Cars and Cold Cases

by Diana Xarissa

  “Oh, dear,” Fenella said. “Why isn’t the sister a suspect?”

  “She died about six months later, allegedly due to complications in her pregnancy,” Mona said.

  “None of that is in the papers,” Fenella said.

  “No, Douglas threatened to sue if anyone printed anything about his sister in the papers,” Mona told her. “The girl died seven or eight years before Christopher, so he was probably right in insisting her death had nothing to do with Christopher’s murder.”

  “Unless he killed Christopher,” Fenella added.

  “Yes, there is that,” Mona agreed.

  “What a horrible mess,” Fenella said as she got up from her chair. “I’m not sure what I can tell Daniel that might help.”

  She bustled around the kitchen, turning everything over and over in her mind as she made herself some lunch.

  “It all seems to come back to Sophia, at least in my head,” she told Mona as she loaded things into the dishwasher after she’d eaten her soup and sandwich.

  “In my head, as well,” Mona told her. “And I suggest that’s where we need to start our investigation. You need to find an excuse to meet Sophia Manderly.”

  4

  “That is not happening,” Fenella said firmly. “I’m more than happy to discuss the cases with Daniel and offer my insights, but I am not getting involved in any sort of investigation.”

  “I’m not asking you to investigate, just talk to the woman,” Mona said in a persuasive tone. “See what she has to say about her former husband.”

  “Sure, ask a woman I will have just met about her husband who was brutally murdered thirty years ago. I’m sure that will be very popular.”

  Mona sighed. “You’ll have to be subtle, of course. Maybe you could tell her that you moved to the island when your former boyfriend was murdered or something.”

  “Not happening,” Fenella said firmly. “I have enough to do without chasing down widows and grilling them about their dead husbands.”

  “You are going to talk to Mel about his missing wife, though, right?” Mona asked.

  Fenella bit back a sigh. “I am not,” she said. “It isn’t any of my business.”

  “The man is teaching you to drive,” Mona said. “And he might have murdered his wife and hid the body. I think you have a right to ask him a few casual questions about it.”

  “You may think all you like,” Fenella said. “But I’m going to keep my conversations with Mel on driving.”

  “Poor Daniel is wasting his time consulting you,” Mona said. “He’d have done better talking to Shelly. I’ll bet she’d be happy to grill Sophia Manderly about her murky past.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk about murky pasts,” Fenella pointed out. “You never did explain how you came to be able to afford this apartment.”

  “My goodness, look at the time,” Mona gasped. “I have a very important meeting in just a few minutes.”

  “You have a meeting?” Fenella asked skeptically.

  “Yes, I do,” Mona said. “All of the island’s ghosts and spirits get together once a month to discuss various issues. I don’t want to be late. The last spirit to turn up ends up being stuck with looking after the Moddey Dhoo until the next meeting.”

  Before Fenella could question her aunt further, the woman faded away. Fenella shook her head. She never knew when her aunt was telling the truth about her life as a ghost. The story of the Moddey Dhoo was familiar, at least. The black ghost dog was said to haunt Peel Castle, especially the guardroom. One story told how one of the guards had defied the spirit and gone alone into the room at night. When he emerged, he couldn’t speak, and he died three days later, having never revealed what he had seen or heard that night.

  Fenella sat down on a chair and Katie jumped into her lap. “Are you afraid of the Moddey Dhoo?” Fenella asked her kitten.

  “MMMEEOOOOWWWW!” Katie shouted. She burrowed into Fenella’s lap and hid her head under a fold in the fabric of Fenella’s shirt.

  “My goodness, it’s only a legend,” Fenella said. “Ghosts aren’t real.” As soon as the words left her lips, she glanced around guiltily, hoping Mona hadn’t heard her. Doubting her sanity, she settled in to snuggle Katie and watch the sea gently rolling across the sand. Her mind kept wandering back to the two cases that Daniel had shared with her. Maybe Mona was right, maybe she should ask a few questions, at least of Mel on her next lesson.

