“Could we?” Fenella asked. “I promise I won’t be long. I’d just like a quick look at the books they carry. I’d love a good history of the island, if they have one.”
“I’m sure they do,” Peter said. “Let’s go and see.”
The gift shop was empty, aside from an elderly woman behind the cash register. “Ah, customers,” she said brightly when the pair walked in. “I was starting to think that I wasn’t going to see another person today.”
“Is it usually this quiet?” Fenella asked.
“This time of year, yes,” the woman said. “In a few weeks, we’ll start getting all the school groups through for their tours before school breaks up for the summer. Summer can get quite busy, and we have special events as well, which are always busy. Then it goes quiet again until we shut in October.”
“I think it’s a wonderful site,” Fenella said. “I plan to come back and visit many more times.”
“We’re always happy to have visitors,” the woman said. “Most of us are volunteers, but the sites still cost a lot to maintain and keep open. Every visitor helps.”
Fenella found a nice selection of books about the island and then realized that she wanted to buy all of them. After a few moments of indecision, she selected the four that looked the most interesting to her and reluctantly returned the others to the shelves.
“You’ve made some good choices if you want to learn the island’s history quickly,” the woman told her. “The Manx Museum in Douglas has an even better selection. If you haven’t been there yet, I highly recommend it.”
“It’s on my list,” Fenella said. “But I haven’t managed it yet. I will get there soon, though. I promise.”
The woman laughed. “I’ll remember that and the next time you come out here, I shall ask if you’ve been yet,” she said.
“I only live a short walk away from the museum. I’ve no excuse for not getting there, really,” Fenella said sheepishly.
“What’s the point in requesting days off if they’re just going to ring and ask you to come in anyway?” a voice demanded from the shop’s doorway.
Fenella thought the voice sounded familiar and she had a smile in place as she turned to see the new arrival. She was surprised when she recognized the woman, however.
“You?” the woman snapped at Fenella. “What are you doing here?”
Her smile faltered, but Fenella forced herself to bite her tongue and count to ten before she replied. “Imagine seeing you here,” she said with false cheer. “I’ve been trying to get out here to tour Peel Castle for weeks, but I never expected to see you here.”
“No, I don’t suppose you did,” the woman said. “I don’t believe I mentioned before that I’m a volunteer with Manx National Heritage.”
“No, I don’t think you did,” Fenella agreed.
Peter coughed, which reminded Fenella of her manners. “Oh, yes, of course, Peter Cannell, this is Charlotte Masters,” she said quickly. “Charlotte was another of the cabin passengers on the ferry on Saturday,” she explained.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Peter said, offering his hand.
Charlotte stared at the hand for a moment and then, seemingly grudgingly, shook it.
“Peter is my next-door neighbor,” Fenella told Charlotte. “He was kind enough to bring me here to see the castle.”
“You don’t drive?” Charlotte asked.
“I’ve not tried driving since I moved here from America,” Fenella told her. “I need to take a few lessons and retake my driving test.”
“Where were you going on the ferry?” was Charlotte’s next question.
“Liverpool,” Fenella replied. “I thought that was its only destination.”
Charlotte frowned at her. “And what were you going to Liverpool to do?” she asked.
“To visit a friend,” Fenella replied, feeling as if she’d had quite enough of the rude woman and her questions.
“You seem to have quite a few friends scattered around the place, considering you’ve only just arrived,” Charlotte said, sounding as if she were accusing Fenella of something.
“I’m a friendly person,” Fenella replied as calmly as she could.
“You weren’t very talkative in the office at the ferry terminal,” Charlotte said. “You didn’t seem to want to answer my questions at all.”
Fenella took a deep breath and counted to ten again.
“I believe Fenella was under considerable strain that morning,” Peter interjected. “She’d only just stumbled across a dead body, after all.”
The woman behind the register gasped. “Oh, dear, you poor thing,” she said sympathetically.
“You found the body, but you didn’t tell any of us what was happening,” Charlotte said, ignoring the other woman.
“The police instructed me not to discuss it,” Fenella said. “In fact, I’m not meant to be discussing it now.”
“That’s convenient, isn’t it?” Charlotte sneered.
“Perhaps, but it’s also true,” Fenella replied, trying hard not to let the disagreeable woman see how upset she was making her.
“How did you know the dead man?” Charlotte asked.
“I think that’s quite enough,” Peter said. “We came in here to buy a few books. Your questions are quite rude and intrusive.”
“I spent several hours in that ferry terminal Saturday morning, and I was questioned by the police. Do you have any idea how distasteful that was? I am not accustomed to being interrogated like a common criminal.”
“I’m sure it was a miserable experience for everyone involved,” Peter said. “Let’s just hope the police can work out what happened quickly. Then you can all forget it ever happened.”
“I won’t forget,” Charlotte said firmly. “I shall be complaining to the chief constable about how the police behaved. There was no rhyme nor reason to the order in which they questioned the witnesses, for one thing.”
“No doubt they had their reasons,” Peter said. He glanced at Fenella and raised his eyebrows.
