An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Collection - ABC

by Diana Xarissa

  “I’m sure everyone on the island is a suspect, on some level or another,” Mona said, waving a hand. “You mustn’t take it personally.”

  Fenella opened her mouth to reply, but a knock on the door interrupted. She spun around and swung the door open, not even bothering with the useless peephole.

  “Ah, um, good evening,” the woman on the other side of the door said hesitantly. “I’m Mandy Collins. I was wondering if I might have a quick word with you?”

  Fenella stared at the woman. She didn’t look thirty yet, but she looked tired and as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and the dark circles under her eyes suggested she hadn’t slept much lately. She was almost painfully thin and her inexpensive clothes seemed to hang off of her, emphasizing her gauntness. “Please come in,” Fenella said after an awkward pause.

  “Thank you. I won’t stay long,” the woman murmured.

  Fenella led her guest into the living room. “Please have a seat,” she said.

  The woman dropped into the first chair and stared straight ahead. “It all looks so beautiful from up here,” she said softly.

  “Yes, I love my view,” Fenella replied. “But can I get you a drink? Tea or coffee, maybe?”

  “Oh, no, I’m fine. I just wanted, that is, I had to, I haven’t, oh, goodness.” She stopped and stared down at her hands. Fenella watched as two fat tears slid down the woman’s cheeks.

  For a moment Fenella couldn’t think where to find a box of tissues, but she finally remembered that she’s seen one in the bathroom. She grabbed the box and then sat down next to Mandy and offered her a tissue.

  “Thanks,” her guest muttered as she wiped away her tears. “I wasn’t going to cry,” she added. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Fenella said, not knowing what else to say.

  The girl gave a bitter laugh. “My loss? We were divorced. I’m not really entitled to feel as if I’ve lost anything.”

  “A piece of paper can’t change your feelings,” Fenella countered. “Just because you get a divorce doesn’t mean you stop caring.”

  “I never should have cared in the first place,” the woman said bitterly. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. This is all terribly difficult. I didn’t, that is, I was dumb enough to fall madly in love with Alan and then heartbroken when I found out he was cheating on me. He seemed to think that I should be happy he’d married me, and that I should just ignore his other women.”

  “I’m sorry,” Fenella said, feeling inadequate.

  “We were only married for a year and I know for certain that he slept with more than a dozen other women in that year,” Mandy said. “It hasn’t done much for my self-esteem, I can tell you.”

  Fenella nodded. “I can’t imagine,” she told her.

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” Mandy said after a short pause. “I don’t even know why I’m here, really. I just felt like I needed to meet you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “You found him, right? Oh, please don’t tell me I’m at the wrong flat,” Mandy exclaimed.

  “I did find him,” Fenella agreed. “But I didn’t know him at all.”

  “I had to come and talk to you,” Mandy said. “I have to ask you, well, did he say anything to you when you found him?”

  Fenella shook her head. “I’m sorry, but he was already gone by the time I found him.”

  Mandy pressed her lips together and blinked back more tears. “I see,” she said after a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” Fenella said again. “I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I don’t want to lie to you.”

  Mandy nodded and then stood up. “I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time,” she said. “I’ll just get out of your way.”

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Fenella said as she followed the woman to the door. “I hope you can get over it and move on quickly.”

  “That would be nice,” the woman replied. She walked out the door and down the corridor, never looking back. Fenella shut the door behind her and then waited, certain that Mona would speak before she could turn around. She was wrong. Mona seemed to have disappeared yet again.

  Fenella settled in to watch a sitcom that she’d never even heard of before. She felt completely baffled by it, but found herself chuckling once or twice anyway. Maybe if she watched it every week, she would eventually catch on to the plot, she thought as she got ready for bed. Feeling as if her body clock was finally properly reset, she snuggled under the duvet and sighed. Feeling incredibly foolish, she called out: “Good night, Aunty Mona.” Mona didn’t reply.

  When her alarm went off the next morning, Fenella couldn’t remember why she’d set it, but she climbed out of bed anyway. It was better to get herself into some sort of routine, she decided, even if she didn’t have anywhere special to go. Once showered and dressed, she fixed herself some toast and ate a pot of yogurt. The sun was shining and it looked like a lovely day, so she decided to walk into the center of Douglas and check out the shops. So far she’d only managed to find a mobile phone store and a grocery store. There had to be a lot more to find.

  An hour later, she was browsing her way through Douglas’s single large department store when her mobile rang. She frowned as she dug through her handbag, trying to find the device.

  “Yes, hello,” she said after tapping what she hoped was the right thing on the touchscreen.

  “Is that Fenella Woods?” a man’s voice asked.

  “It is, yes,” Fenella replied, wondering who could possibly have been calling her on this number.

  “Ms. Woods, my name is Mark Potter. I was partners with Alan Collins. I was wondering if you would have time to have a short chat with me, at your convenience, of course.”

  “Oh, I suppose so,” Fenella replied. “But if you want to know what Mr. Collins’s last words were, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. He was already, um, gone, when I found him.”

  “That’s fine,” the man replied. “I’d still like to ask you for a minute or two of your time, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind. Where and when?”

