“Was Paul unfaithful to Phillipa?”
“I don’t know anything for sure,” Donald said. “Certainly, once Anne Marie Smathers was widowed, she seemed determined to have affairs with every man she met. I doubt Paul would have resisted. I can’t see either Hannah or Margaret actually sleeping with him, though.”
“Here we are,” the waiter said brightly, delivering plates. Fenella’s chicken with rice and steamed vegetables looked wonderful, even if she couldn’t remember the names of all of the fancy sauces that decorated the plate. Donald’s steak looked good as well, smothered in peppercorn sauce, with vegetables and baby new potatoes.
“Anne Marie told me as much the night we met,” Fenella picked the conversation back up when the waiter had gone. “But I don’t know about Margaret or Hannah.”
“You’re asking me to remember things that happened a long time ago, when I was pretty young,” Donald protested. “As I said, even I knew about Anne Marie. She was not interested in discretion. But the other two women were married. I would assume, if they did have affairs with Paul, that they did so very discreetly.”
“What did you mean when you said that Paul, Junior, knew his father well?”
“Just that Junior must have known about his father’s other women. Phillipa never came to the parties or charity events, so Paul wasn’t always as discreet as he probably should have been, especially once his son started coming along.”
“But you don’t remember him with Margaret or Hannah?”
“I knew about him and Anne Marie because that was Anne Marie. The only other woman that I’m certain he had an affair with is Patricia Anderson, and I’d rather you didn’t repeat that to anyone.”
Fenella nodded. “Do you think Paul, Junior, knew about his father and Patricia?”
“Probably. He would have been at all of the parties by the time it happened.”
Fenella sighed. “The food is delicious,” she said. She was working hard to try to remember to taste everything, as her mind was elsewhere.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Donald said. He topped up her wine glass and the patted her hand. “Maybe all three women did have accidents,” he said.
“If they didn’t, can you think of any other motive? Someone suggested that it might all be tied to Herbert Smathers’s death.”
“Ah, poor Herbert. My father used to talk about him. He loved Herbert’s car and very nearly bought himself the same model. When Herbert crashed, he was awfully glad he hadn’t.”
“I understand Anne Marie drove the same type of car.”
“Anne Marie had her own unique approach to life,” Donald said with a laugh. “I’m sure she’s in the afterlife now, laughing at the fact that she ended up dying in the same way Herbert did.”
“Did your father ever suggest that Herbert’s death was anything other than an accident?”
“Oh, yes. He used to say that Anne Marie had finally had enough of the man and eliminated him. It was something of a joke within the group.”
“Hardly funny.”
“I think it was all just teasing. I was never sure, but Anne Marie never struck me as the type to know enough about cars to deliberately cause a crash.”
“Were there any other mysterious deaths or scandals or anything that you can remember? Maybe some money or jewelry disappeared or charity funds were misappropriated?”
“Nothing is leaping to mind immediately, but I will give the matter some thought. I have a few friends across that might be able to help as well. Men who were friends with my father back in the day who have retired to the UK. I visit them once in a while when I’m across. I’ll ring them both up and see if they have any ideas.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Fenella told him. “It’s worrying to think that the deaths might not have been accidents and I hate that the police think I’m the thing that links them together.”
Donald gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m sure Daniel will step in to defend you if Inspector Hammersmith has any concerns. And if he doesn’t, I can ring the chief constable and have a word. You really mustn’t worry.”
As the waiter cleared their now empty plates, Fenella took a drink of wine. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant over dessert,” she said. “Something inconsequential so I can focus on my cookie cake with its molten chocolate center.”
Donald told her stories about some of his travels as they ate. His jam roly-poly didn’t tempt her in the slightest as she broke open her chocolate chip cookie cake and a river of hot chocolate sauce poured out. She was slightly annoyed when Donald asked for a bite, but she tried hard not to show it. He was buying dinner, after all.
He held her hand all the way out of the restaurant and back into his car. The small sports car felt uncomfortably intimate as they drove back across the island.
“I’m not going to try to persuade you to let me stay tonight,” he said as they went. “I’m still letting you set the pace, so I shall wait to be invited. Having said that, if you were harboring any doubts about my feelings for you, if you did ask me to stay the night, you might find it difficult to get rid of me in the morning.”
Fenella turned his words over in her mind. She wasn’t ready to sleep with him, but it was flattering to know that he wanted her. Jack hadn’t made her feel at all desirable, at least not for a great many years. That was part of her reluctance, of course. It had been a long time since she’d been intimate with a man and the thought of taking things to that level with worldly and sophisticated Donald Donaldson terrified her. The thought of taking things to that level with anyone at all terrified her, she realized. Maybe she was too old to be contemplating such a thing.
Donald walked her to her door and then pulled her close. “Something for you to think about when you’re snuggled up in bed tonight,” he whispered in her ear. The kiss reminded her that she was not too old at all, and that she and Donald had incredible chemistry between them. For a scary moment, she thought about inviting him in, but then her heart rate began to return to normal and she simply thanked him for dinner and let herself into her apartment.
