Fenella felt herself blushing as she took another custard cream.
“It seems as if the police should have enough to do with current crime rates the way they are,” Robert remarked. “Reopening old cases seems to be a waste of resources.”
“Mabel was murdered. Her case deserves to solved and someone deserves to go to prison for a long time,” Donna said tightly.
Robert shrugged. “It was probably someone from across. This Inspector Robinson fellow will never track them down, not after all these years.”
“I’m afraid Robert may be correct,” Annabelle said. “It does seem likely that the killer was someone from across. Maybe it was a serial killer who came over and killed your friend and then went back to the UK to do the rest of his or her crimes.”
“I’m sure we can find more pleasant things to discuss,” Marjorie said firmly. “Fenella, what did you think of your first transcription?”
“The subject matter was fascinating, but it was hard work teasing out each word one at a time. It reminded me of the significance of each and every word in a sentence, too. That last line, where it said something about looking forward to seeing them again, took on a whole different meaning when I realized that the word ‘not’ was at the beginning of it.”
Everyone chuckled. “I don’t think the letter writer was very pleased with her older brother,” George said. “Imagine fighting over an inheritance by post.”
“I have the brother’s reply for after the break,” Marjorie said. “His handwriting is worse than his sister’s, and his language is more direct. The first thing we’ll do, though, is look at the envelopes from both letters.”
“The envelopes?” Margaret asked.
Marjorie grinned at her. “You’ll see.”
A few minutes later, she passed out a sheet with copies of the two envelopes on the page. Fenella studied them for a second and then gasped.
“They lived in the same house?” she asked.
“They did, indeed,” Marjorie replied. “The archives actually hold about fifty letters between the pair, and I believe nearly all of them are arguing about money. From what I’ve been able to work out, they lived together in the house that their parents had left to them in equal shares. From the sound of things in the letters, the atmosphere in the house must have been quite frosty.”
The group spent the next hour reading through the second letter. While the handwriting was more difficult to read, Fenella found the transcription somehow easier. Some of the names and places mentioned in the letter had also been discussed in the first one, which helped. While the brother’s handwriting was sloppy, it was consistent, so that the same word looked the same every time it was written. His sister often changed the way she’d made certain letters throughout the document, and her spelling was incredibly erratic.
“That was fun,” George said at the end of the second hour. “Are we going to do more with this pair next time?”
Marjorie shook her head. “That’s all from these two for this class. If anyone is interested in learning more about them, feel free to come down to the archives whenever it’s open. I’d be happy to dig the letters out for you to go through. If you’d like to provide a formal transcription of the lot, I’d be grateful.”
Fenella was tempted to try just that, but she didn’t want to get caught up with the very first documents they’d studied. Knowing Marjorie, there would be a great deal of interesting material to come.
“Thank you for another wonderful class,” Margaret said as she got to her feet. “As always, it was interesting, informative, and entertaining.”
“Thank you,” Marjorie replied.
“I loved it,” George said. “I may just have to visit you one Saturday to read more of those letters. I’d really like to know what happened next.”
“You’ll have to share what you find with everyone,” Marjorie said. “I don’t know what happened next, either. One of my research assistants found the letters and suggested them to me for this class, but I haven’t read any past those two. My assistant glanced through some later ones and told me that the pair were still arguing, but that’s all I know.”
“What a shame,” Annabelle sighed. “I was an only child and I always wanted an older brother or sister. It’s too bad they didn’t get along.”
“I have four older brothers,” Fenella told her. “Happily, we don’t fight about money.” James, the youngest of her brothers, had been upset when Fenella had inherited Mona’s estate and he’d received nothing, but after muttering for a while about suing for a share, he’d stopped talking about it after a recent visit to the island. Her other brothers were all reasonably well off financially.
“I have a younger brother,” Robert said. “He’s never forgiven me for the way I settled our father’s estate. We haven’t spoken in twenty years. After tonight, though, I am tempted to reach out to him. Perhaps I’ll send him a letter.”
“What a good idea,” Annabelle said.
“My sister lives in America,” George told the group. “She moved there when she was eighteen and hasn’t been back here since.”
“Have you ever been over to visit her?” Fenella asked.
George shrugged. “No, although visiting America is on my bucket list. We always send one another Christmas and birthday cards. Maybe I should suggest a visit when I send her next birthday card. I’ll have to start saving my pennies, though. I’m sure flights won’t be cheap.”
“Where in America does she live? If she’s near a big city, it might not be too bad. If you have to get multiple flights to get to her, those will add up,” Fenella said.
“Somewhere in South Carolina,” he replied. “She moved last year and I can’t remember the name of the city or town where she is now. It wasn’t anywhere I’d ever heard of before, but that isn’t saying much. I’m sure the US is full of cities and towns about which I know nothing.”
“I only know a handful of US cities,” Margaret said. “New York, Washington, Los Angeles, Hollywood. I’m sure I know more, but those are the ones that spring to mind, anyway.”
Fenella sat back and listened as the others named several other US cities. While they were talking, she thought about the number of UK cities she could name. As a historian, she’d probably known more than the typical American even before she’d moved to the island.
