Cars and Cold Cases

by Diana Xarissa

  “She doesn’t have an alibi and she had plenty of motive, I’m sure of it,” Mona said. “Christopher was probably threatening to leave her or something. I’m sure he had another woman.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh, anyone,” Mona said. “What difference does it make?”

  “Maybe he was killed by a jealous husband,” Fenella suggested.

  “I doubt it. Their little group always had a rather flexible approach to marriage and monogamy.”

  “What if he was seeing someone from outside the group?”

  “Again, I doubt it. They all socialized together all the time. I don’t know where he would have met anyone else. He wasn’t the type to start an affair with one of their cleaners or someone he’d met casually.”

  Fenella was quiet as she made a list of names. “So, here’s the list so far,” she said. “Sophia, Carl, Herman, Douglas and Roger. Am I missing anyone?”

  “Jennifer should be on the list,” Mona said. “She and Herman were already a couple when Christopher died.”

  “Were they?”

  “Yes, although I believe they’d only just started seeing one another. At the time I thought Jennifer was just another distraction, as I was sure Herman was having an affair with Sophia, but he married Jennifer, so she must have been more than that.”

  “I think he cheats on her, though.”

  “Yes, he probably does. I wonder if she cheats?”

  “Who would she cheat with?”

  “Carl? Douglas? It’s hard to say,” Mona replied. “Or maybe they all slept together back in the day and now they all look for their diversions with people outside their circle.”

  “That would fit with Herman flirting with me,” Fenella said.

  “From the way you described it, I don’t think he was flirting so much as propositioning you,” Mona told her. “But Herman never was very subtle.”

  Fenella finished her breakfast and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. It was getting full, so she added some soap and set it running.

  “I’m going to go into town and do some shopping,” she said to Mona. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere with the case, and I do need food for tonight, just in case Peter does come over.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “He must have known I was just trying to help him get away from Anne,” Fenella explained. “The more I think about it, the less likely it seems that he’ll come over for dinner.”

  “After that kiss? He’ll be here,” Mona predicted. “And you’ll want to make something that will impress him.”

  “Like what?”

  Mona thought for a moment and then gave Fenella a number of suggestions. Some of the ideas were for things that Fenella could easily buy already prepared to go into the oven. Some were more complicated. Fenella found another sheet of paper and made herself a shopping list.

  “I think chicken Kiev with mashed potatoes and vegetables sounds good,” she told Mona. “If I really can get everything already prepared and just needing to be heated, I’ll be in good shape if Peter comes over.”

  “I keep telling you, this isn’t like America. We don’t have frozen dinners; we have ready meals. All the work is done, but the food hasn’t been cooked yet. You put it in the oven or microwave and cook it yourself.”

  “I’ve tried a few things,” Fenella said. “But I wasn’t sure about the quality of any one brand over another.”

  Mona told her where to go to get what she wanted. “You can read the ingredients list yourself. There won’t be anything in there that you wouldn’t cook with yourself.”

  “Okay, I’m off to do the shopping,” Fenella said. “Wish me luck.”

  12

  It was still early, and Fenella almost felt as if she had the stores to herself. She started in the bookstore, finding a few new mysteries to fill her time with, before she wandered around the rest of the city center, looking in shop windows and studying the goods for sale. A pair of black shoes almost tempted her into one of the many shoes stores along the street, but she talked herself out of them without even trying them on. It was nearly noon when she headed for the large department store on one corner. Mona had assured her the food hall there would have everything she needed for the evening’s meal.

  “Fenella? What a surprise,” Daniel’s voice came from behind her.

  She turned around and smiled brightly at the man. “I do only live around the corner,” she pointed out to the man after she’d given him a quick hug. “But what brings you into town?”

  “I had a meeting at the promenade station this morning,” he explained. “I was just going to grab some lunch before I head back to the office. I’m only getting a sandwich. Would you like to join me?”

