“Are you sure we can’t persuade you to join us for one drink?” Shelly asked Daniel as he waited. “I’m buying, as I have spring fever.”
“Thank you, but no,” Daniel said. “I’m exhausted.”
“You do look rather tired,” Shelly said, sounding concerned. “I was hoping you’d have this latest murder solved by now, but I suppose you haven’t.”
“There was a second murder today,” Daniel said tightly.
“Are they connected?” Shelly asked.
“We believe so,” Daniel said.
“My goodness, what is this island coming to?” Shelly demanded. “I can’t remember the last time we had a murder before those awful ones last month, and now two more? I do hope Fenella hasn’t brought bad luck to our beautiful little island.”
“Gee, thanks,” Fenella said as she handed Daniel her statement.
“I didn’t mean it,” Shelly said quickly. “It’s just so unfortunate that you’ve been caught up in both cases. I can’t imagine how awful you must feel. Which is why you need to come with me to the pub.”
Fenella grinned. “I’d come with you to the pub anyway,” she said. “But after today, I really feel that I could use a drink.”
“Thank you for this,” Daniel said, sliding the folded paper back into his jacket pocket. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
Fenella swallowed a sigh at his words. No doubt he would have said something else if that kiss had actually happened. She couldn’t blame Shelly, though. The other woman couldn’t have known what was happening in the corridor, after all.
“Ready for the pub?” Shelly asked brightly.
“Give me two minutes to touch up my makeup and find some shoes,” Fenella told her.
“I’ll just go and see if Peter wants to come as well,” Shelly told her.
Fenella pushed her door shut and turned around to head to the bedroom. She jumped when she saw Mona was right behind her.
“You should have kept the door shut until after he kissed you,” Mona said.
“I didn’t know he was going to kiss me,” Fenella argued. “And anyway, maybe he wasn’t going to kiss me.”
“Oh, he was definitely going to kiss you,” Mona told her. “Now, don’t make the same mistake with Peter. Have him come in for a coffee after the pub and let him kiss you in private.”
“I’m not trying to get Peter alone for a kiss,” Fenella said crossly. “And I think you should stay out of my love life.”
“If you had a love life, maybe I’d try to stay out of it,” Mona told her. “As it is, I’m simply trying to help you get one.”
Fenella didn’t answer. Instead, she went into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. It was a pointless gesture, as Mona seemed to be able to materialize wherever she wanted in the apartment, but it made Fenella feel better. She brushed her hair, added a fresh coat of lipstick to her lips, and spritz on a light spray of perfume. That will do for the pub on a Tuesday, she told herself. Especially as you know Daniel won’t be there, a little voice teased. She ignored the little voice as she found comfortable shoes. Her handbag was on the table near the door. Grabbing it, she pulled the door open, startling Shelly, whose hand was poised to knock.
“Oh, goodness,” Shelly gasped. “There you are.”
“Here I are,” Fenella agreed ungrammatically.
“And here I are,” Peter added as he locked his door behind him. Fenella was quick to follow suit and then the trio headed for the elevators.
“It’s definitely getting warmer,” Shelly remarked as they made their way the short distance to the Tale and Tail.
“It has a long way to go, though,” Peter said as a cool breeze blew through them.
The pub was mostly empty. After the friends got drinks, they headed for the comfortable couches on the upper level. The windy spiral staircase always felt almost magical to Fenella. It seemed like something out of a storybook, rather than something that was used daily in a local pub.
“So who was murdered today?” Shelly asked after they’d settled in.
“Oh, dear, was someone else murdered?” Peter asked. He took Fenella’s hand. “Don’t tell me you found another body.”
“No, I didn’t,” Fenella assured him. “But the police think today’s murder is connected with Robert Grosso’s, so I had to answer more questions.”
“At least it was Daniel who was doing the asking,” Shelly said. “I’d be quite happy talking to him for hours, even though he’s quite a bit too young for me.”
“I didn’t mind,” Fenella said. “But it was sad.”
“Of course it was,” Peter said, squeezing her hand. “If you don’t want to talk about it, Shelly and I totally understand.”
“I totally don’t,” Shelly argued. “I want the skeet.”
“Skeet?” Fenella asked.
“It’s the Manx word for gossip or news,” Peter told her.
“I see,” Fenella said. “But I don’t know how much I’m allowed to share of what I know.”
“Let’s talk about the football,” Peter suggested. He squeezed Fenella’s hand again, which was oddly comforting to her, and then launched into a twenty-minute discussion of football scores for teams that Fenella had never heard of. Shelly made a few comments, but Fenella was silent. While she appreciated what Peter was doing on her behalf, she couldn’t help but wish that he’d chosen a different subject, maybe one that she could talk about as well.
“I believe it’s my round,” he said as he finished the last of his glass of wine. “You two sit tight. I won’t be long.”
He was gone before Fenella could object. She had come out intending to stop after a single glass of wine, but maybe a second one would help her sleep. She definitely didn’t want any more nightmares.
