An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Collection - ABC

by Diana Xarissa

  The kitten stared at her for a moment and then shrugged and jumped off the bed. Fenella laughed as the animal started complaining from the kitchen about her lack of breakfast. It only took a moment to pour some food into a bowl for Katie before Fenella got herself through the shower and into suitable clothes for a day being spent mostly outside.

  It was overcast but dry as Fenella turned on her laptop and did a quick bit of reading about the castle she was going to visit. While it was disappointing that the site was mostly ruins, she was excited to read about its Viking heritage. By the time Peter knocked on her door, she’d filled her brain with as much knowledge as she could about their destination.

  “Ready to go?” Peter asked when Fenella opened the door.

  “I’m so excited,” Fenella answered. “I’ve been reading all about the history of the site and the pagan burial there where they found that fabulous necklace. It all sounds so wonderful.”

  “Let’s go, then,” Peter said, smiling at her.

  His car was in the garage under their apartment building. Fenella patted Mona’s sports car as they walked past it.

  “Please remind me to give you my friend’s card,” Peter said as he unlocked the car. “I promise you he’ll have you driving in no time.”

  “I’ve discovered that I’ll have to take the driving test again,” Fenella said. “Which is a very scary thought.”

  Peter laughed. “We all pick up so many bad habits over the years as we drive. I’m not sure I’d pass again, if I had to do that.”

  “Yes, well, I’m still thinking about it,” Fenella said. “Really, I hate not being able to drive. There are so many places I want to go and things I want to see. I must stop being silly and just get on with it, I suppose.”

  Peter drove out of the garage and headed for Peel. “If we don’t spend too long at the castle, we might have time for the House of Manannan as well,” he told her. “It’s a modern museum with all sorts of interactive displays. I’ve been told it does a good job of presenting the island’s history.”

  “You haven’t been before?” Fenella asked.

  “No, I haven’t,” he admitted. “I love going around museums when I travel, but when I’m at home, I simply never think about visiting ours.”

  “I suppose that’s fairly typical,” Fenella said. “Although as a historian, I intend to visit every museum and historical site on the island at least a dozen times a year.”

  Peter laughed. “I don’t know that you’ll want to visit that often,” he said. “But from what I understand, they are all certainly worth an occasional visit.”

  “I would go back to Castle Rushen every day if I could,” Fenella told him. “I’d move in, if they’d let me. I simply loved it there.”

  “Well, Castle Rushen is considerably more habitable than Peel Castle,” Peter replied. “Although I’m not sure that I’d use the word habitable to describe Castle Rushen. It would certainly be very cold and damp, if you tried to live there.”

  “But at least it has a roof,” Fenella pointed out.

  “That it does,” Peter agreed. “And Peel Castle is sadly lacking in that department.”

  This was Fenella’s first trip across the middle of the island, so she looked around with interest as Peter drove. After a short while, he pulled over to the side of the road and pointed past Fenella.

  “Tynwald Hill,” he announced. “The government of the island still meets there once a year. Everyone from the island can attend. All of the new laws that have been passed over the previous twelve months are read out in English and in Manx. Also, anyone who has a problem or concern can present it to the government on that day.”

  “Anyone can complain about anything?” Fenella asked.

  “There are procedures to follow, but basically, yes. I imagine it’s fairly unique to the island, that.”

  “I would think so,” Fenella said. “Presumably they can manage it because the island has a fairly small population. When does this happen?”

  “The fifth of July is Tynwald Day,” Peter told her. “Although the actual meeting of the parliament can be moved to the following Monday when the fifth is a Saturday or a Sunday.”

  “I’m going to put that on my calendar as soon as I get home,” Fenella said. “Clearly I didn’t read nearly enough about the island’s history before I moved back here.”

  Peter chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry too much about putting it on your calendar,” he said. “You won’t be able to miss it. There’s a huge, all-day fair out here with music and entertainment.”

  “How wonderful,” Fenella said. “And the new laws are read in Manx? I can’t wait to hear that. My mother used to try to teach me a few words in Manx, but I never wanted to learn. Now, of course, I’m sorry, but at the time I wasn’t interested.”

  “The language is having something of a revival,” Peter said as he pulled back onto the road. “There’s even a primary school where the children are taught entirely in Manx. I believe they start learning English in year three or four.”

  “Really? I had no idea it was used at all,” Fenella said. “Again, I should have done my research, shouldn’t I?”

  “The same people who run the school also run a handful of nurseries around the island. The idea is to incorporate as much Manx language as possible in their classrooms. The local radio station gives news updates in Manx, and there are a number of different classes in the subject, if you’re interested in learning it,” Peter told her.

  “I don’t know,” Fenella said. “I’ve never been good at foreign languages. I just get myself all tangled up very quickly with the grammar rules. They all seem so much more difficult than English.”

  “Maybe Manx isn’t for you, then,” Peter said. “It’s a Celtic language, so the rules are quite different.”

  “You seem to know a lot about the subject,” Fenella said.

  “My first wife took several classes in Manx and even dragged me along to a few,” he told her. “After we split up, I quit going, of course, but I keep thinking I might try again one of these days.”