  When her phone rang, Fenella reluctantly got up and dislodged her sleeping kitten. “Merrow,” Katie complained as she jumped to the floor.

  “It’s Jack. How are you?”

  Forcing herself to swallow a sigh, she replied. “I’m fine. How are you?” to the man she’d been involved with for ten years and had happily left behind in Buffalo.

  “Well, that’s why I called,” Jack said with an odd chuckle. “I’m not terribly well. The doctors think it might be cancer.”

  “I’m sorry,” Fenella said quickly. “What sort?”

  “What sort? Well, um, that is, they’re still exploring,” Jack replied.

  “Exploring which part of your body?” Fenella asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “My, um, well, that’s rather personal,” Jack replied. “Anyway, I thought, now that you know, that you’d want to come back to Buffalo. I can get my spare bedroom ready, if you’d prefer to stay in there for a short while as we get reacquainted.”

  “I’m not coming back,” Fenella said.

  “But I’m sick,” Jack argued.

  “We broke up,” Fenella reminded him. “I’m not your girlfriend any more.” And you aren’t my problem, she added silently.

  “It isn’t fair of you to end things with me when I’m ill,” Jack said crossly.

  “I didn’t end things when you were ill,” Fenella said, trying to be patient. “I ended things three months ago, when you were absolutely fine.”

  “But I wasn’t,” Jack said. “I was already sick, I just didn’t know it.”

  “Which is very sad, but still not my problem,” Fenella said, feeling mean but unable to stop herself.

  “Hazel and Sue both said you’d be terrible like this, but I didn’t believe them,” Jack said. “Perhaps I never really knew you after all.”

  “I’m sure Hazel and Sue will provide plenty of support for you as you get treatment,” Fenella said, suddenly feeling sorry for the two women. They’d both disliked Fenella and had tried for years to get between her and Jack, but if he really was ill, they were in for a great deal of suffering in the weeks and months ahead.

  “Where’s my insurance card?” Jack asked.

  “Um, what insurance card?” Fenella replied in confusion.

  “You know, the card I need in order to see the doctor. I thought it was in my wallet, but I couldn’t find it the other day.”

  “When did you have it last?” Fenella asked, reminded again of one of the reasons why she’d been happy to leave the absent-minded professor in America as she started her new life.

  “I can’t remember. It’s been a long time,” Jack said.

  “Did you have a flu shot last fall?” she asked.

  “Yes, I did,” Jack said. “But I got that at work and they didn’t ask to see the card.”

  “When did you last have an eye exam?”

  “Oh, good question,” Jack said. “I don’t know.”

  Fenella swallowed another sigh. “Did you have an annual physical lately?”

  “I had one just before you left, didn’t I?” Jack asked.

  Fenella nearly sighed again as she remembered. After she’d told him she was moving away, Jack had insisted on having a complete physical just in case he was ill and was going to need her to stay in the US. She’d told him he was wasting his time and that she wasn’t going to stay anyway, but he’d gone ahead and had the exam anyway. “I do remember,” Fenella said. “And you were in perfect health just three months ago.”

  “Well, they obviously missed something,” Jack said with a snif
f.

  “Were you carrying a different wallet three months ago?” Fenella asked.

  “You know, I was,” Jack said excitedly. “Hazel bought me a new one last month. She noticed how tattered my old one was getting. You never used to notice such things.”

  “Did you keep the old wallet?”

  “Yes, of course,” Jack said. “It still has some life left in it, and anyway, you bought it for me. I’ve kept everything you ever gave me.”

  “Go check the old wallet,” Fenella suggested. “Maybe the card is still in there.”

  “Hang on,” Jack said. He dropped the phone so suddenly that it banged loudly in Fenella’s ear. She could hear him walking loudly down the short corridor from the phone to his bedroom. After a few minutes that were no doubt going to be expensive for Jack, he was back.

