Aunt Bessie Decides

by Diana Xarissa

“They’re part of a local troupe,” Henry told him. “The Peel Area Players, apparently.”

  The inspector looked around. “Gary?” he called. One of the uniformed men snapped to attention and rushed over to Rockwell’s side.

  “Yes, sir?” he asked smartly.

  “I want you to talk to the actors from the local troupe who were working as extras in the show tonight,” Rockwell told him. “Find out if any of them knew any of the actors who came in to do the show or if they knew Mr. Carson. Get their impressions of the show, whatever information you can get.”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered.

  “Henry, can you set up a few lights in the big tent at the back so that Constable Kewin can talk to the local troupe members?” Rockwell asked.

  “I’d be happy to,” Henry assured him.

  “Great,” Rockwell replied. “Now I just need a similar quiet space to do some questioning of my own.”

  Henry frowned. “There’s a little storage room in between the loos,” he said hesitantly. “It isn’t very big, but I guess we could find a table and a few chairs for you to use. It does have lights.”

  “That’ll have to do,” Rockwell replied. “I don’t want to move off-site until the crime scene folks have had time for some initial impressions, at least. I’m just taking preliminary statements tonight, anyway.”

  “I’ll get Constable Kewin set up and then go and see how much of a mess the storage room is,” Henry told him. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

  Rockwell nodded and then looked back at the body. There were several men and women working around it. The photographer continued to snap pictures every few seconds, and another person seemed to be sketching the scene. Bessie was fascinated by the quiet hive of activity.

  “Oh, I say, Inspector?” Adam had emerged from the tent again, with an angry looking constable on his heels. “Sorry to interrupt all the excitement out here,” Adam said airily. “But I’m bored to death in there. Oh, pardon the pun.”

  Rockwell raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry my crime scene isn’t more exciting for you,” he told the man.

  “Yes, well, I suppose it can’t be helped, but really, how much longer do we have to wait?” Adam’s voice took on a whiny tone that angered Bessie. It seemed to have a similar effect on Rockwell.

  “You have to wait until I say you can go,” he answered in a deceptively calm voice. Bessie could hear the suppressed anger simmering under it. “If you would prefer, I can have you escorted down to the station and you can wait there for me. I’m sure it will be a good deal more exciting. There are nearly always a few drunk and disorderly folks hanging around in the cells.”

  Adam flushed. “Oh, good heavens, no,” he gasped dramatically. “I was just checking to see if you had any idea how much longer it would be, that’s all. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just so very tired, you see.”

  “I’m sorry that Scott didn’t have the good sense to get murdered at a more convenient time for you,” Rockwell told him. “For now, though, I need you to be patient. We’re just sorting out a space that I can use for interviews and then I’ll be talking to each of you in turn.”

  “Fabulous,” Adam replied. “I guess I’ll just wait in the tent, then.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Rockwell said.

  “Or even if I do,” Adam remarked as he turned and disappeared back into the tent.

  Rockwell cleared his throat, but Henry was back before he began to speak.

  “Okay, Inspector,” he said. “Constable Kewin is all set and I’ve done the best I can with the space for you as well.”

  Rockwell nodded. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he said. “I’ll follow you. Miss Cubbon, would you come with us, please?”

  Bessie was so surprised to be addressed so formally that for a moment she simply sat and stared at the inspector. “Oh, yes, of course,” she said finally, shaking her head at her own stupidity.

  Henry began to lead them away, his torch bouncing about in the darkness that engulfed them as soon as they were outside the VIP area. Rockwell called for one of the uniformed officers to join them. He switched on his torch and the uniformed officer put his on as well, but even three torches didn’t seem to do much to help cut through the darkness.

  “I’m really sorry about this,” Henry told Rockwell as he opened the door to the storage room. “It isn’t really designed to be used for more than storage.”

