An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Collection - ABC

by Diana Xarissa

  “The first job for the police is for the crime scene technicians, really,” the inspector told her. “Sometimes they’re able to find fingerprints or DNA or some other physical evidence that makes my job a lot easier.”

  Fenella nodded. “And there seem to be new advances in those areas all the time.”

  “Yes and no,” he replied. “The field is progressing rapidly, but the basics remain the same. And good old-fashioned detective work remains the same as well. It would be wonderful if every murderer simply left their fingerprints on the murder weapon, but that rarely happens.”

  “Everyone knows about fingerprints,” Fenella remarked.

  “They do. And more and more people know about DNA and physical evidence. As our technology has improved, clever criminals have started getting smarter.”

  “Oh, dear,” Fenella said, sighing. “And as no one has been arrested yet, I’m guessing you didn’t get much physical evidence for the two murders I’m, well, um, that I know about.”

  He smiled. “I can’t really discuss the cases, but if we did have clear and unimpeachable physical evidence, we would have made an arrest by now.”

  “So what happens next?”

  “We start trying to find out everything we can about our victim. We find out who he or she was friends with, whether they had any enemies, how close they were to their family, really, everything we can learn.”

  “And all of those people are suspects?”

  The man nodded. “But not just them. You can’t rule out random acts of violence or even someone being mistaken for someone else and being killed.”

  “So just about everyone on the island is a suspect.”

  “Pretty much,” the man nodded. “At least in the early days of the investigation. Obviously, a great many people can be eliminated because they weren’t anywhere near the scene of the crime. That’s another aspect that we spend a lot of time on, trying to work out exactly when the victim met his or her fate. The more we can narrow that window, the better.”

  “You have a pretty narrow window for Mr. Potter, if not for Mr. Collins,” Fenella remarked.

  “Alibis are tricky things, though. It’s often very difficult for someone to prove where they were at any given time, no matter how small the window.”

  “Really?”

  “Where were you at four o’clock today?” the man asked.

  “Home, alone,” Fenella replied.

  “There you are, no alibi,” he laughed.

  “Yes, but surely most people were at work when Mr. Collins and Mr. Potter were killed.”

  “We aren’t talking about specific cases, but I will say that being at work isn’t necessary an alibi unless you were in a meeting for the entire time in question. People often disappear into their offices or take breaks or whatever, and are therefore out of sight of others, sometimes for long periods of time. Douglas is a small town and the island itself isn’t huge. To give you an example, we timed how long it would have taken Mr. Potter to drive from his office to your building, park and then spend five minutes in the alley. He could have been back at his desk before anyone noticed he was gone.”

  “I thought they had a secretary?”

  “They do, but she sits in a separate room. Mr. Potter could have gone out the back door and down the stairs to the small car park where he left his car. He could have been out and back before Kara noticed.”

  “So he might have killed Mr. Collins,” Fenella concluded.

  “He didn’t have an alibi anyway, actually, but now that he’s been murdered himself, we’ve moved him to the bottom of the suspect list,” the man corrected her.

  “I don’t know anything about Mr. Potter,” Fenella said. “Was he married? Was he a nice person? Who had a motive to murder him?”

  “I can tell you everything that’s been in the local paper,” Inspector Robinson offered.

  “I keep forgetting to get the paper,” Fenella sighed.

  “He was married, although he and his wife were separated and she’s been living in Port Erin for the past six months. The press gave several column inches to the fact that he had had a few brushes with the law, but neither he nor his business partner were ever formally charged with anything.”

  “So do you think they were both killed because of their business practices?”

  “It’s one thing we’re considering,” was all he would say.

  Fenella sighed. “I know Mr. Collins had lots of female friends, although I can’t understand why. Are they all suspects, too?”

  “As I said earlier, everyone on the island is a suspect unless we can eliminate them. We’re looking at all known associates of both men, individually. There is, of course, considerable overlap.”

  “There you are,” Shelly said from across the room. She walked over and pulled up a chair. “I was about to plead a headache to escape, but luckily their babysitter rang and they had to go.”

  “I should have come over and pulled you away,” Fenella said. “Sorry.”

  “They would have just sucked you into their conversation,” Shelly told her. “You were smart to stay away. But I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

  “No,” Fenella assured her. She was tired of talking about murder, anyway. “We were just chatting.”

  “And now I think it’s time for me to head for home. I don’t take days off when I’m investigating murders,” the inspector said as he rose to his feet.

  “Thank you for your time, tonight,” Fenella said. “We should have talked about something more pleasant, though.”

  The inspector chuckled. “This is all strange for you, I understand that. I don’t mind talking about my work, anyway. But maybe next time we can talk more about you.”

  Fenella blushed as the man wished them both a good evening and left.

  “He’s perfect for you,” Shelly told her.

  “I’m not sure I could live with a policeman,” Fenella replied.

  “Surely that’s better than living with a criminal?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want to say anything out of turn, but Donald doesn’t have the best reputation,” Shelly said. “He’s been investigated a few times when business deals have gone wrong. Just be careful of the man.”

  Fenella frowned. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.

