“I’m fine,” Peter said crossly. He got to his feet and then swayed markedly and put his hand to his head. “Just a little dizzy,” he muttered.
“I’ll pay for the broken glasses,” the young man told the man from behind the bar who’d walked over as Peter stood up.
“I’ll put it on your bill,” the man replied. “Now you get out of here and go see Bev. I know where to find you if I need to.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, looking from the man to Fenella and back again.
“Go and see your sister,” Fenella told him. “I’m sure Peter will be fine.”
The man opened his mouth and then clamped it shut and headed for the door.
“Hey, Jake, take a taxi,” the bartender called after him. “I don’t think you should be driving.”
Jake gave him a thumbs up as he dashed out the door.
“He’s very excited about becoming an uncle,” Fenella remarked to the bartender.
“Oh, aye, his sister is quite a few years older than him and she more or less raised him after their parents split up. She’s been trying for a baby for the last five or six years, and I think they tried nearly everything before they finally found something that worked for them. This is probably the most wanted baby on the island,” he told her. “Jake is just over the moon for her and her husband.”
“How wonderful,” Fenella exclaimed. “I hope everything goes well for them.”
“I think maybe I need a doctor,” Peter interrupted. “I’m seeing a few more of you than I think there are.”
Fenella smiled, and she and Shelly each took one of Peter’s arms and led him toward the door.
“Let me know how he is,” the bartender said. “We like to keep an eye on our regulars.”
Outside, Shelly looked at Fenella. “Maybe we should get a taxi,” she said. “It might be faster than trying to walk all the way home to where my car is.”
“I think a taxi is a good idea,” Fenella said as Peter lurched sideways and then stopped and groaned.
The taxi rank was only a few steps away, and the trio piled into the nearest car. Fenella sat with Peter in the back while Shelly sat next to the driver. Within minutes, they were on their way to Noble’s, the island’s main hospital.
“You’re very pretty,” Peter said as they went. “All three, no, four, no five, well, however many of you there are, they’re all very pretty.”
“Thank you,” Fenella said, stifling a nervous giggle.
“I might try to kiss one of you,” Peter said in a loud whisper. “But I’d probably miss your lips.”
“Never mind, maybe when you’re feeling better,” Fenella replied.
“My head hurts a lot, anyway,” Peter told her. “I was trying not to spill the drinks, but I should have been protecting my head instead, I think.”
“I’m sure the doctor will be able to give you something for the pain,” Fenella said, although she wasn’t sure at all. She could vaguely remember something about people not being allowed any medication after a head injury, but she wasn’t about to tell Peter that.
Fenella found herself looking around eagerly as the taxi approached the hospital. She hadn’t seen it before and she was curious how it would compare to hospitals in the US. The sign over the door where the taxi dropped them off read “Accident and Emergency.” She and Shelly helped Peter out of the car. Shelly paid the driver as Fenella helped Peter through the sliding doors and into the brightly lit lobby.
“My head hurts,” Peter said as they walked.
“I’m sure it does,” Fenella said soothingly. “Let’s see what the doctor says.”
The woman behind the reception desk smiled brightly at them. “How can I help?” she asked.
“He fell down some stairs and hit his head,” Fenella explained.
“And how much has he had to drink this evening?” the woman asked. “I’m not suggesting that was a factor in the accident,” she added quickly, “but it can made a difference in our treatment plan.”
“I can talk for myself,” Peter said testily. “And I had one glass of wine. If I smell like I’ve been drinking for days, that’s because several additional glasses of wine spilled on me as I fell.”
“What a waste,” the woman said with another smile.
She handed Peter a clipboard. “If you could just fill these out, we’ll get you in to see a doctor as soon as possible.”
Fenella and Shelly sat on either side of Peter as he answered questions about his overall health, who his general practitioner was, and what he’d had to eat and drink that day. When he was done, Fenella took the clipboard back to the counter.
“There wasn’t a single question about insurance,” she said as she sat back down. “In the US, the very first and most important question would have been about that.”
“I find it odd that a country like the US doesn’t have a National Health Service like ours,” Shelly said.
“It is odd,” Fenella agreed. “But that’s a conversation for another time.”
Peter put his hand to his head and moaned quietly. “This is really painful,” he complained. “I hope they can see me quickly and get me something for the pain.”
It was only a few minutes later that a woman walked out and called his name. He got to his feet and then swayed back and forth for a moment. Fenella stood up quickly and took his arm.
“Maybe you should escort him back,” the woman told her. “Or we can get a wheelchair.”
“I’m fine,” Peter snapped. “But I’m happy for Fenella to come along. I’m not sure I’ll remember what the doctor says tomorrow.”
The pair followed the woman down a short corridor and into a small exam room.
“You can just lie on the bed,” the woman said. “I’ll take your vital signs while we wait for the doctor.”
While Peter was being checked over, Fenella studied the floor and the ceiling and read the titles on the collection of brochures that were hung in a display case on the wall. She felt slightly out of place being there, but she didn’t want Peter to be left alone, either. Shelly probably should have come with him, she thought, he and Shelly had been friends for years.