“We really need to go,” she said loudly. “I’m starving and you have that meeting this afternoon. If we’re going to get lunch, we need to hurry.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Peter said. “Did you get everything you wanted?”
“Not everything I wanted, but certainly everything I can afford, at least for now,” Fenella replied.
“I think you’ll find, my dear, that it is in very bad taste to discuss money matters with your friends,” Charlotte said. “If one were the suspicious type, one might think that you were hinting that Peter ought to help fund your purchases.”
Fenella blushed. “That wasn’t what I meant at all,” she said quickly.
“Of course it wasn’t,” Peter said. “And the thought never crossed my mind.”
Picking up her bag of books, Fenella headed for the door. “It was nice to see you again,” she said to Charlotte as she passed her.
“Yes, delightful,” Charlotte said sarcastically.
Fenella bit her tongue yet again as she pulled the door open and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air.
“It was very nice to meet you,” Charlotte said to Peter.
“Likewise, I’m sure,” Peter muttered as he followed Fenella out of the room.
The pair walked a few steps toward the exit and then exchanged glances.
“What an unpleasant woman,” Peter said.
“She was rather horrible, wasn’t she?” Fenella agreed.
“I can’t imagine why she was asking you all of those rude questions.”
“I think she’s just incurably nosy,” Fenella replied. “Maybe she’d have been happier if she’d been the one who found the body, instead of me.”
“She does seem the type,” Peter said.
“I know I would have been happier if she’d found the body instead of me,” Fenella said. “And maybe she would have simply told a member of the ferry staff about it and they would have told the captain. From wh
at I’ve seen, he would have insisted on sailing anyway. I would be in London now, doing my research, and I’d probably never have even heard of Robert Grosso.”
“And his murderer would probably never be found,” Peter added.
Fenella frowned. “Well, yes, I suppose that’s also true,” she said. “I know that bringing Inspector Robinson in to investigate was the right thing to do, even if it wasn’t exactly pleasant.”
They’d reached Peter’s car and Fenella stopped to stare down at the beach for a moment. “It’s lovely being near the water all the time,” she said.
“My first wife and I had a house in the Douglas suburbs,” Peter told her. “It was a nice neighborhood, but I like living by the sea better.”
“It seems as if the entire island must be by the sea,” Fenella said with a laugh. “The island isn’t that big, really.”
“It’s about fourteen miles across and about thirty-two miles wide,” Peter told her. “We couldn’t even see the sea from our house in Douglas, and that’s true for large parts of the island.”
“I really need to get out and explore the island,” Fenella sighed. “I haven’t been anywhere, aside from one visit to Castletown. I do walk around Douglas sometimes, but I haven’t gone very far. I either need to get driving or start walking a good deal more, I think.”
“We do have some excellent taxi firms, as well,” Peter said as he unlocked the car. “I can recommend someone to you who can set you up with an account that you can pay monthly, if that interests you.”
“It sounds good, but perhaps too tempting,” Fenella replied. “I could end up going all over the place and running up a huge bill. I do need to find a good taxi service, though. If nothing else, it would mean I could go grocery shopping once in a while and buy more than I can easily carry.”
“You should have said something,” Peter said. “I go shopping almost every Sunday afternoon. I’m more than happy to take you along.”
“I don’t want to impose on anyone,” Fenella told him.
“Don’t be silly. How can it be an imposition when you live right next door? I don’t have to move my car to collect you or to drop you off and I’m already going anyway. No more arguing; starting this weekend, I’ll happily take you shopping any Sunday you’d like to go.”
Fenella opened her mouth to object, but decided against it. If she wasn’t comfortable taking him up on the offer, she simply didn’t have to go along.
Peter started the car and began the short journey along the causeway.
“All of the little boats are pretty,” Fenella said as they drove.
“I have friends with boats here and in Douglas. Maybe you’d like to go sailing sometime?”
Fenella thought about her short stay on the ferry and shook her head. “I don’t think I’m a very good sailor,” she said. “I’m probably better off on dry land.”
Peter found a parking spot in a large public lot near the pub. “I’ll move the car over to the car park for the House of Manannan after lunch,” he told her.
That suited Fenella, although the museum was only a short distance away from where he’d left the car. The pub was somewhat dark, especially after being outdoors, so when they walked in it took Fenella’s eyes a few minutes to adjust.
“Just sit anywhere,” the man behind the bar called. “Order from the bar when you’re ready.”
Peter led Fenella to a small table in the corner and then went to the bar for menus. He handed her one when he returned, before sitting down opposite her.
“What’s good?” she asked.
“If you ever wanted to try kippers, this is the place,” Peter told her.
“What are kippers?” Fenella asked.
“Smoked herring,” the man replied. “They’re a local delicacy. There’s an entire section of the museum next door devoted to them.”
Fenella wrinkled her nose. “I don’t really like seafood much,” she said apologetically. “My mother didn’t like it, so she didn’t ever cook it. My father wasn’t one to argue, as long as there was food on the table when he got home from work.”
“They do a nice chicken casserole,” Peter said. “Or steak and kidney pie.”