  11

  There was no sign of Mona when Fenella got home an hour later. Katie was still curled up on the couch and she greeted Fenella with a tired sounding “merow.” After checking that there was plenty of water in Katie’s bowl, Fenella got ready for bed. No doubt Mona would be disappointed when she told her what she’d learned from the inspector, but she’d done her best. It was better to leave everything to the experts anyway.

  Sunday morning was overcast and Fenella found herself frowning at the weather. She didn’t have any plans, but it would have been nice to take a long walk, maybe. Of course, it wasn’t actually raining. She showered and dressed and then fixed herself some breakfast. She’d filled Katie’s bowls as soon as she’d woken up, thankfully without the kitten’s help this time.

  A light rain began to fall as she washed the breakfast dishes. “So what am I meant to do all day?” she asked Katie as they stood together looking out the window.

  Expecting Mona to reply, Fenella was surprised when someone knocked on the door instead.

  “Ghosts can’t knock,” she muttered as she crossed the room.

  “Good morning,” Shelly greeted her. “I can’t stay, as I’ve promised a friend I’d meet him for brunch, but I wanted to see if you wanted to go with me later. They’re having a, well, memorial service sounds religious, and he wasn’t, but some sort of gathering of remembrance for Alan Collins. I thought I would go because I used his services, and I thought you might like to go because, well, since you found the body. Maybe not.” Shelly frowned as if she’d only just realized what she’d said.

  “Actually, I’d like to go,” Fenella said impulsively. “I feel as if I ought
to pay my respects in some way, I guess.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought,” Shelly said. “I’ll collect you at two; the thing starts at half past.”

  “Where is it being held?”

  “At the community center. They have large spaces that people can use for gatherings of any kind.”

  “Who’s hosting it?” Fenella asked.

  “As I understand it, his former business partner arranged it all before he got himself killed. I suppose the secretary decided to go ahead and have it anyway, as all the work was done.”

  “How do you know these things?”

  Shelly laughed. “The details about the gathering were in the local paper. Mark Potter took out a small advert, inviting anyone who ever worked with Alan to come and, quote, ‘honor his memory.’ The part about the secretary taking over I heard from a friend. I gather everything was already paid for, so there was no reason to cancel.”

  “Interesting,” Fenella said. “I don’t suppose anyone will do anything similar for poor Mr. Potter.”

  “You never know,” Shelly replied.

  “I’ll see you around two, then,” Fenella said. “Should I dress in black, or is there another color that’s more appropriate?”

  Shelly laughed. “I’m not planning on changing,” she said.

  Fenella looked at the other woman’s brightly colored floral dress and smiled. “So anything goes.”

  “The notice in the paper said it was a celebration of the man’s life,” Shelly said.

  “Fair enough. I’ll have to see what I have, though.”

  “No one will pay any attention to us,” Shelly told her. “If there’s even anyone there.”

  “I still don’t know what to do with myself this morning,” Fenella told Katie after Shelly had rushed away to meet her brunch date. “Maybe it’s time to finally find the Manx Museum?”

  Katie didn’t look at all interested. Fenella found an old pair of shoes that she didn’t mind getting wet and pulled on a raincoat. She hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella with her, but there were several in one of the wardrobes.

  She still had the directions she’d written down previously, so now she set out, excited to learn more about the history of her new home.

  The walk was a long and chilly one and Fenella nearly changed her mind when she realized that the museum was at the top of a very steep hill, but as she was already wet and cold, there seemed little point in turning back. She felt as if she were climbing forever, but she finally reached the museum and took a good look. The museum building incorporated what had once been the island’s hospital, and Fenella smiled as she made her way to the main entrance. The hospital had been built in 1886, which meant the museum’s building had a great deal of its own history.

  She reached the large glass doors at the entrance and pulled. Nothing happened. After trying the second set of doors with the same result, she read the sign. “They aren’t open on Sundays,” she said aloud. “Why wouldn’t a museum be open on a Sunday?”

  There was no one around to answer her. Sighing deeply, she turned and began the long walk back down the hill. Life on a small island was certainly different to what she was used to in the US. Idly wondering if any of the museums in Buffalo were shut on Sundays, she walked slowly back toward home. As she was already out and no longer dry, she decided to stop in a few shops along the way. She was surprised to find that some of the smaller shops along the main shopping street were also closed on Sundays. The little chocolate shop was open, however, so she bought herself a box of truffles and decided she’d done enough.

  Thoroughly damp and chilled, she opted to take another shower when she got home. Then she reapplied her makeup and fixed her hair before making herself a light lunch. With that out of the way, she hunted around in the wardrobes for something appropriate for the afternoon. “What does one wear to such things?” she asked Katie, who was curled up on her bed.

  The cat stared at her for a moment and then shrugged and hopped off the bed. As Katie walked out of the room, Fenella stuck her tongue out at her. “Thanks a lot,” she muttered at the cat’s back.

  “She’s only a kitten,” Mona said as she walked into the room. “You can’t expect useful fashion advice from a kitten, anyway.”

  “But now you’re here and you can help me out,” Fenella said. “I’ve no idea what to wear.”