  Rockwell and Bessie stepped inside the small space. Bessie looked around at the old stone walls. A few bare bulbs provided the only illumination in the room. The back wall of the space was covered in shelves, and the shelves were crammed full of boxes that had papers spilling out from them. Bessie could see old brochures and maps of the castle grounds as well as advertising materials for other MNH sites. There were several chairs stacked on top of one another shoved into one corner, and a collection of spades, shovels and other gardening tools were piled up in another.

  A slightly lopsided table had been set up in the middle of the room, with a chair on either side of it. Rockwell sank down into one of the chairs and then motioned for Bessie to take the other.

  “Thank you, Henry,” he said. He addressed the uniformed constable who had accompanied them. “Wilson, I’d like you to wait outside while I speak with Miss Cubbon. After that, I’ll need you to bring me the various people I want to speak with, one at a time.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied smartly. Henry held the door open for him and the pair walked out. Wilson pulled it shut behind him and the inspector let out a huge sigh as the sound of the door clicking into place echoed through the cavernous space.

  “Sorry, Bessie, I want to get this over with as quickly as possible, but I just need to call Doona and check on the kids,” the inspector said. Bessie nodded and then got up and walked towards the back wall of the room to give him some privacy. The call was fairly short.

  “Okay, Doona’s got them both snuggled up on the floor watching old movies and eating popcorn with Grace. I suspect they’ll all end up sleeping on Doona’s floor in one big pile. Doona reckons my kids were less upset by the murder than Grace was.”

  “I’m sure you’d rather be with them than here,” Bessie said in reply.

  Rockwell shrugged. “It’s my job,” he said. “I’m sure Sue isn’t going to be very happy when she finds out what happened, though.”

  “Oh, but it’s hardly your fault.”

  Rockwell shook his head. “Let’s just move on, shall we? I’ll need a formal statement from you, of course, but I think that can wait until some time tomorrow. I know you didn’t kill Scott Carson, and as far as I can figure, the list of suspects is a pretty short one.”

  “It has to be one of the actors who was using the dressing room tent, doesn’t it? In the dark, with all the tripping and stumbling they were doing getting in and out of the tent, one of them must have taken a moment to stab Scott, mustn’t they?” Bessie asked.

  “I think Candy Sparkles could have just about managed it,” Rockwell told her. “She was leaning up and down, picking up her wine bottle, throughout the show. From the angle she was sitting at, it wouldn’t have been impossible for her to reach Scott.”

  “Are you sure the stab wound killed him?” Bessie asked.

  “At this point, I’m not sure of anything,” Rockwell admitted. “And I’m too tired to think it all through. For tonight, I just want to get preliminary statements from everyone and then we can go from there.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  “But what shall I do with you, while I’m questioning everyone?” Rockwell asked.

  Bessie yawned and then smiled. “I’m exhausted,” she told him. “I was thinking, while you were on the phone, that maybe I could just curl up in the corner over there in a chair and take a nap?”

  Rockwell raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’ll be able to sleep?” he asked.

  “I can certainly try,” Bessie said, her eyes twinkling. Rockwell had to know that there was no
way she was going to miss out on hearing what everyone had to say.

  “Well, I guess that will have to do,” the inspector said.

  “There are some large display boards along that wall,” Bessie pointed out. “Perhaps we can put them up and screen me off from you and the others. That way I definitely won’t be in the way.”

  Rockwell grinned. “I suppose that would make sense,” he agreed. “I will have to tell everyone that you’re there, but if you’re sleeping behind the boards, no one should mind.”

  It only took a few seconds for them to arrange the room to Rockwell’s satisfaction. Bessie settled into the most comfortable chair they could find, tucked up behind the boards.

  “All set?” he asked Bessie.

  “All set,” she confirmed.

  “Let’s get the show on the road,” Rockwell muttered as he headed towards the door. Bessie wondered whom he would send for first.

  Chapter Four

  Bessie wasn’t surprised when Constable Wilson escorted Sienna into the room. Behind the panels, she settled into her seat, sliding down so that she looked as if she were ready to fall asleep. She’d shifted her chair to just the right angle to give her a perfect view, between panels, of the table and chairs in the centre of the room.

