Aunt Bessie's Holiday (10 page)

“I did.
 
I work for the Isle of Man Constabulary.
 
I’m just civilian front desk staff, but
I know enough about criminal investigations to know what to do in such
situations, which is ring 999 and keep everyone out of the way.”

“Precisely,” the woman agreed.
 
“So I’m left with just you,” she said,
turning to Bessie.
 
“Can you tell
me, in ten words or less, what you’re doing here?”

“Doona rang me for moral support after she
rang you,” Bessie replied.

“Exactly ten, very good,” the woman
said.
 
“I can tell we’re going to
have an interesting conversation later.”

She turned away and motioned for one of the
uniformed men to join her.
 
“Jack,
please take these ladies out into the food court and sit with them until I’m
free.
 
They can get something to eat
or drink if they want, but I’d rather they didn’t chat with one another or
anyone else.”

“Yes, inspector,” he replied.

Bessie and Doona followed Jack out of the
crowded hallway and back into the large food court.
 
Bessie blinked in surprise at the sheer
number of people who were now packed into the space.
 
It felt to her as if everyone around
stopped to stare as the uniformed constable escorted her and Doona to one of
the very few empty tables.
 

Bessie sank down into a seat.
 
She was surprised to find that she
suddenly felt like crying.
 
It was
probably more to do with shock and tiredness than anything else, she
decided.
 
The only things she knew
about Charles Adams were not things that would make her mourn his passing.

“Did you ladies want tea or something to
eat?” the constable asked.

“I’m fine,” Doona said blandly.

“Me, too,” Bessie replied.
 
She sat back in her seat and shut her
eyes.
 
Her brain immediately flashed
up an image of what she’d seen in Charles Adams’s office.
 
The body had been lying across the desk
and there had been blood seemingly everywhere.
 
Bessie sat up straight and opened her
eyes.
 

“Then again, tea might be nice,” she said
loudly.

The constable looked around and then caught
the eye of one of the women who was clearing tables.
 
He gestured to her to come over.

“Could you possibly get some tea for these
two ladies?” he asked her.

“There isn’t any table service in here,” the
woman told him.
 
“You have to go to
the counter.”

“Yes, well, that’s rather difficult,” the
man said.
 
He leaned closer to the
woman and whispered.
 
“They’re under
police guard, you see,” he hissed.
 
“I can’t leave them alone and I can’t let them go wandering off.”

The
woman looked at Bessie
and Doona and then back
at Jack.
 
“Really?
 
Did they have
something to do with all the excitement in the offices, then?
 
Someone said there was a robbery or something.”

“Or something,” Jack said.
 
“I can’t tell you anything and I can’t
let them talk to anyone, you see.
 
But they’re really nice ladies and they’ve had a rough morning.
 
They could use a cup of tea and a
biscuit each.”

The woman nodded.
 
“I’ll get them something,” she
said.
 

“Thank you,” Bessie told the man.
 
“I really could use a cuppa.”

“I thought as much,” the man replied.
 
“I can’t imagine you’re used to finding
dead bodies.”

Bessie glanced at Doona and then had to
swallow hard to suppress the rueful chuckle that bubbled up inside of her.
 
Finding dead bodies seemed to be her
latest hobby, but that was the last thing she wanted to tell the young
policeman.
 
He might get altogether
the wrong idea about her.

Three cups of tea and a generous plate full
of biscuits were delivered only moments later.
 
Bessie took a sip of the hot liquid and
then sat back in her chair with a chocolate digestive.
 
She nibbled it slowly, letting her
thoughts wander.
 
Charles was dead
and there seemed no shortage of likely suspects for his murder.
 

“I’m sorry,” Doona said after a moment.
 
“I shouldn’t have dragged you into the
corridor.
 
We’ve missed our walk.”

“I wouldn’t have gone without you,” Bessie
replied.
 
“And you shouldn’t have
been alone there with the body.”

“Ladies, please,” the young policeman
interrupted.
 
“Inspector Hopkins did
ask that you not speak to one another while you wait.”

“Sorry,” Doona said.
 
“It’s been a tough morning and sitting
here in silence is hard.”

“Maybe we should have a little chat, then,”
a voice said from behind Doona.

“Inspector Hopkins,” the policeman jumped
up.
 
“I, er, I got them some tea and
biscuits, for while they were waiting.”

“So I see,” she said.
 
“And a cup for yourself.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” he said
nervously.
 
“The lady just brought
three cups.”

