Encounters and Enemies
An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy
Diana Xarissa
Text Copyright © 2017 Diana Xarissa
Cover Copyright © 2017 Linda Boulanger – Tell Tale Book Covers
All Rights Reserved
Created with Vellum
For Johnny, because he hasn’t had a book dedicated to him yet.
Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Acknowledgments
Friends and Frauds
By the Same Author
About the Author
Author’s Note
Welcome to book five in the Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Series. I hope everyone is enjoying spending time with Fenella, Mona, and their friends.
Because Fenella grew up in the US, this book is mostly written in American English. The setting is, however, the stunningly beautiful Isle of Man, a UK crown dependency in the Irish Sea.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The shops, restaurants, and businesses in this story are also fictional. The historical sites and other landmarks on the island are all real; however, the events that take place within them in this story are fictional.
My contact details are available in the back of the book. I love hearing from readers, so please don’t hesitate to get in touch.
1
“You look wonderful, “ Shelly said with a sigh as Fenella turned around slowly in front of her. “That’s the most gorgeous dress I think I’ve ever seen.”
“It is nice,” Fenella agreed, checking her appearance in the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall. “And it fits perfectly.”
“Everything in Mona’s wardrobe seems to fit you perfectly,” Shelly said. “I wish I had a wardrobe full of incredible dresses and gowns that all fit me as if they were made for me.”
“You should go through Mona’s things,” Fenella suggested. “I’m sure some of them would work for you.”
Shelly shook her head. “You’ve already given me one dress from Mona’s wardrobe. I can’t possibly take anything else.”
Fenella didn’t bother to argue. She’d have plenty of opportunities in the future to offer her deceased aunt’s clothes to her closest friend. She didn’t need to push the issue today. Not while she was trying to work out what to wear for an important evening out.
“That’s the one,” Shelly said firmly. “Don’t even bother trying on anything else.”
“You don’t think it’s too revealing?” Fenella asked, blushing slightly at the low-cut neckline.
“Not at all,” Shelly replied.
“Donald will love it,” Mona said from her seat on Fenella’s bed.
Fenella looked over at her aunt and frowned. “I don’t want to give Donald the wrong idea,” she said hesitantly.
“Oh, he already has the wrong idea,” Mona laughed.
“I’m sure it’s too late for that.” Shelly’s reply repeated Mona’s sentiment. “But, honestly, can you imagine finding anything else that looks that good?”
Fenella looked in the mirror again. She did look much more fabulous than normal in the stunning black gown. “I suppose not,” she admitted.
“So that’s the matter settled,” Shelly said. “And I know you have plenty of shoes that will match. Do you want me to stay and help with your hair and makeup?”
“I’ll be fine,” Fenella replied. She’d been doing her own hair and makeup for all of her adult life. Now in her late forties, she couldn’t imagine how her friend could do anything more than get in the way.
“Maybe I’ll pop home, then,” Shelly said. “Gordon is coming over later and I really should run the vacuum. Smokey’s fur seems to get everywhere.”
“Meeroww,” the large grey cat complained. She was stretched out on the floor near the door while Katie, Fenella’s kitten, bounced around the room.
“Never mind, you know I love you anyway,” Shelly told the cat as she got up from the desk chair in the corner of the room. “Let’s go home and get ready for our visitor, shall we?”
“Things seem to be going well between you and Gordon,” Fenella remarked as she followed Shelly and Smokey to the door.
“They are,” Shelly agreed. “Which is worrying in its own way.”
Fenella chuckled, but she knew exactly what the woman meant. Shelly had been widowed less than a year earlier and Fenella knew that getting involved with another man hadn’t been in Shelly’s plans. Gordon Davison was an old friend, though, and the couple were slowly working their way toward something that might have been a romance but was maybe just friendship. At least that was how Shelly always described it.
At the door, Shelly stopped and turned to give Fenella a hug. “I’ll only squeeze gently so I don’t wrinkle your dress,” she said. “Have a wonderful time tonight.”
“You, too,” Fenella told her. She smiled as she watched the woman walk back to her own apartment, right next door.
Although they’d only known each other for a matter of months, Fenella felt closer to Shelly than she had to any friend in a very long time. Shelly was over ten years older, but the age gap was insignificant to both women. When her husband had passed away unexpectedly, Shelly had taken early retirement from her years as a teacher. She’d sold the home she and her husband had shared and bought the apartment next door to Fenella’s aunt.
Shelly insisted that Mona had been instrumental in helping her deal with her loss, dragging her out and insisting that she start embracing life. As far as Fenella could work out, Shelly’s idea of embracing life seemed mostly to consist of dying her hair red, talking to absolutely everyone, and wearing incredibly bright colors at all times. Whatever Shelly had been like before her husband died, Fenella thought she was wonderful the way she was now.
