“And even though they were business partners, they didn’t get along?”
“Whenever I rang the office when Alan wasn’t there, the secretary would put me through to Mark. He always complained bitterly about Alan, but that might just have been to put me off, I suppose.” Shelly shrugged. “The last time I spoke to Mark, he more or less told me that Alan was involved in something criminal. Mark said he was terminating their partnership and moving back to Glasgow.”
“Interesting,” Fenella murmured.
“I think it was one of his women friends that killed him, though,” Shelly said. “Or his ex-wife,” she added as if the idea had just occurred to her.
“His ex-wife?” Fenella echoed.
“Her name is Mandy, but that’s about all I can tell you. She and Alan split up about a year ago, but he was still complaining about her when I first started working with him on the sale of my house six months ago.”
“Did they have any children?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” Shelly said. “They were only married for about a year, I think. That was one of the things that Alan complained about. Mandy wanted far more money than Alan thought she deserved after such a short marriage.”
Fenella shook her head. “I don’t envy the police their job,” she said.
“No, I don’t either,” Shelly agreed. “Especially not when they have to interview Suzy.”
“Suzy?” Fenella made it a question.
They were nearly back at their building. Shelly slowed her pace and lowered her voice. “She works in the management office of our building,” she told Fenella. “Suzy Monroe is one of the nastiest women I’ve had the misfortune to meet. They keep her in the back, so no one meets her until after they’ve bought their flat, but if you ever have a problem and need to speak to someone down there, you’ll probably get Suzy.”
“Oh, dear. I hope I never need anything.”
Shelly smiled. “She’s had a difficult life, as I understand it. She was married to a man who was physically abusive. The divorce was ugly and I gather she ended up more or less penniless. That’s when she moved to the island and got the job in the building.”
“The poor woman,” Fenella remarked.
“I know. I keep telling myself that whenever I have to talk to her, but it isn’t easy. She takes her unhappiness out on everyone she meets and after a very short while it’s hard to feel sympathetic any longer.”
“And she was dating Alan?”
“As I understand it, yes,” Shelly said. “I think they started seeing each other fairly recently. I can’t imagine why.”
“This was fun,” Fenella said after they’d crossed back over the road. “We should try to walk together again some time.”
“I walk every day around ten,” Shelly told her. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”
“I might just do that. I need the exercise and I need the human interaction. Otherwise I might start talking to the furniture in my ap, flat.” Or ghosts, she added to herself.
“Excellent,” Shelly said brightly. “I’ll see you soon.”
Fenella watched as the woman turned and swept back out of the building. Feeling a bit lonely, she made her way toward the elevators. She’d need to go back out and get some more soft drinks before the inspector arrived, but for the moment she felt as if she needed to sit down for a short while.
“Pardon me, aren’t you Mona’s niece?” The voice startled Fenella.
“Oh, yes, I am,” she told the pretty brunette who had seemingly just appeared at her elbow.
“I’m Suzy Monroe,” the woman introduced herself. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you.”
Fenella swallowed hard and then smiled. “Sure,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
Suzy nodded and then turned and began to walk briskly through the lobby of the building. “Follow me,” she called over her shoulder.
Fenella did her best to keep up, but the younger woman easily outpaced her, even though Suzy was wearing a tight black dress and four-inch stilettos. She finally stopped in front of a door marked “Management Offices” and waited for Fenella to catch up.
Suzy held the door open for Fenella and then took her arm. “Right this way,” she said, leading Fenella into a small office that was about halfway down the corridor. “Have a seat,” the woman offered, gesturing toward the visitor’s chair.
Fenella sat down and glanced around the room. It was incredibly impersonal. The desk was metal and held a computer and a phone and nothing else. The walls were bare, and besides the visitor’s chair there was nothing else in the room aside from the chair behind the desk that Suzy now slid into.
“You don’t look like your aunt,” Suzy said, her voice almost accusatory.
Fenella shrugged. “I’ve always been told I look more like my father,” she said, studying the woman.
Suzy had bleached blonde hair and green eyes. Her figure was showcased by the tiny black dress that seemed to hug Suzy’s generous curves. The curves seemed out of keeping with Suzy’s slender figure, but perhaps they’d been given some outside help.
“I’m upset about Alan,” Suzy told Fenella.
“I’m sorry,” Fenella said, not knowing what else to say.
“Did he say anything to you when you found him?”
“No,” Fenella said. “I’m pretty sure he was already, um, gone by then.”
Suzy nodded. “Are you going to be staying here for long?”
Fenella took a moment to adjust to the change of subject. “My plan is to stay here for good,” she told the woman.
Suzy frowned. “I was hoping you might want to sell your flat,” she said.
“I’m not interested in selling, at least not at the moment.”
“I see. Well, thank you for your time.” Suzy stood up and held out a hand.
Fenella got to her feet and shook hands with the woman, feeling a bit dazed by the sudden conclusion of the meeting.
“I’m sure you can find your own way back out,” Suzy said.