“He isn’t going to wait around forever,” Mona told her. “You should really tell him you aren’t interested.”
“Maybe I am interested,” Fenella countered.
“If you were interested, you’d have invited him in,” Mona said.
“I’m not ready to take things there.”
“Tell me about the evening,” Mona changed the subject. “Did you talk to him about the murders?”
“I mentioned the accidents to him,” Fenella replied, emphasizing the word accidents. “He’s going to think about possible motives, just in case they weren’t accidents, though. He said he’d ring a few of his father’s old friends who are across as well. They might have some ideas.”
“I wonder whom he’s going to ring,” Mona said. “I never understood people moving across to retire, but some people did. Most often because their wives were from across, or their children moved there. Never mind, it will be interesting to see if he comes up with anything.”
Fenella got ready for bed and then curled up with Katie. She was trying hard not to think about her plans for the next day. Tea with Patricia and Melanie didn’t appeal in the slightest, although she would rather do that than find out that Patricia was dead. She sighed and flipped over, annoying Katie, who jumped down and wandered away. Of course, Katie could sleep whenever she wanted the following day. Fenella didn’t have that luxury.
After tossing and turning for what felt like the entire night, Fenella was finally fast asleep when Katie jumped on her chest. “No, go away,” she muttered.
“Meerreew,” Katie replied.
Fenella opened one eye and frowned at the clock. “Is it really eight?” she asked the kitten. “You’ve actually let me sleep in for a bit. Thank you.”
“Meeoowweerroww.”
Fenella slid out of bed and headed for the kitchen. She filled Katie’s bowls and then poured herself some cereal and switch
ed on the coffee maker. Once she’d eaten and had her first cup of coffee, she felt pretty good. A shower and a second cup helped even more.
“Okay, today I’m going to try writing a little bit,” she announced. “I’m going to start with an early diary entry and just write something about Anne’s childhood.”
Katie watched as Fenella set up her laptop and sat down to work. Fenella selected a date at random and began to write. It wasn’t long before she found herself sighing deeply and regretting that she’d ever started.
“I can’t get inside the girl’s head,” she complained to Katie. “Her life was too different from mine. I can’t even begin to imagine what she was thinking or feeling.”
Fenella forced herself to type a complete diary entry, as she felt she needed to make some effort. It was only just over a hundred words, but at least she’d done something. “I think that’s quite enough for today,” she told Katie as she shut the laptop down. “And now I shall read a good book and relax.”
Katie was happy to snuggle up next to her on the couch while Fenella read one of the Rex Stout books she’d brought from Buffalo with her. It was only when her stomach started rumbling that she noticed the time.
“It’s one o’clock,” she exclaimed. “I haven’t had any lunch. I’m not dressed for afternoon tea, and I still have to get to Ramsey.”
After changing quickly while munching on a slice of bread, Fenella rushed outside and was thrilled to find a taxi waiting in the rank nearby. The drive to Ramsey seemed to take forever, but it was still a few minutes shy of two o’clock when she paid off the driver and headed into the Seaview.
“There you are,” Patricia said, getting to her feet as Fenella approached. “Traffic was horrible, wasn’t it? I hope you aren’t having too much trouble getting around our little island?”
“No, not really, but I’ve not taken my driving test yet, so I’m relying on taxis.”
“I wish I’d known. I would have been happy to collect you. You must let me drive you home. I’ve always wanted to see Mona’s flat. Have you made many changes since you moved in?”
“I haven’t changed anything,” Fenella replied. “Everything Mona had is wonderful.”
“She acquired a great many valuable antiques over the years. She seemed to have unlimited funds at the auctions. I always wondered where all of her money came from.”
Fenella ignored the unspoken question. “I’m quite happy to take a taxi home, but if you’d like to give me a ride, I’d be more than happy to show you Mona’s apartment.”
“Of course, it’s yours now,” Patricia said. “Do you plan to keep it or are you thinking of selling it and finding something else?”
“I can’t imagine finding anything else that I would like better than where I am. The building is centrally located, the apartment is beautiful, and the furnishings are splendid. I can’t see any reason to move.”
“I thought maybe you’d prefer something larger. I’m sure there’s plenty of money if you did.”
“I live alone. I don’t even need two bedrooms, so I definitely don’t need anything larger.”
“Perhaps, if you and Donald get more serious, you’ll change your mind,” Patricia suggested.
Fenella opened her mouth to protest and then bit her tongue. Patricia was the last person she wanted to discuss Donald with, really.
“I feel as if I need to apologize,” Patricia said after a moment. “Melanie is always late for everything. I don’t know where she gets it from. I’ve never been late for anything in my life and my husband was much the same.”
“Perhaps she’s tied up with the police,” Fenella replied.
“The police?” Patricia said in a shocked tone. “Why on earth would she be tied up with the police?”
“When I talked to Inspector Hammersmith last, he mentioned talking to you and to Melanie,” Fenella said. “He’s looking for things that might tie the three recent accidents together.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patricia said coolly.