“Chicken casserole sounds good,” Fenella said. “It’s just cold enough outside still that something like that will really hit the spot.”
“I think you’ll find that it never really gets all that hot,” Peter told her. “There will probably only be a few days in the summer when something like chicken casserole won’t sound good.”
“That sounds about right for me,” Fenella told him. “Buffalo summers can get very hot indeed. We had air conditioning, which helped, but when it’s eighty-five or ninety outside all you want to do is sit in the A/C and sip lemonade.”
“I suspect if it ever hit eighty-five over here, the entire island would melt,” Peter laughed. “With all this water around us, I’m not even sure it’s possible.”
“Does that mean that our apartments don’t have air conditioning?” she asked.
“They do, actually,” Peter told her. “Or so I’m told. I’ve never actually tried to use it, but there is a switch on the temperature controls to turn it on and off.”
Peter went back to the bar to order their drinks and food while Fenella surveyed the room. It was small, with only a dozen or so tables. Another ten people could sit at the bar, although at the moment only one person was taking advantage of that fact.
“I can’t imagine a place this small doing well in Buffalo,” she said to Peter when he rejoined her. “They don’t have enough room to do very much business.”
“You’ll find lots of small businesses like this all over the island,” he replied. “They don’t need a lot of staff, so they can keep their overhead low.”
“They still have to pay for heat and electricity and the like,” Fenella argued.
“In this case, the man behind the bar is also the owner. He and his wife live in the flat above the pub. Their daughter helps out behind the bar some nights and on weekends in the summer. I’m sure they aren’t getting rich, but they make enough to get by.”
Peter had brought back their drinks. “Did they not have ice?” Fenella asked as she sipped her soda.
“Did you want ice?” he asked. “I didn’t think to ask, but I’m sure they’ll have it if you want it.”
“You have to ask for ice?”
“Well, yes,” Peter said. “And now that you mention it, I do recall visiting New York City once and being surprised that everywhere I went I was given a huge amount of ice in every glass.”
“It’s ice,” Fenella said. “It belongs in cold drinks. But what were you doing in New York City?”
“Working,” he replied. “Which is pretty much what I do all the time, everywhere. I’m trying to cut back, but, well, I love what I do, which makes it hard to stop.”
“Why stop if you love it?”
“My doctor wants me to cut back,” he said, waving a hand. “He worries about my blood pressure and how much stress I have in my life.”
Before Fenella could ask any more questions, the man from behind the bar appeared, carrying two very full bowls.
“Two chicken casseroles,” he said, setting the plates on the table. “Give me a shout if you need anything.”
“I think I need a hungry friend,” Fenella said as she looked at the enormous serving she’d been given.
“You can always take the extra home for Katie,” Peter suggested.
“I don’t think people food is good for Katie,” Fenella replied. “But I might take the extra home for me.”
Peter laughed and then the pair concentrated on eating. The food was excellent and while they ate they chatted about television and movies and nothing much. When both bowls were empty, Peter grinned at her.
“How about pudding?” he asked.
Fenella smiled. She was finally getting used to the word, at least. “I’m too full for pudding,” she said, although in her head she thought “dessert.”
“We could split something,” Peter suggested. “They do a wonderful jam roly-poly.”
“Which is what?” Fenella asked.
“Suet pudding, spread with jam, and then rolled up and steamed,” he told her.
“That doesn’t sound especially nice,” Fenella replied.
“They’ll serve it with a generous helping of custard,” he added.
“Still not terribly tempting,” Fenella laughed. “But as I’m quite full, that’s probably good.”
“I’ll get it and you can take a bite or two; how about that?” Peter offered.
“I suppose I should, just for educational purposes,” Fenella agreed.
When the pudding was delivered a few minutes later, it looked considerably better than Fenella had expected. Peter pushed it into the center of the table and handed Fenella a fork.
“Take a bite,” he urged her.
She scooped up a small piece and popped it in her mouth. “Delicious,” she said, embarrassed that she sounded so surprised.
“Have as much as you like,” Peter told her as he took his first bite.
“I am rather full,” she protested as she forked up a slightly larger mouthful.
The pudding was gone in very short order. Fenella was just scraping up the last of the custard when Peter’s phone rang. He frowned at it and then answered the call. After a short conversation, he dropped it back in his pocket and sighed deeply.
“Something’s come up,” Fenella guessed.
“Yes, and it’s rather important, actually,” he told her. “I’m going to have to get back to Douglas, I’m afraid.”
“It’s fine,” Fenella insisted. “I’ll get to the House of Manannan another day. I’m sure I’m too stuffed to appreciate it anyway.”
“I can leave you there and you can get a taxi home,” Peter suggested.
Fenella thought about it and then shook her head. “I left Katie some extra dry food, but knowing her, she’s eaten that and won’t be happy being left until dinner time for more. I’d better get back as well.”
They were back in Peter’s car before Fenella had a thought. “But what about paying for lunch?” she asked.
“I paid when I ordered,” Peter explained.
Boats and Bad Guys (An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Book 2) Page 13
