“I’m afraid I don’t remember your name,” the woman said, sounding as if she didn’t care in the slightest.
“I’m Fenella Woods and this is my friend, Shelly Quirk,” Fenella said. “Shelly, this is Melanie Anderson-Stuart. She and her mother, Patricia, run the Manx Fund for Children, which was behind the charity auction that Donald and I went to last weekend.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Shelly said, nodding at the woman. She looked at the man sitting next to Melanie. He was sitting back, looking around the room with a bored expression on his face.
“But where’s Donald tonight?” Melanie asked.
“I’ve no idea,” Fenella told her.
“My dear, that’s unwise,” Melanie said. “Donald is the sort of man that needs to be kept track of. If he isn’t with you, he’s probably out with another woman.”
Fenella shrugged. “We aren’t serious. I see other men as well.”
“You’re more like your aunt than I realized,” Melanie said. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking that Donald will be your Max. He isn’t the type to buy a woman cars and flats.”
“I’m quite capable of buying my own cars and flats,” Fenella said, feeling her cheeks burning.
Melanie shrugged. “I’m just trying to help,” she said. “I’d hate to see you get your heart broken, and you seem like the type who might. Donald loves to romance a woman and shower her with gifts, but once he wins her heart, he loses interest.”
“That sounds like personal experience,” Shelly said.
“A friend of mine thought she was going to be his fourth wife,” Melanie said. “It didn’t work out that way.”
“Mel?” the man said.
She looked at him and sighed. “Yes, dear, we should go,” she said in a long-suffering tone.
“We didn’t get introduced,” Shelly said. “I’m Shelly Quirk.” She held out a hand and the man took it almost instinctively.
“Oh, I’m Matthew Stuart,” he said. “I’m Melanie’s husband.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Shelly told him. “This is our local pub and we’re here nearly every night. I don’t think I’ve seen either of you in here before.”
“No, we wanted to go somewhere quiet and away from all of our friends,” Melanie said. “We only got the second half right, it seems.”
“It isn’t usually this busy on a weeknight,” Shelly told her.
“I can’t see why it’s ever busy,” Matthew said. “There are cats and cat hair everywhere and the whole place smells like old books.”
Fenella and Shelly exchanged glances. That was exactly why they loved it there.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen my mother lately,” Melanie said in a casual tone.
“I saw her today, actually,” Fenella said. She told the other woman where she’d had lunch.
“And my mother was there?” Melanie asked.
“Yes. She came over to chat with me while we were waiting for our desserts,” Fenella explained.
“Interesting,” Melanie said.
“Why?” Fenella had to ask.
“She was meant to be at a meeting across today,” the woman replied, waving a hand. “I’m sure she rang to tell me that it was cancelled, but I’ve been having trouble with my phone all day.”
“I see,” Fenella said, not understanding at all.
“Darling, as fun as this is, we should go,” Matthew said. He got to his feet and held out a hand to Melanie.
She smiled tightly and then, ignoring the hand, stood up. “Yes, let’s do that,” she muttered.
“It was nice to see you again,” Fenella told her as Melanie picked up her handbag.
“Oh, likewise. I’m sure my mother told you that we’d love for you to get more involved in our little endeavors. My mother got the impression that you and Donald were somewhat more serious than you suggest, though.”
“So you won’t be wanting my help after all?” Fenella asked.
Melanie laughed lightly. “We’re always happy to have more help,” she said. “I’ll have someone ring you the next time we’re planning an event. I’m sure there will be loads you can do to help out.”
With that, she turned and walked briskly toward the elevator at the back of the room. Her husband followed on her heels.
“Well, that was interesting,” Shelly said. “She more or less told that you they don’t want your help because you aren’t involved enough with Donald.”
“If I’d known that was all it was going to take to get me out of being asked to help, I’d have told Patricia that this afternoon,” Fenella laughed.
“It was still odd,” Shelly told her.
“You know what else was odd?” Fenella asked.
“What?”
“When I met Melanie, she told Donald that she and Matthew had split up.”
“They didn’t look split up.”
“No, but they didn’t look happy, either,” Fenella mused.
The pub didn’t get any less busy. When a large and noisy group came up the stairs a short while later, Fenella and Shelly agreed to that it was time to go home. Several people in the group cheered as they got up to go, and before they’d gone more than a few steps, their chairs and the ones that Matthew and Melanie had vacated were already being claimed.
“Maybe we need to find a new favorite pub,” Shelly said as they stepped outside.
“I can’t imagine finding anywhere else I’d like as much,” Fenella replied. “But the next time it’s that busy, maybe we should go somewhere else.”
“The pub next door to us is actually quite nice,” Shelly told her. “It just doesn’t have cats or books.”
“That doesn’t sound nice at all,” Fenella teased.
“It does have some good wines,” Shelly assured her. “And it’s never busy.”
“At least not so far. Maybe if we start going there, it will get busy, like the Tale and Tail did.”
“You make it sound like we’re trendsetters,” Shelly laughed. “But if it does get busy, we can just go back to the Tale and Tail, which should be quiet by then.”
