“I still love you, Maggie,” Jack said.
“And I still care about you,” Fenella replied. “But you need to move on with your life. I’m already moving on with mine.”
“Have you been dating other men?” Jack demanded.
“I had dinner with a neighbor,” Fenella said. “But it was just friendly, not romantic.”
“You sound disappointed,” Jack said accusatorily. “We were together for a long time. You could at least wait a few weeks before you start dating other men.”
“I’m hanging up now,” Fenella said. “I’m going out to do some shopping. Have a wonderful life.”
“Don’t go,” Jack replied. “I miss you.”
“I’m sorry,” Fenella replied. She hung up the phone before he could say anything further.
“I’m a horrible person,” she muttered to herself.
“You’re better off without him,” Mona said. “I can’t imagine why you stayed with him as long as you did.”
“It was comfortable,” Fenella replied. “And inertia is a powerful force.”
Mona shook her head. “I never stayed with a man after he’d outlived his usefulness,” she said. “We’re going to have to talk about men sometime.”
“I’m going out,” Fenella told her. “What are you going to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mona said. “Maybe I’ll finally get around to changing my looks. I keep thinking about it, but then, there is something to be said for being nineteen again. No wrinkles, nothing jiggles, my skin is luminous and clear.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s only luminous because I’m a ghost, though.”
Fenella squashed the questions that rushed into her head. Her aunt was probably teasing her again and she didn’t want to be told once more about how gullible she was. “I’ll see you later,” she told the ghost, wondering for a moment if she’d lost her mind.
In the elevator on the way down, she tried to figure out what she wanted to do with herself. The Manx Museum sounded interesting, but she felt like she was probably too restless to enjoy a museum at the moment. Having already explored the promenade and the shopping district, Fenella simply chose a direction and began to walk. Within a few hundred yards, the road she was following began to rise and she found herself climbing a fairly steep hill.
The neighborhood was residential and Fenella studied row after row of Victorian terraced houses that reminded her of the office building she’d visited that morning. After a while she found herself in a newer neighborhood, filled with small duplexes that looked like they’d been built in the nineteen-thirties or forties. Most of them were very well maintained, and some appeared to have been extensively modernized over the years. One or two were in a more neglected state and Fenella noted that a couple of the worst properties had “For Sale” signs on their front lawns.
After a while, she turned and began a slow meander back down the hill toward the sea. Choosing to follow a different road, she soon found herself walking through a street filled with modern office buildings. She read off the names of the various businesses, although most gave her no clue as to what was being done inside their doors.
“RTS Investments, Limited; The George Parker Trust; Cameo Enterprises; Dovecot Properties,” she read the names on one of the small and fairly discreet signs by the side of the road. For a moment she felt tempted to just go up and walk into any one of those offices and ask them what they actually did, but she resisted. Just because she was feeling restless and out of sorts, didn’t mean she had to start annoying people.
At the corner she stopped and turned back toward her own building. It was getting late and she was starting to feel hungry. As she walked across the lobby of her building, she heard her name being called.
“Ms. Woods? A moment of your time, please?”
Fenella stopped and forced herself to smile at Suzy Monroe as the other woman strode across the lobby toward her.
“Hello,” she said when the woman reached her side.
Suzy frowned at her. “I just heard that you found another body today,” she hissed. “Alan’s partner, Mark, was murdered in his office. Is that correct?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Fenella said, taking a step backwards. “I’m sure the police will have made some sort of statement.”
“But you were there,” Suzy said, grabbing Fenella’s arm. “You have to tell me what happened. Did someone really kill Mark, too?”
“As I said, you’ll have to talk to the police,” Fenella told her. “I haven’t any idea what happened.”
“The radio said there was a lot of blood,” Suzy said, seeming as if she hadn’t heard what Fenella had said. “It sounded quite awful.”
“I’m sure it was,” another voice broke in smoothly. “And I think Ms. Woods has been traumatized quite enough without you grilling her.”
Fenella looked over at the new arrival, curious to see who was leaping to her defense. The well-dressed man was a stranger. An expert had cut his grey hair, and his matching grey eyes looked out from behind glasses that gave him a distinguished air. Fenella knew more than she wanted to about men’s suits, having chosen Jack’s for him for many years, so she instantly recognized the custom-made and tailored suit, cut from expensive fabric.
“Donald? But what brings you here?” Suzy asked, sneering at the man.
“I came to have a word with the island’s newest resident,” the man said, nodding at Fenella.
“Really? Well, you’re wasting your time there,” Suzy snapped. “She won’t tell you anything about finding the bodies either. She’s most uncooperative.”
Fenella opened her mouth to object, but the man caught her eye and winked at her. “I simply wanted to introduce myself,” he told Suzy. “I’m quite happy to leave all of the questions about the dead men to the police. You’d do well to do the same.”