“And several dozen biscuits,” the inspector
remarked.
 
She leaned over and
grabbed herself several.
 
“Harold is
allowing us to use an empty office for our interviews,” she said now.
 
“I’d like to start with you, as you
found the body,” she told Doona.

“Yes, of course,” Doona said, her face pale.

Bessie watched as Doona stood up shakily and
then slowly followed the senior policewoman back through the “Staff” door.
 

“Is she your daughter?” the policeman asked,
sounding sympathetic.

“No, just a very dear friend,” Bessie
replied.

Whenever Bessie found herself spending time
with a stranger, she usually engaged him or her in conversation.
 
She was fascinated by people and loved
hearing all about their lives and their families.
 
Today, though, she simply couldn’t find
the energy to start a discussion with the young man sitting with her.
 
Instead, she sat back and watched the
crowd, steadily eating her way through several biscuits.

She noticed Andrew Cheatham, their next-door
neighbour, as he walked through the large space.
 
He had two small children with him, one
holding on to each of his hands.
 
Bessie smiled as the little trio joined the short queue for ice
cream.
 
After they’d gone, Bessie
looked at her watch.
 
She was
surprised to find that Doona had only been gone for around half an hour.

“Is this the first murder you’ve had to
investigate at Lakeview?” Bessie asked the man sitting across from her.

He looked startled for a moment before he replied.
 
“Murder doesn’t happen often anywhere,”
he said.

Bessie didn’t argue.
 
“I suppose the park’s own security
handles pretty much everything else,” she said.

“They do,” he agreed.
 
“Although we have been called out for
the occasional thing.
 
Sometimes guests
prefer to deal with us rather than rely on the park’s security team.”

“Mr. Klein seemed to know what he was
doing,” Bessie suggested.

“Oh, Joe’s great,” the man agreed.
 
“But there are certain rules about what
has to be reported to us.”

“I see,” Bessie replied.
 
“What sorts of things….”

Bessie stopped herself when she spotted the
inspector walking towards them.
 
The
constable jumped to his feet again.

“Oh, good, there are few left,” the woman
muttered as she scooped up the last of the biscuits.
 
“This is breakfast,” she told Bessie,
“and probably lunch as well.”

“Surely, with all this food around, you’ll
be able to get a proper lunch,” Bessie said.
 

The woman shrugged.
 
“We’ll see.
 
Lots to do before lunchtime,
anyway.
 
I’m ready to interview you
now.”

Bessie stood up slowly.
 
“Where’s Doona gone?” she asked.
 
She hadn’t seen her friend come back out
of the staff area.

“She said to tell you she’d meet you back at
your cabin when I’ve finished with you,” the woman told her.
 
“Shall we?”

Bessie forced herself to smile and nod.

Chapter Five

The inspector spent a moment giving the
young policeman his new orders before she led Bessie to the small office she
was using for interviews.

“Have a seat,” she said, waving Bessie into
an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair.

Bessie sat down and frowned.
 
The seat was hard and she was tired of
sitting anyway.

“I know it’s not the most comfortable chair
around, but I’ll try to keep this brief,” the inspector told her.
 
“Let’s start with your name and go from
there.”

“I’m Miss Elizabeth Cubbon, but everyone
calls me Bessie.”

The woman made a note in a small book and
then smiled.
 
“If you don’t mind,
then, I’ll call you Bessie as well,” she said.
 
“And you can call me Margaret.”

“Thank you,” Bessie said, feeling slightly
uncomfortable with the informality, but not about to argue.

“So, what brings you to Lakeview?” Margaret
asked, leaning back in her chair.
 
The casual pose didn’t fool Bessie.
 
The woman wasn’t going to miss a thing.

“My friend, Doona Moore, won a week here in
some contest,” Bessie replied.
 
“She
invited me to join her.”

“Lakeview is a family holiday park.
 
You didn’t mind being two single ladies
surrounded by large family groups?”

“Not at all.
 
There are a number of activities for the
adults, including art classes and a book club,” Bessie told her.
 
“There’s plenty for us to do.”

“And Mrs. Moore didn’t mind coming to the
park where her ex-husband was general manager?”

“Doona didn’t know Charles was here,” Bessie
replied, working hard to keep her voice under control.
 

“Do you think she still would have come if
she had known?”

“I doubt it.
 
Charles broke her heart and it took her
a long time to recover.
 
I don’t
think she ever wanted to see the man again.”

Margaret nodded.
 