Katie was fast asleep in the center of Fenella’s bed when she let herself back into her apartment. Mona wasn’t around, so Fenella watched some television and then took herself off to bed. As usual, Katie woke her the next morning.
“I think you’re getting old enough now that you could survive until eight,” Fenella told the animal, who was bouncing in the center of Fenella’s chest.
“Meeowoowww,” Katie replied.
After she’d fed Katie, Fenella had some cereal and then showered and got dressed. Mindful of her aunt’s words from the night before, she pulled on a pair of grey cotton trousers instead of her usual jeans. She hadn’t worn jeans for work in all the years she’d taught, but she’d been living in them since she’d arrived on the island. Maybe Mona was right. Maybe she should make more of an effort now and again. She was still thinking about jeans and how the trousers she was wearing weren’t any less comfortable than jeans, really, when someone knocked on her door.
“Inspector Hammersmith? This is a surprise,” Fenella said, her heart sinking as she recognized the man. Whatever he wanted, she was sure it wouldn’t be good.
“I have one simple question for you,” the man said. “Were you planning on seeing Hannah Jones today?”
Fenella gasped. “Has something happened to Hannah?” she demanded.
“If you could just answer the question, please,” the man said.
Fenella shook her head. “I didn’t have plans to see her today,” she said.
“Thank you,” he replied. He turned and took a step away.
“I did have lunch with her yesterday, though,” Fenella added.
The man’s back stiffened. He slowly turned back around and frowned at her. “We’d better talk inside,” he said eventually.
11
Fenella poured them each a cup of coffee and then sat down next to the man in the living room. He was sta
ring out the window watching the sea or the people on the promenade when she joined him. Mona was sitting on the other side of the room, her face even paler than normal.
“Hannah had the first appointment at her doctor’s surgery this morning. When she didn’t turn up, they rang her house but no one answered. Because of her age and mobility issues, they rang the police and asked for a welfare check. The constable on duty went around and had her neighbor let him in.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee while Fenella braced herself for what was next.
“Oh, get on with it,” Mona snapped from her seat.
“She was in the bathtub. It appears that she slipped somehow, probably while climbing in, and hit her head on the bath. She must have been having a bath before going to bed. The water was cold and she’d been dead for at least eight hours when she was found.”
Fenella put her coffee mug down on the table in front of her and drew a deep and shaky breath.
“Are you okay?” the inspector asked.
“No, I’m not,” Fenella told him. “Something weird is going on and it’s terrifying. I understand that accidents happen and that sometimes coincidences seem strange, but this is one accident too many. Someone is killing these women and I don’t know why.”
“You’re suggesting that the three women were all murdered? And by the same person?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Fenella snapped.
“Can you provide me with any possible motive for such a thing?” was the man’s next question.
“It must be tied to something in their pasts,” Fenella said thoughtfully. “I told you about Phillipa Clucas and her upset when she found her husband’s memoirs.”
“Paulette Clucas rang the station yesterday to tell me about that very thing,” the man told her. “She was concerned that you might have mentioned it when you told me about your tea with her and she wanted to make sure that I understood the situation.”
“She told you that her mother dreamed up the whole thing,” Fenella said flatly.
“She did. Do you have any reason to doubt her?” he asked.
“Just three dead bodies,” Fenella muttered.
“With all due respect, even if some or all of the dead women were murdered, I’m not sure that qualifies as a particularly good motive. We’re talking about affairs that allegedly happened some thirty years ago. Do you really think anyone still cares?”
“Phillipa cares very deeply,” Fenella argued. “She shouted at me merely because I’m related to a woman that she thought had had an affair with her husband. And Paulette cares, too. She told me she was devastated when she thought that her father had cheated on her mother.”
“The coroner will be conducting a thorough investigation into Mrs. Jones’s death,” he told her. “Right now it looks very much like another tragic accident. The only thing that keeps me from filing it away is the one common denominator.”
“Which is?”
“You,” the man said.
“He’ll be accusing you of murder soon,” Mona scoffed.
“They were all friends for many years,” Fenella argued. “There must be a great deal in their shared past that people might want to keep hidden.”
“Because of the third accident, we’ll be looking more closely into the women’s lives,” the inspector conceded. “I don’t suppose your aunt left any diaries or memoirs herself that might help?”
“Tell him you’ll check,” Mona said excitedly. “And I’ll write them this afternoon.”
“I don’t think so,” Fenella said. “You should talk to Phillipa and to Patricia Anderson. They were both part of the same crowd.”
“I think I can manage to do my job,” the man said testily. “I’ll also be talking to the families of the dead women. I’d really like to believe that this is a wild goose chase, but, well, we’ll see.”
“Paulette and Paul talked to Hannah yesterday, too,” Fenella said. “In fact, Paul walked Hannah home after our lunch meeting. And Patricia was at the café while Hannah and I were there.”
“I know this is a small island, but you do seem to run into everyone you know all the time, don’t you?” the man asked.
“Last night, in the Tale and Tail, I saw Melanie Anderson-Stuart and her husband,” Fenella told him.
