“Wednesday,” Fenella said glumly.
“Good girl,” Shelly said, patting her arm. “How about the pub later?”
“Daniel is coming over for dinner,” Fenella told her. “So maybe.”
“Are you and Daniel a couple now?” Shelly asked.
“I wish I knew,” Fenella replied. “He’s bringing over some cold case files that he wants me to look at. He thinks I might bring a different perspective to them.”
“Cold case files? That isn’t very romantic,” Shelly said with a frown. “Maybe you should wear something sexy. Maybe that might give the man some ideas.”
Fenella shook her head. “I’m not sure I want to give him ideas,” she said.
Shelly sighed. “If he was coming to my flat for dinner, I’d open the door in something lacy and nearly see-through,” she said. “But I’m a few years too old for the gorgeous inspector.”
Fenella grinned. Shelly was somewhere in her sixties, more than ten years older than Inspector Daniel Robinson, who hadn’t seen fifty yet. With her vibrant personality and colorful dress sense, Shelly had little trouble finding friends of both genders. In spite of her words, Fenella knew the older woman still didn’t feel quite ready to start a new relationship following the completely unexpected death of her husband less than a year earlier.
“Maybe Daniel likes older women,” Fenella suggested.
“Maybe he likes you, but he’s too shy to tell you,” Shelly retorted. “He is bringing you his cold cases, after all. Maybe that’s how policemen show you that they like you.”
Fenella laughed. “I suppose that’s possible,” she said. “But I think it’s more likely he’s bringing them to me because I’m an outsider. He wants someone to have a fresh look at the files.”
“He’s an outsider, too,” Shelly pointed out. “And he’s a trained police inspector. You’re a retired history professor writing a book about Anne Boleyn.”
“Yeah, Daniel’s probably wasting his time,” Fenella said. “At least I get dinner out of it. I’m not sure he’s getting anything.”
“Except the pleasure of your company,” Shelly said. “Which brings us back to where we started. Wear something sexy for the man.”
“I’ll think about,” Fenella said with a laugh.
Shelly stepped into the elevator as Fenella exited. “I’ll stop at your flat on my way to the pub. You can let me know if you want to join me or not.”
“Is Peter going?” Fenella asked.
Peter Cannell was another neighbor who was rapidly becoming a friend, although he sometimes seemed to suggest to Fenella that he was interested in more than just friendship with her. In his early fifties, the man had two divorces to his name already. Having just ended a long-term relationship of her own when she’d moved to the island, Fenella was trying to keep both Daniel and Peter at arm’s length.
“I don’t know yet. He wasn’t home when I stopped earlier,” Shelly said. “I think he has a new girlfriend.”
Fenella continued on her way down the corridor toward her apartment, firmly telling herself that she didn’t mind in the slightest that Peter was seeing someone else. She didn’t have any right to feel the twinge of jealousy that she felt. Waving her keycard in front of her door, Fenella pushed the door open with a sigh.
“That was a deep sigh,” her aunt Mona said from the couch in the living room.
“It’s been a long day,” Fenella told the woman who was either a ghost or a figment of her imagination.
“It’s only midday,” Mona pointed out.
“It’s quarter past twelve,” Fenella argued. “And I had a driving lesson.”
“Should I take it that means it didn’t go well?” Mona asked.
“It was horrible,” Fenella replied. “I’m never going to learn to drive a stick shift and I’m not sure I want to after today.”
“It seems a shame to leave my car just sitting in the garage,” Mona said. “Maybe you should sell it.”
“I don’t want to sell it,” Fenella said. “I want to drive it all over the island with the top down, feeling free and adventurous and glamorous.”
Mona studied her for a moment. “I’m not sure my car will suit you,” she said eventually.
“This is why I’m sure you aren’t a figment of my imagination,” Fenella snapped back. “If I were making you up, you’d be much nicer to me.”