“Take me through your day, yesterday,
please.”

Bessie took a deep breath and then launched
into as succinct an account of her Sunday as she could manage.
 
Margaret didn’t interrupt as Bessie told
her about their journey, the champagne reception and the dinner that
followed.
 
When she’d concluded,
Bessie sat back in the miserable chair and waited for the questions that would
follow.

“Did either of you leave your accommodation
during the night?”
 
Was the not
unexpected first
question.

“I certainly didn’t,” Bessie replied.
 
“I assume Doona didn’t either, but I was
in my room with the door shut, so I suppose she could have.”

Bessie felt as if she’d just betrayed her
friend, but she wanted to be sure to be scrupulously honest with the inspector.

Margaret raised an eyebrow and then made
another note.
 
“Is there anyone else
here that you knew before your arrival yesterday?” she asked now.

Bessie shrugged.
 
“Not as far as I know,” she
replied.
 
“I suppose there could be,
though.
 
It’s a very large park and
we’ve only been here, well, less than twenty-four hours.”

“What about Mrs. Moore?
 
Did she know anyone here other than her
ex-husband?”

“You’d have to ask her that,” Bessie
replied.
 
“She didn’t mention
anything like that to me, aside from recognising Jessica Howe, as I told you
earlier.”

Margaret nodded.
 
“Neither of you knew Lawrence Jenkins or
Harold Butler before your arrival?”

“I certainly didn’t,” Bessie said.
 
“I suppose Doona might have had contact
with one or the other when she was booking the holiday, but she didn’t mention
it to me if she had.”

“Mr. Jenkins was Charles Adams’s business
partner and had been for at least ten years.
 
I find it surprising that Mrs. Moore was
married to Charles and yet never met the man,” Margaret said.

“They weren’t married for long,” Bessie said
dryly.

“Actually, they may have been married for
longer than you think,” the woman replied.

Before Bessie could question that remark,
she continued.

“I think that’s all I need from you today,”
Margaret said, standing up.
 
“I’d
just like to have one of my staff take your fingerprints, if you don’t mind.”

“Fingerprints?
 
Why?”

“Elimination purposes,” the woman
explained.
 
“In case you touched
anything in or around Charles’s office.
 
We’ll be trying to get prints from the door frame, the handle, anything
and everything.”

“I was very careful not to touch anything,”
Bessie countered.

“So are you refusing to let us take your
fingerprints?” Margaret asked, her tone suddenly frosty.

Bessie sighed and shook her head.
 
“No, of course not.
 
But you won’t find them at your crime scene.”

“Mrs. Moore suggested that I contact her
supervisor, Inspector John Rockwell, on the Isle of Man if I needed any
background information about her.
 
Can you suggest someone on the island that I could talk to about you?”

“John Rockwell is a friend of mine,” Bessie
told her.
 
“I’m sure he’d be happy
to answer any questions you might have about my character.”

“Did you meet the inspector through your
friendship with Mrs. Moore?” the woman asked.

“Not at all,” Bessie said with a grin.
 
“I met him over a dead body.”

The inspector gave Bessie a long hard stare
and then smiled tightly.
 
“Now I’m
really looking forward to having a chat with Inspector Rockwell,” she said.

Bessie chided herself for her rather offhand
words.
 
“It’s a
long story,” she said
,
ready to launch into it
.

Margaret held up a hand.
 
“I think I’d rather hear it from the
inspector, thanks,” she said.
 
“I’d
like you to keep your focus on the body we have here.”

“I’m trying not think about that,” Bessie
replied.
 
“There was an awful lot of
blood.”

“Yes, well, I’d rather you didn’t repeat
that little detail.
 
In fact, I
don’t want you talking about the murder at all.
 
If anyone asks, tell
them
you aren’t allowed to answer any questions, please.
 
I have a long list of people I need to
interview and I’d like to be the one breaking the news of Charles’s demise to
them all.”

“I won’t say anything,” Bessie assured
her.
 
“But there are already rumours
starting.
 
The woman who served our
tea thought there was a robbery.”

Margaret smiled.
 
“That’s the sort of rumour I would like
to see encouraged,” she said.
 
“Feel
free to tell people that if you like.”

Bessie shook her head.
 
“I’d rather just say nothing,” she
replied.
 
“I don’t feel comfortable
lying.”

“Well, thank you for your time,” the
inspector said, opening the office door.
 
“I know where to find you if I have any more questions.
 
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your
holiday.”