  “Sure,” Fenella said. She followed the man through the now busy streets to a small alley. He led her into a tiny sandwich shop that was packed with customers.

  “Their sandwiches are good and the service is quick,” Daniel told her. “Which suits me most days.”

  Fenella nodded and read down the menu. Her mouth was watering by the time she’d made up her mind. As the line of customers was long, she had plenty of time to consider her choices. Once the food was ordered, it only took the trio behind the counter a few minutes to put everything together. Fenella and Daniel were back out on the street with bags full of food a short time later.

  “Let’s go and eat on the promenade,” Daniel suggested. “I love to watch the water.”

  “I’m spoiled, having the view I have from my apartment,” Fenella said. “But it feels different when you’re actually sitting outside and hearing the waves.”

  They settled on a bench only a few steps away from the shops and dug into their lunches. Daniel was right; the sandwiches were delicious. Fenella was surprised to discover how hungry she was after her large breakfast. The meal seemed to disappear in no time.

  “I’m going to have to go there again soon,” she told Daniel.

  “You’re close by, at least,” he said. “I only get there when I have meetings down here. Did Anne say anything else about Kay or the case after I left?” he asked.

  “No, she complained about her drink being watered down, and then we all went back to the apartment building and Shelly dragged her away for a drink before she went off with Peter.”

  “Shelly dragged her off for a drink? I thought Shelly didn’t like her.”

  “She doesn’t. I think she was trying to discourage the woman or something, but Anne didn’t stay at Shelly’s for long.”

  “I’m sure Peter can look after himself,” Daniel said. “There’s no need for you and Shelly to get involved.”

  Fenella flushed and looked out at the sea. She felt stupidly guilty for having kissed Peter, even though she’d only done it to try to help him. Anyway, she and Daniel were just friends. It wasn’t like Daniel was her boyfriend or anything. She wasn’t even sure he was interested in her in a romantic way. Maybe he was just lonely. He probably didn’t have many friends on the island yet.

  “I’d better get back to work,” Daniel said with a sigh. “It was lovely seeing you, though.”

  “This was fun,” Fenella said, trying to sound offhand and not as if she was spending all of her spare time thinking about the man.

  “We should do it again, soon,” Daniel told her. He stared at her for a moment and then leaned over and kissed her very gently on the lips. “We should see each other more often,” he added before he got up and walked away, leaving Fenella staring after him.

  When she couldn’t see him anymore, she turned back to the sea, looking at it as if hoping it might be able to answer some of the questions that were racing through her head.

  “He’s a cop, you know,” a voice said.

  Fenella jumped and turned to stare at the man who’d dropped onto the bench next to her. “Wha, er, pardon?” she asked.

  “The man you just ate lunch with, he’s a cop,” the man repeated.

  “Oh, yes, I mean, I know,” Fenella said, fee
ling flustered. The man looked old to Fenella, maybe seventy or older, with stringy grey hair and puffy eyes that didn’t seem to want to focus on her. His clothes were old and worn, but they were clean, and Fenella could see places where seams had been repaired. He blinked at her for a minute and then nodded.

  “I thought you knew,” he said. “You look like a respectable woman, really. But as he’s new to the island, I wanted to make sure. You don’t sound like you’re a Manxie, either.”

  “I was born here, but I grew up in the US,” Fenella explained, trying to work out how to get away from the man.

  “Oh, aye. I was born here and I’ve never left, well, aside from a few stints in rehab across.” He glanced around and then leaned in closer to her. “It never works, rehab, but it fills the time,” he said in a loud whisper.

  “Yes, well, maybe you should try it again,” Fenella said. Up close she could smell alcohol on his breath, but she wasn’t sure if he’d already been drinking today or if it was simply left over from the previous evening.

  “I might just,” he told her. “It’s a safe place, anyway, while the police are poking around again. It’s not like I have anything to hide, but I know things that I shouldn’t, and sometimes it’s hard to remember which lie I told when.”