Mona laughed. “I most assuredly am not a figment of your imagination,” she said. “And I won’t mollycoddle you and tell you what you want to hear, either. If driving my car is going to prove too difficult for you, sell my car and buy something with an automatic transmission.”
“I don’t want to,” Fenella said stubbornly.
“Meerroww?” Katie said, rubbing her body against Fenella’s legs.
“Oh, there you are,” Fenella said. She picked up the tiny kitten that had wandered into her apartment some weeks earlier and never left. Katie snuggled into her arms and began to purr as Fenella gently scratched behind her ears. “I missed you,” she told the animal affectionately.
“Merrowww,” Katie said politely.
“She missed me, too,” Fenella said to Mona.
“Or she would have done if you’d been a few minutes later,” Mona said. “It’s nearly time for Katie’s lunch and you know how cross she gets if her meals are late.”
Fenella sighed and sank down into the nearest chair. If I were imagining her, Mona would be much nicer, she thought to herself. She petted and fussed over Katie for a few minutes before the kitten jumped down and raced into the kitchen.
“MMMEERRRROWWWW!” she shouted a moment later.
“See? She wants her lunch,” Mona said.
“And so she should,” Fenella replied. “I’m starving as well.”
In her spacious kitchen, Fenella gave Katie a bowl full of kitten food and refilled her water bowl before she made herself a sandwich. “I don’t want to eat too much,” she told her pet. “Daniel is bringing dinner later.”
“How nice,” Mona said from behind her.
Fenella jumped. “I didn’t see you there,” she muttered as Mona shook her head.
“Clearly,” Mona said. “You should really pay more attention.”
“It isn’t like you wander into the kitchen,” Fenella said. “There’s nothing in here for you.”
“Sometimes I like a change of scenery,” Mona replied. “Although I do think I could simply watch the sea all day, every day, if I had to.”
“The view from here is amazing,” Fenella agreed. The apartment had huge windows that looked out over the promenade to the sea beyond. Fenella found it difficult to get any work done whenever she sat in her living room. She’d start reading and taking notes and then find that half an hour had passed while she’d been watching the tide roll in or out.
“Merrow,” Katie said. She walked out of the kitchen and disappeared into the living room. Fenella followed, knowing exactly what she’d find when she got there. Katie was curled up in a neat ball in the exact spot where Mona had been sitting.
“That animal of yours isn’t very nice,” Mona said.
“Surely it was just coincidence. She can’t see you, can she?” Fenella asked.
“Of course she can see me,” Mona replied. “And she can hear me as well, but she simply ignores me.”
“I should try that,” Fenella muttered under her breath. “There are plenty of other places to sit in here,” she pointed out.
“But that’s my favorite spot,” Mona complained.
“And it’s also Katie’s favorite spot,” Fenella said. “You’ll have to learn to share, both of you.”
“Never mind,” Mona said airily. “I think I’ll go and have some fun instead of hanging around here all day. Maybe I’ll go and visit Charlotte de la Tremouille. She haunts Castle Rushen, you know. Maybe we can scare some children on a school trip together.”
“Can you do that?” Fenella asked.
Mona simply smiled and faded away, leaving Fe
nella shaking her head. A quick search through one of her books on the history of the island revealed that Charlotte had been the wife of the Seventh Earl of Derby, the island’s ruler during the English Civil War. When Derby had left the island to fight for the King’s army, Charlotte had remained behind at Castle Rushen. Eventually Parliamentarian forces had arrived, and they sent a letter to Charlotte referring to the late Earl of Derby. In spite of the shock of learning that her husband had been executed, Charlotte refused to surrender the island.
Instead, William Christian, also known as Illiam Dhone, surrendered the island upon securing a promise that the islanders could keep their ancient rights. The book Fenella was reading also mentioned that Charlotte’s marriage had been a love match, which was unusual in those days. Rumor had it that Charlotte still haunted Castle Rushen, waiting for the man she loved to return from the Civil War.
