“How many people did you say were coming?” Shelly asked as Fenella loaded her bags into the trunk of Shelly’s car.
“Just two,” Fenella replied. “But after my tea at the Seaview the other day, I felt like I had to put some effort in.”
“Mona used to host fabulous tea parties,” Shelly told her as they headed toward home. “I remember hearing about them when I was younger. Only the very wealthiest women were invited, and even having lots of money was no guarantee of an invitation. As I understand it, there was a subsection of high society that didn’t approve of Mona and her lifestyle. They did their best to snub her and she returned the favor.”
Fenella laughed. “That sounds like her,” she said. “I mean, from what I’ve heard about her,” she added quickly.
“I didn’t move in the same social circles as Mona in those days, of course,” Shelly said. “Or I should say my parents didn’t, as I was only a child when Mona was in her prime. From the stories I’ve heard, though, it was all terribly glamorous and wonderful.”
“Just looking at the clothes in Mona’s wardrobe suggests that she had a very glamorous life,” Fenella said. “I’m sure my tea party will pale by comparison.”
Shelly helped Fenella carry all of her shopping bags up to her apartment. It took them two trips and left Shelly shaking her head.
“It does seem like rather a lot of food,” she said as she put the last bag on the kitchen counter.
“So you’ll come over when you finish your lunch, right? I don’t care what time it is, just come hungry,” Fenella said.
“If I come right after lunch, I probably won’t be very hungry,” Shelly replied. “Maybe I should come over for dinner.”
“You’ll be more than welcome,” Fenella told her. “I’ll probably invite Peter, as well. As you say, I’ve bought far too much food.” Although she’d only intended to buy half of the things on Mona’s list, once she’d started shopping, she’d become overenthusiastic and bought nearly everything. She blushed as she realized that she’d even purchased a few extra items that Mona hadn’t mentioned. She was going to be eating cream cakes and cookies for weeks.
“I’ll see you later,” Shelly promised as Fenella let her out. “I’ll ring first to see if your guests are still here or not, though.”
“You should bring Gordon back with you,” Fenella suggested. “And any other random people you come across.”
Shelly laughed and then disappeared into her own apartment. Fenella walked back into the kitchen and stared at the food that was piled everywhere. She didn’t even know where to begin.
“There are tiered trays in the cupboard next to the refrigerator,” Mona told her. “You’ve probably never even looked in those cupboards, have you?”
Fenella shrugged. When she’d first moved in, she’d glanced inside every cupboard and wardrobe in the apartment. She would have sworn the cupboard in question had been nearly empty when she’d looked, but now she opened it to find several beautiful sets of silver trays. She took two out and set them on the counter.
“It’s too soon to start putting the food out,” Mona said. “But you can make the sandwiches and then put them in the refrigerator until later.”
Under Mona’s watchful tutelage, Fenella made dozens of fancy finger sandwiches, carefully cutting off the crusts before wrapping them in plastic and storing them in the refrigerator.
“I’m starving,” Fenella commented as she put the last of the sandwiches away.”
“You’ll have plenty to eat soon,” Mona told her. “And you’ll need to be hungry. You’ll want to try everything, won’t you?”
Fenella glanced at the various packages that she’d spread across the counter. Every single thing looked delicious. “Yes, I will,” she said eagerly.
“Remember to offer everything to your guests first,” Mona said sternly. “You may fill your plate only after they’ve filled theirs.”
“Yes, Aunty Mona,” Fenella said.
“You should use my silver tea service,” Mona instructed her. “It’s in the same cupboard where you found the trays.”
Fenella couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the beautiful silver tea set when she’d taken out the trays. “This is beautiful,” she said.
“Max had it made for me,” Mona said casually. “You can see our initials in the design work.”
Fenella looked at the elaborate engraved design on the teapot. If you knew what you were looking at, you could just see the “MM” and “MK” intertwined throughout the design.
Mona gave her very specific instructions on how to make tea properly while Fenella paced around the kitchen and living room, watching the clock. Katie had her lunch and then took herself off to the guest bedroom, clearly unnerved by all of Fenella’s rushing about. After a while, Fenella remembered that she hadn’t had a shower yet and rushed to take one. She threw on one of Mona’s lovely summery dresses before going back to pacing for a short while.
At half past one, Fenella got to work. She opened packets of cookies and arranged them on plates, sliced cakes into bite-sized pieces and arranged them in between the cookies, and then decorated the plates with fresh strawberries and raspberries.
The sandwiches came out of storage and were carefully stacked and restacked until they met with Mona’s approval. Grapes and blueberries were carefully dotted around the trays, adding color.
“What do you think?” Fenella asked her aunt after she’d dropped the last blueberry into place.
“I think it all looks wonderful,” Mona replied.
“You sound surprised,” Fenella said.
Mona chuckled. “I wasn’t sure that you’d manage it,” she admitted. “But you’ve done a splendid job.”
“I just hope Margaret and Hannah appreciate the effort,” Fenella said.
