“I want you to persuade your brother to tell me exactly what happened last night,” Mark replied. “He’s being deliberately vague.”
“He does have a large lump on his head. Maybe he doesn’t remember what happened.”
“The doctor didn’t seem to think that the bump on his head should be causing him any memory issues.”
“Maybe the doctor is wrong.”
“Maybe, or maybe your brother has other reasons for not wanting to tell me what actually happened.”
“If he does, I can’t imagine what they are.”
Mark’s car was parked right outside the apartment building. “I’ll make sure someone gets you home when we’re done,” he said.
Fenella climbed into the passenger seat and then sat back and shut her eyes. She nearly fell asleep even before Mark was behind the steering wheel.
“So, what did Stephanie’s friends have to say for themselves?” she asked the man as he put the car into gear.
He gave her a surprised look. “Surely you don’t really expect me to answer that question.”
Fenella shook her head. “No, I suppose not. I was just wondering, that’s all. Actually, I was hoping that two of them told you that they’d gone home right after I did and left the third with Stephanie. That would narrow down the possibilities for who might have killed her, wouldn’t it?”
“It might have, if it had happened, but it didn’t,” Mark replied. “And before you start speculating on any other possibilities, I’m not going to keep answering your questions, so you can stop there.”
“They were meant to be looking after Stephanie,” Fenella said, mostly talking to herself, primarily to keep herself awake. “I don’t understand why they didn’t drop her off at the house when they left the pub.”
“You’ll have to ask them the next time you see them.”
“Yes, I will, won’t I?”
“No, you won’t,” Mark said quickly. “As in, I don’t want you talking to them. I don’t want you involved in the investigation. Leave the police work to the police. You concentrate on taking care of your brother.”
“I think the police work would be easier.”
Mark chuckled. “Having spent an hour with your brother this morning, you may be right. He seemed as if he might be difficult.”
“He doesn’t mean to be, really, but he’s always been rather spoiled. He doesn’t see it that way, of course.”
“I’ve rung Daniel and filled him in on everything that’s happening here, but you probably already know that. I’m sure he rang you straight away to get your side of the story.”
“I haven’t spoken to him since well before James arrived,” Fenella replied, trying hard not to sound hurt or upset.
“Really? I suppose he’s awfully busy with the course and his new friends and everything. No doubt he’ll be in touch soon, though.”
“Maybe,” Fenella sighed. It was Mark who’d told her that Daniel had become involved with another woman. Surely he shouldn’t be surprised that Daniel wasn’t contacting her.
They parked in a special lot at Noble’s and made their way inside. Fenella followed Mark through the building until he stopped in front of a closed door. He knocked twice and the door swung open.
The uniformed constable who’d opened the door nodded at Mark. “He hasn’t said a word since you left,” he reported. “He’s been pretending to be asleep, but I don’t think he truly is.”
Mark nodded. “You can take a break,” he said. “Go and get yourself a coffee or something. Be back in half an hour.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” the man said. He walked out of the room, holding the door for Fenella and Mark to enter.
Fenella gasped when she saw her brother. His face was unnaturally pale and his head was covered in a thick bandage. He looked much worse now than he had when she’d left him the previous evening. As far as she could tell, he was fast asleep.
“James? Are you sleeping?” she asked as she crossed the room to his side. He stirred and then opened one eye.
“Fenella? Are the police gone?”
She shook her head. “I’m here with Inspector Hammersmith. You need to answer his questions.”
“I did answer his questions,” James replied. “I told him how I went for a walk and then tripped and fell over. I must have hit my head and blacked out for a bit. When I could, I walked back to the house and called you. That’s about all I remember until I woke up here.”
Fenella bit her lip. The story didn’t match with what he’d told her last night. Was that because James couldn’t remember what had really happened, or because he didn’t want the police to know?
“You can’t remember anything else?” she asked.
James shook his head. “One of the nurses was really pretty,” he said after a moment.
Fenella sighed and looked over at the police inspector. “It seems as if he’s suffering from some memory loss after all.”
“Maybe. Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”
Fenella gave James’s hand a squeeze and then followed Mark into the corridor.
“Look, whatever he’s hiding, it would be much better if he shared it with me,” Mark said. “I’m going to leave you two alone for a short while. You need to try to convince him to tell me everything.”
“I’ll do my best,” Fenella promised. She didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from the police.
“If you can’t talk him into telling me anything, I’m hoping you’ll be able to convince him to tell you what’s going on. I hope you’ll be smart enough to pass along whatever he tells you.”
Fenella flushed. She didn’t like the idea of going behind her brother’s back, but she knew Mark was right. “Let me see what he says when we’re alone,” she replied. “I won’t keep anything from you that seems important.”
Mark looked as if he wanted to argue, but after a moment he shrugged. “You have fifteen minutes,” he said.
