by Bettie Jane
“Good lord, Mattie,” Frankie exclaimed. “I’m sure that’s not the spirit these treasure hunts are intended to have. All in good fun, remember?”
Mattie rolled her eyes and took a big swallow. Julia noticed she was already at the end of her second drink.
“That’s one to watch, Edith,” Julia said for her friend’s ears alone. “If she’s not careful she’ll sick up before the night has even begun.”
Edith nodded. “Poor girl seems a bit off tonight. I wonder what her troubles are.”
“I suspect it might have something to do with unrequited feelings toward a certain photographer.” Julia dipped her head in Jimmie’s direction.
“Oh, do tell, Julia. Are you sure you aren’t just grasping at straws so you have something to write about in the society section of your paper?”
Julia laughed. “‘Socialite stalks up and coming photographer until he agrees to wed her!’ Would that be my headline? I’m certain I can do better than that. There simply must be more entertaining stories worth the price of ink and paper.”
Edith giggled and took a sip from her drink. “This, my darling, is why you are the brains of our pair and I am the beauty.”
Julia smiled and kissed Edith on the cheek. She knew that Edith meant no insult to Julia when she claimed herself to be the beauty of the pair. Julia was beautiful in her own right with hair dark as night and big blue eyes, but Edith, for all her beauty and all her confidence, had always felt inferior next to Julia for Julia’s accomplishments. It wasn’t true, but that didn’t matter. It was what Edith believed. So Edith could forge onward with her sense of exceptional beauty and the power it gave her. After all, the beautiful people seemed to be the ones to make the world go round.
Edith addressed the occupants at the table. “She’s wearing it, darlings. How shall we obtain possession of it?”
“What is he doing here? My mother must have sent him.” Julia stared at a tall man that had just entered the club.
Edith giggled. “Your mother is a clever one. Sidney Guinness, the heir-apparent of the empire and new money that is Guinness Brewery. She really does seem to be quite set on your pairing. Honestly, I could think of worse things, Julia.”
“He’s a kind fellow and certainly handsome, but he represents a life that I don’t want, Edith. Marrying Sidney would sentence me to a life of obligation that I don’t want. Perhaps you should marry him. Couldn’t you just fall in love with him so I have a good excuse to set my mother straight?”
“Believe me, if I could land Sidney for myself, I’d do it, but everyone knows his sights are set on you. It’s foolish to try and change a man’s heart. You should know that by now.”
“I don’t know that it is his heart that needs disentangling so much as his attachment to the Barlow family and our old money. I’m certain I would be means to an end for that fellow. No, thank you.”
Sidney approached the table and pulled up a chair. “A little bird told me I might find you here, Miss Barlow. May I join your festivities?”
“Actually—” Julia started to respond, but Edith interrupted.
“That would be most welcome, Mr. Guinness.”
Julia glared at Edith.
He kissed Edith’s outstretched hand. “Thank you. Please, call me Sidney. My father is Mr. Guinness.”
Edith blushed but Sidney appeared not to notice. All of his attention, after his initial greeting of Edith, turned toward Julia.
“You look lovely, Julia. Would you like to dance?”
Julia looked around and saw that Edith had already absconded with Jimmie and was making for Lady and Lord Withers. The woman was obsessed with capturing that ring.
“Yes, thank you, Sidney. That would be lovely.”
She chatted with him on the way to the dance floor. “I’m surprised to see you here at the Candlelight Club given the recent demise of your business arrangement with Lord Withers. He and is wife are here nearly every evening. It doesn’t bother you to encounter him?”
“Not a bit. Business deals come and go. Shall we dance?” He motioned to the crowd dancing around them, clearly not interested in conversation. She nodded and followed his lead.