“You’re making yourself look even more suspicious,” Mona cautioned her. “Like you’re going around seeking out suspects.”
Mona was probably right, but Fenella was determined to tell Inspector Hammersmith everything she’d done and everyone she’d seen.
“Anyone else?” the man asked, having typed several things into his phone.
Fenella sat back and stared out at the waves that were gently splashing onto the sand below them. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she was terrified. “I can’t think of anything else,” she said eventually.
“Can you take me through everything that you and Hannah talked about yesterday, please?” the man asked.
Swallowing a sigh, Fenella did her best to remember the conversation. When she was done, the man shook his head. “I should have done this from the very beginning. Can you start back on the night you met Phillipa Clucas and take me through the entire party?”
“He’s finally starting to take you seriously,” Mona said. “Too bad it’s too late to save Hannah.”
Feeling as if she’d already told this story several times, Fenella walked the man through the evening at the charity auction.
“I may have to ring Donald Donaldson and ask him to confirm your statement,” the man said when she was finished.
“By all means,” Fenella replied. “We’re having dinner together tomorrow night. You’ll want to talk to him before that, so that I don’t have a chance to influence his statement.”
The man frowned. “I don’t appreciate your attitude,” he said sharply. “You’re the one who keeps insisting that there’s something suspicious going on. You should be happy that I’m taking the matter seriously.”
Fenella opened her mouth to reply and then shut it again. It wasn’t like her to argue with the police, especially not when they were doing exactly what she wanted. There was just something about Inspector Mark Hammersmith that was rubbing her the wrong way. She picked up her mug and drank the rest of her coffee while he was busy on his phone.
“Tell me again about tea with Paulette Clucas,” he said.
“He’s just humoring you,” Mona said grumpily. “Or trying to find a way to put the blame on you. I don’t like him.”
“Now tell me everything that was said yesterday between you and the Clucas siblings,” the man said after she’d finished recounting the Sunday tea.
“We ran into each other in the parking lot,” Fenella began. By the time she’d finished, she was starting to resent the man’s ever-present mobile phone. He’d typed on it continually while she’d talked, no doubt taking notes. For some reason she found this far more annoying than when Daniel took notes on paper.
“Are you having dinner with Paul tonight?” the man asked after she’d finished.
“I’m meant to be,” Fenella replied. “Although I don’t really feel like it right now.”
“Because you think he might be behind the murders?”
“Because I’m sad that someone else I’d only just met is dead,” Fenella replied.
The inspector nodded. “As I said before, all three deaths appear to have been nothing but accidents. If any were murder, I assume you’d suggest one of the Clucas family as the most likely suspect?”
“I don’t know,” Fenella replied. “I don’t know what secrets those three women might have shared. As you said, it seems odd to suggest that they were murdered because they may have had an affair with a married man thirty years ago, but I also know that people have been killed for far stupider reasons.”
“That is true,” the man acknowledged. “I think that’s all I have for today. I may be back once I’ve had a chance to start looking into the women’s backgrounds. If yo
u do find any diaries or anything from Mona, please let me know.”
“I will do,” Fenella told him. She stood up as he did and then followed him to the door.
“Thank you for your time,” he said as he exited her apartment.
She shut the door behind him and then sank down on the nearest sofa. Looking over at Mona, she saw a single tear trickling down the woman’s face. “I can’t give you a tissue, can I?” she asked her.
Mona shook her head. “I don’t need one,” she said, her voice quavering. She cleared her throat and then spoke again. “Being dead isn’t all that bad, but I still feel sorry for people when I hear that they’ve died, especially when they’ve been murdered.”
“We aren’t sure that anyone has been murdered,” Fenella felt obliged to remind the other woman.
“But we know they were,” Mona said. “Now, I still think Phillipa or Paulette is behind this, or maybe Paul, although he would be third on my list, but I’m prepared to consider other options. I’ve been trying to remember anything that might have happened in the past that could be behind this, but it was so long ago. I have a very vague recollection of Paul Clucas being angry with Herbert Smathers at one point, just before Herbert died, but I don’t even know if I ever knew what they’d disagreed about.”
“Did Hannah have an affair with Paul?” Fenella had to ask.
Mona shook her head. “I don’t think so, and I think I would have known. Paul’s list must include just about every woman he ever met, though.”
“Surely there must be something else going on. What about Herbert’s death?” Fenella asked. “Do you really think that it wasn’t an accident?”
“I always thought Anne Marie killed him,” Mona said. “If she did, maybe someone killed her for revenge, but why kill Margaret and Hannah?”
“Maybe they were all in on it,” Fenella suggested. “And maybe Herbert had a relative that no one knew about. Maybe that relative has come back to avenge Herbert’s death.”
“Now you’re thinking,” Mona said, clapping lightly. “It’s entirely possible that Herbert had relatives across. There was even a rumor at one point that he left a wife and possibly even children to pursue Anne Marie. Maybe his son or daughter is on the island, seeking out and killing anyone who might have had a hand in Herbert’s death.”
An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Collection - DEF Page 41