Encounters and Enemies

by Diana Xarissa

  “You should ring Daniel,” Mona told her. “Ask him what’s going on and mention that you’d just met the woman and thought it was odd that she died in the same way as her husband.”

  “I’m not calling Daniel,” Fenella snapped.

  “Has he texted you lately?” Mona asked.

  Fenella frowned. She’d received a few texts from the man when he’d first gone away. They’d been casual, but at least they’d told her that he was thinking about her. She’d received the last one almost a week ago and the intervening silence was not something she wanted to be reminded of. “No,” she said.

  “Oh, dear, and I had such high hopes for that man. He seemed just right for you, really, as you don’t like Donald.”

  “I do like Donald. He’s lovely and he spoils me.”

  “Yes, dear, you keep telling yourself that. You and I both know that Donald is only a diversion, but at least he’s keeping you from pining over Daniel while he’s away.”

  Fenella opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a knock on her door. “I hope that’s Shelly,” she muttered, glancing down at her hastily thrown-on T-shirt and jeans. She hadn’t managed to put on any makeup yet and her hair was still damp from the shower.

  “Ah, good morning,” the man at the door said. “I’m looking for Fenella Woods.”

  “You’ve found her,” Fenella said, wondering what the man was selling. The building had security that was meant to stop salesman from bothering the residents, but clearly this man had managed to sneak in anyway.

  The man gave her a bright smile. He reminded her of the car salesman that she’d bought her last car from. His hair was brown, with one lock that flopped over his green eyes. As he ran his hand through his hair, pushing the stray lock back into place, Fenella guessed that he was in his mid-thirties. He was wearing a dark suit with a pink shirt and tie. Fenella got ready to resist whatever hard-sell tactic he was about to try.

  “I’m Mark Hammersmith,” the man told her. “I’m a CID inspector and I’m looking into Anne Marie Smathers’s accident.”

  Fenella gasped, as behind her, Mona clapped her hands.

  “It was murder,” Mona said. “I just knew it.”

  “I’m sorry,” the inspector said. “I assumed you already knew that she’d passed away.”

  “Oh, I did,” Fenella replied. “I, er, heard it on the news this morning. But I didn’t expect a police inspector at my door. I can’t imagine what her accident has to do with me.”

  “I was hoping you might be able to tell me that,” the man replied. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  What if I do, Fenella thought to herself. She mentally shook her head. Taking an irrational dislike to the man because he looked like the car salesman who’d sold her the worst car she’d ever owned was completely unfair. “Please come in,” she said, stepping backwards to let him do just that. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I’d love some,” he replied. “I started early today and I haven’t had my regular daily allowance yet.”

  Fenella smiled back at him as she handed him a mug of the hot drink. She refilled her own cup. “Sit down,” she suggested, gesturing toward the bar stools at the kitchen counter. “We could sit in the living room, if you’d prefer,” she offered.

  “Oh, I would, if you don’t mind,” he said quickly. “The view is so incredible from there.”

  They took chairs next to one another in the living room and Mark stared out the window for a moment. “I would never get anything done if I lived here,” he said. “I’d just sit and look out the window all day.”

  “It is tempting,” Fenella told him.

  “I understand you spent some time talking with Mrs. Smathers at a charity function on Saturday evening,” the man said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll be taking notes on my phone, if that’s okay with you,” he added.

  “Whatever you like,” Fenella said. “And yes, I did speak with her briefly at the party. She knew my aunt.”

  The man scrolled through his phone screen. “Yes, your aunt was the infamous Mona Kelly,” he said. “I suspect everyone on the island knew your aunt.”

  Mona had taken a seat on the opposite side of the man. She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe we’d ever met,” she said to the inspector. “I’m sure I’d remember you if we had. I didn’t often meet policemen.”

  Fenella sipped coffee to keep herself from laughing. “Was that all you wanted to know?” she asked the man after she’d swallowed.

  “I’d like to know what you and Mrs. Smathers discussed,” he replied.

  “She introduced herself and mentioned that she’d been friends with Mona,” Fenella said, trying to work out exactly how much she intended to tell the man. “She also mentioned that she was a widow and that her husband had died in a car crash.”

  “Good girl,” Mona said approvingly. “Keep emphasizing that point.”

  Fenella rolled her eyes at the woman.

  “And why was Mrs. Smathers coming to see you yesterday?” the man asked.

  Fenella shook her head. “She wasn’t,” she replied.

  “She told a friend that she was going into Douglas to see you,” he told her.

  “Well, that’s news to me. We certainly didn’t have any plans to see each other.”

  The man typed into his phone for a moment and then gave her the bright smile that she found so annoying. “Well, thank you for your time, then,” he said, getting to his feet.

  “That’s it?” Mona asked.

  “That’s it?” Fenella echoed.

  “We’re doing our best to work out exactly what caused the tragic accident that killed Mrs. Smathers,” he replied. “One piece of the puzzle is why she was in Douglas at all. She told a friend she was coming to see you, but you’ve told me that you didn’t have plans. At the end of the day, it probably doesn’t matter overly much. She may have lied to her friend or she may have wanted to surprise you. If we thought the death was anything other than an accident, I’d be more concerned, but thus far everything seems to suggest that it was simply that, an unfortunate accident.”