  “Oh, I’m happy to come and see you at your flat, if you would like. Otherwise, you’re welcome to visit my office. Whichever works for you, really.”

  “Where is your office?” Fenella asked quickly. She didn’t like the idea of having the man in her apartment.

  “I’m in Douglas, just off the high street,” he told her.

  “Oh, I’m in Douglas now,” Fenella replied. She mentioned the name of the shop she was in, and Mark was happy to give her directions from there to his office.

  “I’ll come in about half an hour, if that works for you,” she said.

  “It does,” the man replied.

  Fenella finished her window shopping, feeling strangely reluctant to go and talk to Alan Collins’s business partner. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted to discuss with her, and Shelly hadn’t exactly said nice things about the man. For a moment she considered not going, but the man had her mobile number and he knew where she lived. It was probably best to simply get the meeting over with.

  She followed the directions she’d been given, making her way away from the shops and down a street lined with Victorian terraced houses. She watched the house numbers as she went, finally stopping in front of the address she’d been given. She felt a shiver go through her as she looked up and down the empty street.

  From what she could see, all of the old houses had been converted into office space, some more attractively than others. The building she’d been asked to visit was one of the least attractive on the street. The front door was covered in peeling paint and the doorbell appeared to have been pulled out of the door’s frame. She frowned and then knocked lightly on the door. After a moment, she cautiously tried the knob. The door opened noisily and Fenella let herself into a small entryway.

  The building sme
lled of mold and old Chinese food, and Fenella wrinkled her nose to stop herself from sneezing. There were two doors that opened off of the foyer. The small wooden sign hung on the first read “Martin Snell, Advocate.” The next door had a sheet of paper taped to it that said “Paul Pringle, Fineancial Advisor” in sloppy handwriting. Perhaps Mr. Pringle’s first investment should be in spelling lessons, Fenella thought as she looked at the flight of stairs that were the only other option.

  With a sigh, she started up the stairs, cautiously holding onto the sticky banister. At the top of the stairs she found three more doors. The first had a neatly typed sign that read “Reginald Hart Dentistry.” The second door looked like solid metal, unlike all of the others, which were wooden. A business card was taped to the door. “XLM Enterprises” was all that the card said. There wasn’t even a phone number on the card. Fenella shook her head and looked at the third door. “Collins and Potter Realty.” She blew out a breath. Finally.

  She knocked lightly and then turned the knob. The door opened and she found herself in a tiny room. There was a small reception desk, but there wasn’t anyone sitting at it.

  “Hello,” she called. She took a step forward and then spoke louder. “Hello? Mr. Potter?”

  In the back wall of the room was a single door. Fenella knocked on it and then tried the knob. It stuck for a moment and then popped open.

  “Hello? Mr. Potter? It’s Fenella Woods. You asked me to come?”

  The door had opened into a short corridor with two rooms on each side of it. All of the doors were open. Fenella took a step forward and looked into the first room. There was a large table in the center of the room and it was covered in piles of papers. In the room directly opposite that one, Fenella saw several tall metal filing cabinets.

  She took two steps forward and peered at an office. It seemed obvious to her, for some reason, that this had been Alan Collins’s office. Maybe the small, framed photograph of Mandy Collins on the desk was what made her think that. Of course Mark Potter could have been Mandy’s brother or something. She shook her head. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that the office was empty.

  Starting to think that she’d misunderstood what the man had said on the phone, Fenella crossed the corridor and looked into the last room. It was another office, and she immediately assumed it was Mark Potter’s office. She also assumed that the man in the chair behind the desk was Mark Potter. The amount of blood on the desk and the floor made her belief that he was dead something stronger than an assumption.

  Backing away slowly, she dug around in her handbag for her mobile phone. Her hands were shaking so hard that she dropped it back into the bag twice before she managed to get it out. By the time she pushed 999 she was halfway down the stairs, feeling desperate to escape from what she’d just seen.

  The emergency operator was calm and seemingly detached from the horror that Fenella had witnessed. As Fenella stumbled over the address and her own name, the woman spoke softly and distinctly.

  “It’s awful,” Fenella said. “There’s blood everywhere.”

  “We’ll have an officer to you in just a minute or two,” the cool voice said. “If anyone else arrives before the uniformed constable, please ask them to remain outside the building.”

  “Oh, but, I mean, yes, okay,” Fenella said, feeling as if that was asking far too much from her under the circumstances.

  Only a moment or two later, a familiar face appeared around the corner.

  “Constable Corlett,” Fenella said when he reached her. “I wish I wasn’t seeing you again.”

  The man nodded at her. “It’s likewise,” he snapped.

  “I do hope the baby arrived safely,” Fenella said, trying to cling to something like normalcy.

  “False alarm,” the constable told her. “But what have you found this time? Not another body?”

  “Yes, it’s Mark Potter,” Fenella said. “Or at least I think it is.”

  “Have you ever met Mark Potter?” he demanded.

  “Well, no,” Fenella admitted. “But he called me, you see.”

  The man held up a hand. “Tell it to the inspector,” he said. “I’m just here to secure the scene.”