“It is the perfect dress,” Mona told Fenella as she walked back into the bedroom. “It’s very flattering on you.”
Fenella looked in the mirror again. Mona was right, of course. She usually was, which was slightly annoying. It was possible that Mona was the ghost of Fenella’s recently departed aunt, which was the explanation for her presence that Fenella preferred. Seemingly equally possible was that the woman was a figment of Fenella’s imagination. If that was the case, Mona’s tendency to always be right felt wrong somehow.
“I’m nervous about tonight,” Fenella said.
“Why? You’re going to a party with a wonderful man who will treat you like a princess,” Mona replied. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
“Donald makes me nervous,” Fenella admitted.
“The right dress, shoes, hair, and makeup will help build your self-confidence,” Mona told her. “Besides, you’ve nothing to worry about with Donald. He’s nothing special, you know.”
“He’s very rich,” Fenella countered. “And far more sophisticated than I am.”
“You could learn to be sophisticated if you wanted to bother. I don’t recommend it. It’s much more fun to be naughty and a little scandalous.”
“You should know,” Fenella said dryly. When she’d found out that she’d inherited her aunt’s entire estate, Fenella had nothing but vague memories of the woman who had lived on the Isle of Man for her entire life. Mona had visited her sister, Fenella’s mother, in th
e US on occasion, but it had been over thirty years since Fenella had seen the woman.
When she’d arrived on the island, Fenella had been surprised to learn that Mona had amassed a small fortune, but no one was exactly certain where her money had come from. Rumors about the woman and various wealthy men were often whispered to her, but Fenella had been unable to substantiate any of them, and she didn’t really want to try.
Mona laughed. “I’ve told you many times that you shouldn’t believe most of the stories about me,” she said. “Nearly all of the people who had firsthand knowledge of my affairs have long since passed. What’s left are a number of people who like to tell stories, often with embroidery to make the stories more interesting.”
“Do you have a boyfriend in the afterlife?” Fenella changed the subject.
“Let’s not worry about me, not tonight,” Mona said. “We have to get you ready for your evening with Donald. Now, you’re going to the Seaview in Ramsey, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s what Donald said,” Fenella agreed.
“It’s lovely there, although it is getting a bit tired. I wonder if Jasper and Stuart have any plans for remodeling. They’d probably struggle to find the time, I suspect. I imagine they’re booked nearly every weekend all year. It is the best place on the island for a special event.”
“As I understand it, tonight is pretty special.”
Mona shrugged. “Everyone always thinks their parties are special. I’m sure this one will be much like every other charity event that gets held at the Seaview, except that tonight Patricia Anderson will be the one acting as if she’s the most important person in the world.”
“Who’s Patricia Anderson?”
“The woman who has been head of the Manx Fund for Children since it was founded thirty or more years ago,” Mona told her. “She’s a horrid and nasty woman who thinks far too much of herself.”
“What did she do to you?”
“Refused my help,” Mona snapped. “I offered to help with the charity when she first started it, but she assured me that she didn’t need any assistance. Over the years, I offered to assist with various events, but she never allowed me to get involved in any way. Oh, I was welcome to contribute generously to them, but only if I did so anonymously.”
“Why?” Fenella had to ask.
Mona smirked. “She thought I was sleeping with her husband,” she replied with a shrug.
“Were you?”
“Was I what?” Mona asked after a long pause. “Sorry, I lost track of the conversation.”
“Were you sleeping with Patricia Anderson’s husband?” Fenella asked flatly.
“No,” Mona replied. “But it suited him to have her and others think so, and I didn’t object.”
“Why?”
“Why didn’t I object? Because I simply didn’t care. Oh, I would have liked a chance to do some sort of charitable volunteer work, and Patricia made sure I was shunned by nearly everyone, but beyond that it simply didn’t matter.”
“Why did he want people to think he was sleeping with you?”
Mona smiled smugly. “Let’s just say it would have given him a certain cachet in some circles.”
Fenella stared at her aunt. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she said after a moment.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Mona laughed. “But let’s not worry about that. What shoes are you going to wear?”
Fenella pulled open the wardrobe and dug out a pair of black shoes with low heels. “These are comfortable,” she said.
“And geriatric,” Mona replied. “Those must be yours. I certainly didn’t own anything that unattractive.”
“They are mine, and if I wear them my feet won’t hurt by the end of the evening.”
“If you wear the black shoes that are third from the left in the first row of shoes, your feet won’t hurt either. I had them made for me, and I believe you’ll find that they’re unbelievably comfortable.”
Fenella eyed the strappy stilettoes warily. It took her a minute to work out exactly how the straps were meant to crisscross, but once she’d fastened the necessary buckles, she stood up hesitantly. After a few cautious steps, she turned to look at Mona. “I hardly feel like I’m wearing heels,” she said. “They’re practically magic, these shoes.”