“Thank you for coming back with me instead of Shelly,” Peter said after the woman left the room. “Her dress was making my head hurt more.”
Fenella grinned. Shelly loved bright colors and bold patterns, and the dress she was wearing tonight was the perfect example of both. Even without a head injury, it was slightly painful to look at.
“Ah, Peter Cannell? I’m Sarah Grosso,” the woman said from the doorway. She took a step into the room and then stopped and stared at Fenella. “But what are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Peter is a friend of mine,” Fenella explained. “But I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I thought someone told me you worked on the surgical ward.”
“I switched to A&E a few weeks ago,” Sarah told her. “It pays better, and with the hours that Robert worked, it didn’t much matter if I had to work a lot of nights and weekends.”
“Are you okay?” Fenella asked, studying the woman. She looked as if she’d been crying.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Sarah replied with a wave of her hand. “It’s just, well, as if losing Robert wasn’t hard enough, I lost a close friend today.”
“I am sorry,” Fenella said.
Sarah nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “I almost didn’t come into work tonight. George’s murder was almost enough to push me over the edge.”
12
“I didn’t realize you knew George Mason,” Fenella blurted out.
Sarah nodded and Fenella could see tears in the woman’s eyes. “He was, well, a close friend,” she said in a soft voice.
Peter shifted on the bed and Sarah looked over at him. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I should be concentrating on you and not worrying about my problems.”
Fenella sat and wondered exactly what “close friend” meant as Sarah poked and prodded Peter. She seemed nearly as
upset at his death as she had been when her husband had died.
“The doctor will be in shortly,” she said, straightening up from where she’d been bending over Peter. “I’m sure you have a terrible headache. I’ll check with her about getting you something for the pain.”
“Thank you,” Peter said.
Sarah glanced over at Fenella and then headed for the door. She stopped as she pushed it open. “Robert didn’t know that I knew George,” she said over her shoulder to Fenella. “I was worried that he’d found out and they’d had a fight. I thought maybe George had accidently killed Robert. George texted me yesterday morning and wanted to see me. I didn’t reply. Maybe if I had, George would still be alive.”
“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of a murderer,” Fenella said firmly. “Maybe if you’d have been there, the killer would have killed you both.”
“Maybe,” Sarah said doubtfully. “I wish I knew why my friends are being targeted.”
“I’m sure Inspector Robinson is working on that right now,” Fenella said.
“I hope so,” Sarah said.
She walked out, the door swishing shut behind her.
“I hope she’s warned all of her other friends,” Peter said from the bed. “It sounds as if she’s dangerous to know.”
“I don’t think either man’s death has anything to do with her,” Fenella told him. “I think they were both involved in criminal activity that led to their deaths. Their personal involvement with Sarah is merely coincidental.”
“Or maybe she’s having an affair with a third man and he’s eliminating the competition,” Peter suggested. “Maybe he set them both up to make it look like they were doing something illegal, but really they weren’t.”
Fenella frowned. The idea seemed crazy, but she wondered if Daniel had given it any thought. Was it possible that Sarah was the motive for both murders and the burglary ring was just a red herring? She sighed as the door swung open again. This time the new arrival was a middle-aged woman with tired eyes. She was reading the notes on a clipboard as she walked into the room.
“Mr. Cannell? I’m Elaine Gifford, the doctor on duty tonight. How are you feeling?” she said.
“My head hurts,” Peter told her. “But lying down seems to have helped with the double vision.”
“You had double vision?” she asked.
“Yes, or maybe triple vision,” he told her. Fenella was only half listening as Peter talked about the accident and its aftermath. Her brain was puzzling over the exact nature of Sarah’s relationships with both murdered men and wondering about Peter’s theory. She was startled when the doctor turned to her.
“I’m sorry, but we’re going to want to keep him overnight,” the woman said. “Someone needs to check on him regularly and I’d prefer for that to be someone with medical training. Head injuries can be tricky and I don’t like to take chances.”
“That’s fine,” Fenella said quickly.
“We’ll get him up to one of the wards, then,” the doctor said. “You can visit him in the morning any time after nine.”
“I expect I’ll come out with our other neighbor, Shelly, first thing, then,” Fenella said. “Do you need anything?” she asked Peter.
“Headache tablets,” he said grumpily. “But no, nothing else. I think I’ll probably just sleep. You don’t need to come back in the morning. I’ll get a taxi home when I’m discharged.”
“Nonsense,” Fenella said. “I’ll be here, although we’ll still have to get a taxi home, as I don’t drive yet.”
Peter tried to smile. “I will get you my friend’s card,” he said. “We’ll get you behind the wheel yet.”
“Let’s get you better before we worry about that,” Fenella told him. She gave him an awkward hug and then followed the doctor into the corridor.
“It doesn’t seem too bad, although I’m sure it’s painful,” the doctor told Fenella. “We’ll give him something for the pain and check on him through the night. If nothing changes, he can go home tomorrow, although he won’t be able to drive or drink alcohol for a week, I’d suggest.”
Fenella checked that Peter had given them her phone number in case of emergencies before she walked back into the lobby where Shelly was waiting. Shelly crossed the room rapidly when Fenella emerged from the back.
