An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Collection - ABC

by Diana Xarissa

  Although it felt like many hours passed with Fenella standing in the corridor, when she checked her watch as the police escorted her and the rest of the cabin passengers off the ferry, it had only been forty minutes since she’d rung Daniel.

  “We’d like you all to please wait here,” one of the uniformed men told the small group. “Inspector Robinson will be coming to take statements from you shortly.”

  “Statements? What sort of statements? What’s going on, anyway?” a young woman demanded.

  “The inspector will tell you whatever he can when he arrives,” the man said. “I’m not authorized to say anything about anything.”

  Fenella sank into the first chair she came to and rested her head against the back, closing her eyes tightly. The world still seemed to be rocking back and forth slightly as she breathed in and out. When she opened her eyes, she could see the ferry, still bobbing gently in place. While she watched, the cargo doors opened and a few cars began to emerge from the interior of the ship.

  “Ms. Woods? Inspector Robinson would like to speak with you, please,” Constable Hopkins said at her elbow.

  Fenella blinked a few times and then stood up slowly. Feeling as if her legs were still trying to cope with the rocking of the boat, she stumbled as she followed the young man across the room. She could feel the eyes of all of the other cabin passengers on her as she went.

  The constable led her through a door marked “Staff Only” which led to a short corridor. He stopped at the second door on the right and tapped lightly on it.

  “Come in,” a voice called.

  The constable pushed the door open and then stepped back to let Fenella walk into the room.

  “Ah, yes, right,” Daniel said from a chair that was behind the cheap metal desk in the center of the room. “I’m just waiting for someone to find me a couple more chairs.”

  Fenella nodded and looked around the room. The walls were bare, and aside from a small and badly battered filing cabinet in one corner, the desk and Daniel’s chair were the only things in the room. There were no windows, and the florescent bulb in the ceiling fixture flickered several times as they waited.

  “It’s a spare office,” Daniel explained after a moment. “The ferry company isn’t using it at the moment, so they said we could talk to sus, er, witnesses in here.”

  “You can say suspects,” Fenella told him. “Having just been through this twice, I know I’m a suspect.”

  “Actually, you might not be,” he replied. “We’ll have to see what the coroner says about an estimated time of death, but the victim had certainly been dead for more than a few minutes when I arrived on the scene.”

  “And the killer wasn’t hiding in the bathroom to make things easy for you?” Fenella asked.

  “Unfortunately, no.” Before he could continue, someone else tapped on the door.

  “You needed chairs?” the tall man in the doorway asked.

  “Yes, please, two if you can,” Daniel replied.

  The man nodded and then pushed the door open as far as it would go. He carried in two hard-looking plastic chairs and set them in front of the desk.

  “Was there anything else?” he asked.

  “No, that should be good for now,” Daniel said. “Thank you.”

  The man shrugged and then turned and walked out of the small room.

  “Have a seat,” Daniel suggested to Fenella.

  She sat down on the seat and wiggled around, trying to get comfortable.

  “They aren’t the nicest chairs I’ve ever seen,” Daniel said sympathetically.

  “They’re less comfortable than they look,” Fenella replied.

  “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  “Oh, it is.”

  Daniel opened his mouth to speak again, but another knock interrupted him. “Come in,” he called.

  “You wanted me?” the man who stuck his head into the room asked.

  “Yes, I do,” Daniel said. “You’ll take notes, please, while I interview people.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said smartly. “And how are you, Ms. Woods?” he added, smiling at Fenella.

  “I’m fine, Constable Corlett,” she replied to the young man. His dirty blond hair needed a trim and his green eyes looked tired. “Has that baby come yet, then?” she asked.

  She’d first met the man six weeks earlier, when she’d found a dead body in the alley behind her apartment building. At that time he’d been eagerly awaiting the arrival of his first child.

  “Oh, aye, he has,” the man replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. “I can show you a picture if you like,” he said, glancing at the inspector.

  “Oh, yes, please,” Fenella said quickly.

  Five minutes later Fenella had admired several dozen photos of the bald and toothless baby boy. She’d heard all about how he ate constantly, could hold up his own head for several seconds at a time and always greeted his father with a huge gummy smile at the end of the day.

  “I mean, they aren’t supposed to be smiling yet, you know? But he’s going to be a smart one, our little Odin,” the constable said.

  “You’ve named him Odin?” Fenella asked, trying not to sound as surprised as she felt.

  “Oh, aye, well, that was the wife’s idea. She loves the whole history of the island and everything. She reckons she has Viking heritage, so she wanted to give him a Viking name,” the man replied, flushing.

  “It’s very unusual, at least,” Fenella said.

  “It isn’t really,” the man told her. “At least not on the island at the moment. Viking names are all the rage. She goes to a mums’ group and there’s another Odin, an Orry and an Olaf there.”

  “Really? And probably no Fenellas,” she said.

  “I don’t think so,” the man replied. “Fenella is a rather old-fashioned name, really.”

  As opposed to Odin, Fenella thought but didn’t say.

