She’d brought a small tote bag with her from her apartment, specifically for her class. After a light dinner, she rounded up the kittens and put them into the playpen with their mother. “Get some rest,” she told them sternly. “I’m going out now.”
For a minute it seemed as if the kittens were going to object, but after a short while, they all settled down. Fenella switched the lights off in the living room as she left the house, leaving only the light in the foyer on for her return.
6
The class was being held in a meeting room at the Manx Museum. Fenella hadn’t realized that the museum would be closed when she arrived. She pulled on the large glass door, but it didn’t open. Frowning, she tried each of the doors in turn, but they were all locked.
“Now what?” she said loudly.
“Are you here for the class?” a voice asked from behind her.
Fenella spun around as her heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t know anyone was behind me,” she said as she stared at the elderly woman standing there.
“So I gathered. When there are classes after the museum is closed for the night, they leave the door at the back open for us,” the woman told her. “Come along.”
Fenella followed the other woman as she slowly made her way to a second set of doors about halfway along the building. The doors looked heavy, so Fenella quickly climbed up the steps to open the door for the other woman. She pulled on the handle and was relieved when the door swung open.
“After you,” she told the older woman.
“Thank you.”
A man in a black uniform was sitting at a small desk just inside the door. “Names, please,” he barked in a loud voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Walter,” the other woman scolded. “You’ve known me since you were a child.” She glanced over at Fenella. “I taught him to read and write and now he thinks he’s important because he’s wearing a fancy uniform.” She turned back to the man. “You can put a little tick next to my name without me saying a word.”
The guard looked very much like he wanted to argue, but the woman gave him a stern look and he quickly nodded. “Yes, of course, Miss Clague. I didn’t mean you, anyway. I remember you.”
“I’m sure you do,” she laughed.
“I’m Fenella Woods,” Fenella said, feeling awkward.
He checked the sheet of paper in front of him and then nodded. “You’re on the list. You can go in. The class is in the small conference room on the third floor. The lifts are in the lobby, right next to the main entrance.”
“You should let us in through the main entrance, then,” Miss Clague told him. “All this walking back and forth at my age isn’t easy.” She shook her head. “I’m going to have a word with Marjorie about this.”
The guard shrugged. “I’m just doing what I was told,” he said defensively.
Miss Clague opened her mouth to reply, but the door behind Fenella suddenly opened.
“Good evening,” a tall, distinguished-looking man said as he swept into the room. He appeared to be around seventy, with a full head of silver hair. Fenella was surprised to see him wearing a suit. Surely the class wasn’t anything formal, she thought as she took another look at Miss Clague. She was reassured to see that the other woman was wearing pants and a sweater, an outfit quite similar to Fenella’s.
“Good evening, Robert,” Miss Clague greeted him. “So lovely of you to join us.”
He smiled at her. “Ah, my dear, Annabelle, I’m delighted to be here.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I need your name,” the young guard said.
“I’m Robert Platter,” the man announced. Fenella felt as if Robert was waiting for a gasp of recognition or even applause after he’d announced his name. He looked slightly disappointed when the guard simply ticked his name off the list in front of him.
“The class is on the third floor,” Annabelle said. “We have to walk back to the front to get to the lifts.”
“Do you still walk five miles every day?” Robert asked her.
Annabelle shrugged. “Yes, of course, for my health, but once that’s done, I do rather feel as if I’ve walked quite enough for the day.”
“You’ll have to turn around a few paces early on Monday nights for the next six weeks,” Robert suggested.
Annabelle took a deep breath and then sighed. “Let’s go, shall we?” she asked. Robert offered his arm and the pair walked away, down the corridor into the museum.
Fenella thought about following, as she had no idea where she was going, but she felt rather unwelcome. The guard grinned at her.
“There are two others coming. You might as well wait for one of them. They’re bound to be nicer than Miss Clague and Mr. Platter.”
“She was a teacher?” Fenella asked.
“She taught reception for around a hundred years. She was my mother’s teacher when my mother started school and Mum was really happy when she found out I was going to have her as well. I’m not sure what happened to Miss Clague in the years between my mother and me, but she definitely wasn’t the same person my mother remembered so fondly.”
“Oh, dear.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago, anyway, but I still remember hating school for that entire year. Miss Clague didn’t like messes, and what four-year-old boy doesn’t love making them? She never took to me, and the feeling was mutual.”
“Who was the man? I got the impression that he felt as if you should know his name.”
“Robert Platter? He’s an actor, or what passes for one on the island. He always has a part in the Christmas pantomime and he does other shows with different theatre companies around the island. He has a radio show on the local station, too. He plays movie soundtracks and West End show tunes for hours on a Sunday afternoon.”
“I’ll have to try to listen some Sunday.”
The guard made a face. “If that’s what you enjoy.”
The door opened again, before Fenella could reply.
“Good evening,” a pleasant voice said as a plump woman of around sixty walked into the space.