  Fenella walked him to the door, feeling slightly deflated. “I wish I could have been more help,” she said.

  “You can’t tell me things you don’t know,” the man replied. “I appreciated your time, the coffee, and the chance to enjoy the view. Have a good day.”

  He was gone before Fenella managed a reply. She shut the door behind him and looked at Mona, who had followed them to the door. “It was just an accident,” she said.

  “Bah, that man is an idiot,” Mona snapped. “He should have asked you to repeat the entire conversation you had with Anne Marie, not summarize, and he should have picked up on the fact that her husband died in a car crash, too. And why would she tell people she was coming to see you? What was that about?”

  “I don’t know,” Fenella replied.

  “And neither does he, but he should be trying to find out,” Mona insisted. “There’s something going on here that doesn’t add up.”

  “Or maybe you just have an overactive imagination,” Fenella suggested.

  Mona waved a hand. “I might, but I’m also right.”

  “Who could have had a motive for killing an eighty-one-year-old woman?” Fenella asked.

  “That’s what Mark Hammersmith should be asking himself,” Mona retorted. “She was coming to see you. Maybe that’s significant.”

  “I can’t see how. She probably just wanted to warn me again about Donald.”

  “She wouldn’t have driven all the way into Douglas to repeat herself,” Mona said. “Whatever she wanted to talk to you about, it wasn’t something that you’d already discussed.”

  “Then I can’t possibly guess what she wanted,” Fenella said with a sigh. “And I have a driving lesson in half an hour. I need to do something with my hair and makeup.”

  “Your mind isn’t on your driving today,” Mel, her driving instructor, said a
s they made their way around the island.

  “I’m sorry,” Fenella told him. “An acquaintance of mine passed away yesterday and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  Mel nodded. “Why don’t we stop so you can stretch your legs for a minute? Maybe you’ll be able to get your focus back on the road if you take a short break.”

  Fenella was grateful for the break, as driving on the island was still stressful, but she didn’t feel any more focused when she climbed back in the car a short while later. “I’m not doing very well, am I?” she asked as she swerved slightly to get back into the center of her lane.

  “That’s why we’re taking back roads,” the man told her. “We’ll avoid traffic as much as we can for today.”

  They were heading back toward Douglas when they ran into a detour.

  “I thought they’d have this cleared up by now,” Mel muttered as Fenella was forced to turn left. “There was an accident there yesterday, you see.”

  “Is that where it happened?” Fenella asked, slowing down to see what she could see as they drove around the closed road.

  “Yes, an elderly woman drove into a stone wall,” the man replied. “She was driving an older car that didn’t have airbags.”

  “I didn’t think there were any cars still on the road without airbags.”

  “There aren’t many, but this one was an old classic,” Mel told her. “Apparently, she and her husband bought matching cars right after they were married some sixty years ago. He crashed his less than a year later.”

  Fenella shuddered. “And she crashed hers yesterday,” she said sadly.

  “It’s sort of an odd coincidence, isn’t it?” Mel asked. “Life’s funny like that.”

  Fenella nodded, but didn’t reply, and then did her best to focus on driving. She was even more grateful than normal to get home after her lesson.

  “You’re just about ready for your test,” Mel told her. “You should get it booked. We can add in a few extra lessons just before the test, if you’d like.”

  “Oh, definitely,” Fenella said. “I’ll let you know.” She walked back into her building trying not to think about Anne Marie or her driving test. It was time for some lunch, and she tried to work out what she wanted to eat as she walked.

  “There’s nothing here but cat food,” she told Katie a few minutes later. The cupboards were all open, revealing mostly empty shelves.

  “MMMeerreeww,” Katie replied.

  “Oh, sure, you’re fine, but what I am to do?” Fenella shook her head. She needed to go grocery shopping, no matter how much she disliked it.

  “This will be easier once you get your driving license,” she muttered to herself as she pulled her little wheeled shopping cart out of the closet by the door. “Then you’ll only have to shop once a week. Mel’s right, you should schedule the test.”

  She stared at herself in the bedroom mirror as she brushed her hair and reapplied some lip gloss. Thinking about taking the driving test made her feel sick to her stomach. “Maybe you’re just hungry,” she said to her reflection.

  The Fenella in the mirror didn’t look convinced, so Fenella turned away and headed out. An hour later she was pulling a very full shopping cart, with a donut in her other hand. The world looks brighter when you have a donut, she thought to herself as she pushed her cart across her building’s lobby.

  “Fenella, I feel as if I haven’t seen you in ages,” a voice said from behind her.

  “Peter, how are you?” Fenella asked, smiling at the man who’d followed her into the building.

  “I’m fine,” he assured her. “Just busy with work, as always.”

  They made their way to the elevator together. Peter Cannell lived next door to Fenella. When she’d first arrived, he’d taken her out once or twice, but now they seemed to have fallen into a friendship rather than a romance. While Fenella really liked the attractive man with salt-and-pepper hair and blue eyes, she didn’t mind just being friends with him. Daniel and Donald were romantic complications enough for her.

