At least the sun is shining, she told herself as she headed out of the apartment the next morning. Mel was going to pick her up at the curb again, and she didn’t want to be late. The lesson was meant to start at ten-thirty and Fenella was in place by ten-twenty, just in case. Mel finally rolled up twenty-five minutes later.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly as Fenella climbed into the car. “I had an interview with the police this morning and it took longer than I thought it would. Then I had to go and collect this car from my mate. It should make your job easier, at least.”
He drove them back to the quiet residential neighborhood that they’d been in on Monday. “Right, your turn,” he told her. The pair switched places.
“I believe automatics work the same here as they do in the US,” Mel said. He took her through the various switches and knobs, and Fenella was relieved to find that they weren’t terribly different to the controls in her last car.
“If you’re ready, start the car, check your mirrors, signal your intentions and then you can start to maneuver your way into the road,” Mel said.
Fenella could feel her heart pounding as she followed his instructions. With the car in gear, she slowly drove down the street, stopping at the stop sign at the end.
“You’ll just want to go straight across at this junction,” Mel told her.
For the next forty minutes, Mel kept her driving around the quiet streets. She encountered a handful of cars, usually on the opposite side of the road, but for the most part she had the streets to herself. “Where is everyone?” she asked as she turned the car and started yet another circuit of the neighborhood.
“Parents are at work and kids are at school,” Mel said. “You won’t want to be driving around here in the early afternoon when the schools let out. There will be children everywhere. But it’s nice and quiet at this time of day.”
A car suddenly came up behind her. She stopped for a stop sign and then pulled forward slowly. The car behind rolled through the stop sign and seemed to be riding only inches from Fenella’s bumper.
“Signal and then pull over to the curb,” Mel instructed her. “Let the other driver go around you, as he’s obviously in a hurry.”
“I was going the speed limit,” Fenella complained as the car raced past her.
“I know, but sometimes it’s better to let the other driver go,” Mel said. “He was following much too closely. If you would have had to stop suddenly, he would have hit us.”
“It would have been his fault,” Fenella said.
“Yes, but that wouldn’t have made the friend I borrowed the car from any happier with me,” Mel told her. “Would you like to drive back to your flat yourself?” he asked after a few more minutes.
“On the promenade? I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Fenella said. She pulled over to the curb and switched the car’s engine off. “Actually, I’m exhausted. Driving feels much more difficult that I remember.”
“Let me take you home, then,” Mel said.
They changed places again. As Mel pulled away from the curb, Fenella relaxed in the seat.
“Did you say you were with the police this morning?” Fenella said as the man’s words from earlier finally sank in.
“Yes,” Mel said.
“I hope everything is okay,” Fenella said tentatively. She was pretty sure she knew what the meeting had been about.
“It isn’t really,” Mel snapped. He sighed. “I suppose I may as well tell you about it. Everyone else on the island already knows the whole sordid story.”
“I don’t want to pry,” Fenella said.
“No, it’s fine. It’s pretty simple, really. My wife disappeared thirty years ago. The local CID have just brought in a new inspector and he’s digging through old cases, hoping to make a name for himself by solving a bunch of them. He probably gets a bonus for every case he can mark closed.”
“I’m sorry about your wife.”
“It was a long time ago,” Mel replied. “I haven’t had much choice but to get on with my life.”
“Thirty years is a long time,” Fenella agreed.
“Yeah, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it,” Mel said. “I think she decided she didn’t like married life, or at least married life with me. I think she left voluntarily.”
“Have you told the police that?”
“Sure, but they think she would have stayed in touch with her parents or maybe her friends if she had left willingly.”
“They have a point.”
“Maybe,” Mel shrugged. “It’s been so long now that I feel quite detached from the whole thing. I don’t really remember what being married was like. I only have a few photos from that time and I never look at them anymore.”
“You never wanted to remarry?”
“I couldn’t, not without having Kay declared dead. I never wanted to do that.”
“How difficult for you.”
“It wasn’t a problem,” Mel said. “It wasn’t like there was a queue of women wanting to marry me. I’ve been single since Kay left. Maybe she was the only woman for me.”
“I’m sorry,” Fenella said sympathetically.
“Ah, well, I just wish the police would leave it alone,” Mel told her. “The case doesn’t need to be reopened and reinvestigated. If they haven’t found her by now, they aren’t going to.”
“Maybe the new inspector will have some new ideas,” Fenella said.
“That’s what’s worrying me,” Mel said. He pulled up to the curb in front of Fenella’s building. “Here you go. How about Friday for your next lesson? I’ll borrow this car again and we’ll try driving on slightly busier roads.”
“Yeah, sure,” Fenella said unenthusiastically. While today had definitely been better, she still felt terrified of being behind the wheel. How many lessons would she need before she could get back to feeling comfortable with driving? And how many lessons would she need before she felt ready to take a forty-minute driving test?
In the elevator, her mind wandered back to Mel’s comment. Why was the new inspector worrying him? Was there something the man was trying to hide? She sighed as she opened her apartment door. She should have stuck to her resolve to not discuss the case with the man.