The song that filled the room was an up-tempo tune perfect for elevating the energy in the room. As Julia danced with Sidney, she split her attention between her dance partner and Edith who towed Jimmie behind her. They approached Lady Withers who now stood chatting with a group of men who appeared to be captivated by her. From Julia’s vantage point, she could now only see the backs of Jimmie and Edith where they faced Eliza so Julia could clearly see her face. She smiled as the two approached them, the smile reaching her eyes when she laid eyes on Jimmie. No subtlety there. Julia looked around for Lord Withers and saw Philip on the other side of the dance floor, seeming to be very interested in the encounter between his wife and Jimmie. Whatever bizarre arrangement the Withers had with each other, Julia wasn’t sure Jimmie was wise to get between the two.
Be careful, Jimmie.
Julia and Sidney fell into an easy rhythm together, and she continued to alternate between smiling at her dance partner and taking in the scenes around the dance hall.
Julia’s concern for Jimmie was short lived. Her gaze followed Philip, who was greeting a man just approaching him. Julia recognized the shade of auburn hair without seeing the man’s face.
Oscar Goodall, Opal’s brother, had arrived after all. Oscar and Philip shared an embrace that, to anyone looking closely enough, was a bit more than two gentlemen greeting each other. Julia would bet her next gin that Oscar and Philip were friendlier with each other than most would have expected. She watched as they let their embrace linger and then finally slap each other on the back casually as old chums might do. The artificial distance that Philip now put between himself and Oscar was another interesting detail that Julia took note of. He clearly didn’t want anyone to know. Not so strange, Julia supposed, given that a friendship of that nature was outlawed. However, given Philip’s reputation for a violent temper, Julia found it odd that Oscar would be mixed up with someone like him.
Julia’s eyes traveled back toward Eliza to see if she’d noticed the interaction between the two fellows. If she’d seen it and cared about it, her face didn’t betray her. She was now engaged in her own dance with Jimmie. Edith was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t bode well. Edith could find mischief faster than an ornery toddler.
What are you up to, Miss Rushforth?
Before she had time to look any further, Sidney leaned in and spoke in Julia’s ear. “Miss Barlow, I should like to kiss you.”
Without waiting for a response of any kind, he leaned and tried to plant one right on Julia’s lips. She stepped back and dodged it.
“I should like it very much if you would not kiss me, sir. Thank you for the dance, but I’m afraid my mother has given you the wrong impression, Mr. Guinness.”
“My apologies,” he said immediately. “Say you’ll forgive me. The gin, I do believe, is guilty of telling me sweet little lies.”
“All is forgiven. Please excuse me. I must use the ladies room.”
She turned and left him in the middle of the dance floor. Her thoughts ran away with her on her way.
I will murder my mother for encouraging this poor man in my pursuit. Where was Edith? I could use her company just about now.
Julia found her, just outside the ladies room, pressing some poor bloke against the wall and kissing him quite passionately. After she concluded her business in the ladies room, Julia tapped the still-occupied Edith and cleared her throat.
“Excuse me, Edith. Have you given up on the hunt?”
Edith turned to face Julia, looping her hand through her gentleman’s arm. “Julia. I’d love for you to meet Stan. Short for Stanley. Isn’t he marvelous? I should think he’ll be joining us in our fun tonight.”
“Nice to meet you, Stan.”
Stan nodded in agreement with Edith’s statement that he’d ‘be joining us’ and smiled in gre
eting at Julia. “It’s lovely to meet your friend, ah—”
Stan looked from Julia to Edith, his cheeks flushing red in apparent embarrassment for not recalling Edith’s name.
“Edith. My name is Edith, but I don’t blame you a bit for not recalling such unnecessary details. Those five letters are hardly the most memorable thing you’ll discover about me.”
To Julia, Edith said, “Have one more drink, then I think I shall be ready to move on to the next adventure.”
Julia laughed. “Okay, friend. Have a lovely time. See you shortly.”
Julia rounded the corner to the dance floor and straight away noticed Jimmie and Philip engaged in some harsh conversation. Jimmie appeared to be listening to Philip and from the look on Jimmie’s face, he was not thrilled with what Lord Withers was saying.