  “Ah, I’m afraid I didn’t get your surname,” Rockwell said as Sienna settled into the chair opposite him. Wilson pulled a third chair up to the table, and then sat down beside the inspector.

  “It’s Madison,” Sienna told Rockwell, running her fingers through her hair. “Sienna Madison.”

  “Okay, thank you.” He made a note. “Before we begin,” he told the girl, “Constable Wilson will be taking notes, as will I. I’ll also be recording our conversation, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Whatever,” Sienna shrugged.

  The inspector smiled tightly. “Miss Cubbon has had a long day and is resting behind those display panels. If you’d feel more comfortable talking to me privately, I can find somewhere else for her to rest while she’s waiting for a ride back to Laxey.”

  Sienna waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I can’t imagine what you want to talk to me about, anyway.”

  Rockwell raised an eyebrow. “A friend of yours was murdered tonight,” he said. “Surely that gives us a great deal to discuss.”

  Sienna shrugged. “I didn’t really know Scott well,” she replied.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” the inspector suggested. “Tell me about the theatre troupe.”

  “What about it?”

  Rockwell sighed. “Let’s start with what the group is called.”

  “Will’s Comedy ‘slash’ Tragedy Players,” Sienna answered waving a hand through the air to draw the slash.

  “And how long have you been together?”

  Sienna wrinkled her nose. “Ah, um, maybe five years?” she said, making her answer a question.

  “Did you join the troupe after it was formed, or have you been a member from the beginning?”

  “Yes,” Sienna said.

  Bessie rolled her eyes. Getting information from the girl was like pulling teeth. She had new respect for Inspector Rockwell as he kept his cool.

  “You’ve been a member since the group was formed?” Rockwell tried to clarify her answer.

  “No, well, sort of.” Sienna waved a hand. “What does that have to do with Scott, though?”

  “Ms. Madison, you don’t need to worry about that,” Rockwell said tightly. “If you could just answer my questions, we’ll both get done a lot faster.”

  Sienna sighed deeply. “I joined the troupe about five years ago,” she said. “They’d already been together for a month or so, but they hadn’t performed anywhere yet. They needed another leading actress and I auditioned and got the job.”

  “Thank you,” Rockwell said, taking more notes. “And was Mr. Carson already a member when you joined?”

  Sienna nodded and then shook her head. “Maybe,” she said finally. “I really didn’t pay that much attention to the minor players.”

  Rockwell made another note and then gave Sienna an engaging smile. “Ms. Madison, I need you to help me out here. I don’t know anything about how travelling theatre companies work. Can you educate me, please?”

  Sienna smiled back and Bessie suspected that the girl had just realised how attractive the inspector was.

  “Well, I’m not sure how other companies work,” Sienna said, softly, “but I can tell you about ours. We’re a Shakespearean group. All we’ve ever done is Shakespeare. I think that’s William’s choice. He told me once he was named after him, which is sort of weird, but anyway, I don’t know if I believe him.”

  “No one else in the company ever suggested performing other shows?” Rockwell asked.

  Sienna shrugged. “It’s William’s troupe,” she said. “He put it together and he’s the director, so he gets to pick the plays. It was great when we were in the US. We managed to build up a pretty solid set of bookings, year after year. We were popular with the schools, because we usually did the plays exactly as written, but still made them fun and interesting.”

  “And you don’t remember when Scott joined the group?”

  Sienna frowned. “I’m pretty sure he was part of the group from the beginning,” she said after a moment. “He might have joined after I did, but even if he did, he was in the first show. We did Twelfth Night and the girl I was rooming with went out with him a couple of times during the run.”

  “So you were travelling around, and you were staying in hotels?” Rockwell asked.