Fenella squared her shoulders and marched back into James’s room. He looked to be asleep again, but as Fenella approached the bed, his eyes opened.
“Just you this time?” he asked.
“Yes, just me. What’s going on?”
“Someone tried to kill me, and I’m pretty sure I know why,” James replied.
10
“We need to tell the police,” Fenella said.
James shook his head. “I’m not ready to talk to them about it yet. I have to get the whole story straight in my head first.”
“Can you do that in the next fifteen minutes?”
“I don’t know. It all feels unreal, and my head hurts a lot. Whenever I say that to anyone, they give me more drugs, which makes everything feel even more unreal. I’m starting to think that I’m crazy. Maybe Stephanie didn’t even come to the island with me and this is all a bad dream.”
“She definitely came to the island with you, and she’s definitely dead,” Fenella said flatly.
James winced. “Okay, then, so maybe this is just a horrible nightmare.” He reached over and pinched Fenella.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed.
“Maybe it isn’t a dream,” he sighed.
“What really happened last night?” Fenella asked. “Start with what you did after I left.”
“I ate my pizza. It was surprisingly good for a frozen pizza. And I drank a few beers. Not too many, maybe three. I felt really sad. I was missing Stephanie, and then I started to get homesick, which is silly as I’ve only just arrived for my vacation. All I wanted to do was be at home in my little cottage in the Poconos, away from everyone and everything.”
“I can understand that,” Fenella said, patting his arm.
“I decided that I needed to take a walk. The house felt really small and closed in, even though it’s bigger than my house in Pennsylvania. Anyway, I found some shoes and a jacket and I went out for a walk.”
“Was it dark by that time?”
“Yeah, really dark. I was surprised by how few streetlig
hts there are around the place. I just started wandering around, not really paying attention to where I was going, and then I found myself outside the pub.”
“The pub we visited with Stephanie?” Fenella checked.
“Yeah, that one. I really wanted another drink, but I didn’t want to go inside that pub. I knew there was another one around somewhere, but I couldn’t seem to remember how to get there. I started walking away, trying to think, when I heard a car engine. It seemed to be getting louder and louder, so I looked around and there was a car heading straight for me.”
“You were on the sidewalk?”
“I was in the middle of the parking lot,” he admitted sheepishly. “I wasn’t really paying attention to my surroundings, if I’m honest. Anyway, when I saw it, I started running, but the car seemed to be chasing after me. I ran out of the parking lot and down the road, with the car right behind me. That’s when I tripped and hit my head on the curb.”
Fenella glanced at the thick bandages around his head. He was lucky he could remember anything at all, she thought.
“All I could think of was that I had to keep going. I stood back up and fell over immediately. This time I landed in someone’s yard. I crushed a few of their plants, I’m sure, and I tore my clothes on their hedges. But I think that’s what saved my life. I was out of sight behind the row of hedges and the person in the car wasn’t sure where I’d gone.”
“Did you stay hidden for long, then?”
“Not very long. I waited until the car’s lights disappeared around a corner and then I started toward the house. My head was pounding and I wasn’t thinking straight, of course. That was the last place I should have gone. I should have gone back to the pub or somewhere else with lots of people.”
“But you headed for home. Then what happened?” Fenella asked when James lapsed into silence.
“Oh, I was nearly home before I heard the car engine again. When I saw it heading toward me, I ran as fast as I could to the house and locked myself inside. The car sat outside the house for what felt like a long time. When I could breathe again, I called you.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I don’t know. You seemed like a better option.”
Fenella rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Why haven’t you told them all of this, then, now that they’re involved?”
“They’ll just think I’m making it all up,” James replied. “They already think that I killed Stephanie, I’m sure of it. If I try to tell them about the car, they’ll think that I’m making up stories to hide the fact that I killed her.”
“I don’t think you’re being fair to Mark,” Fenella told him. “He’s a good investigator. He can probably find some evidence for what you’re telling me. And anyway, why would he think that you had anything to do with Stephanie’s death?”
“The romantic partner is always the number-one suspect. I know that from television and movies. You should know that, too.”
“Even if that’s sometimes true, it doesn’t make sense this time. If you wanted to kill Stephanie, you could have done so back in the US. Why go to all of the trouble and expense of coming here just to kill her?”
“Maybe we fought after we arrived. Maybe a million other things. None of it matters, because I think I know why she was killed and why the killer is after me now.”
“I’ll get Mark.”
“No, wait. Let me tell you the story first.”
“I will, but you have to promise you’ll tell Mark once you’ve told me.”
“Maybe. Let’s see if you think it’s crazy or not, and then we’ll decide,” James said.
Fenella hesitated and then nodded. She pulled a chair closer to the bedside and sat down. Taking James’s hand, she smiled encouragingly. “Go ahead, then.”
“Do you remember what I said about never knowing if Stephanie was telling the truth or making things up?” he asked.