Suzy flushed and then shrugged. “Whatever,” she said. She turned on her incredibly high heel and then stomped away. Fenella watched her until she’d disappeared behind the door to the management offices. The man beside her made her nervous and she wasn’t feeling eager to speak with him.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said as across the room, the door swung shut behind Suzy. “There’s a lovely and very quiet pub right next door. I think, after the day you’ve had, that you deserve a drink, don’t you?”
Fenella hesitated for a moment and then nodded. The man, whoever he was, was quite right. She did deserve a drink.
Their eyes met and Fenella felt herself blushing as he offered his arm. “Shall we?”
She took the offered arm hesitantly, which made the man smile at her. He reached over with his other hand and pulled her arm more securely into his. “That’s better,” he murmured. As Fenella wondered what she was getting herself into, he led her back out of the building and into the hotel next door. Right off of the hotel’s lobby was a small and dark bar and the man led Fenella to a table at the very back of the room.
“Ah, Mr. Donaldson, this is a pleasure,” the waitress who had rushed over as soon as they’d appeared in the doorway said. “What can I get for you?”
“What would you like?” the man asked Fenella.
“A glass of dry white wine,” Fenella responded, falling back on her standard drink order.
“Make it two,” the man told the waitress.
“If you’re going to have a second round, a bottle would probably be cheaper,” the girl said. She blushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “I mean, I didn’t, that is, I’ll get your drinks.”
The man held up a hand. “No, you’re right,” he said. “You may as well bring a bottle. But that means I’ll need to see the wine list.”
The girl nodded and rushed away. She was back only a few moments later with a fancy leather folder. As Fenella watched, the man studied the list and then shrugged.
“Do you have a favorite?” he asked Fenella, offering her the list.
“It’s all the same to me,” she replied honestly.
“I know nothing about wine.”
The man nodded and then ordered a bottle of something that sounded expensive to Fenella. As she was only planning on having a single glass, she supposed it didn’t really matter.
“Now, having dragged you out of your building and talked you into a bottle of wine, I suppose I ought to at least introduce myself,” the man said.
He smiled at Fenella and she found herself staring into eyes that looked warm and friendly. Could someone fake that, she wondered as she waited for him to continue.
“I’m Donald Donaldson,” he said after a moment. “And yes, I’ve always regretted my mother’s lack of imagination.”
Fenella chuckled. “Did you ever ask her why?” she asked.
The man shrugged. “I was named after my father, who was also Donald Donaldson,” he told her. “But you must call me Donald. I’m afraid I never have liked any of the conventional nicknames for Donald.”
“You already know who I am,” Fenella said. “Please call me Fenella.”
“No nickname?” he asked.
The bottle of wine arrived to interrupt the conversation. While the tasting ritual was carried out, Fenella studied her companion. He was almost too good-looking, and there was no doubt in her mind that he knew how attractive he was. His watch looked as if it must have cost as much as a small car and when he moved his arm to sip the wine, she spotted gold cufflinks. She’d never actually seen anyone wearing cufflinks before.
“So, you don’t have any nicknames?” Donald asked again after she’d had her first sip of wine.
“Back home I always went by ‘Margaret,’” she explained. “Some close friends called me Maggie, but I never really liked it.”
“And now you’re going by ‘Fenella’ instead?”
“It just seemed like over here people might know how to pronounce it,” she explained. “It doesn’t seem like it should be that difficult, but in the US everyone seemed to get it wrong.”
Donald nodded. “It certainly isn’t a common name there, is it? Still, as you say, it shouldn’t be that difficult. It’s pretty much pronounced the way it looks.”
“Exactly. But in answer to your question, I’ve never thought about a nickname for Fenella. I’m still getting used to using it.”
“I had a cousin called Fenella, and she went by ‘Fen’ most of the time,” Donald offered. “Maybe you could try that.”
Fenella shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m the nickname type,” she said.
Donald laughed. “And I don’t know why I’m pestering you about it. I think I’m just trying to avoid talking about murder.”
“As I’d rather not talk about it, either, I’m not complaining,” Fenella said.
“Alan and Mark were business associates of mine,” Donald told her. “It’s quite worrying to hear that they were both murdered within days of one another.”
“I should imagine it would be. And I’m sorry for your loss.”
Donald nodded and topped up both of their wine glasses. “Thank you. Neither of them was a particular friend, but we worked well together. I know both men had reputations for finding ways to work around the rules, but I never had any difficulties with them. They understood my position, both legally and ethically, and they never tested my limits.”
Fenella wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she smiled and took another sip of wine. Whatever he’d ordered, it was delicious. Crisp and smooth, it went down far too easily, she thought.
“And you found both bodies,” Donald added thoughtfully.
“And neither of them said anything to me,” Fenella blurted out.
“Said anything? I thought both men were dead when you found them?” he questioned.
“They were,” Fenella replied. “But everyone I speak to seems to think that I found Mr. Collins in time to hear his last words.”
“That never crossed my mind,” Donald told her. “I was more curious as to how you’ve managed to find yourself in the middle of all of this. I assume you didn’t know either man before they died?”
“No, although I’d met Mr. Collins and I’d spoken to Mr. Potter,” Fenella said.