  “Sure, hotels or motels or in dorm rooms or whatever cheap beds William could find,” Sienna said. “Penny was in charge of booking shows and William was in charge of figuring out transportation and accommodations. Penny did great, moving us around the country, getting us performing in just about every small town she could find. Most of the places we played didn’t have proper theatres, so we performed in high school gymnasiums or under tents in parking lots. It didn’t matter, because we all did it for the sheer love of theatre, not for fame or fortune.”

  Rockwell looked skeptical. “So you were one big happy group,” he said. “And then what happened.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say we were all happy,” Sienna answered. “Penny did a great job getting us shows, but a lot of people weren’t very happy with William. We ended up staying in a lot of cheap and nasty motels or, even worse, in empty dormitories during summer breaks and things like that. There was some grumbling that we were doing a lot of shows and making a lot of money but William and Penny were pocketing it and not giving everyone their fair share.”

  “Right, so let me just check who all was with the company at this point,” Rockwell said. “Clearly, you were there, and so were Ms. Jakubowski, Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Carson. What about Mr. Misnik?”

  “Oh yeah, Adam was one of the founding members,” Sienna answered. “He was the stage manager for all the shows. When I first started in the group, he was dating this girl called Beth, but they broke up after she caught him with me one time too many. Adam and I have been together ever since.”

  “What about all of the other people?” Rockwell asked. “The men and women in the long robes who wandered in and out of the show. How many of them came from the US with you?”

  “Oh, none of them,” Sienna answered. “But you’ve skipped ahead, you see.”

  “Sorry,” Rockwell told her. Bessie watched him swallow a yawn and then had to fight back one of her own.

  “Please, continue with the story,” Rockwell told Sienna.

  “Right, so after like four years or so, people were starting to complain a lot, and then William got us all together. We’d been all the way across the US from New York City, where we started, to Los Angeles. Now William made his big announcement. He wanted to take the troupe to England for a year.” Sienna sighed. “I should have left when I had the chance.”

  “Why?” Rockwell asked. “What went wrong?”

  “Well
, William offered everyone a choice,” Sienna continued, clearly determined to tell the story at her own pace. “They could leave the troupe and he’d give them enough money to get home, wherever home was, or stay and experience the ‘next great adventure,’ as he called it, with the group.”

  “And you chose to stay.”

  “I did. Obviously, William and Penny were going, and Adam decided to give England a try as well. The four of us were sort of the core of the troupe, and everyone expected me to go along. At the time it sounded like fun, anyway. Scott and Candy were just about the only ones from the rest of the group to sign up. Everyone else took whatever money they could get from William and took off.”

  “Candy was in the troupe?” Rockwell asked. Bessie could hear the surprise in his voice.

  “Oh, yeah, just a minor player, like. Actually, she was our main little old lady. She’s actually a very talented actress, if you don’t mind that she did porn for a while. We never mentioned that when we did school shows.” Sienna giggled.

  “So when did she start managing Scott’s career?”

  “Oh, not long after she joined the group,” Sienna explained. “Candy was always promising to use her connections to get this person or that person an audition somewhere. We’d all heard it so often that we’d stopped listening, but Scott believed her. She did manage to get him a few local commercials and voice-over work in some of the small towns we passed through, but nothing big.”

  Sienna sighed. “I guess we all should have believed her. She said she knew people in London, but she claimed to know people everywhere, and nothing much ever came of it.”

  “So the six of you set out for London when exactly?” Rockwell asked.

  “Oh, not long ago,” Sienna answered vaguely. “The thing is, apparently you need some sort of okay from the government to come and set up a theatre troupe in a foreign country. William didn’t really do his research and then, when we were all set to come, we found out we didn’t have the right piece of paper or something. Anyway, we were stuck in LA with virtually no money for five months while William did the paperwork. We all had to get part-time jobs to cover the cost of the nasty little apartment that we all crowded into. Well, actually, that isn’t true. Scott and Candy stayed somewhere else. It was just me and Adam and William and Penny in this horrible little one-room apartment for what felt like years.” Sienna shuddered and ran her hand through her hair again.