  Fenella frowned. “You shouldn’t lie to the police,” she said sternly.

  “Aye, but I had to, really,” the man said. “I couldn’t tell them the whole story. Too many people were involved, people that I didn’t want to hurt. It was all so much more complicated, or it seemed like it was. Sometimes I’m not even sure I remember what happened exactly.”

  “Maybe you should just tell the police the whole story and let them work it out,” Fenella said. She glanced around, just to make sure she wasn’t alone with the strange man. There were a handful of people walking along the promenade, which reassured her.

  “I probably should,” the man said thoughtfully. “I’ll have to ask Sophia what she thinks.”

  The familiar name stopped Fenella as she was starting to stand up. “Sophia?” she echoed.

  “Pardon?”

  “You said Sophia. Who did you mean?” Fenella asked.

  The man shook his head. “I can’t talk about Sophia,” he told her. “Otherwise she’ll cut me off.”

  “Cut you off?”

  “Shhhhh,” he hissed. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Who are you?” Fenella demanded.

  “Oh, I should have introduced myself, shouldn’t I? I am Roger Starr. I was going to be a star once, too. I thought I was going to make myself a fortune, but I just couldn’t stay away from gin. Gin ruined my life. Well, that and vodka. And rum.” He burst out laughing, causing several heads to turn toward him and Fenella.

  Feeling very much as if she’d rather be anywhere else but there, Fenella forced herself to smile at the man. “It’s nice to meet you,” she lied.

  “Oh, you mustn’t lie to me,” the man said, shaking his head. “You’re busy trying to find an excuse to walk away, but you’re too polite to just do it. I know no one really wants to talk to me. I’m just an old drunk who should have died a long time ago, really. I would have, if I didn’t have people looking after me.”

  He glanced up and down the promenade and then leaned in close to Fenella again. “They think I know something,” he said with a wink. “The real secret is that I don’t.” He laughed loudly again and then leaned back on the bench.

  “You should be careful,” Fenella said. “Maybe you should talk to the police.”

  “I did,” Roger said. “But the police never offered to keep my house cleaned and tidied and keep my cupboards full of food and drink. I’m better off with my friends, don’t you think?”

  “Who pays for all of that, then?” Fenella asked.

  Roger shrugged. “It’s all anonnymoose,” he said.

  “Anon…, oh, anonymous, I see.”

  “I told Sophia all those years ago that I saw something that night. Ever since then, I’ve been taken care of really well.” He looked around again. “I told her that I’d written down what I saw in an envelope and hidden it. If anything bad happens to me, the police will find it. That was smart, wasn’t it?”

  “You’re in terrible danger,” Fenella told him. “You really should tell the police what you saw.”

  “But that’s just it,” the man laughed. “I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t even there when Christopher died. Sophia must have mentioned what I said to the killer, though, and he or she has been looking after me ever since.”

  “Who do you think killed Christopher?” Fenella asked.

  Roger shrugged. “I don’t know. It had to be one of them, either Sophia or Carl or Herman, I suppose. Or maybe that bloke that hated Christopher in school. He came in the office one day and got into a screaming row with Christopher.”

  “Douglas Richards?”

  “Yeah, him. How did you know that?” he man asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “The whole case was in the local paper the other day,” Fenella told him. “The police are starting a new investigation into the murder.”

  “Yeah, that’s the problem. That’s why I was thinking maybe it’s time for me to try rehab again. I’d feel safer somewhere else, maybe.”

  “You should call Inspector Robinson and tell him everything you’ve told me,” Fenella urged him. “Why don’t I call him right now and you can talk to him today?”

  “The police? I’m not sure about talking to the police,” he said. “I’ve been avoiding them for thirty years.”

  “But they should know that you’re being looked after,” Fenella said. “Maybe they can work out who’s paying your bills. Maybe that person is the murderer.”