As Fenella walked to the door, Suzy sat down and picked up her telephone. By the time Fenella was back out in the corridor, Suzy was already talking to someone.
“Mark, it’s Suzy,” Fenella heard. “I got your message and I’m not impressed. Threaten someone else if that’s how you get your thrills, but leave me alone. Remember, I know where the bodies are buried.”
Fenella wanted to stay and listen to more, but someone else was standing in the corridor, clearly waiting to see Suzy.
“She’s on the phone,” Fenella told the man in the hallway before she headed to the exit. She could feel the man’s eyes on her as she walked as quickly as she could back to the building’s lobby.
In her apartment, Fenella fixed herself a light lunch and ate it in front of the television. She flipped through the channels, watching little bits of everything from news to soaps, feeling as if she was trying to soak up as much British culture as she could. There was no sign of Mona, so when she’d finished her lunch she decided to walk over to the nearest grocery store and get some soft drinks and whatever else looked good.
While she knew it was faster, she decided to walk to the store the long way around, avoiding the alley behind her building. There was probably police tape blocking the way, anyway, she told herself, not wanting to admit that she simply didn’t feel brave enough to venture back past where she’d found Alan Collins. The store was relatively quiet, at least compared to what she was used to in the US, and she made her selections quickly, opting to buy only a few cans of soda rather than a larger pack to make carrying it all home easier.
You’re going to have to try driving, she told herself as she turned for home. You can’t keep buying little bits of food at a time. If you drive to the store, you can get everything you need for a week or more at once.
As she walked along the sidewalk, she watched the drivers going past. They all seemed happy enough with their seats on the wrong side of the car, driving along
the wrong side of the road. Perhaps it wouldn’t take that much getting used to, if she gave it a try. She stopped at a corner and then started to cross the road. Brakes squealed as a car she hadn’t noticed came to a sudden stop inches from her. She’d looked the wrong way before she’d stepped off the curb. Maybe she wasn’t ready to try driving just yet.
Back in her apartment, Fenellla put the shopping away and then curled up with a book. At five-thirty she decided she probably should put a little bit of effort into her appearance. Changing into a skirt from Mona’s wardrobe and a light jumper of her own made her feel nervous about the evening ahead.
“It’s not a date,” she told her reflection as she combed her hair and touched up her makeup. “The man is coming to question you about a murder.”
Her reflection gave her a nervous smile. Fenella sighed and then wondered exactly where Aunty Mona had disappeared to and when she might suddenly reappear. The knock on the door came before she had an answer.
Chapter Five
“Hello,” Inspector Robinson said with a bright smile when Fenella opened the door.
Fenella smiled back and then inhaled the delicious smells of garlic and tomato. “That smells wonderful,” she said as the man carried the large pizza box into the apartment.
“I got it from my favorite place,” he told her. “I forgot to ask you what you liked on it, so I just got cheese.”
“Cheese is good,” Fenella told him. “Sometimes, when I want to kid myself that I’m being healthy, I’ll add a few vegetables.”
The inspector laughed. “I usually eat some salad first, when I want to be healthy,” he told her. “But I didn’t get any this time.”
“So we’ll both have to be healthy tomorrow,” Fenella concluded. “For tonight, we can just enjoy.”
She pulled two plates out of the cupboard and then found some glasses before she offered drinks. Her guest put the pizza box on the small kitchen table and then sat down while she served the drinks and handed him a plate.
“Did you want flatware?” she asked, suddenly thinking of it after she’d just sat down.
“No, don’t bother,” he said. “I’m happy to use my hands.”
The pizza was delicious, with a crispy thin crust and tangy sauce with lots of garlic and herbs. Fenella felt as if she could have eaten the entire thing herself, but half was enough to satisfy her. They talked about the weather and current events in American politics while they ate. Fenella found herself laughing and enjoying herself as the pizza steadily disappeared.
“That was wonderful,” she said as she pushed her empty plate toward the center of the table.
“They do excellent meals as well,” the inspector told her. “And they’re only a short distance away from you.”
“I’ll have to give them a try again soon,” Fenella said.
“Let me help with the washing-up,” he said as she stood up to clear away the dirty dishes.
“I’m just going to put everything in the dishwasher,” she replied. “I bought some ice cream today. Would you like a scoop or two?”
“Just one small scoop, maybe,” he said. “Pizza is pretty indulgent. I have to stay fit enough to chase after the bad guys.”
Fenella laughed. “Vanilla or mint chocolate chip?” she asked.
The inspector frowned. “They both sound good,” he admitted.
“So a small scoop of each,” she suggested.
He nodded with a rueful grin. Fenella did the same for herself and then carried the two bowls to the table.
“Your view is stunning,” he remarked as he ate.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at it,” Fenella told her. “I keep curling up with a good book and then finding myself staring at the sea instead of reading.”
“I can believe it. I’d love to live this close to the water.”
“Where do you live?”
“Oh, I have a house on the outskirts of Douglas,” he said vaguely. “Of course nothing is far from the sea, is it? But I can’t actually see the water from my windows like you can.”