Feeling inordinately sad for the woman who had died hundreds of years earlier, Fenella wandered into the bedroom and glared at the stack of books on the desk there. She knew she needed to start taking extensive notes on Anne Boleyn’s life if she was ever going to be able to write a fictionalized autobiography of the woman, but she wasn’t feeling motivated after her stressful morning.
Forcing herself to sit at the desk, Fenella picked up a biography about Anne and opened it at random. She read a few pages about Anne’s early courtship with Henry and began to feel renewed enthusiasm for her project. Anne’s story was one that she’d loved from the time she’d first heard it as a small child who was already fascinated by English history. Writing a fictional autobiography would let Fenella get inside Anne’s story in a unique way. Of course it would also be terribly difficult, and Fenella knew she had to get the historical facts absolutely correct, but the best part for her was that it didn’t really matter if she never found a publisher for the book. With careful spending, her inheritance from Mona would hopefully keep her afloat until she could start taking her pension in another fifteen or so years.
She grabbed a notebook and started taking notes right where she was in the story. Perhaps her reluctance to work stemmed from her habit of always starting at the beginning of every book she picked up. While she found the story of Henry the Eighth and Catherine of Aragon interesting, she’d read it frequently enough to grow bored every time she encountered it. Maybe starting just as things began to get interesting, when Henry noticed Anne for the first time, would work better. She could always fill in the background later.
Fenella worked for a few hours, taking notes on what she was reading and jotting down a rough outline for the chapters of her own book that covered the period in question. She only glanced at the clock when Katie began to shout.
“My goodness, it’s time for some dinner for you, isn’t it?” she asked the kitten.
“Merroww!” Katie said emphatically.
Fenella laughed and closed her book, leaving her notes on the desk. For the first time in weeks, she felt excited about her writing again.
“I really should reschedule that trip across,” she said to Katie. “And listen to me, I sound like a native islander,” she added. Island residents referred to the UK mainland as “across,” and Fenella had heard it so often that it had begun to sneak into her own vocabulary.
“A week touring Hever Castle and Hampton Court Palace would do me a world of good,” she continued. “I’m sure I’d come back all fired up and ready to write a masterpiece.”
“Meerrowwwww,” Katie told her.
“Yes, I know, you’d have to go and stay with Aunt Shelly next door,” Fenella said. “But Aunt Shelly has Smokey now and you love playing with Smokey.”
Shelly had recently adopted a cat of her own and she often brought Smokey, an older grey animal, over to play with Katie.
“Arrrreooowww,” Katie said.
“I’m not sure what that means,” Fenella said, frowning at the animal.
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation.
“Daniel, come in,” Fenella said when she’d opened the door to the inspector. Daniel walked past her, carrying a box that seemed full almost to overflowing with containers of food. Fenella followed him into the kitchen, which gave her a chance to admire his slender but muscular body from behind.
“I brought Indian food,” he told Fenella. “I hope that’s okay.”
“I’ve told you before, there isn’t much I won’t eat,” Fenella replied.
She opened cans of soda for them both before they filled their plates. As she sat down, Fenella noticed that Daniel’s light brown hair had been cut recently. His hazel eyes met her hers and Fenella felt herself blush.
“So how are you?” Daniel asked after a moment.
“I’m good; how are you?” Fenella replied.
“I’m doing well,” he said. “I’m starting to feel more settled and I think I’m starting to relax into the pace of life here. The crime rate is lower than it was in city center Liverpool, where I came here from. I’m coming to appreciate that as time goes on.”
“There have been several murders recently,” Fenella pointed out.
“Yes, but those have all been solved,” Daniel said. “And I’m really looking forward to having the time to investigate a few cold cases now. I’m curious what you think of them. As you don’t know any of the people involved in them, you can bring a different perspective.”
“So what are the cases?”
