Bessie looked over at the inspector for guidance, but he was taking notes and missed the look. Bessie shrugged. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m not sure if we’ll make it or not, but I do appreciate the thought.”
William nodded and then returned to his seat. “We must be nearly finished,” he suggested.
Rockwell nodded. “Just a couple more things. What can you tell me about the knife?”
“The one stuck in Scott’s back?” William asked. The inspector nodded. “That was just a harmless prop knife,” William told him. “I assume whomever killed Scott put it there for dramatic effect. It couldn’t have had anything to do with Scott’s death.”
“It wasn’t a prop knife,” Rockwell replied.
William shook his head. “I knew it,” he exclaimed. “One of them stole my knife. Who was it?”
“So you think it was your knife?”
“It must have been,” William said excitedly. “It was a gift from my beloved Penny and one of them stole it from me.”
“When did you last see it?”
“Before tonight?” William asked with a wry grin. “Let’s see. I guess it disappeared from our apartment in California about six months ago or more. I kept insisting that one of them had taken it, but they all denied it and I couldn’t prove it, of course. If I knew who’d done it, I’d kill them.”
Rockwell raised an eyebrow as William flushed and then gave a forced laugh.
“Obviously, I wouldn’t really kill them,” he backtracked. “But I loved that knife. It was very special to me. I was devastated when it went missing.”
“Who could have stolen it?”
“Well, any of the rest of the troupe,” William said. “Penny wouldn’t have, obviously, because she gave it to me. I always thought Adam had done it, but after a while I had to stop arguing with him about it or it would have torn the troupe apart.”
“Would you include Candy and Scott as possible thieves?”
William looked shocked. “There’s an interesting idea,” he said. “Maybe Scott stole the knife himself and then someone used it on him. What divine justice.”
“So Scott could have taken it?” Rockwell confirmed.
“Oh, he and Candy both had plenty of opportunity to take it,” William replied. “They had keys to our apartment, even though they didn’t stay with us. We used it as a rehearsal space, and they were in and out of it all the time.”
“Did you talk to Scott at all during the second half of the show?”
William shook his head. “I had no interest in ever interacting further with the man,” he said haughtily.
“Just one last question, then. Who do you think killed Scott?”
William sat back in the chair and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Are you absolutely certain it wasn’t just an unfortunate accident?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” Rockwell replied.
William sighed deeply. “I hate to say it, but I think Adam is the most likely candidate, then.”
“Why?”
“He was the most hurt that Scott was the one that got plucked from obscurity and made it into the big time. The truth is, Adam was never the best actor in our troupe, and Scott was starting to score bigger and bigger parts in our shows. Scott was, as much as I hate to admit it, very talented. Sooner or later, Scott was going to replace Adam as second lead, and Adam knew that. One of the reasons he was so focussed on writing scripts was so that he had something to fall back on, you see.”
“But with Scott gone, Adam must have felt like his place was more secure. Why kill the man?”
“Jealousy?” William suggested questioningly. “It wasn’t just professional jealousy, either. If Scott hadn’t done so already, he was about to replace Adam in Sienna’s affections, or at least in her bedroom.”
“Again, with Scott gone, surely that was no longer an issue?”
“Ah, but Sienna was leaving with Scott and Candy after the show,” William reminded Rockwell. “Adam is crazy in love with Sienna. He’d do anything to keep her.”
“Including murder?”
“I wouldn’t have said yes twenty-four hours ago,” William said in a sad voice. “But, well, now things have changed. Anyway, if it was my knife that killed Scott, well, I always thought Adam took it.”
The inspector made a few more notes and then thanked the man for his time. He was sent on his way with the constable.
“One more to go,” he commented to Bessie as they waited for Candy Sparkles.
“They really are an unlikeable bunch of people,” Bessie commented.
“Planning to come to the matinee on Sunday?” Rockwell said, teasingly.
“I might,” Bessie replied. “Assuming you don’t shut the whole show down.”