“But they won’t,” Mona told her. “They’ll be expecting all of this. You are my niece.”
“And if you weren’t here, they’d have been given a mug of tea and a few cookies, and I wouldn’t have given it a moment’s thought,” Fenella replied.
“Thank goodness I’m here, then,” Mona laughed.
With everything ready to go, Fenella found herself pacing again. Mona watched her for a moment and then sighed. “Do calm down,” she suggested. “You’re getting yourself into such a state. Have a glass of wine or something.”
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast. A glass of wine on an empty stomach would be dangerous.”
“You mustn’t touch your lovely trays,” Mona said. “But you can nibble on whatever you didn’t put out.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Fenella asked. She dug out the last plate of sandwiches that hadn’t fit on the serving trays. She’d munched her way through three of the delicacies before she looked at the clock. “It’s two,” she said. “Is Margaret usually late?”
“Perhaps,” Mona shrugged. “I never worried much about being on time for things myself. It was much more important to make an entrance.”
Fenella ate a few more sandwiches and a few bites of cake and then resumed pacing. She was still feeling oddly nervous, but at least she wasn’t hungry. It was quarter past two when the knock finally came on her door.
Mona was right on her heels as she crossed the room.
“You are eager to see your old friends, aren’t you?” Fenella asked as she reached for the doorknob.
Mona stopped and took a step backwards as Fenella swung the door open, a bright smile in place. The smile faltered when she recognized the man on the doorstep.
“Inspector Hammersmith? But what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m sure I told you to call me Mark,” he said, smiling brightly at her. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time?”
Fenella flushed. “No, of course not,” she said. “It’s just that I’m expecting some friends for tea. I thought you were my friends.”
“Friends for tea,” he repeated. “How lovely. I won’t stay for long, then.” He raised his eyebrows and
Fenella took a step backwards.
“Do come in,” she said reluctantly.
The man walked into the apartment and crossed to the open kitchen. “This is quite a spread,” he said. “How many friends are you expecting?”
“Only two,” Fenella muttered.
“I would have guessed a lot more from the amount of food on offer,” he said, his tone conversational.
“I had tea at the Seaview on Sunday,” Fenella felt obliged to explain. “I wanted to try to do my best to recreate that for my guests.”
“Your guests must be important,” Mark suggested. “Do you mind telling me who you are expecting?”
“Friends of my Aunt Mona’s,” Fenella replied. “Two women whom I met yesterday at the Tynwald Day fair. Margaret Dolek and Hannah Jones were telling me stories about my aunt. In the end, I invited them for tea today so that they could tell me more.”
“You never met your aunt?”
“She visited the US a few times when I was a child, but I hadn’t seen her for a great many years before she died,” Fenella replied.
The man nodded. “So Mrs. Dolek and Mrs. Jones were meant to be coming for tea today.”
“Are meant to be coming,” Fenella corrected him.
“At least this time you really were expecting someone,” he said. “And your story matches Mrs. Jones’s version perfectly.”
Fenella’s heart sank. “What’s happened?” she demanded.
“Just another unfortunate accident,” the man said blandly. “Mrs. Dolek fell down the stairs in her home last night and broke her neck. The only thing that I find curious about the whole affair is the fact that she was meant to be meeting you this afternoon.”
8
Fenella felt the color drain from her face. Mark must have noticed, because he took her arm and led her to the nearest chair.
“Just take a few deep breaths,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have just sprung that on you like that. I am sorry.”
Fenella shook her head. “I’m okay,” she said. “I was just surprised, that’s all. I just spoke to the woman yesterday.”
“And she was coming here for tea today.”
Fenella nodded and then looked over at the kitchen counter. Looking at the piles and piles of food made her feel slightly ill. “You’re sure it was an accident?” she blurted out.
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Do you know of any reason why it wouldn’t have been?” he asked.
“No, no, not at all,” Fenella replied quickly. “I think I’ve just been caught up in too many murder investigations lately, that’s all.”
Mark studied her for a moment. “What exactly were you and Mrs. Dolek going to talk about today?” he asked.
“She was going to share some memories of my aunt with me, that’s all. I don’t really remember Mona very well. Margaret and Hannah were going to tell me about her.”
“Mona led a rather adventurous life,” Mark said.
Fenella shrugged. “I’ve heard a few stories, but I don’t know how true any of them are.”
“But you were happy to find out more?”
“I’m eager to find out more,” Fenella replied. “I’m fascinated by what I’ve learned thus far.”
“Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to keep you from hearing more about Mona’s past?” the man asked.
Fenella sat back in her chair and tried to think. “I can’t imagine that anyone on the island cares what I do or don’t know about Mona,” she said eventually.
Mark nodded. “As I said, both deaths appear to have been unfortunate accidents. The only link between them, aside from the fact that they both knew each other, is that they both had plans to talk to you on the day they died. It’s probably just one of life’s odd coincidences.”
“Unless something happened in the past that has motivated someone to kill them now,” Fenella suggested.
“It’s hard to imagine what that something could be,” he replied. “If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them.”