  “Say something in Manx.”

  Peter grinned. “Moghrey mie,” he said.

  “That means good morning,” Fenella told him with a smile. “That’s probably the only thing I remember from my mother’s efforts.”

  “Very good,” Peter said. “And now, on your right, is the aforementioned House of Manannan.”

  Fenella looked out the side window and gasped. “But it looks as if the boat is sailing right through the front window,” she said.

  “Yes, it’s very cleverly done,” Peter told her. “We’ll have to try to find time for it this afternoon.”

  The road to the castle was actually a narrow causeway that connected St. Patrick’s Isle, the site of the castle, to the mainland. Peter drove slowly down the causeway and then found a parking space in a small lot overlooking the beach.

  “This is lovely,” Fenella said as she climbed out of the car. “If a bit windy,” she added as the cool breeze hit her.

  “It’s only a short walk to the castle from here,” Peter told her, offering her his arm.

  Fenella took it, feeling like an excited child on her way to an amusement park. The outer walls of the castle appeared to be completely intact, and Fenella found herself hurrying as they made their way up the steps and onto the castle grounds.

  “Ah, good morning,” the young man behind the ticket desk said when Fenella and Peter reached him. “Two admissions?”

  “Yes, please,” Fenella said. She turned to Peter. “Let me pay for this, as you’ve driven,” she suggested.

  “As long as I can buy lunch, then,” Peter countered.

  “We’ll argue about lunch later,” Fenella told him with a smile.

  “I always recommend the audio tour,” the man told her after she’d paid for their admission. “It’s included in the price of admission and offers a wonderful narrated tour of the site.”

  Fenella took the audio guide, which was
large and slightly unwieldy, and eagerly began her tour. Peter followed with his own guide.

  Several hours later, Fenella had walked around the entire site twice and visited every stop on the audio tour. At some point, Peter had given up and gone to sit on a bench in the sunshine. As the tour concluded, Fenella blinked several times, trying to drag herself back to the twenty-first century. She looked around the vast site and spotted Peter near the outer wall.

  “I’ve just been watching the seals,” he told Fenella when she joined him.

  “Seals?” Fenella repeated.

  “There.” Peter pointed toward the sea and Fenella looked down at the rocks and waves below them. A handful of dark heads could be seen bobbing up and down in the water.

  “Wow,” Fenella breathed. Feeling as if she could watch them all day, she settled onto the bench next to Peter. A moment later her stomach growled loudly.

  “Oh, dear,” Fenella gasped, blushing. “I’ve completely lost track of the time. Is it time for some lunch?”

  “It’s nearly one o’clock,” Peter told her. “I’d call that past time for some lunch.”

  “I am sorry,” Fenella said. “I was so caught up in the tour that I didn’t even think about the time.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Peter said. “But I am getting quite hungry. There’s an excellent pub just across the street from the House of Manannan. We could get lunch there and then visit the museum after.”

  “Perfect,” Fenella said.

  “Would you like to stop in the gift shop before we go?” Peter asked.

  “Could we?” Fenella asked. “I promise I won’t be long. I’d just like a quick look at the books they carry. I’d love a good history of the island, if they have one.”

  “I’m sure they do,” Peter said. “Let’s go and see.”

  The gift shop was empty, aside from an elderly woman behind the cash register. “Ah, customers,” she said brightly when the pair walked in. “I was starting to think that I wasn’t going to see another person today.”

  “Is it usually this quiet?” Fenella asked.

  “This time of year, yes,” the woman said. “In a few weeks, we’ll start getting all the school groups through for their tours before school breaks up for the summer. Summer can get quite busy, and we have special events as well, which are always busy. Then it goes quiet again until we shut in October.”

  “I think it’s a wonderful site,” Fenella said. “I plan to come back and visit many more times.”

  “We’re always happy to have visitors,” the woman said. “Most of us are volunteers, but the sites still cost a lot to maintain and keep open. Every visitor helps.”

  Fenella found a nice selection of books about the island and then realized that she wanted to buy all of them. After a few moments of indecision, she selected the four that looked the most interesting to her and reluctantly returned the others to the shelves.

  “You’ve made some good choices if you want to learn the island’s history quickly,” the woman told her. “The Manx Museum in Douglas has an even better selection. If you haven’t been there yet, I highly recommend it.”

  “It’s on my list,” Fenella said. “But I haven’t managed it yet. I will get there soon, though. I promise.”

  The woman laughed. “I’ll remember that and the next time you come out here, I shall ask if you’ve been yet,” she said.

  “I only live a short walk away from the museum. I’ve no excuse for not getting there, really,” Fenella said sheepishly.

  “What’s the point in requesting days off if they’re just going to ring and ask you to come in anyway?” a voice demanded from the shop’s doorway.

  Fenella thought the voice sounded familiar and she had a smile in place as she turned to see the new arrival. She was surprised when she recognized the woman, however.

  “You?” the woman snapped at Fenella. “What are you doing here?”

  Her smile faltered, but Fenella forced herself to bite her tongue and count to ten before she replied. “Imagine seeing you here,” she said with false cheer. “I’ve been trying to get out here to tour Peel Castle for weeks, but I never expected to see you here.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you did,” the woman said. “I don’t believe I mentioned before that I’m a volunteer with Manx National Heritage.”