Rockwell shrugged. “I need to talk to the Chief Constable about that, but I think we can simply shift the stage to a different location here and the shows can carry on. I want the troupe on the island, and at least if they’re performing, they’re busy and I know where they are.”
Bessie made her way back to her corner as Wilson escorted Candy into the room. She picked up a strange scent that she’d noticed earlier, but ignored. It smelled like a combination of suntan lotion and cut flowers that had been kept a few days past their best. Bessie wrinkled her nose and then settled into her seat as Rockwell ran through the preliminaries with Candy. The woman readily gave her consent for Bessie to remain.
“Bessie and I are old friends,” Candy laughed throatily. “I don’t have any secrets from her.”
“Can you give me a brief rundown of the history of the theatre troupe and your involvement in it?” Rockwell began. Bessie could hear the repressed sigh in his words. Candy’s version of events was much the same, although Bessie could detect quite a bit of bitterness and unhappiness this time around.
“I was in New York, trying to find work managing young talent, when someone suggested I join this new theatre troupe that was going to travel all across the US,” she explained. “I knew William from way back and I was just stupid enough to think it sounded like fun.”
“But it wasn’t?”
“Oh, sometimes it was,” Candy said, flipping her hair. “I mean, when I was knee-deep in naked men during my heyday, I often dreamt of being asked to do Shakespeare and suddenly I got to do it seven days a week and twice on Sunday. I really enjoyed the acting, and I was good at it as well. But we made an absolute fortune for the troupe and I never saw more than a pittance of the money.”
“So why did you come to the UK with them?” Rockwell asked.
“I have friends here,” Candy said, with a sexy grin. She slid her sunglasses off and even from her distant seat, Bessie could see that Candy’s eyes were a luminous blue. Coloured contact lenses, Bessie decided, as Candy leaned forward in her seat and focussed all of her attention on the inspector.
“Old and very dear friends,” she said softly. “I couldn’t afford to come over on my own, but this way the troupe paid my way. Once we were settled, I made a few phone calls.” Candy licked her lips and leaned forward a bit more, giving both Bessie and the inspector a stunning view of her plentiful cleavage.
Constable Wilson dropped his pen. He banged his head on the table as he rushed to pick it up from the floor. Bessie shook her head. Clearly he’d had an eyeful as well.
“Sorry, sir,” the constable said as he sat back up, his face beetroot red.
“And you managed to get Mr. Carson a part on television,” Rockwell said, ignoring the young constable.
“Scott was hugely talented,” Candy told him. “He didn’t really need me, but luckily he hadn’t realised that yet.”
“And if he had, you would have been out of a job.”
Candy shook her head. “He signed a long-term contract with me. If he wanted out, he’d have had to pay me a small fortune.”
“What happens now?”
“I had insurance on his life, of course. Not a huge amount, but enough to get me back to the US and support me while I figur
e out what to do next. Nowhere near as much as I’d have earned if he’d kept working, though.”
“What did you think of the show tonight?”
Candy threw back her head and laughed heartily. “It was appalling,” she finally gasped out, struggling to get her breath back. “I’m not just saying this, but I always thought that Scott and I were the most talented people in the troupe, and tonight’s show sort of proved that.”
Rockwell nodded. “What can you tell me about the knife?”
“It looked like a prop knife. If it was real, then it was probably the one that Penny gave William a few years back. He said he’d lost it, though, so I don’t know how it suddenly turned up here.”
“Did you talk to Scott during the second half of the show?”
Candy shrugged. “Once it got dark, I feel asleep,” she said in a sheepish tone. “I can’t believe someone murdered Scott right next to me. It’s a scary thought.”
The inspector made a note and then nodded at Candy. “Last question, who killed Scott?”
Candy grinned. “That’s all I’ve been thinking about all night,” she said. “And my favourite candidate is Sienna.”