“I’m not sure how enjoyable it’s going to be
now,” Bessie said with a sigh.
 
“I
hope Doona is okay.”

“I’ll just ask that you remain on site until
further notice,” Margaret added.
 
“I’m hoping we’ll have this worked out in a day or two, but if I have
further questions, I’ll want to be able to find you.”

“We’re meant to be here through Sunday,”
Bessie told her.
 
“We have signed up
for an excursion to Torver Castle.
 
I hope we can still do that on Friday.”

“As long as it’s all been arranged through
the park, I won’t argue,” the woman replied.
 
“But I’d rather you and your friend
didn’t go off on any sightseeing trips by yourselves.
 
You told me yourself that you had plenty
to do here.
 
You enjoy that and then
I can find you if I need you.”

“I just hope we won’t get bored,” Bessie
muttered, feeling as if she were suddenly trapped.
 
She and Doona hadn’t actually planned to
leave the park during their
week-long
stay, but now,
having been told they couldn’t, Bessie was contrarily seized with a desire to
explore the local countryside.

Margaret didn’t reply
,
she simply took Bessie into another office so that one of her staff could take
Bessie’s fingerprints.
 
Once that
was done, Bessie was told that she could leave.
 
The staff loo was closed while several
police officers were examining it, so Bessie headed back out to the food court
to try to find somewhere to wash her hands.
 
The fingerprint ink that covered every
finger made her feel vaguely as if she were guilty of something.

As she scrubbed her hands in the nearest
ladies’ loo, Bessie was aware that a couple of women were staring at her with
undisguised curiosity.
 
Bessie
decided she was too old to care what they thought and merely kept
scrubbing.
 
Eventually, before the
ink was completely gone, the pair left, whispering loudly about the various
things they’d heard about why the police were in the park.
 
As she was all too aware of the real
reason for their presence, Bessie didn’t even bother to listen to their gossip.

With her hands clean, Bessie pulled out her
mobile and rang Doona.
 
The call
wasn’t answered.
 
As she had no idea
where her friend might be, Bessie decided to head back to their lodge.
 
If Doona wasn’t there, maybe she’d left
Bessie a note.
 
Barring that, at
least Bessie could read a book and wait for her there.

She walked as quickly as she could through
the crowded food court area.
 
It was
getting close to lunchtime and the tables were filling up.
 
As Bessie reached the doors to the
outside, she heard her name.

“Mrs. Cubbon?
 
Wait for me.”
 
Bessie looked around and spotted the
gentleman from the cabin next to theirs walking rapidly towards her.
 
She could see a table full of his family
behind him and several of the members were watching his progress.

“Mrs. Cubbon?
 
I hope I’ve remembered that correctly,”
he said as he reached her side.

“It’s Miss Cubbon, actually,” she
replied.
 
“And you’re Mr. Cheatham,
I believe?”

“You have a good memory, Miss Cubbon,” the
man replied.
 
“If you’re heading
back to Foxglove Close, I’ll walk with you, if I may.”

“But what about your family?” Bessie asked,
gesturing towards the table near the centre of the room.
 
It seemed to her as if most of the men
and women sitting at it were frowning at Bessie.

The man glanced over at them and then shook
his head.
 
He gave them a cheery
wave and then offered Bessie his arm.
 
“They’ll survive without me for one meal,” he told her.

They walked out into a warm autumn
midday.
 
Bessie took a deep breath
and then sighed.
 
“It’s a beautiful
day,” she said.

“It’s quite warm for October,” the man
replied.
 
“Perfect for a holiday in
the woods, wouldn’t you say, Miss Cubbon?”

“Oh, please call me Bessie,” she said.
 
“Everyone does.”

“And I’m Andrew,” he answered.
 
“Although no one calls me that.
 
It seems like everyone calls me ‘dad’ or
granddad,’ and sometimes I quite forget my Christian name.”

Bessie smiled.
 
“There does seem to be rather a lot of
them,” she said.

Andrew laughed.
 
“Three children with their spouses,
seven grandchildren, with two spouses
there
as well,
and two great- grandchildren.
 
That
makes eighteen of us when we’re all together.”

“Good heavens,” Bessie gasped.
 
“I can’t imagine organising all those
people to get you all here at the same time.”

They’d reached a narrow bridge that crossed
a small stream and Andrew paused to watch the water flowing for a moment.
 
“My daughter, Helen, was in charge of
that.
 
I’m sure she sold it to her
brothers as probably our last chance to have a family holiday before I die.”