“Good evening,” the guard replied. “I just need your name, please.”
“I’m Margaret Vestal,” the woman replied.
He nodded and made a mark on his paper. “The class is in the third-floor conference room,” he told her.
“Same as last time, then,” she replied cheerfully.
“Last time?” Fenella echoed. “You’ve taken the class before.”
Margaret smiled at her. “I’ve taken it three times. I retired two years ago and I’m still rather overwhelmed by how much free time I have. I take classes every night of the week when I can. This one is one of my favorites, though. Marjorie is a brilliant teacher.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m Fenella Woods, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Margaret, but you already knew that.”
Fenella nodded. “From what did you retire?”
“I was a nurse. I spent my entire career at Noble’s, working in the children’s ward. It was sometimes heartbreaking, seeing the children and their parents suffer, but I loved it, and I still miss it.”
The door swung open again and a large man in a bright red overcoat seemed to burst through it. “I’m late,” he exclaimed.
“Not at all, George,” Margaret said, patting his arm. “You know Marjorie won’t start without you, anyway.”
George nodded. “I know, but I do hate to make everyone wait. Annabelle will be tutting under her breath, and Robert will make some remark that’s funny but also a touch unkind.”
Margaret grinned. “You’re right, of course, so let’s get up there and see what he comes up with tonight.”
She grabbed George’s arm and then smiled at Fenella. “Come along, I’ll introduce you to George along the way.”
“It’s George O’Malley, then?” the guard asked.
“Yes, exactly,” George replied as they began to walk down the corridor.
“Thanks,” the g
uard called behind them.
“George, this is Fenella Woods. Fenella, this is George. He teaches mathematics at one of the Douglas high schools, a tiring and thankless job. He’s only twenty-five, you know.”
Fenella tried not to look shocked as she glanced at the man. She’d assumed he was somewhere around forty, with his greying hair.
George laughed. “I’m going to be forty-three this year,” he told Fenella. “I love my job, and I even get thanked once in a while.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Fenella told him.
“I know you’re wondering why I’m taking this class, when I teach maths,” he added.
The question hadn’t occurred to Fenella, but she didn’t mind hearing the answer. “I hope there isn’t any math in this class,” she replied quickly.
He laughed again. “No, at least, not much. We sometimes get caught up with working out old money, but that’s the extent of it. No, I always tell the teenagers I teach that their entire lives should be about learning. So many of them are focused on finishing school and getting a job, and I want them to realize that they should keep learning new things no matter what their age. I take at least one class every year, and I try to fit in more when I can. I think it keeps my brain active.”
They’d made their way down the dimly lit corridor to the foyer at the main entrance. The elevators were only a few steps away. On the third floor, it was a short walk to the conference room.
“Ah, there you are,” Robert said loudly. “So right on time as to make the rest of us feel as if we’d arrived rather too early.”
Everyone chuckled at the man’s words except Annabelle, who muttered something under her breath.
Fenella smiled at Marjorie Stevens, the woman teaching the class. Marjorie was the librarian and archivist for the museum, and she taught a number of different classes all around the island. Fenella had met with her a few times to discuss various research projects that Marjorie was hoping someone might pursue. As Fenella had a doctorate in history, Marjorie seemed eager to persuade her to start some research on the island. Taking this class was an important first step for Fenella, as very few of the old records had been transcribed.
“You are right on time,” Marjorie told the new arrivals as they settled into seats around the long rectangular table. “Before we start working, I think we should all introduce ourselves. I’ll start. I’m Marjorie Stevens. I’ve been teaching this class for something like fifteen years and I’m still always excited to find new documents for us to discuss.” She nodded toward Annabelle who was sitting on her right.
“I’m Annabelle Clague,” she said, frowning. “I’m a retired teacher and I’ve taken this class six times. I’ve been tracing my family tree for many years, but that isn’t easy on this island when your surname is Clague.”
Everyone around the table nodded.
“I’m Robert Platter. I’m retired as well, although I keep myself busy with bits and pieces. This is the fourth time I’ve taken this class, and I teach a few community education classes myself, in drama and theater.”
“I took one of Robert’s classes last year,” Marjorie interjected. “It was tremendous fun.”
“Thank you,” Robert replied with a smile.
“I suppose I’m next,” George said. “I’m George O’Malley. I’m not retired, and I’m quite jealous of those of you who are. I’ve taken this class half a dozen times or more and it’s always one of my favorites.”
“I’m Margaret Vestal and this is my fourth time taking this class,” Margaret said. “I’m a retired nurse.”
Fenella smiled nervously at the others. “I’m Fenella Woods. I only just moved to the island last year and this is the first time I’m taking this class. I took early retirement from my job as a university professor in Buffalo, New York.”
“I’m Donna Cannon,” the last woman said.
Fenella tried to study her without staring. She knew Donna was in her seventies, and she looked like someone’s grandmother. Her hair was white and it curled gently around her face. She was curvy, but not fat, and her clothes were neat and tidy, but clearly not new.