“Someone is killing all of the women who knew Paul Clucas,” Mona said. She’d been sitting on the couch, staring out the window, since Mark had announced Margaret’s death. Now she came and stood next to Fenella. “Phillipa’s lost her mind and she’s going around killing all of the women in Paul’s memoirs. That has to be it.”
“As I understand it, there was some infidelity in that social circle, back in the day,” Fenella said, trying to work how best to word her comments. “Maybe someone is just now getting their revenge.”
Mark stared at her for a minute and then chuckled. “I don’t know anything about that social circle, but I find it hard to believe that anyone would wait this long to extract revenge if they felt wronged.”
“Paulette told me that her father left notes for his memoirs detailing his affairs,” Fenella said. “According to her, her mother had no idea he’d cheated until she read his notes.”
“And she just found these notes recently?”
“Yes, the man just passed away a few months ago.”
“So you’re suggesting that Phillipa Clucas is now systematically killing the women her husband slept with some forty or fifty years ago?” Mark asked, his voice incredulous.
“You asked me if I had any ideas of what the something could be,” Fenella replied, working to keep her voice steady.
“I suppose I did,” Mark said. “More fool me,” he added under his breath.
Fenella pretended not to hear him. She stood up and walked to the kitchen counter. “Would you like some cake or sandwiches?” she asked. “Everything will be going stale sitting out like this.”
The man joined her. She handed him a plate and he helped himself to a few sandwiches, some cake, and a handful of cookies.
“Thank you for this,” he said after a few bites. “I didn’t get lunch.”
“You’re very welcome. Would you like tea?”
“Sure, that would be great,” he replied, eating steadily.
Fenella made a pot of tea, ignoring the fancy silver tea set. After she’d handed Mark a mug, she took a slow sip of her own drink. She was surprised to find tears in her eyes as she did so.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I think I’m just a bit overwhelmed by it all. First Anne Marie and now Margaret.”
“We’re going to conduct thorough investigations into both deaths, but at this point we’ve no reason to believe that either was anything other than a sad accident,” he said. “As I said before, I believe your involvement is merely an odd coincidence.”
“He’s an idiot,” Mona said. She sat down next to the man at the counter and made a face at him. “They were both murdered. I’m sure of it.”
Fenella looked at her aunt and shook her head slightly. Mark didn’t seem to notice. He was finishing off the last of his pile of cookies.
“There is another possibility,” he said as he stood up.
“Is there?”
“It’s possible one or even both of the women committed suicide,” he told her.
Fenella shivered. “What a horrible thought,” she said. “Neither seemed at all suicidal when I spoke to them.”
“But you didn’t really know either of them,” he reminded her. “You don’t know what they were normally like.”
“Driving your car into a stone wall seems an odd way to kill yourself,” Fenella said. “And I can’t even begin to imagine throwing yourself down a flight of stairs.”
“It does happen,” Mark told her. “It was a steep and straight flight of stairs. She may have simply jumped.”
Fenella shook her head. “The woman I talked to yesterday was not thinking about going home and jumping from a great height. She was looking forward to coming here and seeing Mona’s apartment.”
Mark nodded and tapped a few times on his phone. “All evidence thus far points to her tripping at the top of the stairs and falling to her death. There was a piece of loose carpet on the upstairs landing,
which could easily have caused her to stumble.”
“The question is, was that piece of carpet loose before Margaret fell down the stairs, or did her killer pull it up to try to hide the fact that she’d been murdered?” Mona said.
“Was there anything wrong with Anne Marie’s car?” Fenella asked, trying to ignore Mona.
“It’s still being examined,” the man replied. “It was an old car. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that the brakes failed or that something happened to the steering.”
“How awful for Anne Marie,” Fenella said softly.
“Whatever happened, it happened quickly,” Mark said. “She probably didn’t have time to panic.”
Fenella nodded, but didn’t feel reassured.
“Anne Marie took meticulous care of that car,” Mona said. “If something went wrong with it, someone tampered with it.”
“One last question before I go,” Mark said, smiling at Fenella. “Can I just ask what your plans are for the next few days? I’m especially interested in who might be coming to see you.”
Fenella flushed. “I hardly think…” she began, but Mark held up a hand.
“I’m only joking,” he said. “As I said, I’m sure your involvement in all of this is merely coincidental. And I’m sure both deaths were accidents. I only came to see you today to make sure that I covered every possible angle.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I hope I don’t see you again,” Fenella said.
The man nodded and then headed for the door. “If someone else with plans to see you dies, we might have to have a more serious conversation,” he said. “Life is full of strange coincidences, but a third death would be a coincidence too far.”
Fenella let the man out and then leaned against the door after she’d shut it. Mark’s last words had almost sounded like a warning. It was pointless to warn her, though. She’d had nothing to do with the two deaths, after all.
“I can’t believe Margaret is dead,” Mona said, moving restlessly around the living room. “Anne Marie’s death was less of a shock, for some reason. Perhaps that’s because I was really looking forward to seeing Margaret today.”
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