  “I found it,” he exclaimed. “Right where you said it would be.”

  “Excellent,” Fenella said.

  “Now I can make an appointment to see a doctor.”

  “You haven’t seen one since your physical?” Fenella asked.

  “No. I couldn’t make an appointment without the insurance card, could I?”

  “Well, yes, actually,” Fenella said. “Your regular doctor will have all of your insurance information on file.”

  “He will? That’s good to know.”

  Fenella wondered for a moment how Jack had reached the age of fifty-five with so few real-world coping skills. Then she remembered that he had still been living with his mother when they’d met. She should have liked me more, Fenella thought. I took him off her hands, after all.

  “If you haven’t seen a doctor, how do you know you have cancer?” she asked.

  “Oh, I, um, well, I’m simply not feeling well. It must be cancer; I’m quite certain.”

  “Maybe you have a cold,” Fenella said unsympathetically.

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s much more serious than that,” Jack told her. “And so are Hazel and Sue. Hazel was in tears when I was telling her about my cough. She seems to think it might be lung cancer.”

  “You haven’t coughed once since we’ve been talking,” Fenella pointed out.

  “No, well, I, that is,” he broke off and coughed several times in an unconvincing manner.

  “Yes, well, I hope the doctors can find out what’s wrong quickly and find you a cure,” Fenella said. “I need to go. Take care.”

  She hung up before the man could speak again, shaking her head at herself. What had she seen in the man, she wondered for the millionth time. Feeling out of sorts, she wandered into the kitchen for a snack. As she reached for a bag of potato chips, she slapped her own hand.

  “You’re just bored,” she chided herself. “Go and work on your book instead.”

  I don’t wanna, a whiny voice said in her head. The chips beckoned temptingly, causing Fenella to flee the kitchen. She threw on the nearest pair of shoes and headed for the door with her keys and her mobile phone in her hand. She pulled the door open in Shelly’s face.

  “I was going to knock,” Shelly said. “I do appreciate you saving me the trouble, though.”

  “I need a walk,” Fenella said. “Before I start eating out of boredom.”

  “That’s serendipitous,” Shelly said. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “I’m not sure about this working from home thing,” Fenella said after they’d exited the building and were walking along the promenade. “I’m going to gain a hundred pounds if I don’t start getting out more.”

  “You need to plan your day as if you were working in an office,” Shelly told her. “Give yourself set break and lunch times and force yourself to sit at your desk otherwise. And don’t eat at your desk.”

  “That sounds too much like work,” Fenella laughed.

  “At least you have something you are supposed to be doing,” Shelly told her. “I took early retirement. My days are endless stretches of doing nothing at all, which sounded lovely and wonderful when I was dealing with small schoolchildren all day, but turns out to a bit dull when it’s your reality.”

  “You need to find a hobby,” Fenella said.

  “Like what?” Shelly asked.

  “Knitting? Sewing? I’d suggest baking or cooking, but you don’t want to eat more, do you?”

  “No, that’s part of the problem,” Shelly said. “When I get truly bored, I start baking puddings and sweets, and then once they’re done, I eat them. I have been known to share a serving or two with Peter, but mostly I eat them all myself.”

  “Isn’t there anything you’ve always wanted to do, but you never had the opportunity? Now’s the time to try to learn to play the piano or write a book,” Fenella said encouragingly.

  “There was a time when I wanted to learn to play the piano,” Shelly said. “But I don’t think I want to do it badly enough to stick with it. If it was just lessons once a week, maybe, but I understand you’re expected to practice in between.”

  “Yes, I believe so,” Fenella said with a laugh.

  “Writing a book could be fun,” Shelly mused. “But what would I write about?”

  “What do you like to read?”

  “Oh, well, mostly romances, really,” Shelly told her, blushing. “I know they aren’t exactly classic literature, but they make me happy.”