  “I’ve been so busy that I can’t even remember the last time I made it to the pub,” he told her as the elevator doors opened on the sixth floor. “But tomorrow is a national holiday, so I’ve given myself the afternoon off today as well.”

  “Good for you,” Fenella said as they walked down the corridor together.

  “Are you free for dinner tonight?” Peter asked. “I’ve nothing in my flat to eat, so I thought maybe I would go over to that little Italian place for spaghetti and garlic bread before the pub.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Fenella replied. She loved the food there and she hadn’t bought anything for her evening meal that wouldn’t keep.

  “I’ll collect you at six, if that’s okay,” Peter told her. “And I’ll tell Shelly to meet us at the pub at half seven.”

  Fenella nodded and then let herself into her apartment. If Peter wasn’t inviting Shelly to join them for dinner, did that mean he was thinking of the meal as a date, she wondered as she put her shopping away. She still hadn’t had any lunch, aside from the donut, but now that she had plans for dinner, she didn’t want to spoil her appetite, either. She ate a small bag of potato chips and washed them down with a cold soda. Still feeling hungry, she forced herself to sit down with a new biography of Anne Boleyn that she’d recently acquired.

  When she’d moved to the island, she’d been excited that the move would give her the opportunity to finally write the book that she’d wanted to write for years. It was going to be a fictionalized autobiography of Anne Boleyn, the historical figure that most interested Fenella after a lifetime of studying and teaching history. Now that she had nothing to do but research and write, however, she found that her enthusiasm for the project had waned considerably. It was still an exciting idea in theory, but it was hard work actually doing the research and putting words on the page.

  As she read, she took notes and added them to the large pile that she’d already taken. She was starting to suspect that the book was never going to get much further than that pile, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. What she really needed to do was to get to grips with what she actually had inherited from Mona. Thus far she’d been content with the monthly checks that kept arriving, and had been living cautiously off of the money. Now that she was settled, she needed to talk to the man who had been Mona’s lawyer and now was hers.

  “Doncan Quayle’s office,” a voice said when she rang.

  “Ah, yes, this is Fenella Woods. I was just thinking that I probably need to meet with my lawyer to talk about Mona’s estate,” she said.

  “Of course, my dear,” the woman replied. “Mr. Quayle is quite busy at the moment, but he could see you one day in the second week of August, if that suits you?”

  Fenella noted the date and time on her calendar and then hung up the phone. August seemed a long way off, but it was her own fault for not thinking about it sooner. She could always ask Mona about the matter, but it would feel awkward asking Mona exactly what she’d left her.

  She changed into a skirt and light sweater and redid her hair and makeup just before six. Mona was strangely absent all afternoon. Fenella reminded herself not to worry about the dead woman as she gave Katie her dinner.

  “I’ll be back after dinner and the pub,” she told the animal. “You behave.”

  Katie blinked at her and then padded away. She found a sunny spot near the windows and curled up. Moments later she appeared to be fast asleep.

  Fenella still made sure to shut both bathroom doors before she left, though. Katie had already shredded a roll of toilet paper and a box of tissues. Fenella wasn’t going to give her the chance to do it again.

  Peter knocked at almost exactly six.

  “All ready to go?” he asked.

  “I am,” Fenella agreed.

  The man smiled at her. “You look lovely,” he said.

  “You look very nice yourself,” Fenella replied, glad that she’d dressed up as he was still wearing his
business suit from earlier.

  “I’ll take the jacket off once we sit down,” he told her. “But I’ve been wearing a suit every day since I was eleven, so it feels quite natural, really.”

  “Who makes an eleven-year-old boy wear a suit every day?” Fenella asked.

  “School uniform,” the man replied. “They still wear jackets and ties in the schools here.”

  “It really is a different country,” Fenella laughed.

  It was only a short walk to the restaurant, which was moderately busy but still had a few free tables.

  “Let’s get a bottle of wine,” Peter suggested. “We can drink it slowly, but neither of us has to be up too early tomorrow.”

  As he was right, Fenella didn’t object. They enjoyed delicious food and wine and talked about local politics and their plans for Tynwald Day.

  “I talked it over with Shelly,” he told her. “I’m going to drive all three of us. There are several large car parks around the site, but it’s best to take as few cars as possible.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Fenella said. “I wasn’t thinking of driving.”

  “How are the lessons coming?”

  “Mel thinks I’m ready for my test,” she replied.

  “Mel knows what he’s doing. He’s been teaching people to drive for a long time now.”

  Fenella nodded. Peter and Mel had been childhood friends and it was Peter who had introduced her to the man. “I feel sick whenever I think about taking the test,” she said quietly.

  “You should plan on taking it twice, then,” Peter suggested. “Treat the first test as a practice one, just so you can go through it and see exactly what it’s like. Then you’ll feel ready for the second one.”

  It was nearly eight o’clock by the time they left the restaurant. Fenella was full of garlic bread, spaghetti, chocolate mousse, and wine. Mostly she was feeling sleepy.

  “Do you want to skip the pub?” Peter asked as he took her hand.

  “Did you tell Shelly that we’d be there?” she asked.

  “I did.”