It was unusual for people to use the spiral staircase to go down. Most people went up the stairs and then took the elevator down, having had a few drinks along the way. That was probably why Peter wasn’t expecting to bump into anyone on his way back up with the second round of drinks. The young man who was going down also clearly wasn’t expecting there to be anyone in his way. He went down the stairs far too quickly, and Fenella and Shelly could only watch in horror as he collided with Peter at around the halfway point.
Fenella was on her feet, rushing to Peter’s aid, almost before he’d hit the ground. People were coming from every direction to try to help, and Fenella found herself caught on the stairs, unable to reach her friend.
“Fenella, come back up and we’ll take the lift down,” Shelly called to her.
Pushing her way through the people behind her on the stairs, Fenella made her way back up and then followed Shelly to the elevator. A few moments later they were able to see for themselves what had happened to their friend. He was lying on the floor surrounded by broken glasses and spilled drinks. The young man who had run into him was standing next to him.
“I’m so sorry,” he kept muttering over and over again.
Peter groaned and then tried to push himself into a sitting position.
“Maybe you should lie still and we should get an ambulance,” one of the waitresses suggested.
“I’m fine,” Peter said in a weak voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. This time the “I’m fine” sounded slightly stronger.
“You’ve a huge lump on your head,” the waitress told him. “You need to get that checked out.”
Peter put his hand up to his head and winced. Fenella took a step closer.
“It is a big lump,” she said. “I think you need a doctor.”
“I’m really, really sorry,” the young man said. “Are you his wife? I didn’t mean to run into him. You can’t see anyone on the stairs, because of the twists and turns. I shouldn’t have been going so fast, though. I’ve not even been drinking, you see. My sister is having a baby and she just texted me to come to the hospital and I just ran as fast as I could. I’m going to be an uncle.”
Fenella stared at him for a minute. She wasn’t
sure he’d taken a breath during the entire monologue. “Congratulations,” she said after a moment.
“But I can’t leave, not after I’ve caused all this trouble,” the man said anxiously.
“I’m fine,” Peter said crossly. He got to his feet and then swayed markedly and put his hand to his head. “Just a little dizzy,” he muttered.
“I’ll pay for the broken glasses,” the young man told the man from behind the bar who’d walked over as Peter stood up.
“I’ll put it on your bill,” the man replied. “Now you get out of here and go see Bev. I know where to find you if I need to.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, looking from the man to Fenella and back again.
“Go and see your sister,” Fenella told him. “I’m sure Peter will be fine.”
The man opened his mouth and then clamped it shut and headed for the door.
“Hey, Jake, take a taxi,” the bartender called after him. “I don’t think you should be driving.”
Jake gave him a thumbs up as he dashed out the door.
“He’s very excited about becoming an uncle,” Fenella remarked to the bartender.
“Oh, aye, his sister is quite a few years older than him and she more or less raised him after their parents split up. She’s been trying for a baby for the last five or six years, and I think they tried nearly everything before they finally found something that worked for them. This is probably the most wanted baby on the island,” he told her. “Jake is just over the moon for her and her husband.”
“How wonderful,” Fenella exclaimed. “I hope everything goes well for them.”
“I think maybe I need a doctor,” Peter interrupted. “I’m seeing a few more of you than I think there are.”
Fenella smiled, and she and Shelly each took one of Peter’s arms and led him toward the door.
“Let me know how he is,” the bartender said. “We like to keep an eye on our regulars.”
Outside, Shelly looked at Fenella. “Maybe we should get a taxi,” she said. “It might be faster than trying to walk all the way home to where my car is.”
“I think a taxi is a good idea,” Fenella said as Peter lurched sideways and then stopped and groaned.
The taxi rank was only a few steps away, and the trio piled into the nearest car. Fenella sat with Peter in the back while Shelly sat next to the driver. Within minutes, they were on their way to Noble’s, the island’s main hospital.
“You’re very pretty,” Peter said as they went. “All three, no, four, no five, well, however many of you there are, they’re all very pretty.”
“Thank you,” Fenella said, stifling a nervous giggle.
“I might try to kiss one of you,” Peter said in a loud whisper. “But I’d probably miss your lips.”
“Never mind, maybe when you’re feeling better,” Fenella replied.
“My head hurts a lot, anyway,” Peter told her. “I was trying not to spill the drinks, but I should have been protecting my head instead, I think.”
“I’m sure the doctor will be able to give you something for the pain,” Fenella said, although she wasn’t sure at all. She could vaguely remember something about people not being allowed any medication after a head injury, but she wasn’t about to tell Peter that.
Fenella found herself looking around eagerly as the taxi approached the hospital. She hadn’t seen it before and she was curious how it would compare to hospitals in the US. The sign over the door where the taxi dropped them off read “Accident and Emergency.” She and Shelly helped Peter out of the car. Shelly paid the driver as Fenella helped Peter through the sliding doors and into the brightly lit lobby.
“My head hurts,” Peter said as they walked.
“I’m sure it does,” Fenella said soothingly. “Let’s see what the doctor says.”
The woman behind the reception desk smiled brightly at them. “How can I help?” she asked.
“He fell down some stairs and hit his head,” Fenella explained.