“Really?” Rockwell said. “I thought Scott was going to get her an audition on his show?”
“Yeah, but I’ve had lots of time to think about this, and I still think it was her. She probably didn’t bother to mention it to you, but she and Scott had an affair a while back. Scott and I didn’t have any secrets; I guess I was sort of like a big sister to him. Anyway, she was devastated when he ended it with her, and angry. The sort of angry that just gets bigger and bigger over time.”
“Angry enough to stick a knife into him?”
Candy shrugged. “’Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.’”
“Is that Shakespeare?”
“No, it’s William Congreve, from The Mourning Bride. I thought it was apt.”
“Indeed,” Rockwell made another note and then ran a hand over his face. “Thank you for your time,” he said to Candy. “I’m sure I’ll need to talk to you again before this is all over, but I think that’s more than enough for tonight.”
“Scott and I were only planning to stay one night,” she told him. “And I really need to get back to London to sort everything out. You aren’t going to make me stay here, are you?”
“I’m sorry, but I am going to ask you to remain on the island for the foreseeable future,” Rockwell replied. “I’ll do my best to wrap everything up quickly.”
“I’m sure you will,” Candy purred, standing up slowly. She looked at Rockwell and licked her lips again. “Maybe, if you have more questions, you could come and visit me at my hotel,” she suggested. “I’m sure it would be much more comfortable than this little room.”
“We have interview rooms at the police station,” Rockwell said smoothly. “They’re much more comfortable than this room as well.”
Candy laughed huskily. “The offer remains open,” she said suggestively. “Any time, day or night.”
Rockwell flushed. “Thank you for your time,” he said, motioning to Wilson to escort the woman out.
As the door shut behind the pair, Rockwell blew out a long breath. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested to Bessie.
“What a lovely idea,” Bessie replied, with a tired grin.
Chapter Six
At the door, Rockwell turned on his torch. The lights outside the small building only illuminated a small area around it. Within a few steps, Bessie found that she was holding onto the inspector’s arm. They slowed their pace and Bessie peered anxiously at the small section of ground they could make out in front of them by the light of the torch.
“Inspector Rockwell, sir,” Wilson’s voice hailed them from behind another torch. “Constable Jenkins is going to take Ms. Sparkles back to her hotel. What did you need me to do next?”
“How are Hugh and Gary getting along?” Rockwell asked.
“Constable Kewin finished about half an hour ago,” Wilson reported. “I believe that Constable Watterson is talking to the last of the audience members now.”
“Can you please walk Miss Cubbon towards the ticket booth and then keep her company for a few minutes, while I get reports from both of them?”
“Of course, sir,” Wilson replied. Rockwell headed towards the stage, where Bessie could see a swarm of people still hard at work in the VIP section.
Wilson offered his arm to Bessie, and the pair made their way towards the castle entrance. They stopped just short of the ticket booth, where Bessie could see Hugh taking careful notes as he spoke with a man she didn’t recognise.
“You won’t remember me,” Constable Wilson said to Bessie.
“Of course I remember you,” Bessie said in reply. “You’re Paul Wilson. You grew up in Ramsey, but your uncle ran the chippy in central Laxey and you used to spend a lot of time there. He had the best fish and chips I’ve ever tasted. What ever happened to him?”
“Ah, Uncle Kevin retired and moved to a small town in Derbyshire.”
“Why Derbyshire?” Bessie asked.
“He reckoned it was about the centre of Britain,” the young man explained. “He said after spending his entire adult life selling fish, he wanted to be as far from the sea on all sides as he could get.”
Bessie laughed. “I remember every Bonfire Night, you and your brothers would put a ‘Guy’ in the shop doorway and get everyone to give you a penny before you’d let them in.”
The man laughed. “We made a surprising amount of money doing that,” he told Bessie. “Of course, there were five of us, so once we’d split it five ways, it never seemed like much. Mostly, we ended up spending it on fish and chips, anyway.”