  “Good for you,” Fenella said. “I don’t understand why people are such snobs about books. If you enjoy romances, read them. I don’t want Thanksgiving dinner every day. Some days I want a ham sandwich and a dozen chocolate chip cookies. And some days I want to read Jane Austen, and other days I want to read Agatha Christie, or maybe some author that no one has ever heard of who writes fun books that make me smile. So write a romance.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” Shelly said. “I met my husband at nineteen. He was my first real boyfriend and we were married forever. I don’t really know anything about romance.”

  “But if you read a lot of romance novels, you must know how they’re structured,” Fenella argued. “You should at least give it a try.”

  “Maybe,” Shelly said. “Maybe I’ll write romances for older women, where the main characters are suddenly left on their own at sixty-something and manage to find exciting new partners.”

  “If that makes you happy, go for it. Even if you never get them published, you can have fun writing them. And maybe they’ll keep you out of your kitchen.”

  Shelly laughed. “That would be at least one objective covered,” she said.

  “And in today’s ever-changing book publishing world, you can always get your own editor and cover designer and publish the books yourself, if you get that far,” Fenella told her. “A friend of mine from high school started doing that a few years ago and she’s make quite a lot of money from her writing.”

  “What sort of books does she write?”

  “Um, erotica,” Fenella told her.

  Shelly laughed so loudly that a group of people walking on the beach stopped to stare at her. “Sorry,” she said when she’d finally stopped. “But that’s definitely outside of my capabilities. I’m not sure I’ll be able to write about people kissing without blushing and feeling embarrassed. I couldn’t possibly write about anything more, er, intimate.”

  By the time they’d made their way to the end of the promenade and back home again, it was nearly time for dinner. “Want to bring Katie over and have dinner with me?” Shelly asked. “I can throw together some stew, if that sounds good.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” Fenella said. “What can I bring?”

  “Just yourself and Katie,” Shelly insisted. “You two can entertain Smokey while I cook.”

  Fenella and Katie had a lovely evening with their neighbors. Smokey chased Katie all around Shelly’s apartment until both animals were exhausted.

  “She’ll sleep well tonight,” Shelly remarked as Fenella picked up the kitten, who was lying on the floor staring out at the sea.

  “She’s having her little operation on Thursday,” Fenella
said. “So hopefully she’ll have a restful day tomorrow to get ready.”

  “Except she doesn’t know that she’s having it, so she won’t know to rest,” Shelly pointed out.

  “I do think she understands quite a lot,” Fenella said.

  “Merrreew,” Katie said softly.

  Shelly laughed. “Are you interested in the pub later?” she asked as she let Fenella and Katie out. “We could go down for a quick drink, if you want to, but not too late.”

  “I was going to skip it tonight,” Fenella told her. “I have a driving lesson in the morning. I want to be well-rested for that.”

  “Maybe you’ll get further than a few feet this time,” Shelly said encouragingly.

  “I’d better. Mel is meant to be borrowing an automatic car for me to try. That should be much easier to deal with.”

  “I’ll look forward to hearing all about it,” Shelly said.

  “We’ll see,” Fenella muttered. She let herself into her apartment and put Katie down on the floor. The kitten headed straight into the kitchen, where she lapped up some water. A moment later, she walked past Fenella, heading for the bedroom.

  “Having an early night?” Fenella asked her as she switched on the television. Katie tilted her head and looked at her for a moment and then changed direction. She was snuggled into Fenella’s lap before Fenella managed to find anything to watch. An hour later, Katie was fast asleep and Fenella was yawning every five minutes.

  “Now it’s time for bed,” she announced, picking up her sleeping pet. She carried Katie, seemingly still asleep, into the bedroom and put her down on the left side of the bed. When she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth, she walked back into the bedroom and found Katie in her usual place, the exact center of the bed. The kitten’s eyes were shut tightly and she looked to be in the same position she’d been in when she’d been put on the bed. Shaking her head, Fenella climbed into bed carefully and switched off the light. Her sleep was restless, her brain unable to stop reminding her how much she was dreading her driving lesson the next day.