“As fascinating as this is, I really must go,” Margaret said when the conversation lagged. “I’ll see you all next week.”
That seemed to be everyone’s cue to start gathering up their things. Marjorie slid her binder into a large bag before she stood up. Fenella tucked her notes and photocopies into the tote she’d brought for the class. Now she just had to work out a way to strike up a conversation with Donna.
“It was a fascinating evening,” Robert announced as he tucked his folded sheets into his jacket pocket. He sounded very much as if he were doing a radio promotion for the class or something similar, at least to Fenella’s ears.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Marjorie said.
He nodded. “But I must get home and rest my voice. I’m doing the morning show tomorrow, filling in for a friend. Am I a terrible person for hoping for some exciting news to announce tomorrow? Reading out the news every hour can be incredibly dull, you know, when all I have to report is a new pub opening in Ramsey and the football scores.”
“There’s a new pub opening in Ramsey?” George asked.
Robert laughed. “I suspect so, as there always is, but really, that was just an example of the sort of news I have to report around here. Nothing much happens most days, anyway. Things get much more exciting when Fenella starts finding dead bodies.”
Fenella flushed. “I don’t find that exciting in any way.”
“I’ve just had a brilliant idea,” Robert said. “We could do a series of interviews about the various bodies you’ve found. I’m sure I could sell the series to the station, and maybe even find a place for it across. I’m sure people would be interested in hearing
what it’s like to find a murder victim.”
“Sorry, I’m not interested,” Fenella said flatly.
Robert frowned. “I can’t offer you much, as I’ve no idea if I’ll sell the idea across or not, but I’m sure we could work out some sort of financial arrangement.”
Donna laughed. “Don’t you know who she is?” she demanded.
“What do you mean?” Robert asked, looking confused.
“She’s Mona Kelly’s niece,” Donna told him.
Robert nodded. “I do remember hearing that, now that you mention it.”
“She inherited Mona’s fortune,” Donna continued. “She could buy half the island or more with what she has sitting in the bank. She’s not going to be interested in making a series with you, no matter how much money you offer.”
“If you don’t want to do it for the money, you should want to do it for the good of the country,” Robert told Fenella. “You can help people understand what they should do if they ever stumble across a dead body.”
“I don’t think you’ll get a whole series out of ‘ring 999,’” Fenella told him dryly. “I’m truly not interested in talking about all of the sad things I’ve seen since I’ve been on the island. I can’t imagine people would be interested, anyway. The papers have covered everything a million times already.”
“The papers can’t let people hear your voice as you describe your horror,” Robert said. “I’m sure I could teach you how to sound strong yet slightly frightened. It could be very lucrative for both of us, really.”
“I’m sorry, but no,” Fenella said firmly.
“Donna, what about you?” Robert asked.
“What about me?” Donna replied.
“Would you be interested in talking about your friend’s murder? I can envision a whole series where I talk to the various loved ones of murder victims. I’m sure Sophia Manderly would talk to me. She’s an attention seeker, that woman.”
Fenella couldn’t argue with him about that. Sophia would probably jump at the chance to tell everyone how devastated she’d been when her husband had died all those years ago.
“I’m sorry, but no. As I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” Donna said in a low voice.
“Fenella, you know Harvey Garus, don’t you? Could you talk to him about the series for me? I’d like to know how he feels, knowing that he survived being held prisoner by a crazy serial killer,” Robert continued.
“Harvey and I don’t talk about his ordeal. As far as I know, he doesn’t remember much about what happened to him, anyway. If you want to talk to him, you’ll have to find a way to do that yourself,” Fenella replied.
“What about anyone connected to the Hop-tu-Naa murder in Cregneash?” Robert pushed. “Karla’s parents might not want to speak to me, but maybe Paul Baldwin would like some extra publicity. I can’t believe I never thought about this before.”
“I believe Paul is across,” Fenella told him, wishing Robert had never had what she thought was a terrible idea.
Robert shrugged. “I’m going to go home and start making a list. Perhaps you’ll both change your minds once the series gets started and begins getting noticed.” He nodded at everyone and then rushed out of the room. Annabelle was on her feet after him within seconds.
“She’s been chasing him for years,” Donna remarked, nodding toward Annabelle’s back.
“She never seems to get anywhere, though,” George remarked. “Maybe she needs to start finding dead bodies.”
Fenella winced, earning an apologetic smile from the man.
“I am sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply, that is, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Fenella told him. “Now I’d better get going. I’m looking after a bunch of kittens and I’m sure they’ve made a huge mess of my house while I’ve been out.”
Everyone walked out of the museum together, back past the guard. When they reached the parking lot, Donna touched Fenella’s arm.
“Are you truly in a hurry to get home?” she asked tentatively. “I’d really like a few minutes of your time if you can spare it.”
7
“The kittens will be fine for a short while longer,” Fenella assured her, hoping she was right. “Should we find a pub nearby?”
“I’m driving,” Donna replied “I never drink when I drive.”