“I’m retired, too. I worked in banking for many years. I was the first female vice president in the bank’s history, and I had to work twice as hard as any of the men who had the same job. I never married, never had much use for men, really. I left school at sixteen, without many qualifications. Luckily, I was a hard worker and a quick study. I moved up at the bank even though I hadn’t been to university. Once I retired, though, I realized that I’d missed out on a lot in terms of my education, so I started taking classes whenever I could. This is the tenth time I’ve taken this class.”
She paused for a breath and Marjorie quickly began to speak. “That’s everyone, then,” she said brightly. “Let’s start with our first document.”
Marjorie passed around photocopies of a document from the museum’s archives.
“Fenella, this will all be new to you, but the others can probably manage a lot of it. We’ll go through it slowly, word by word, or even letter by letter. Once you get your eye in, you’ll find that you can read a lot more than you’ll initially think you can understand.”
Fenella looked at the scrawled mess on the page in front of her and could only hope that Marjorie was correct. At the moment, she felt as if she’d struggle to identify much more than a few random letters.
An hour later, Fenella shut her eyes and then looked at the document again. While it hadn’t been easy to work though, she now had a neat transcription of the entire page.
“I think we need to take a break,” Marjorie said. “That was a tricky one to start with, and I have another tricky one for after the break. Right now, I think we could all do with some biscuits and tea.”
Everyone sat back from the table and put their pens or pencils down. Fenella rubbed a hand over her eyes.
“You need one of these,” Donna said, waving her magnifying glass.
“I think you’re right,” Fenella agreed.
“I should have lent you one,” Marjorie said apologetically as she got to her feet. “I usually bring a few up from the archives, but I forgot tonight.”
“It’s fine. I managed,” Fenella told her. “I’ll buy one before next week.”
Marjorie nodded and then headed for the corner where there was a small sink and a table with a kettle on it. While she began to make tea, Fenella stretched.
“What did you think of that, then?” Donna asked her.
“It was fascinating, but hard work,” Fenella replied.
“It was a more difficult one than what Marjorie usually starts us with,” Donna said. “We usually start with something easier and in a more standard form, like a will. Those all start the same and have a lot of the same wording throughout, so you can more easily get your eye in to deciphering the writing. This letter was something else altogether.”
“It does get easier,” George interjected. “The more you look at these things, the easier it gets. If we started after the break with another letter from the same person, you’d find you could read it with ease.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Fenella laughed, “but I could probably work out a few words here and there, anyway.”
The others began to get out of their chairs, and after a few minutes they began to congregate near the table in the back.
“Custard creams and digestives,” Marjorie announced as she opened packages. “Help yourself.”
Fenella grabbed a custard cream and took a bite. They weren’t as sweet as an American cookie would have been, but they were definitely better than digestives, which were more like an unsweetened graham cracker than a cookie.
“I saw your name in the paper today,” Annabelle said to Donna.
Donna frowned and then shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Annabelle looked surprised. “You don’t want to talk about it?” she repeated. “I’ve never known you to not want to talk.”
“One of m
y dearest friends was murdered,” Donna told her, “and, what’s worse, the killer got away with it. Whoever killed Mabel is still walking around, living his or her life quite happily. Mabel didn’t live to see twenty-six. The killer has had fifty years of life since to enjoy.”
“Unless he or she died, too,” Margaret suggested.
Donna shrugged. “It seems as if the most likely suspects are all still alive.”
“What’s all this?” George asked.
“Don’t you read the local paper?” Annabelle demanded, sounding horrified by the thought.
“I do, of course,” the man replied quickly. “I haven’t had time to read today’s, though. I’ll probably read it with my breakfast tomorrow morning.”
An awkward silence followed George’s words. Marjorie finally interrupted it. “The tea is ready,” she announced as she began to fill cups.
Fenella took a cup and sipped it slowly. She wanted to hear more from Donna about the case, but she didn’t want to be the one to ask.
“As no one else is talking, I’ll tell you what Annabelle was talking about,” Donna said after she’d finished a digestive. “Fifty years ago one of my closest friends was brutally murdered in her home. Mabel was a good friend and a good person and it breaks my heart that the police have never found the man or woman responsible for her death.”
George nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If this happened fifty years ago, why was it in the paper today?”
“The new police inspector from across, Inspector Robinson, is reopening the investigation,” Annabelle explained. “He’s the one who solved Christopher Manderly’s murder some time back.”
“I do remember reading about that,” George said happily.
“He’s meant to be very good,” Donna said. “Fenella can tell us more.”
All eyes turned to Fenella, who nearly choked on her tea. “He is very good,” she said after a short coughing spell. “He was the inspector in charge of the case when I found a body the day after I’d arrived on the island.”
“And they’ve become good friends since then,” Donna added.
Kittens and Killers Page 9