“How is he?” she asked anxiously.
“He’s going up to a ward for the night,” Fenella told her. “We can visit tomorrow morning and if nothing has changed, he’ll be allowed to go home.”
“That’s good news,” Shelly said.
The pair walked outside and found the hospital’s taxi rank. It was nearly midnight and Fenella felt the day’s events catch up to her as they rode back to their apartment building. She was barely keeping her eyes open when they arrived. The fresh air was cold and woke her up enough to pay the taxi driver, but the walk back to her apartment was a blur. She and Shelly hugged in the corridor and then Fenella stumbled into her home.
“Where have you been?” Mona demanded. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“Peter fell down the stairs at the pub and hit his head,” Fenella told her. “Shelly and I took him to the hospital.”
“How is he?” Mona asked anxiously.
“They think he’s going to be fine,” Fenella replied. “But they’ve kept him overnight, just to be sure.”
“The poor man,” Mona said. “I must go and visit him. Maybe he’s hit his head hard enough that he’ll be able to see me.”
Fenella was too tired to question her aunt’s words. After dumping a handful of dry food into Katie’s bowl and giving the kitten a pat, Fenella got ready for bed. She was asleep the minute her head hit the pillow and didn’t move again until her alarm went off at seven.
As the clock buzzed insistently, Fenella tried to remember how to switch it off and why she’d set it in the first place. Katie picked up her head and glared at her owner until Fenella finally found the right switch to silence the noise.
“I’m sorry,” she said to the kitten. “I don’t even know why I set it.” Katie shrugged and then put her head back down and went back to sleep. Fenella was thinking about doing the exact same thing when her phone rang. Grumbling to herself, she climbed out of bed and padded over to the nearest receiver.
“Hello?”
“Ah, Fenella, it’s Peter,” a voice said. “I was just ringing to let you know that the doctors have assured me that I can go home today. They should be letting me out around ten. Maybe you and Shelly could collect me?”
“Someone will be there,” Fenella promised.
“Thank you so much,” Peter said.
“Are you feeling better?”
“I am, although I still have a painful headache,” he told her. “The doctor I saw this morning said that I have a very hard head, but that it will be several days before I’m back to normal.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t anything serious,” Fenella told him. “I’ll see you around ten.”
“Thank you,” Peter replied.
Fenella thought about calling Shelly, but decided to leave it for an hour. There was no need for both of them to be dragged out of bed at seven. Ten o’clock was three hours away. She was halfway back to her own bed when the phone rang again.
“Hello?” she said tiredly.
“Fenella? It’s Donald Donaldson. How are you?”
Suddenly feeling wide-awake, Fenella swallowed hard. The handsome and successful businessman had made something of an unpredictable habit out of calling Fenella when she least expected it. He was traveling around the US, taking care of some sort of business dealings, but he called Fenella just enough to keep her from forgetting about him and the handful of kisses they’d shared before he’d left.
“I’m fine, although I’m tired,” she said honestly.
“Have I rung you too early in the morning?” he asked. “I’m in California, so it’s late at night and I wanted to catch you before I headed to bed.”
“I was ju
st up too late last night,” Fenella explained.
“Doing something exciting or just enjoying our local pub?” he asked.
“I was at the pub with Shelly and Peter, but Peter fell down the stairs and hit his head,” she told him.
“Oh, dear, he is okay, isn’t he?” Donald asked, sounding concerned.
“He’s fine. I just got off the phone with him and they’re letting him go home this morning after a night in the hospital. We took him to the emergency room last night.”
“Tell him I hope he feels better soon,” Donald said.
“I will.”
“You two aren’t getting seriously involved, are you?” Donald asked. “Because I want to ask you for a favor, but I don’t want to upset Peter.”
“We’re just friends,” Fenella said, not letting herself think about the conversation she’d had with the man in the car on the way to the hospital.
“That’s good,” Donald said, sounding just a little bit smug. “I’m flying back to the island tomorrow. There’s a huge charity fundraiser on Thursday evening that I simply must attend. I was hoping you would do me the honor of accompanying me to the event.”
“A charity fundraiser,” Fenella echoed.
“Yes, at the Seaview in Ramsey. It’s one of those events that everyone who is anyone on the island will be at, and I can’t miss it,” Donald explained.
“It sounds very fancy and not at all like me,” Fenella said honestly.
“It is rather fancy, but I promise we’ll have fun,” Donald told her. “Unfortunately, I need to fly back to New York the next morning; otherwise, I’d take you out for a rather more enjoyable evening straight away. Instead, I shall just have to promise you something fabulous in the near future in exchange for your time on Thursday.”
“What would I wear?” Fenella asked.
“It’s black tie, so something formal is needed,” Donald told her. “Let me give you my credit card number. You can go shopping and buy whatever you want.”
“I couldn’t possibly use your credit card,” Fenella said quickly. “I’m sure I can find something affordable.” Her eyes wandered over to the wardrobe that was still full of Mona’s gorgeous clothes. Surely her aunt must have owned an appropriate gown.
An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Collection - ABC Page 42