“Did your lesson go better today?” Mona asked as Fenella pushed her door shut behind her.
“I suppose so,” Fenella said with a sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought it would be easier,” she admitted. “I mean, I knew I’d be on the other side of the car and on the other side of the road, but I thought it would still feel the same. For some reason, it just doesn’t. I get all nervous and worried and I can’t seem to concentrate on what I’m doing when I get behind the wheel here.”
“You’re overthinking things,” Mona told her. “Try to relax and forget about the things that are different. Once you get going, you’ll be fine. I used to hire a car when I visited the US, and once you get going, you don’t notice the differences.”
“I think part of it is worry about the driving test,” Fenella said with a sigh. “I can’t imagine taking my driving test again. And forty minutes? That’s a lifetime with someone watching every move you make.”
“And it’s a long way in the future,” Mona pointed out. “Worry about getting comfortable on the island’s roads, then worry about learning to drive a manual car, and then you can worry about the driving test.”
Fenella nodded. “You’re right, of course.”
“I’m ninety-one,” Mona told her. “I’ve had a lot of life experience.”
What Fenella really wanted to ask her aunt about was her death experience, but she bit her tongue and headed into the kitchen to make herself some lunch instead.
“Daniel is coming for dinner again, isn’t he?” Mona asked.
“Yes, and I promised to bake something for dessert,” Fenella said with a frown. She looked through her cupboards. “There isn’t very much here.”
“Do you have sugar, flour, and butter?”
> “Yes, but not much else.”
“That’s all you need to make shortbread,” Mona told her. “If you have vanilla ice cream, you can serve it with a scoop of ice cream to make it look fancy.”
“My mother used to make shortbread sometimes,” Fenella said. “I haven’t had it in years, but it was one of my favorites when I was little. My brother Jacob used to take two pieces and put the ice cream in the middle like a sandwich. He used to use caramel sauce to hold the whole thing together.”
“I suppose a drizzle of caramel sauce would look nice over the ice cream,” Mona conceded. “But not too much. It’s terribly sweet.”
Fenella always had ice cream in her freezer, unless she’d just had a phone call from Jack. Hearing from him nearly always drove her to eat her way through her stock. She checked and was pleased to find an unopened tub of vanilla tucked behind a stack of frozen meals for one. “I must have forgotten that was in there,” she said to herself as she shut the freezer.
“You can probably make caramel sauce, as well,” Mona suggested.
“I think I bought some at the store when I first arrived,” Fenella replied. “I was planning on treating myself to an ice cream sundae that afternoon, but then after I found the body and all…” she trailed off, turning to look through her cupboards.
“Bingo,” she called a moment later when she found the jar of sauce. “Now all I need is shortbread. I hope I can find a recipe online.”
“Don’t be silly,” Mona said. “I can tell you the recipe.”
Fenella ate a sandwich as quickly as she could and then followed Mona’s instructions for making shortbread.
“You can add a few drops of vanilla extract to the mixture if you like,” Mona said.
“Oh, I love vanilla,” Fenella said. More than just a few drops went into the bowl before Mona could object. A short while later, the entire apartment smelled of butter and vanilla as the shortbread baked.
“I should bake more often,” Fenella said as she sank onto the couch. “It smells wonderful in here.”
“Have you come up with any theories about either case to discuss with Daniel?” Mona asked.
“Not really,” Fenella said with a sigh. “Mel said that he thinks Kay simply ran away.”
“So you did discuss the case with him,” Mona said eagerly. “What else did he say?”
“Nothing really. Just that a new police inspector was reopening the case and that he wasn’t very happy about that.”
“Really? I wonder why. Surely he wants to know what happened to his wife. That sounds suspicious to me.”
“He said it was so long ago that he never even thinks about it anymore,” Fenella said. “He’s moved on with his life.”
“But he never remarried.”
“He can’t, not without having Kay declared dead. He said he didn’t want to do that.”
“Why ever not? Surely it would be a mere formality after thirty years.”
“He said he’d never met anyone else that he was interested in marrying,” Fenella told her aunt. “I suppose there’s no point in having her declared dead, therefore.”
“I think that’s odd,” Mona said. “But you need to check on the shortbread.”
It came out of the oven a light golden brown and Fenella nearly gave into the temptation to try some while it was still warm.
“It looks good,” Mona told her. “I’m sure it will be delicious.”
“Do you miss eating?” Fenella asked.
“Not really,” Mona replied. “I don’t get hungry, and anyway, I can have ghost food whenever I want.”
“What’s ghost food?”
“Oh, just little squares, like a cracker or a biscuit. They taste like whatever food you’d like them to taste of, though. Yesterday I had some that were just like Christmas pudding, which was a terrible indulgence for May, wasn’t it?”
Fenella narrowed her eyes at her aunt. “You’re making that up, aren’t you?” she demanded.
Mona laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe not. You’ll find out yourself one day.”
Swallowing a sigh, Fenella put the pan of shortbread on the counter. She cut it into pieces, but left them in the pan as Mona instructed.