Jimmie volleyed a response and Julia wished she was close enough to hear the details of that exchange. Before she could move any closer, Jimmie turned his back on Philip and stomped angrily across the dance floor to the group’s table. Julia made her way back to the table determined to hear what had happened.
Sidney had also returned to the table and tipped his head toward Julia as she reclaimed her seat.
“What was that exchange with Lord Withers about, Jimmie?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he answered with a tone as sharp as a knife’s edge.
“It didn’t look like nothing,” Julia pressed.
“Nothing that matters. I don’t want to talk about it just now. Anyway, it looks as though Eliza Withers has moved on to another venue, without her husband. Perhaps we should make an effort to locate her. I’m sure Edith is still intent on getting that ring.”
As if summoned by Jimmie’s statement, Edith walked up, pulling along her new friend Stan.
“Yes, I’m bored here. Let’s get a move on. I know of at least three other clubs, one of which is in Soho, where Lady Withers frequents. I’m delighted that this search is at least getting interesting. Will you be going to blows with everyone that Eliza flirts with tonight, Jimmie? If so, I think you’ll find yourself quite busy and your body worse for the wear given that the trollop flirts, and more, with nearly every man in sight.”
Mattie laughed in agreement with Edith and the group made their exit from the Candlelight Club.
______
Friday Night
West End, London
The intoxicated group of socialite misfits tore about London for the rest of the night and into the late hours, riding buses, popping in to clubs, listening to jazz sets, and dancing until they couldn’t breathe as they continued their search for Lady Eliza and her ring. They’d collected more of the young and wealthy at every stop. What had begun with Edith, Julia, Cecil, Frankie, Jimmie, Mattie, and Opal had more than doubled in size. Stan and Oscar came along when they left the Candlelight, a few more joined in when they’d ventured in to various stops in Soho, especially at the cabaret they’d all enjoyed immensely, and now this spirited group routinely stopped traffic with their antics.
When they stumbled upon a crew of men working on a gas main, Edith corralled the feisty group. “Look at those poor chaps, working at this wee hour of the morning. Let’s cheer them, shall we?”
As usual, Edith walked a line whenever she interacted with those not from her class, usually erring on the side of being quite rude. Unfortunately, even as she rejected the proper world her parents insisted she live in, she held on to the beliefs, possibly unawares, that the lower classes were somehow beneath her. Quite a few of Julia’s friends felt that way, actually. None of them, besides Jimmie, worked as Julia did. Julia felt as if her job at the paper helped her perception of the world. She loved her friends; most of them had grown up together, gone away to college together, and returned from Cambridge to take up residences in Mayfair where their families had lived for generations. She also knew that her friends often behaved as spoiled elitist. She was determined to keep a reign on her perspective. Her job served that purpose wonderfully.
Still, the group often followed Edith’s antics. Where Edith was, after all, was usually where the party was. The group of Bright Young Things demanded more than requested that the poor chaps stop their work and pose for their photo, which Jimmie happily took. By this point, it must have been nearing two in the morning and they’d consumed enough gin collectively to drown a horse. It showed in their slurred words and their wobbly steps.
Soon they found themselves in Hyde Park, singing and dancing their way through the winding paths fueled by gin, amorous intentions, and a desire to party until dawn as was their custom.
Somewhere along their quite inefficient route, Stan and some of the other men managed to procure blankets which were now spread out amongst the trees next to Serpentine Lake. After all, it was November. If they were to party outdoors, they needed warmth. People broke off in pairs or threesomes and managed to find more creative ways to stay warm.
Julia chose to sit on a blanket with Cecil, where they recapped the evening.
Cecil said, “It’s too bad we never found the Lady Withers’ diamond ring, however I think in spite of our luck on that front, we’ve had quite a time, don’t you?”
“Quite nice,” Julia agreed. “A glorious time was had by all, and still being had from the looks of it.” They giggled as they looked around and saw the silhouettes of intertwined bodies all around them. “It’s unfortunate that I’m not your type. We could keep each other warm.”