“I guess I’m lucky Aunty Mona had such good taste in apartments,” Fenella laughed.
“I just wish I had an Aunty Mona.”
“Everyone should have one,” Fenella agreed.
The man nodded. He finished his ice cream and then gave her a serious look. “This has been really nice, but I do have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
“What if I do mind?” Fenella couldn’t help but ask.
The inspector frowned. “I suppose I could send someone else to ask, if you’re objecting to talking to me, but in a murder investigation, it’s important that we get answers. Someone killed Alan Collins and it’s my job to find that person and put him or her behind bars before someone else gets hurt.”
Fenella shook her head. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I was just teasing, really. I’m happy to answer your questions, any time. You don’t even have to bring pizza.”
He laughed. “That was as much for my benefit as yours,” he told her. “I was afraid if I stopped to talk to you before I ate, I’d be too hungry to concentrate on your answers.”
Fenella smiled. So that was why he’d brought the pizza. It wasn’t a date; he was just hungry. “Ask away,” she said. “Should we move into the other room?”
“Sure,” he replied.
Fenella got up and added the ice cream bowls and spoons to the dishwasher before crossing into the large living room. She sat on the couch and the inspector took a seat in the chair next to her.
“This won’t take long,” he said as he pulled out his notebook. “Really, I want you to take me back through your finding the body. Just retell the whole thing, slowly.”
Fenella frowned and then sat back on the couch. She closed her eyes and cast her mind back to the rainy alley. “I’d just been to the grocery store,” she began. The inspector didn’t say anything as she recounted the story. When she was finished, Fenella opened her eyes and looked at the man. When their eyes met, she felt a rush of something she didn’t want to analyze.
“Thank you,” he said softly. He closed his notebook and sat back in his chair. Fenella watched him for a moment as he stared out at the sea.
“Was that it?” she asked eventually.
“Unless you have anything else to add, that’s it,” he replied.
“Oh, okay,” Fenella muttered, feeling as if she’d missed something.
After several minutes, the inspector looked at her and sighed. “Watching the sea calms me,” he told her. “But I suppose if I stay any longer, you’ll have to start charging me rent.”
He got to his feet and held out a hand. Fenella stood up and took the hand, ignoring the little spark that she felt when their hands met.
“Thank you for your time,” he said, suddenly quite formal.
“I’m always happy to answer any questions you may have,” Fenella said. “And as you could no doubt tell, I love pizza.”
The man smiled. “We’ll have to do this again some time.”
Fenella nodded and then followed him to the door. He hesitated as she pulled the door open.
“Thank you again,” he repeated himself.
“You’re welcome, I’m sure,” Fenella said. “And thank you for the pizza.”
The inspector nodded and then turned and quickly walked out the door and down the corridor. Fenella waited until he’d reached the bank of elevators to close the door.
“Well, that was interesting,” Mona said from behind her.
“Interesting?” Fenella asked. “It was awkward and uncomfortable. I don’t know about interesting.”
“The poor man is obviously attracted to you,” Mona said. “He probably can’t do anything about it, though, because you’re a suspect in the murder he’s investigating.”
“I’m a suspect? How could I possibly be a suspect? I didn’t even know the dead man.”
“I’m sure everyone on the island is a suspect, on some level o
r another,” Mona said, waving a hand. “You mustn’t take it personally.”
Fenella opened her mouth to reply, but a knock on the door interrupted. She spun around and swung the door open, not even bothering with the useless peephole.
“Ah, um, good evening,” the woman on the other side of the door said hesitantly. “I’m Mandy Collins. I was wondering if I might have a quick word with you?”
Fenella stared at the woman. She didn’t look thirty yet, but she looked tired and as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and the dark circles under her eyes suggested she hadn’t slept much lately. She was almost painfully thin and her inexpensive clothes seemed to hang off of her, emphasizing her gauntness. “Please come in,” Fenella said after an awkward pause.
“Thank you. I won’t stay long,” the woman murmured.
Fenella led her guest into the living room. “Please have a seat,” she said.
The woman dropped into the first chair and stared straight ahead. “It all looks so beautiful from up here,” she said softly.
“Yes, I love my view,” Fenella replied. “But can I get you a drink? Tea or coffee, maybe?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. I just wanted, that is, I had to, I haven’t, oh, goodness.” She stopped and stared down at her hands. Fenella watched as two fat tears slid down the woman’s cheeks.
For a moment Fenella couldn’t think where to find a box of tissues, but she finally remembered that she’s seen one in the bathroom. She grabbed the box and then sat down next to Mandy and offered her a tissue.
“Thanks,” her guest muttered as she wiped away her tears. “I wasn’t going to cry,” she added. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Fenella said, not knowing what else to say.
The girl gave a bitter laugh. “My loss? We were divorced. I’m not really entitled to feel like I’ve lost anything.”
“A piece of paper can’t change your feelings,” Fenella countered. “Just because you get a divorce doesn’t mean you stop caring.”
Arrivals and Arrests Page 7