“I told you you’d like them,” Mona replied.
A loud ringing noise cut through the conversation.
“Hello?”
“Maggie? Is that you?”
Fenella swallowed a sigh. “What do you want, Jack?” she demanded. When she’d inherited Mona’s fortune, Fenella had sold her house, quit her job as a university professor, cut her ties, and moved to the Isle of Man. Leaving Jack Dawson, her boyfriend of over ten years, behind had been one of her easier decisions. In the US, she’d gone by Margaret, her middle name, as that was easier for people to spell and pronounce. Jack was the only person who called her Maggie, and she’d never liked it.
“It’s July,” Jack said.
“Yes, it is. Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“You moved over there in March,” Jack replied.
“Very good. You were paying attention,” Fenella snapped.
Jack sighed. “Don’t you think you’ve had quite enough time to come to your senses?” he demanded. “I think it’s high time you moved back to Buffalo. You can move in with me. You don’t even have to find your own house this time.”
Having her own house was probably one of the factors that had allowed her to stay with Jack for so many years. That she’d never once considered moving in with the man, not even in their earlier and happier years, should have told her everything she needed to know about the future of the relationship. It had been easier to ignore all of the problems in favor of having someone in her life, but now that she’d broken free, she knew there was no going back. Convincing Jack of that was proving more difficult.
“I’m not coming back,” she said.
“I thought you’d say that. And I know why you’re saying it. You’re lonely and unhappy, but you don’t want to admit that you made a terrible mistake. I understand, and I’m here to help.”
“I’m not lonely or unhappy.”
“Here’s my plan,” Jack said, ignoring her reply. “I’ll tell everyone that I’m dying, and then you can come back to nurse me through my final days. Once you’re back, I’ll stage a miraculous recovery and we can live happily ever after.”
“I’m not coming back.”
“Not even if I’m really dying?”
“Are you really dying?”
“Well, no, well, yes, I mean, of course, we’re all dying, aren’t we? That’s why it wouldn’t be a total lie, just an exaggeration. It’s the perfect plan, isn’t it?”
“It would be a good plan,” Fenella admitted grudgingly, “if I wanted to move back to Buffalo. But I don’t want to move back. I’m happy here. I’ve already built a new life for myself here. There’s nothing in Buffalo for me anymore.”
“What about your brothers?” Jack demanded.
“None of them live in Buffalo,” Fenella replied.
“No, but they’re all in the US and they’re all getting older. You shouldn’t be so far away from them.”
Fenella swallowed hard. Jack wasn’t to know that he’d hit on a rather sore subject. She missed her four brothers dearly. “They are all happy and healthy,” she said. “And not any of your concern.”
“We were together for ten years. They’re like family to me now,” Jack protested.
“Really? What are their names?”
“John, Jacob, um, James, and, um, Joshua,” the man said.
“You’re close, but you’re only guessing,” Fenella said dismissively. While she’d seen her brothers frequently when she’d lived in Buffalo, Jack had never accompanied her when she’d visited them and rarely spent time with them when they’d visited her. Jack hadn’t liked any of the men and Fenella knew the feeling had been mutual.
“I’m
not,” Jack said stubbornly.
“What are their wives’ names?”
“Darling Maggie, let’s not fight. I miss you,” Jack changed the subject.
Fenella took a deep breath and just barely stopped herself from being too cruel. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’m happy here, and I really need to go. I have plans for later.”
“A date?”
“Yes, a date.”
“With a man?”
Fenella chuckled. “Yes, with a man.”
“Am I that easy to replace?”
She needed another deep breath to stop herself from saying yes. “This isn’t about you. I’ve moved halfway around the world and I have a new life. Donald is part of my new life.”
“Donald? What’s he like? What does he do?” Jack was a professor at the same university where Fenella had formerly taught.
“I’m not having this conversation. Look, Jack, you really should stop calling me. You need to find someone new.”
“But you understand me. Dating new people is exhausting. You have to tell them your life story and listen to theirs. It’s always so boring.”
“So learn to enjoy being single,” Fenella suggested.
“Life was so much easier when you were here,” Jack said, his tone dangerously close to whining. “You did my laundry and ironed my shirts and you took me grocery shopping and told me what to buy. You handled all of my little problems for me.”
“But you’re an adult who can handle his own problems.”
“That reminds me, where is my brown suit?”
“Your brown suit?”
“You know the one. You never liked it. You didn’t get rid of it, did you?”
Fenella sighed. “It’s an ugly suit, but I didn’t get rid of it. I told you when I left that I was going to drop it off at the dry cleaners for you. You spilled soup on it at the February faculty lunch, remember?”
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