  “Aye, but if that person goes to prison, what will happen to me?”

  “Surely you want to see the killer behind bars?”

  “Maybe it was just an accident,” Roger said. “Anyway, it’s been interesting talking to you. I need to go.”

  He got up and shuffled away, glancing back a few times as if checking to make sure that Fenella wasn’t following him. As soon as he was out of sight, Fenella pulled out her phone and called Daniel.

  “How come you always seem to stumble into the middle of these things?” Daniel demanded when she’d finished talking.

  “I was just sitting on a bench watching the world go by,” Fenella protested. “I haven’t moved since you left.”

  “Which way did Roger go?”

  Fenella told him and could hear him giving instructions to someone else. After a moment, he was back with her. “Okay, we’re going to have him picked up and brought in for questioning. If he has been blackmailing Christopher’s killer for the last thirty years, we’ll probably keep him in protective custody for a few days as well.”

  “I tried to warn him,” Fenella said.

  Feeling as if the day had gone somehow out of control, she walked slowly back to the department store and found the things she needed for her dinner with Peter. “He probably isn’t even going to show up,” she muttered to herself as she slid her credit card into the payment terminal.

  “Pardon?” the sales clerk asked, snapping her gum.

  “Sorry, just talking to myself,” Fenella replied.

  “Right, well, thanks for shopping with us,” she answered in a bored voice.

  Fenella carried her shopping back to her apartment and put everything into the refrigerator. She still had a couple of hours to fill before she needed to worry about dinner. The time flew past quickly as she worked on her research. Some days she couldn’t get interested, but today she felt inspired as she took extensive notes on Anne’s early life. These notes would help fill the first several chapters of her book when she finally got around to writing it.

  At six she put the oven on to preheat, wondering if Peter was going to come over or not. When she slid all of the various dishes into the oven a few minutes later, she’d decided that she’d enjoy her feast, with or without her handsome neighbor. She’d
only just shut the oven when someone knocked on her door.

  “My dear, I wasn’t certain if the dinner invitation was genuine or not, but I decided to treat it as if it were,” Peter said with a small bow.

  Fenella smiled. “Of course it was genuine,” she said. “I’ve just put everything in the oven. I bought everything ready-made. I’m just hoping it tastes as good as it looked on the boxes.”

  Peter laughed. “I’m sure it will be delicious,” he said. “And if it isn’t, well, I know the wine is a good one.”

  He handed Fenella a bottle of wine as she stepped back to let him into the apartment.

  “I know nothing about wine,” she told him. “But the label is pretty. Come on into the kitchen and I’ll open this.”

  Katie wandered out of the bedroom and stared at Peter for a moment. “Merrew?” she said eventually.

  “Good evening, young Katie,” Peter said. “And how are you this fine evening?”

  “Meerow, meowww, meerrreeeeewwww,” Katie replied.

  “Really? I do believe the poor little thing is hungry,” Peter told Fenella.

  “The poor little thing just had her dinner about two minutes ago,” Fenella replied. “She’s just whining.”

  Peter laughed and sat down at the counter while Fenella pulled down wine glasses. As soon as he was comfortable, Katie jumped up into his lap.

  “Put her on the floor if you want to,” Fenella told him.

  “Oh, no, she’s fine,” he insisted. He poured the wine before he began to pet the little kitten.

  “I’m sorry to ask, but I have to know, did Anne try your bedroom door again last night?” Fenella asked after they’d chatted about the weather and local news.

  “She did,” Peter replied. “And when she found it was locked, she knocked and called my name.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I opened the door and asked her what she wanted.”

  Fenella blushed. “I shouldn’t be prying,” she said, almost afraid to hear what had happened next.

  “It’s fine,” Peter assured her. “Whatever she had planned, I’m sure she was disappointed. She told me she’d had a bad dream and couldn’t sleep, and I showed her how to work the telly remote so she could watch some telly until she got tired enough to go back to bed.”