  “I hate to interrupt,” Daniel said. “But we really do have a case to work on.”

  Fenella flushed and the constable quickly slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry, sir,” he said quietly.

  “It’s fine,” the inspector assured him. “I was waiting for a text anyway, but now I have it, so we can go ahead.”

  The constable sat down next to Fenella and pulled out a notebook. Daniel had a similar one on the desk in front of him already.

  “Ms. Woods, we’ll be taking notes and recording this interview, if that’s okay with you,” Daniel said formally.

  “Of course it’s fine. I’ll do anything I can to help you get this case solved. You know that.”

  Daniel nodded. “All I need for right now is a statement from you about finding the body. If you could walk me through your day, please, starting with what time you woke up and going on from there.”

  Fenella sat back in her chair, wincing as the hard plastic pushed on her tailbone. She closed her eyes and tried to relax her mind. “I had my alarm set for six-thirty,” she said after a moment. Without opening her eyes, she slowly took the two men through her day, from getting out of bed right up to looking at Constable Corlett’s baby photos. When she was finished, she exhaled deeply, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her for some reason.

  When she opened her eyes, she watched as Daniel wrote something in his notebook. From where she was sitting, it looked as if Constable Corlett had filled several pages in his.

  “Please take me through last night,” Daniel said after a moment. “Maybe from six o’clock onwards?”

  Fenella nodded and then told the men about the sandwich she’d had for dinner before her trip to the pub with Shelly and Peter.

  “And you went home alone?” Daniel checked.

  “All alone. Katie didn’t even wait up,” Fenella replied.

  “You still have the cat, then?” Constable Corlett asked.

  “I do. No one ever came looking for her,” Fenella said. “I can’t imagine why they didn’t, but I’ve become quite
fond of her since she strolled into my apartment and made herself at home.”

  “Are you quite certain you don’t know who the victim was?” Daniel asked her.

  “He didn’t look familiar,” Fenella replied. “But I only glanced at him and from a weird angle. It’s possible I might know him, I suppose, but I don’t know very many people on the island, really.”

  “What makes you think he was from the island?” Daniel asked.

  Fenella frowned and thought for a minute. “I suppose I was just assuming that he was travelling from the island to Liverpool, the same as me. Surely the body can’t have been there from a previous journey? The cleaning crew would have found it, if that was the case.”

  “We aren’t ruling out anything at this stage,” Daniel said. “You said that the woman at customer service told you that they have all sorts of staff training going on, getting ready for the busy summer season. From what I’ve been told, no one seems exactly sure who cleaned which cabin when this morning.”

  “Oh, dear,” Fenella said softly.

  He had her repeat the conversation she’d had with the woman at customer service a second time.

  “She told you there was only one key to the cabin?” he checked.

  “That’s what she said,” Fenella replied. “She blamed the cleaning staff for misplacing the second.”

  “Surely they have master keys,” Constable Corlett said.

  Daniel made another note in his notebook. “Did you happen to notice the customer service woman’s name?” he asked.

  Fenella thought back to the large and chaotic room where the desk had been located. She remembered seeing a nametag on the woman’s jacket, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall what the tag said.

  “Is it possible that it was blank?” she asked the inspector after a moment. “I know she was wearing a tag with the Isle of Man Ferries company logo on it, but I can’t for the life of me picture any letters on it.”

  Daniel made another note. “Anything is possible,” he said. “I’m sure once we’ve questioned all of the staff, we’ll find her and her story will match yours,” he said.

  “Does someone have to question all of the passengers as well?” Fenella asked. “There must be hundreds of them.”

  “And they’ll all be questioned, at least briefly,” Daniel said. “We’re hoping we can use the video footage of the ship being loaded to rule out most of the passengers, though. Most, if not all, of them boarded after the man was killed.”

  “Do you know who the man was?” Fenella asked.

  “If I did, I couldn’t tell you,” he said. “But I don’t, at least not yet. Once the crime scene team has taken all of their photos and gathered initial evidence, they’ll search him for identification. I’m hoping he’ll have his passport or driving license in his pocket, but that seems unlikely.”

  “He wasn’t staff?” she wondered.

  “He might have been. At this point, we don’t know anything about him at all.” Daniel finished the last few words on his feet. “As I said, I can’t tell you anything anyway,” he added as Fenella stood up. “And it’s probably best if we don’t socialize during the investigation. I’m sure you understand.”

  Fenella did understand, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a pang of something she wasn’t sure she wanted to identify. The look that flashed over Daniel’s face looked suspiciously like relief to Fenella, which didn’t help with the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  You’re still seasick, she told herself as she followed Constable Corlett back down the corridor. That sad and slightly sick feeling is just a result of being rocked back and forth on that miserable boat for so long.

  “If you could just wait here for a little while longer,” the constable said to her as he ushered her back into the waiting room. “The inspector might have some more questions for you shortly.”