Bessie laughed. “I can’t believe your uncle made you pay for your food.”
“Only on Bonfire Night,” Wilson told her.
Bessie laughed again. “If you speak to him, please tell him I said hello.”
“Oh, aye, I will,” he assured her. “Anyway he’s coming over for a spell next month. He wants to be here for the Tynwald Day celebrations.”
“I’ll have to watch out for him if I go, then,” Bessie smiled.
The pair stood silently for a while. Bessie watched as people came and went from the crime scene, torches bobbling along with them. After a while, she recognised Inspector Rockwell’s tall form talking to one of the men who was dressed all in white. After a few minutes, Rockwell headed back towards Bessie and Wilson.
“Are you okay for five more minutes?” Rockwell checked in with Bessie.
“Of course,” she replied, feeling as if that was about all she could manage.
Rockwell walked over to the booth and knocked on the door. Hugh let him in and Bessie watched the short exchange. After a few moments, the stranger emerged and headed out of the castle grounds, escorted by yet another uniformed man.
Only a minute or two later, Rockwell and Hugh came out as well. Henry rushed up from near the castle entrance.
“How are things going?” he asked in a tentative voice.
“Ah, Henry, I think I’m just about done here for tonight,” Rockwell told him.
“Oh, good,” Henry said with a sigh.
“Unfortunately, while I’m just about done, I don’t think the crime scene folks will be finished for several more hours,” Rockwell added.
Henry’s face fell. “I see,” he said gloomily.
“We’ve finished with the storage room and the ticket booth, anyway,” Rockwell told him. “You can lock those back up. I wish I could tell you when the others will be done, but they have a lot of ground to cover and they’re working by artificial light, so it takes a little bit longer sometimes.”
Henry nodded. “I’ve called my boss at MNH, and he’s on his way,” he said. “Once he gets here, I’ll probably head for home, unless anyone needs me.”
“Did someone take your statement?” Rockwell asked.
“I did,” Hugh answered f
or Henry. “I talked to both him and Bob before I started on the audience.”
“Thanks,” Rockwell said. “That was smart on your part.”
Hugh flushed at the unexpected praise.
“Now, let’s all get out of here,” Rockwell suggested. “There’s nothing else we can do until I get the crime scene reports anyway, and that won’t be before tomorrow afternoon.”
“And we all need some sleep,” Bessie added.
Hugh nodded. “I talked to Grace a little while ago,” he told Rockwell. “She decided to stay with Doona tonight and help with the kids. She said they all ate too much popcorn and then the kids fell asleep in front of the telly.”
“Good to know, thanks,” Rockwell said. “You have your car here, right? Are you okay to drive back to Laxey or should I have someone take you?”
“I’m okay,” Hugh said after a moment’s thought. “I had some coffee about half an hour ago, so I’m actually getting my second wind. I’ll put the windows down and turn up the radio. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll follow you anyway,” the inspector told him. “That way we can look out for each other.”
“Fair enough,” Hugh agreed. “Is Bessie going with you?”
Rockwell glanced at Bessie and grinned. “Bessie and I have lots to talk about,” he told Hugh. “And she’ll help keep me awake.”
Wilson was working the overnight shift, so he made his way back towards the crime scene to get new instructions while Henry headed into the ticket booth to straighten everything out for morning. Bessie, Hugh and Rockwell made their way out of the castle, carefully following the limited light from the two police torches.
Moments later, Bessie sank down in the comfortable seat in the inspector’s car and shut her eyes.
“Aunt Bessie? You need to do up your seat belt.”
Rockwell’s voice seemed to be coming from far away and it took Bessie a moment to realise that she fallen asleep as soon as she’d sat down. She quickly buckled her seat belt, blushing in the darkness.
“I should have had more coffee,” she said, a bit too loudly.
“We all should have,” Rockwell replied. “Hang in there. Home isn’t too far away.”
Aunt Bessie Decides (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 9