She winked at him. It was a joke they shared between them often. When they were childhood friends, Julia had such an affection for Cecil, but of course, he didn’t feel the same. They’d learned long ago that they could be the best of friends without the complications of romantic entanglement.
“Don’t worry,” Cecil said, pulling Julia close, “I’ll keep you warm.”
His tone took a serious turn. “Julia. There’s something I want to tell—”
A scream pierced the night air from a small grove of trees near the lake. Cecil and Julia stood and ran toward the sound to find Mattie Hawkins standing over an unmoving body. A woman’s body. Cecil pulled Mattie into his arms.
“Oh, you poor dear. Don’t look at this horrific display.”
Julia stepped forward, her journalistic instincts taking hold, and examined the body. She already knew who it was, even before she got close enough to see the face. The poppy red shoes told her it was Eliza Withers.
It seemed their treasure hunt was successful after all, although not in the manner that any of them had presumed. It was all fun and games until someone got hurt and Lady Eliza Withers was a step past hurt—dead as can be, sprawled across the grass, her throat cut with a garroting wire that was draped in red poppies and left behind to soak in the matching blood spilled.
So much for the celebrated peace that should have been Armistice Day.
Chapter 2
November 12, 1921
Early Saturday Morning
Hyde Park, London
Julia examined the body, attempting to catalogue the crime scene. Lady Withers murder in Hyde Park would be the story that would break her career wide open. Jimmie’s too. It was quite easy for Julia to change her mindset from party-goer into reporter. There was a crime to solve and she was determined to be the one to write about, especially since she’d been one of the first on the scene.
“I know you were friendly with Eliza. Do you suppose you feel up to photographing the crime scene, Jimmie?”
He’d paled when Julia told him the news, but like her, had switched into his professional role immediately.
“I can do it. We’ll find who did this to her.”
He proceeded to take his time photographing from every imaginable angle. Julia noted a bit of reverence in Jimmie’s mannerisms.
Julia studied the corpse, trying to take in as much detail as she could for her story.
Eliza was strangled, the wire having cut quite deeply into her neck, which produced a fair volume of blood.
Why the red po
ppies? Julia wondered. Was the murder something to do with Armistice Day?
Julia noticed that the ring, the marquise diamond that her group had been hunting all night, was gone, and it appeared as though the finger it was on was bent at an odd angle, as though someone had broken the finger in order to remove the ring.
Odd, that, given that her and her friends had been searching for that ring all evening and now it was missing.
Stan and Edith had run for the constable moments after Mattie found the body and now they returned with a uniformed officer on their heels.
“What have we here?”
“Hello, I’m Julia Barlow. My friend, Mattie Hawkins, found the Lady Withers here a few moments ago and we ran for you straight away. The poor woman appears to have been strangled in a most violent fashion, and robbed of a very expensive ring that she wore on her left hand. A dreadful thing, I’m sure.”
The officer got to work securing and investigating the scene and as more police arrived, Julia and her friends were shooed along. They’d done their part and now were simply in the way. As they traveled in a pack, intoxicated pairs of party-goers sluffed off the main crowd and made their way towards home, until finally it was only Julia and Jimmie remaining.
“Let’s get to the paper, shall we?” Julia asked him. “Write up a piece? Everyone will be talking about this come morning. I want to be the one to break it, and the one to solve it. Perhaps my parents would then see me as a legitimate professional.”
There wasn’t much to tell at this point so it didn’t take Julia very long to type up her short article. The headline read ‘Lady Withers Savagely Murdered on Armistice Day.’ Julia thought briefly about not sending it to print, but reconsidered. Reporting about the scandalous goings-on of the social elite was her job. For now. Investigative reporting would be a step up for her, all the more so because the murder was an elite member of high society. Jimmie waited with her and then agreed to walk her home once she’d placed the brief, typed article on the editor’s desk. She’d need to write more as she discovered more.