“And how much has he had to drink this evening?” the woman asked. “I’m not suggesting that was a factor in the accident,” she added quickly, “but it can made a difference in our treatment plan.”
“I can talk for myself,” Peter said testily. “And I had one glass of wine. If I smell like I’ve been drinking for days, that’s because several additional glasses of wine spilled on me as I fell.”
“What a waste,” the woman said with another smile.
She handed Peter a clipboard. “If you could just fill these out, we’ll get you in to see a doctor as soon as possible.”
Fenella and Shelly sat on either side of Peter as he answered questions about his overall health, who his general practitioner was, and what he’d had to eat and drink that day. When he was done, Fenella took the clipboard back to the counter.
“There wasn’t a single question about insurance,” she said as she sat back down. “In the US, the very first and most important question would have been about that.”
“I find it odd that a country like the US doesn’t have a National Health Service like ours,” Shelly said.
“It is odd,” Fenella agreed. “But that’s a conversation for another time.”
Peter put his hand to his head and moaned quietly. “This is really painful,” he complained. “I hope they can see me quickly and get me something for the pain.”
It was only a few minutes later that a woman walked out and called his name. He got to his feet and then swayed back and forth for a moment. Fenella stood up quickly and took his arm.
“Maybe you should escort him back,” the woman told her. “Or we can get a wheelchair.”
“I’m fine,” Peter snapped. “But I’m happy for Fenella to come along. I’m not sure I’ll remember what the doctor says tomorrow.”
The pair followed the woman down a short corridor and into a small exam room.
“You can just lie on the bed,” the woman said. “I’ll take your vital signs while we wait for the doctor.”
While Peter was being checked over, Fenella studied the floor and the ceiling and read the titles on the collection of brochures that were hung in a display case on the wall. She felt slightly out of place being there, but she didn’t want Peter to be left alone, either. Shelly probably should have come with him, she thought, he and Shelly had been friends for years.
“Thank you for coming back with me instead of Shelly,” Peter said after the woman left the room. “Her dress was making my head hurt more.”
Fenella grinned. Shelly loved bright colors and bold patterns, and the dress she was wearing tonight was the perfect example of both. Even without a head injury, it was slightly painful to look at.
“Ah, Peter Cannell? I’m Sarah Grosso,” the woman said from the doorway. She took a step into the room and then stopped and stared at Fenella. “But what are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Peter is a friend of mine,” Fenella explained. “But I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I thought someone told me you worked on the surgical ward.”
“I switched to A&E a few weeks ago,” Sarah told her. “It pays better, and with the hours that Robert worked, it didn’t much matter if I had to work a lot of nights and weekends.”
“Are you okay?” Fenella asked, studying the woman. She looked as if she’d been crying.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Sarah replied with a wave of her hand. “It’s just, well, as if losing Robert wasn’t hard enough, I lost a close friend today.”
“I am sorry,” Fenella said.
Sarah nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “I almost didn’t come into work tonight. George’s murder was almost enough to push me over the edge.”
Chapter Twelve
“I didn’t realize you knew George Mason,” Fenella blurted out.
Sarah nodded and Fenella could see tears in the woman’s eyes. “He was, well, a close friend,” she said in a soft voice.
Peter shifted on the bed and Sarah looked over at him. “I’m sorry,” sh
e said quickly. “I should be concentrating on you and not worrying about my problems.”
Fenella sat and wondered exactly what “close friend” meant as Sarah poked and prodded Peter. She seemed nearly as upset at his death as she had been when her husband had died.
“The doctor will be in shortly,” she said, straightening up from where she’d been bending over Peter. “I’m sure you have a terrible headache. I’ll check with her about getting you something for the pain.”
“Thank you,” Peter said.
Sarah glanced over at Fenella and then headed for the door. She stopped as she pushed it open. “Robert didn’t know that I knew George,” she said over her shoulder to Fenella. “I was worried that he’d found out and they’d had a fight. I thought maybe George had accidently killed Robert. George texted me yesterday morning and wanted to see me. I didn’t reply. Maybe if I had, George would still be alive.”
“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of a murderer,” Fenella said firmly. “Maybe if you’d have been there, the killer would have killed you both.”
“Maybe,” Sarah said doubtfully. “I wish I knew why my friends are being targeted.”
“I’m sure Inspector Robinson is working on that right now,” Fenella said.
“I hope so,” Sarah said.
She walked out, the door swishing shut behind her.
“I hope she’s warned all of her other friends,” Peter said from the bed. “It sounds as if she’s dangerous to know.”
“I don’t think either man’s death has anything to do with her,” Fenella told him. “I think they were both involved in criminal activity that led to their deaths. Their personal involvement with Sarah is merely coincidental.”
“Or maybe she’s having an affair with a third man and he’s eliminating the competition,” Peter suggested. “Maybe he set them both up to make it look like they were doing something illegal, but really they weren’t.”
Fenella frowned. The idea seemed crazy, but she wondered if Daniel had given it any thought. Was it possible that Sarah was the motive for both murders and the burglary ring was just a red herring? She sighed as the door swung open again. This time the new arrival was a middle-aged woman with tired eyes. She was reading the notes on a clipboard as she walked into the room.
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