“Really? I’d love to hear more, if you don’t mind talking about it.”
“Mr. Collins knocked on my door and asked me to list my apartment with him. I told him I wasn’t interested in selling and sent him on his way. That was a few hours before I found his body,” Fenella said.
“Hmm,” Donald replied. “I wonder why he thought you’d be interested in selling?”
Fenella shrugged. “I haven’t any idea,” she said.
“And when did you speak to Mark Potter?” Donald asked.
“He called me today and asked me to come and see him,” Fenella explained. “I don’t know what he wanted, but I agreed to walk over to his office. By the time I got there, well, you know.”
Donald patted her hand and then topped up her drink again. “It seems a very unfortunate string of events since you’ve arrived,” he said. “Things can only get better, I suppose.”
“I certainly hope so,” Fenella said quickly.
The man chuckled. “Of course they will,” he said in a soothing voice. “We so rarely have murders on the island that everyone is talking about poor Alan and Mark. But I’ve no doubt Inspector Robinson will have someone behind bars in no time and you’ll be able to settle in and enjoy your new home.”
“What I’ve seen of the island so far has impressed me,” Fenella told him. “But I do feel as if I haven’t seen much at all.”
“We must remedy that,” Donald said. “How about some sightseeing on Saturday? I’m afraid I have to work tomorrow, but Saturday I could collect you at nine and we could head down to Castletown. We could go around Castle Rushen. It’s one of the finest medieval castles in Britain.”
Fenella hesitated for a moment and then sighed. She really wanted to see Castle Rushen, but something about the man made her nervous. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Inspector Robinson said something about having more questions for me.”
“Oh, you mustn’t worry about him,” Donald said. “He can talk to you anytime. If you’d rather not spend the day with me, that’s a different thing.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I find you fascinating and I’d love to show you the island that has been my home for the last fifty years. I’ve been told that I sometimes come on too strong when I see something I want. If I’m pushing you too hard, just say so.”
Fenella blushed and looked down at the table. “I just ended a very long-term relationship,” she explained. “I’m not really ready to start dating again.”
“So we’ll just be friends,” Donald told her. “And as a friend, I’d love to show you Castle Rushen. Are you free on Saturday?”
“Yes,” Fenella said impulsively. She might live to regret it, but for tonight, after half a bottle of wine, she was willing to agree.
“Excellent,” Donald said with a smile.
Chapter Seven
The rest of the evening flew past as the pair chatted about nothing much. After the wine and some light pub food were gone, Donald walked Fenella back to her apartment.
“I won’t ask to come in,” he said in the doorway. “I’m determined not to rush you and spoil everything.”
Fenella nodded. “Thank you for the wine and dinner. I think it was just what I needed after my rather horrible day.”
“You’re very welcome,” he replied. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. “I’ll collect you here at nine on Saturday,” he said. “Plan on being out for the whole day. There’s so much I want to show you.”
He turned and walked back down the corridor as Fenella murmured her agreement. She sighed as he boarded the elevator. After she’d locked the door behind him, she walked into her living room and stared out at the sea. The tide was out and the beach looked almost endless. Fenella watched a young couple walking along the sand, hand in hand. She sighed again.
“Oh, do stop sighing all the time,” Mona said.
Fenella jumped and then looked over at her aunt. “Maybe you could try coughing or something so I know you’re here,” she suggested.
Mona laughed. “What fun would that be?” she questioned.
Fenella looked at her again. “You look different,” she said. She hadn’t turned on any lights when she’d come in, relying on the ambient light that came in through the large windows that faced the sea, but now she switched on the closest lamp and stared at her relative.
“I know, I look older,” Mona said. “I thought I’d try twenty-seven as a good random choice. What do you think?”
“It suits you better than nineteen did,” Fenella said. “Or maybe you just look more like I remember you.”
Mona nodded. “I feel more comfortable now,” she said. “My late twenties were happy years for me.”
“Mine were, well, not my favorite years,” Fenella said.
“You’ll have to tell me about them one day,” Mona said. “When we’ve run out of other things to discuss. For now, though, watch out for Donald Donaldson.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, be very careful of the man,” Mona said.
“You know him? Or knew him?” Fenella asked.
“I knew his father very well,” Mona replied. “And he couldn’t be trusted. I doubt the apple has fallen far from the tree.”
“He seems very nice,” Fenella argued. “He’s offered to take me to Castle Rushen on Saturday.”
“You’ll be fine as long as you don’t trust him,” Mona said.
“I don’t trust anyone at the moment,” Fenella replied.
Mona nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Donald murdered anyone. He may even be trustworthy when it comes to his business dealings, I don’t know. I just wouldn’t trust him on a personal level. His father cheated on every woman he ever spent time with.”
“Including you?”
Mona shrugged. “I went out with a number of men over the years. The older Donald wasn’t really any worse than most of the men I knew.”
“Apparently you had quite a reputation on the island,” Fenella said slowly.
Arrivals and Arrests (An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Book 1) Page 10