Fenella nodded. “You said her stories started out sounding believable, but then often wandered off into fantasy territory.”
“Yeah, that’s right. But now I’m starting to wonder if more of them were true than I ever realized. Do you remember what she said at the pub?”
“She said a lot at the pub.”
“Yeah, but she told her friends that she didn’t believe in regrets, lies, or secrets,” he reminded her. “And she told them that she’d told me everything about her past.”
“I do remember that, now that you mention it.”
“She told me that she and her friends once killed a man,” James blurted out.
“What?”
“I didn’t mean for it to come out quite like that,” he sighed, “but that’s what she told me.”
“Tell me the whole story.”
“It wasn’t long before she left the island, apparently. She and her friends were a little bit wild, running around and drinking a lot, or at least that’s what she told me.”
“Which friends?”
“The three from the pub the other night. Annie, Maureen, and Courtney.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Yeah, exactly. Anyway, they were out drinking and driving around late one Saturday night and they hit a man who was crossing the road.”
“Who was driving the car?”
“Stephanie would never tell me that. She said that the responsibility for what happened was shared by all four of them equally, so who was actually driving didn’t matter in the slightest.”
“What did they tell the police?”
“That’s just it. That’s why I don’t want to talk to the police. They didn’t call them.”
“It was a hit and run,” Fenella sighed. “Just like Stephanie’s death.”
“No, not at all,” James told her. “They hit the man, but he survived.”
“I thought you said they killed him,” Fenella said, feeling confused.
James took a deep breath. “The story would make more sense if I had been sober when Stephanie told it to me,” he said, “and if I’d taken it seriously. I thought she was working on story ideas for our book while she was talking. It wasn’t until last night, when I was lying here with my head throbbing, that I started to put it all together.”
“Okay, so try to tell me what happened in some sort of logical order,” Fenella suggested.
“The four of them were drunk and they hit this guy. He was badly injured, but not killed. They took him to an empty house that they knew about, somewhere they used to go to meet guys and drink and whatever, I believe. Stephanie said that the plan was to nurse him back to health and then let him go.”
“But it didn’t work out that way?”
James shrugged. “She was vague about exactly what happened. She spent a long time talking about the man. His name was Arthur Beck. It seemed as if they spent a lot of time getting to know one another. Again, though, I don’t know how much of it was true or how much was fantasy.”
“What did she say about him?”
“He was older, maybe forty, and on the island on his own. He’d come to the island to try to find a job, leaving his wife and their small child at home. Stephanie got quite emotional when she talked about the child, actually.”
“So she spent some time with the man after the accident. I don’t understand what happened to him.”
“Neither do I. She told me all about Arthur and all about his family, and then she told me that he’d died. I asked her how it had happened, and she simply said that he’d stopped breathing one day and that she and her friends shared the blame equally, the same thing she’d said about the driving of the car.”
“You think they killed him? That seems to be the only thing that makes sense.”
“She wouldn’t come right out and say that, not at the time, but sometimes when we’d be talking about other things, she slip it into the conversation. She’d say something like ‘remember, I once killed a man,’ or something like that. She always laughed after she said it, so I never took it particularly seriously, but what if she
was telling the truth?”
“Then she and her friends committed murder and the police need to know about it.”
“Except why should they believe me? I’ve no way to prove that anything she told me was true. What if we tell the police and they waste a bunch of time and energy looking into it and it was all made up?”
“What did they do with the body?”
“According to Stephanie, they buried it behind the empty house they had used to hold the man while he was alive.”
“I don’t suppose she told you where the house was? Or anything about it that might identify it?”
“Not really. She just said it was in Douglas and it was empty. That was over twenty years ago, though. It may have been torn down or renovated or goodness knows what in the years since then.”
“Maybe the body was found,” Fenella suggested. “If it has, your story would gain some credibility.”
James shrugged. “I’m not interested in credibility. Mostly I just want to go home.”
“Home to Poppy Drive or home to Pennsylvania?”
“Home to Pennsylvania. The island doesn’t feel like home anymore, and it also doesn’t feel safe to me.”
“It will be a lot safer once you tell the police everything that Stephanie told you about Arthur Beck.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Think about it, James. The killer must have killed Stephanie because she told you about Arthur, right? Now the killer is after you. Once you tell the police everything you know, the killer won’t have any reason to kill you anymore.”
James frowned. “Unless Stephanie was killed for some other reason, maybe for something I know nothing about. That’s a possibility, too.”
“Yeah, it is, but the fact that she and her friends once killed a man, and that she was killed within a few hours of seeing them again for the first time in twenty-plus years seems pretty significant to me.”
“What if she was lying to me? What if she made up the whole story just to impress me?”
“Then the police spend a bit of time trying to verify it and fail. They have to be told, though.”
“I don’t want to tell them,” James said stubbornly. “They’ll just think I’m trying to divert suspicion away from myself.”
Guests and Guilt Page 15