  And you aren’t very happy about that, Fenella thought. Movement on the opposite side of the street caught her attention. A pretty brunette who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five was making her way toward them. She was wearing a pretty and summery dress and sandals. Fenella felt cold just looking at the girl. Even on a sunny day, March was still chilly. The girl seemed to be singing softly to herself as she walked along. She reached the building directly opposite and then crossed the road.

  “Hello,” she said, giving both the constable and Fenella a bright smile. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”

  “Can I ask where you’re going?” the man asked.

  “Well, back to work, unfortunately,” the girl said with another bright smile. “But I’m hoping the boss might let me go a bit early today. It isn’t like there’s much work at the moment.”

  “Where do you work?” was Constable Corlett’s next question.

  “For Collins and Potter Realty,” she replied “Although I suppose we’ll need a new name now.” She glanced back and forth, up and down the street, before leaning in close to the man. “One of my bosses got killed the other day.”

  She stood back up and shook her head. “But why am I telling you that? You’re a constable. You probably know all about Mr. Collins dying so suddenly. It was quite awful, and I don’t know how Mr. Potter is going to manage on his own. Not that he’s even here that much. He wasn’t here the day Mr. Collins died, and when the police came to tell me, I nearly died of the shock.”

  Fenella was suddenly glad that she’s arrived at the office when she had. She couldn’t imagine how upset this young woman would have been if she’d been the one to find the body.

  “What’s your name, love?” the man asked.

  “I’m Kara, Kara Newstead,” she replied. “But why are you here, anyway?” She glanced up and down the street again. “Is it to do with XLM? I’m sure they’re up to something illegal. There’s never anyone there and they’ve put blinds over all the windows. We’re happy with our wooden door, but they’ve put in that heavy metal one and it has like five locks on it. I told Mr. Collins I was sure they were spies for some foreign government, but he said no one sent spies to the Isle of Man.”

  “I’m afraid there’s a bit of a situation,” the constable interjected. “We’re just waiting for a police inspector to arrive.”

  “A situation? In this building? Well, that’s a shame. Still, I’d better get back to work. Mr. Potter isn’t very nice when I’m late. Mr. Collins was much more understanding. Although Mr. Potter did say I could have a late lunch today if I wanted to.” She did the glancing around thing again before she lowered her voice and leaned toward the constable again.

  “He had a meeting with the woman who found Mr. Collins’s body, you see, and he didn’t want me around while he was talking to her,” she said.

  “Why not?” the constable asked.

  Kara shrugged. “He didn’t tell me. He wouldn’t talk about Mr. Collins at all. I think he’s just in shock, you know? I’m sure he’ll get over it eventually, but I’m not sure I’m going to keep working for him until eventually gets here.”

  “Yes, well, for right now…” the constable trailed off as a black car pulled up to the curb. Inspector Robinson climbed out of the back and then the car drove away.

  The inspector looked at the trio on the steps and sighed. “Constable Corlett, have you been inside?”

  “No, sir,” the man said smartly. “I was keeping Ms. Woods and Ms. Newstead company out here.”

  “Oh, you’re Ms. Woods,” Kara gasped. “You’re the woman who was coming to meet with Mr. Potter.”

  The inspector looked at Fenella and raised an eyebrow. She didn’t know what to say.

  “He called me on my mobile phone,” she started.

&nb
sp; Inspector Robinson held up a hand. “Tell me later,” he said sharply. “For now, I think it would be best if you all stopped talking and just waited here.”

  Fenella nodded, wondering briefly where the pleasant and interesting man she’d had pizza with the previous evening had gone. The inspector was currently all business and not very friendly.

  He pulled the constable to one side and they had a short conversation before the constable came back to stand between Fenella and Kara.

  “First floor?” the inspector asked Fenella.

  “Second, er, rather, it’s up one flight of stairs,” she stammered. Jack had said something about the English numbering their floors differently, but she couldn’t remember exactly what at the moment.

  Inspector Robinson nodded curtly at her and then headed into the building.

  “What’s going on?” Kara demanded.

  “You’ll have to ask the inspector that,” Constable Corlett replied.

  “He’s awfully cute,” Kara replied. “I wouldn’t mind spending lots of time with him. He isn’t married, is he?”

  “Again, you’d have to ask the inspector about that,” the man said.

  Fenella flushed as she realized that she’d never thought to ask the inspector about his marital status. For all she knew, he was very happily married and the pizza had genuinely been about hunger and not at all about a date in any way. Feeling foolish, she began to wonder why Peter Cannell had bought her dinner as well. Maybe she was seeing romance where the men in question were just seeing sustenance. She sighed silently. She’d been out of the dating game for too long; she simply didn’t remember how it worked.

  When the big white van pulled up a few minutes later, Kara gasped. “What’s going on?” she demanded as several men and women in white poured out of the van. They were all carrying different equipment and it seemed obvious to Fenella that they were crime scene technicians.

  “You’ll have to ask the inspector,” Constable Corlett repeated himself.

  “Where’s Mr. Potter?” Kara asked. When the constable opened his mouth, Kara shook her head. “You,” she said to Fenella. “He was waiting for you to come and see him when I went out for lunch. What did you say to him? What happened? Why are the police here?”