“You haven’t spoken to the man yet?” Fenella asked, surprised. “He was concerned that Anne Marie, Margaret, and Hannah might have been murdered.”
“Murdered?” The color drained from Patricia’s face. “Anne Marie crashed her car and Margaret fell down her stairs. They were both accidents. As I understand it, Hannah slipped in her bath. That was an accident as well.”
“The inspector was concerned that the three deaths, all of women of a certain age from the same social circle, might be connected. He felt they were too close together to be coincidental.”
“Nonsense,” Patricia said briskly. “Accidents happen every day. I’m sure those three aren’t the only people who’ve died on the island in the past week. If he works hard enough, maybe the inspector can find some way to link every single accident to one common cause. Perhaps it’s all a conspiracy to get rid of elderly women who take up more than their fair share of the health service’s resources. He should look into that.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Fenella said. “I thought you’d already spoken to him.”
“He’s been leaving messages on my phone since yesterday morning,” Patricia admitted. “Now that I know what he wants, I’m even less likely to ring him back. Don’t get me wrong, I’m terribly sad about all three deaths. They were my friends, after a fashion, and they were also reliable supporters for the Manx Fund for Children. Maybe that’s the common link. Maybe someone is trying to destroy all of my years of hard work by eliminating my supporters, one at a time.”
Fenella flushed. “But what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
“We have a huge event coming up at Castle Rushen, but I really don’t want to get into too many details until Melanie arrives. She’s the driving force behind the event and she’s in charge of organizing all of the volunteers.”
“Did you want to order or are you waiting for one more?” the waitress asked.
“We’re waiting for my daughter,” Patricia said. “When she arrives, we’ll all be having afternoon tea, but don’t bring anything until she gets here.”
“Of course, madam,” the waitress said. She nodded at Fenella and then walked away.
“I can’t imagine what’s keeping Melanie,” Patricia said, glancing at her watch again. “She’s always late, but she knew today was important.”
Fenella checked the clock on the wall. It was only ten past two, which didn’t seem all that late to her. “So tell me more about the Manx Fund for Children,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to be polite. “I understand you founded it?”
“Yes, many years ago, after a personal tragedy,” the woman replied.
“I’m sorry.”
“I had a son,” Patricia told her, staring at something in the distance. “And I lost him. I felt I had to do something to honor his memory.”
“I can’t imagine your pain,” Fenella said.
“You never wanted children?”
“I can’t have them,” Fenella told her. While she was touched by Patricia’s story, she didn’t feel like sharing her own.
“I wanted to name the charity after my son, but my husband didn’t think that was wise. Sometimes I’m sorry that he got his way, but he was probably correct.” Patricia sighed.
“The Manx Fund for Children is a good name,” Fenella said.
“Yes, I know. It tells people what we are trying to raise money for, which is a good thing. I just wish, that is, it would have been nice to feel that my son’s legacy was in the name, that’s all.”
“I’ve heard you do very good work.”
“When we started out, I was hoping to raise a thousand pounds. It seemed a lot of money to me. I’d married very young and had never held down a paying job. I thought that it would be difficult to get people to give away their hard-earned money.”
“I’m sure it is.”
Patricia shrugged. “Perhaps I simply move in the right social circle
s for this sort of thing. People have been incredibly generous and terribly kind over the years. I raised that first thousand in less than a week, and by the end of the first month I was able to give ten thousand pounds to Noble’s for the children’s ward.”
“My goodness, how wonderful.”
“Things grew from there. I’d only planned on helping Noble’s, but over time we’ve added more and more organizations to the list of those that we help. I still remember taking that first check to Noble’s, though. All of the doctors and nurses knew me from my son’s many stays. It was almost like a family and it was wonderful to be able to support them.”
“What did they do with the money?” Fenella asked, wondering if it was a rude question.
“They made over the children’s play area. They had a nice big space for the children to use, but the carpet was torn and the walls were marked and stained. They put in fresh carpet, painted, and replaced nearly all of the toys. It became a much brighter and happier place for the children to play.”
“That must have brought you a lot of satisfaction.”
Patricia nodded. “But all of that was a long time ago. I must tell you about all of the good that we do.”
She’d only just started telling Fenella about some of their recent projects when they were interrupted.
“Mrs. Anderson? I’m Inspector Hammersmith of the Douglas CID. I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s rather important.”
Patricia looked up at the man and frowned. “I don’t have anything to say about the sudden and unfortunate deaths of my friends,” she said. “I’m quite certain they were all tragic accidents.”
The inspector nodded. “Thank you, but that isn’t why I’m here. Could I have a minute of your time in private?”
“Perhaps, after we’ve finished,” Patricia said. “I won’t be interrupted, though.”
Inspector Hammersmith took a step closer and leaned down toward Patricia. He spoke quietly, but Fenella was able to overhear every word. “I’m terribly sorry, but there’s been an accident. If you’d like to come with me, I can get you to Noble’s quickly. Your daughter is probably already on her way into surgery.”
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