“I don’t, either, but we could have soft drinks or tea,” Fenella suggested.
Donna shrugged. “I don’t often go to pubs. There’s a nice café nearby that does cakes and several different types of coffee and tea. They have late hours and aren’t usually all that busy.”
“Cake sounds wonderful,” Fenella laughed.
Donna gave her directions to the café, which was only a few streets away. “I’ll see you there in five minutes,” she told Fenella as they reached their cars in the parking lot.
Fenella waited until the other woman had pulled away before starting her engine. While she drove, she wondered what Donna wanted to discuss with her. It seemed most likely that it had something to do with the investigation into Mabel’s death, but that was by no means certain.
The café was easy to find. Fenella parked next to Donna’s car. There were only two other cars in the lot.
Inside, Donna was sitting at a table for two in the corner. A man in his forties was sitting by himself at a table for four on the other side of the room. He had papers piled all over the table and was busily typing on a laptop. As Fenella crossed the room, he took a long drink from his coffee cup and then frowned at it. The waitress was already on her way to his table with a fresh pot.
“I’ll be over in a second,” she called to Fenella as she went.
“This is charming,” Fenella said as she took the chair opposite Donna.
“It’s one of my favorite places,” Donna told her. “My house is just down the road from here. I often walk here, rather than drive. They make their own cakes every morning, and they’re all excellent.”
“The problem is,” the waitress said as she reached the table, “we’re sold out of just about everything by this time of night. I have one slice of chocolate gateau left, some Victoria sponge, and lots of jam roly-poly. No one seemed to want that today.”
Fenella frowned. She really wanted the chocolate gateau but didn’t want to look rude. “What are you having?” she asked Donna.
“Victoria sponge for me,” Donna replied. “It’s my favorite, and if there’s plenty, they’ll give me an extra-large piece.”
The waitress laughed. “For you, my dear, I always do.”
“I’ll have the chocolate, then,” Fenella said happily, “and a coffee.”
“Tea for you, dear?” the waitress asked Donna.
“Yes, please.”
The two women chatted about the weather and some of the other restaurants and cafés on the island while they waited for the waitress to return. Once the cakes and drinks had been delivered, Fenella changed the subject.
“What did you want to talk about with me, then?” she asked before taking a sip of her drink.
Donna frowned at her. “I don’t really know,” she replied. “I mean, I do know, but I’m not sure about it, or anything, really. The thing is, I know who you are and I know you’ve been involved in a number of murder investigations. I thought maybe you’d understand how I feel.”
“I’ve been caught up in murder investigations, yes, but none of those cases have actually involved any of my family members or friends.”
Donna nodded. “That’s a fair point, but I, well, I just need to talk to someone, and you seemed ideal, at least during class. If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re something of an outsider. You probably don’t know anything about the case, aside from what you may have read in the paper. Everyone else has their own ideas about what happened based on who they know and what rumors they’ve heard over the years.”
Fenella wasn’t sure how best to reply to that. “I did read all about the case in the paper today,” she said slow
ly, hoping she could remember what she’d read today as opposed to what she’d read in Daniel’s file.
“They were very careful today to simply report the facts,” Donna sighed. “That won’t stop people from restarting the old rumors, though.”
“What old rumors?”
“Mabel was a great friend. I loved her like a sister. She was always closer to Jeanne, but that was because they worked together. There were four of us, and to some extent we were like a family. Marilyn was breaking the family up, of course, by getting married, but she was never my favorite, anyway.”
Fenella chuckled. “What did you think of her fiancé?”
“Ewan was okay. I almost felt sorry for him, really. He was a police constable, and not at all the sort of man that Marilyn’s mother expected her to marry. Marilyn was very pretty and her mother wanted her to marry well, but once Marilyn met Ewan she never looked at another man again.”
“That’s very sweet, really.”
“Yes, I suppose so, at least the way I’ve told it. I could tell it another way and make you think something else altogether, of course.”
Fenella nodded. “Do you think they were in love? Was the marriage a happy one?”
“Marilyn loved the idea of being married and getting away from her mother. She also loved the idea of marrying a man that her mother didn’t approve of but who was beyond reproach. I mean, what mother can actually complain about her daughter marrying a respected police constable? Ewan was an inspired choice, really. Marilyn’s previous boyfriend had been a bartender at the local. She knew better than to introduce him to her parents.”
“Did her father approve of the marriage?”
“I don’t know that he cared, really. Men didn’t get involved in such things in those days. His job was to pay for everything and he did that in a big way. It was far and away the most lavish wedding I’ve ever attended, and I’ve been to quite a few weddings in my day.”
“Were they happy together?” Fenella asked again.
“Marilyn’s parents or Marilyn and Ewan?” Donna asked. She laughed and held up a hand before Fenella could reply. “I know you meant Marilyn and Ewan, but for the record, I don’t think Marilyn’s parents were particularly happy. Her father had a bad habit of drinking too much and then, well, making rude suggestions to Marilyn’s friends. It was incredibly uncomfortable for everyone involved, really.”
Kittens and Killers Page 10