  “I’d wear the black dress in the other wardrobe,” Mona told her. “But I have rather old-fashioned ideas about what one wears to a funeral.”

  “But it isn’t a funeral,” Fenella replied. “It’s a memorial service or a celebration of life or something.”

  “I would still wear black,” Mona said. “The man is dead. Black is appropriate.”

  “I don’t want Shelly to feel bad,” Fenella argued. “She’s wearing a bright floral dress.”

  “Shelly is such a lovely person that she can get away with wearing whatever she likes, wherever she goes,” Mona said.

  “And I’m not lovely?”

  Mona laughed. “You’re not Shelly,” she said firmly.

  “Meaning what?”

  “You’re a stranger here, for one thing. I know you were born on the island, but you haven’t been back for long. You also found the body, which makes people curious and maybe suspicious. You must be above reproach.”

  “Seriously? I’m not sure I can manage that. Couldn’t I just wear something inappropriate and be eccentric, instead?”

  “You can, if you think you can carry off eccentric every day for the rest of your life,” Mona told her.

  Fenella sighed. “That might be more work than I’m prepared to do,” she admitted.

  “So a black dress or suit,” Mona said. “I’m prepared to consider blue, if it’s very dark blue.”

  Fenella rummaged through her wardrobe. She knew she had a basic black suit somewhere in there. When she pulled it out, she frowned. It was frumpier than she remembered.

  “It’s horrid,” Mona said. “Borrow something of mine, instead.”

  “I feel weird wearing your clothes,” Fenella admitted.

  “You shouldn’t. They were part of your inheritance.”

  “But what if you want to wear something?”

  Mona laughed. “I have my own wardrobe here that’s more than adequate,” she told Fenella. “There’s a black and grey dress on the left side that Timothy made for me for a funeral.”

  Fenella pulled out the dress and sighed. “It’s gorgeous,” she said. She slipped it on and turned to look at herself in the mirror. “It’s also quite sexy,” she said.

  “It’s a little sexy,” Mona admitted. “Only because it’s quite fitted. The funeral was for a very close friend of mine and I needed to look my very best.”

  Fenella narrowed her eyes and looked at her aunt. “What sort of friend?” she asked.

  Mona laughed. “Let’s just say I wanted to make sure I looked better than any of the other women there, including the widow, shall we?”

  Frowning, Fenella looked at herself in the mirror. The dress was beautifully made and looked expensive. She’d never have bought anything like it for herself, but it fit as if it has been made for her.

  “Maybe I could pin the top together a bit more,” she said as she turned from side to side.

  “You could,” Mona agreed. “Or take a few stiches in it. It wasn’t cut quite that low in the front originally, but Timothy altered it for me. Stitching it up a bit won’t ruin the lines of the bodice.”

  Fenella found the small sewing kit she’d brought with her and quickly added a few stitches to the neckline. When she put the dress back on, it was much improved.

  “You’ll do,” Mona told her. “I just hope you can learn something today. I’m assuming you didn’t learn anything interesting from Inspector Robinson last night or you’d have already told me.”

  Fenella swallowed a sigh and then told her aunt about her conversation with the inspector as she retouched her makeup and hair.

  “It will be
interesting to see who comes to the service today,” Mona said. “You must try to talk to everyone and see what you can learn.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Fenella said. She looked at herself in the mirror again. In the expensive borrowed dress, she didn’t quite feel like herself. Maybe she would be brave enough to do what Mona suggested and try talking to people in spite of her nerves.

  When Shelly knocked a short time later, Fenella pulled the door open quickly.

  “Am I late?” Shelly asked in surprise.

  “Sorry, I’m feeling really nervous about this for some reason,” Fenella tried to explain.

  “You look fabulous,” Shelly told her. “That’s an amazing dress and it fits you perfectly.”

  “It was Mona’s. She had some gorgeous clothes.”

  “It looks as if it was made for you.”

  “And you changed,” Fenella noticed.

  Shelly flushed. “I decided the floral pattern was a bit too much,” she said sheepishly. She was now wearing a much more sedate dress in varying shades of blue.

  “I’m ready when you are,” Fenella said.

  “Let’s go.”

  As Fenella locked her door behind her, Peter’s door opened.

  “Good afternoon,” he said to them both. He was dressed in a dark grey suit with a subtle pinstripe. His shirt was the same shade of grey as the stripe and his tie matched the suit color. It was a very good look on the handsome man.

  “Hello,” Fenella muttered, feeling flustered.

  “You both look lovely. Where are you off to?” he asked.

  “We thought we’d make an appearance at the gathering in honor of Alan Collins,” Shelly replied.

  “My thoughts exactly,” the man said. “Would you like to go together?”

  Shelly glanced at Fenella, who shrugged. “Sure,” Shelly said after a moment. “Then I can have a glass of wine, if it’s on offer.”

  Peter chuckled. “If Mark Potter was in charge of the arrangements, I doubt you’ll want to drink the wine.”

  “I understand the former secretary took over now that Mr. Potter is no longer with us,” Shelly said. “Maybe she has better taste in such matters.”