“Just leave it to cool,” Mona said. “It’s safe in the pan. It will be terribly fragile and crumbly. Leave it alone until you’re ready to serve it.”
Fenella put a piece of foil over the pan to keep out bugs and kittens, and then settled in to see what she could find on afternoon television. She was still fascinated by British television, which was very different to what she was used to in the US. When someone knocked on her door, she was startled when she realized it was nearly six. Daniel was right on time.
5
The smell of pizza made Fenella’s mouth water as she pulled open her door. It was almost enough to make her forget about the shortbread that was still slightly warm on the kitchen counter.
“I brought garlic bread, as well,” Daniel told her.
“It seems he isn’t planning on kissing you goodnight tonight, either,” Mona said, sounding disappointed.
Fenella frowned at her and then led Daniel into the kitchen. He opened up cardboard boxes while Fenella pulled out plates. “Knives and forks?” she asked.
Daniel shook his head. “I’m happy without.” He took a can of soda from her, waving away the glass she offered. “The less mess I leave you, the better.”
“The dishwasher doesn’t mind a few extra forks and glasses,” she laughed in reply.
They chatted about the weather and about the two new shops that had just been announced for the main shopping street in town while they ate. As Fenella had never heard of either of the companies, she was happy to have Daniel fill her in on what to expect. When the pizza and garlic bread were both gone, Fenella served the shortbread in bowls, with generous scoops of ice cream and what she hoped was an attractive drizzle of caramel sauce.
“This looks wonderful,” Daniel said.
Fenella took a bite and smiled. The shortbread reminded her of her mother and her childhood.
“Thank you for that,” Daniel said as he scraped up the last of his caramel sauce. “It was delicious. I’d love your shortbread recipe. It tasted just like my mother’s, and no one in the family has her recipe.”
“I’ll write it down for you sometime,” Fenella said, wondering if she would be able to remember the exact measurements for the ingredients. She could always ask Mona, at least.
“Now I suppose we really should talk about the cases,” Daniel said. “Although it’s been nice talking about other things.”
“It has,” Fenella agreed.
“Have you had time to read through the clippings?”
“Yes. I just wish I could tell you that I had a sudden inspiration after I’d read them.”
Daniel laughed. “I don’t need sudden inspiration,” he told her. “Just a sounding board, really.”
“I should tell you that I saw Mel this morning, apparently right after you’d spoken to him,” Fenella began.
“He wasn’t very happy with me. He doesn’t understand why we’re looking at the case again.”
“He told me that he felt like it was all so long ago that it didn’t really matter,” Fenella said.
“Yes, he said the same to me,” Daniel told her. “But if something did happen to the woman, she deserves justice, no matter how long it’s been.”
“He said he thought she’d just run away.”
“Which isn’t what he said thirty years ago,” Daniel reminded her. “And doesn’t agree with anything anyone else said when she first disappeared, either.”
Fenella shrugged. “Have you had any luck tracking down her old friends?”
“I’ve spoken to Annie Marshall,” he told her. “She was Kay’s closest friend back in 1986, or so she claimed. I can tell you that she didn’t say anything different to what she told us and the papers thirty years ago.”
“So she still thinks something terrible happened to her fri
end,” Fenella said.
“She still can’t believe that Kay would have left voluntarily.”
“And there weren’t any other men?”
“Not that Annie knew about, and if anyone knew, it should have been Annie, I suppose.”
“What about former boyfriends?” Fenella asked. “Maybe one of them came back into the picture. Maybe Kay didn’t tell her best friend everything.”
“I’ll go back through the file and see what I can find,” Daniel said. “Annie never mentioned any former boyfriends, but Kay must have had some. I’ll try talking to Mel again as well. Maybe he can offer some suggestions along that line.”
“Peter told me it was something of a whirlwind romance,” Fenella recalled. “They’d known each other for years, but had never been a couple, and then suddenly they decided to get married. I can’t imagine that that’s relevant in any way, but it’s interesting.”
“It is interesting,” Daniel said, making a note. “I didn’t realize you discussed the cases with Peter,” he said.
“I mentioned that you’d brought some cold case files over for me to look at,” Fenella said, flushing. “It was with Shelly, too, when we went to the pub the other night. Peter was interested because he’s known Mel since childhood.”
“I see,” Daniel said, making another note.
“Shelly was interested in Christopher Manderly’s murder because her husband had investments with him,” she added quickly.
“It’s such a small island,” Daniel said with a sigh. “I was hoping you could provide an outsider’s perspective, but you have connections with both cases.”
“I’m sorry,” Fenella said, feeling as if she shouldn’t be.
“Not at all,” Daniel said quickly. “It’s just another factor of life on an island like this. Everyone knows everyone.”
“And Kay Belsom still managed to disappear without a trace.”
“Yes, that is odd, isn’t it?”
“I wonder how much easier it would have been to do that in those days,” Fenella said. “The world was larger, and presumably missing person reports still had to be mailed to other parts of the world if the police thought someone might have gone there.”
Cars and Cold Cases Page 7