  Fenella thought about arguing. She’d answered all of the questions she’d been asked, and Daniel knew exactly where to find her if he needed to talk to her again. Knowing everyone else was watching her made her bite her tongue. She wasn’t about to start arguing with a police constable in front of an audience of strangers. Instead, she nodded and made her way back over to the same chair she’d been sitting in earlier. Settling back, she shut her eyes again.

  “I’m sorry that we’re keeping you all waiting,” the constable said loudly to the group. “Inspector Robinson will be talking to each one of you shortly. We greatly appreciate your patience as we begin our investigation.”

  “But what’s happened?” a woman called out. “What’s being investigated?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t answer any questions,” the man replied. “The inspector will share what he can with you when he speaks to you.”

  “But…” the woman began again.

  Constable Corlett held up a hand. “I really need to get back to work,” he said. “Thank you for your patience.”

  He turned and walked out of the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him. Fenella breathed deeply and tried to think about happy things. She was just contemplating buying Katie a new collar with sparkles and glitter when an angry voice shouted across the room.

  “Hey, you’ve spent time with the police already,” the man yelled, making the words sound like an accusation. “Tell us what’s going on.”

  3

  Fenella sat up, startled. “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” the man replied. He stood up and Fenella got a good look at him. He didn’t look much older than twenty in his torn jeans and slightly grubby sweatshirt. His dark brown hair looked like it needed washing. It hung in an untidy mop around his face, which also would have benefited from the application of some soap and water. A few stray whiskers dotted his chin and the top of his upper lip. “You must know what’s going on. Come on, talk.”

  Fenella shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know anything and even if I did, I don’t think I’m meant to talk about it.”

  “You’re American,” the man said, spitting out the last word as if it were a curse.

  “I grew up in America,” Fenella corrected him. “But I was born on the island.”

  “I think that’s quite enough bickering,” a woman said from one of the other chairs. “We’re stuck together for now. We should all get to know one another better.”

  People glanced around at the other occupants of the room and then resumed looking out windows or down at the floor. The woman who had spoken stood up and cleared her throat.

  “I’ll start,” she announced. Fenella looked at the grey-haired woman. She must have been somewhere in her sixties. Her hair was short and her clothes were sensible and looked comfortable, but they were not stylish.

  “I’m Charlotte Masters,” the woman continued. “I retired last year and I try to travel as much as I can afford. Unfortunately, I’m a miserable sailor, so I always book a cabin and spend the entire journey lying down. You can go next,” she said encouragingly to the young man who was still standing up at his seat.

  “Me?” the man gulped. “I don’t think…”

  “Oh just indulge the woman,” another woman called. “We’ve nothing else to do, after all. Sitting in silence isn’t exactly enjoyable, is it?”

  The man nodded and then shook his head, frowning. “Okay, whatever,” he said eventually. “I’m Justin Newmarket. I’m twenty-four and I’m going to Liverpool to spend a weekend with some of my mates.”

  “Do you get seasick, dear?” Charlotte Masters asked. “Is that why you booked a cabin?”

  The man turned scarlet. “No, of course not,” he said indignantly. “I booked a cabin because, well, I was hoping, that is, I thought I might meet a young woman on board. I thought a cabin would give us a place to spend some quiet time together, if you know what I mean.”

  Fenella knew exactly what he meant and the idea made her feel slightly ill. Or maybe that was just seasickness. Suddenly very glad tha
t she wasn’t in her twenties anymore herself, she waited to see whom Charlotte would interrogate next.

  “Right, next,” Charlotte said, shifting her gaze to the woman who’d encouraged young Justin to speak.

  “Oh, I’m Brenda Proper, and this is my husband, Nick,” she said. Brenda was a plump woman with very short grey hair and thick glasses. Her husband was thin and bald. He was wearing reading glasses while he flipped his way through a newspaper he’d brought with him off the ferry. When his wife said his name, he glanced up and nodded briefly before returning to the paper.

  “We’re both retired,” Brenda said. “We’re going across to Manchester to visit my daughter and her husband and Nick’s son. We were both married before, you see. We both have grown children from our first marriages.”

  “Which one of you gets sick on the ferry?” Charlotte asked.

  Fenella wondered what the woman’s fascination with other people’s stomachs was all about. It seemed very odd to her.

  “Oh, neither of us has a problem with sailing,” Brenda replied. “We just prefer having peace and quiet for the journey. The lounges are always full of small children and loud teenagers. We like to have a space all to ourselves where we can just relax.”

  Charlotte nodded and then glanced around. Her gaze landed on another couple who were sitting together and holding hands. Fenella’s first thought was that they were father and daughter. He was bald and pot-bellied and he reminded Fenella of her long-dead grandfather. The woman was much younger, probably in her mid-twenties, with long blonde hair caught in a simple ponytail. She was wearing a little dress that wasn’t really appropriate for April.

  “Oh, I’m Harry Hampton, and this is my wife, Sherry,” the man said when he realized that everyone was staring at him. “We’re just off across to visit some family, that’s all. I’m not a great sailor, so I thought a cabin would be a good idea, even if they are quite expensive.”