  “No, I don’t think you did,” Fenella agreed.

  Peter coughed, which reminded Fenella of her manners. “Oh, yes, of course, Peter Cannell, this is Charlotte Masters,” she said quickly. “Charlotte was another of the cabin passengers on the ferry on Saturday,” she explained.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Peter said, offering his hand.

  Charlotte stared at the hand for a moment and then, seemingly grudgingly, shook it.

  “Peter is my next-door neighbor,” Fenella told Charlotte. “He was kind enough to bring me here to see the castle.”

  “You don’t drive?” Charlotte asked.

  “I’ve not tried driving since I moved here from America,” Fenella told her. “I need to take a few lessons and retake my driving test.”

  “Where were you going on the ferry?” was Charlotte’s next question.

  “Liverpool,” Fenella replied. “I thought that was its only destination.”

  Charlotte frowned at her. “And what were you going to Liverpool to do?” she asked.

  “To visit a friend,” Fenella replied, feeling as if she’d had quite enough of the rude woman and her questions.

  “You seem to have quite a few friends scattered around the place, considering you’ve only just arrived,” Charlotte said, sounding as if she were accusing Fenella of something.

  “I’m a friendly person,” Fenella replied as calmly as she could.

  “You weren’t very talkative in the office at the ferry terminal,” Charlotte said. “You didn’t seem to want to answer my questions at all.”

  Fenella took a deep breath and counted to ten again.

  “I believe Fenella was under considerable strain that morning,” Peter interjected. “She’d only just stumbled across a dead body, after all.”

  The woman behind the register gasped. “Oh, dear, you poor thing,” she said sympathetically.

  “You found the body, but you didn’t tell any of us what was happening,” Charlotte said, ignoring the other woman.

  “The police instructed me not to discuss it,” Fenella said. “In fact, I’m not meant to be discussing it now.”

  “That’s convenient, isn’t it?” Charlotte sneered.

  “Perhaps, but it’s also true,” Fenella replied, trying hard not to let the disagreeable woman see how upset she was making her.

  “How did you know the dead man?” Charlotte asked.

  “I think that’s quite enough,” Peter said. “We came in here to buy a few books. Your questions are quite rude and intrusive.”

  “I spent several hours in that ferry terminal Saturday morning, and I was questioned by the police. Do you have any idea how distasteful that was? I am not accustomed to being interrogated like a common criminal.”

  “I’m sure it was a miserable experience for everyone involved,” Peter said. “Let’s just hope the police can work out what happened quickly. Then you can all forget it ever happened.”

  “I won’t forget,” Charlotte said firmly. “I shall be complaining to the chief constable about how the police behaved. There was no rhyme nor reason to the order in which they questioned the witnesses, for one thing.”

  “No doubt they had their reasons,” Peter said. He glanced at Fenella and raised his eyebrows.

  “We really need to go,” she said loudly. “I’m starving and you have that meeting this afternoon. If we’re going to get lunch, we need to hurry.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Peter said. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

  “Not everything I wanted, but certainly everything I can afford, at least for now,” Fenella replied.

  “I think you’
ll find, my dear, that it is in very bad taste to discuss money matters with your friends,” Charlotte said. “If one were the suspicious type, one might think that you were hinting that Peter ought to help fund your purchases.”

  Fenella blushed. “That wasn’t what I meant at all,” she said quickly.

  “Of course it wasn’t,” Peter said. “And the thought never crossed my mind.”

  Picking up her bag of books, Fenella headed for the door. “It was nice to see you again,” she said to Charlotte as she passed her.

  “Yes, delightful,” Charlotte said sarcastically.

  Fenella bit her tongue yet again as she pulled the door open and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air.

  “It was very nice to meet you,” Charlotte said to Peter.

  “Likewise, I’m sure,” Peter muttered as he followed Fenella out of the room.

  The pair walked a few steps toward the exit and then exchanged glances.

  “What an unpleasant woman,” Peter said.

  “She was rather horrible, wasn’t she?” Fenella agreed.

  “I can’t imagine why she was asking you all of those rude questions.”

  “I think she’s just incurably nosy,” Fenella replied. “Maybe she’d have been happier if she’d been the one who found the body, instead of me.”

  “She does seem the type,” Peter said.

  “I know I would have been happier if she’d found the body instead of me,” Fenella said. “And maybe she would have simply told a member of the ferry staff about it and they would have told the captain. From what I’ve seen, he would have insisted on sailing anyway. I would be in London now, doing my research, and I’d probably never have even heard of Robert Grosso.”

  “And his murderer would probably never be found,” Peter added.

  Fenella frowned. “Well, yes, I suppose that’s also true,” she said. “I know that bringing Inspector Robinson in to investigate was the right thing to do, even if it wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

  They’d reached Peter’s car and Fenella stopped to stare down at the beach for a moment. “It’s lovely being near the water all the time,” she said.

  “My first wife and I had a house in the Douglas suburbs,” Peter told her. “It was a nice neighborhood, but I like living by the sea better.”