea wall, but with the lights focussed on the VIP section, Bessie couldn’t see anything in the darkness.

  “Great,” Rockwell replied. “Please get the ticket booth opened up for Hugh and then tell the officer to start showing people in, one at a time.”

  “Yes, sir,” Henry said smartly. He headed off, keys in hand, with Hugh following closely behind him.


  “Oh, and Henry?” Rockwell called. “Come back here after you’ve set that up, please. I’m sure I’ll need something else.”

  Bessie could just make out Henry’s nod as he turned on his torch when he and Hugh reached the edge of the illuminated area.

  A moving torch in the darkness let Bessie know that someone else had arrived. Several serious looking men and women emerged from the darkness behind Bob and greeted Rockwell. They had to be crime scene technicians, Bessie decided. They were all dressed in ordinary clothes, but several carried bags and cases.

  Rockwell stepped to the edge of the VIP section to talk to them. Only a few odd words drifted to Bessie. She tried to figure out a way to move closer to them without drawing attention to herself, but before she’d managed it, the conversation finished.

  One of the men pulled out a phone and began barking orders. Within minutes, several large lights were being put into place around the crime scene. Bessie slid her chair backwards, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Rockwell and one of the men stepped over to the body, crouching down next to it. A man with a camera was taking photographs from every possible angle. After a minute he stopped and nodded at Rockwell.

  The man with the inspector reached out a gloved hand and pulled up slowly on the knife handle. A sharp looking blade glinted in the bright light. Whatever Sienna thought, it was no prop knife.

  “It’s the knife Penny gave William,” Sienna gasped.

  Rockwell’s head snapped up and he looked over at Sienna, who was now standing up and peering intently at Scott. “It’s definitely not a prop,” he muttered to the other man.

  “No sir, it’s not,” the man agreed.

  Rockwell got to his feet and stepped away from the body. He caught Bessie’s eye and shrugged. A moment later, Henry was back.

  “Hugh’s all set up in the ticket booth and the officers are bringing him people to question one at a time,” he reported to Rockwell.

  “Good, what about the rest of the actors, the ones that were coming and going from the bigger tent behind the stage?” Rockwell asked.