“I’ve brought the files on two cases tonight,” Daniel told her. “I can’t share anything more with you than what was in the papers at the time, but that’s plenty of information, really, especially since it’s all new to you. The first one is the disappearance of Kay Harris Belsom.”
“Kay Belsom?” Fenella echoed. “Is she any relation to Mel?”
Daniel frowned. “She was his wife.”
2
“His wife?” Fenella repeated. “How sad.”
“How do you know Mel?” Daniel asked her.
“He’s my driving instructor,” Fenella explained.
“I didn’t know you were taking driving lessons.”
“I started today, but it didn’t go well,” Fenella said.
“What did you find difficult?”
“The stick shift.”
Daniel smiled. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he promised. “It takes some time, though. Don’t feel that you need to rush. As a policeman, I can tell you that you can never take too many lessons.”
Fenella nodded. “At the moment, I think I’m going to need hundreds of them,” she said.
“But if you know Mel, maybe we shouldn’t talk about his wife’s disappearance,” Daniel said thoughtfully.
“If everything was in the papers at the time, it can’t hurt, can it? I mean, it’s all public record.”
“True, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around the man.”
“I don’t think I could feel any less comfortable than I already do,” Fenella replied. “I spent forty minutes today moving his car in three-feet intervals. She didn’t disappear recently, did she?”
“No, not at all,” Daniel replied. “Both cases that I’ve brought are from 1986. I’ve no reason to suppose that they’re connected in any way, but they were next to each other in the files, so I thought I would work on them both.”
“1986? But that’s thirty years ago,” Fenella exclaimed. “And the poor woman hasn’t turned up yet?”
“Let me tell you the whole story,” Daniel suggested.
“I bought a box of gorgeous-looking chocolate-covered cookies today,” Fenella said. “Let me get them before you start. Would you like coffee as well?”
After getting an affirmative answer, Fenella filled her coffee maker and then arranged the sweet treats on a plate. Only a few minutes later she was back at the table with coffee and the plate, ready to listen.
“Mel and Kay were married in 1983,” Daniel began. “From all accounts, it was a satisfactory if not overly happy marriage. Mel was already working as a driving
instructor, which meant he sometimes worked odd hours. One night he came home after taking a student on a special driving after dark course and found the front door to his flat ajar. He rang the police and when the local constable arrived, he and Mel went inside and found the flat empty.”
“What time of night was it?” Fenella asked.
“Not terribly late,” Daniel said. “It was February, so it was dark fairly early. Reportedly he reached home around eight o’clock. The constable arrived at eight-fifteen.”
“What happened next?”
“As far as Mel could tell, nothing had been taken from the flat, but Kay was missing. He rang her parents, but they hadn’t seen her that day. Because of the circumstances, the police let Mel file a missing persons report immediately.”
“She would have been embarrassed if she’d just been at the store,” Fenella commented.
“Indeed. But Mel said that was unlikely. The couple only had one car between them, and obviously Mel was using that for the driving lesson. Apparently Kay didn’t like to walk far, and as far as Mel knew she hadn’t had any plans for the evening.”
“But she wasn’t home.”
“No, and now, thirty years later, she still hasn’t turned up.”
“There must be a lot more to the story,” Fenella said. “Surely she didn’t disappear without a trace?”
“It sounds dramatic when you put it that way, but that’s pretty much what happened,” Daniel said. “The only thing that Mel was certain was missing from the flat was Kay’s handbag. He cancelled her credit and debit cards right away in case the bag had been stolen. As far as we know, she never contacted Mel or her parents again.”
“Are her parents still alive?” Fenella asked.
“Mr. and Mrs. Harris moved back to Bolton, which is where they were originally from, not long after Kay disappeared,” Daniel said. “The investigating officer kept in touch with them for many years. Kay’s father passed away in the mid-nineties. Her mother is still alive, but she’s in a care home. When I rang, the nurse on duty told me that she’s in very poor health, especially mentally.”
Cars and Cold Cases Page 2
