Murder at the Ladies Club

by Beth Byers

  Violet left the parlor after she finished her tea and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. She didn’t have anything she needed to do; she was just frustrated that they had nothing. She paced the hall while Jack asked questions that would lead them nowhere. Either Mr. Russell knew exactly why Melody had been killed or it had been a random act.

  But no. Violet would have almost bought a random act but for the shooting at the ladies club. Whoever was behind Melody’s death had ruined a very clever murder by being cheeky. Violet’s head tilted and she ran down the stairs. She walked into the parlor and spun the chalkboards around for the cleaned back.

  On the first she wrote: MELODY RUSSELL. On the second, Violet wrote: RITA RUSSELL.

  Under each of the names she wrote motives for murder.

  GREED-

  LOVE-

  JEALOUSY-

  HATRED-

  MERCY-

  SELF DEFENSE-

  ANGER -

  POWER-

  Violet considered her notes for a few minutes and then on Mrs. Russell’s board, Violet wrote behind MERCY — There was nothing merciful about this death. Hemlock poisoning is painful. Did anyone have a reason to hate her? Violet then crossed out Mercy.

  Under ANGER—she wrote, The death was clearly fore-planned. This was no act of fury in the moment to be regretted over afterward. She then crossed out anger.

  “So you’re going from another angle?” Denny stood next to Violet and started working Rita’s board. He crossed out mercy and anger and self-defense. Violet didn’t object to those choices, so she left him to it and considered greed. She wrote: Melody left no money to anyone. There was no clear financial benefit. No one was affected financially by her death.

  She turned to Rita and Mr. Russell and asked, “Would you say this is correct?”

  Neither objected, so Violet crossed out greed. She glanced at the rest of the motives, considering each of them separately while Rita joined Denny and helped him work on her board.

  Violet moved to the next obviously wrong motive and crossed out self-defense. Under hatred she wrote: Someone hated her terribly to choose hemlock over all other poisons. What did Melody do that caused so much anger? Violet considered for a long time and then wrote: She married Mr. Russell.

  Violet was working quickly then, and when she finished, she stepped away and looked over the board:

  GREED- Melody left no money to anyone. There was no clear financial benefit. No one was affected financially by her death.

  LOVE- The person who loved Mrs. Russell was Mr. Russell. Could she have had another lover? A question for the yard men to pursue.

  JEALOUSY- Mr. Russell’s love? Attention?

  HATRED- Someone hated her terribly to choose hemlock over all other poisons. What did Melody do that caused so much anger? She married Mr. Russell.

  MERCY- There was nothing merciful about this death. Hemlock poisoning is painful. Did anyone have a reason to hate her?

  SELF DEFENSE

  ANGER - the death was clearly fore-planned. This was no act of fury in the moment to be regretted over afterward.

  POWER-

  She turned to speak to Mr. Russell, but she saw that Denny and Rita had finished their own board. They switched places and read each other’s notes.

  GREED- Perhaps. Rita is very wealthy. If she died, someone would benefit.

  LOVE- No current lovers. Her father didn’t benefit from her death. Why would Jean target Rita? Is the only reason she survived because she was loved? But anyone who loved her would have no reason to scare her.

  JEALOUSY- Rita’s life is too empty to be jealous of.

  HATRED- Why would they leave her alive if they hated her? No.

  MERCY-

  SELF DEFENSE

  ANGER -

  POWER-

  Violet spun the board around that listed the people that loved Rita. They were:

  Mrs. Russell.

  Mr. Russell.

  Jean Albright.

  Mrs. Greene.

  Uncle Eddie.

  “Oh,” Violet said, staring in horror. “Oh. Oh, no.”

  Violet spun to the others and Denny clapped his hands, tossed a guilty look to the Russells and declared, “She figured something out.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s here,” Violet said. “It’s right here before us. Tell me about your double infinity rings.”

  Mr. Russell frowned. “Are you referring to the rings the boys and I wore in school?”

  “I don’t know,” Violet said. “You had a double infinity ring?”

  “I did. I—I was on a rowing team. All the boys had them. I wore it for a while after. We all did, I’d guess, for as long as that part of our lives was important. When we got them, it seemed like it would be forever. Five years later I had set it aside, and I don’t think I ever put it back on.”

  “What happened to your ring?”

  “I have no idea,” Mr. Russell said, staring at Violet as if she were mad. “What does it matter? It’s been years since I had it. Rita used to play with it, I think. Yes,” he nodded. “Her mother put a few pieces of unused jewelry in a box for Rita when she was small. It was her jewelry box so Rita would leave Harriet’s things alone. I haven’t seen it since then.”

  “I remember that,” Rita said. “I loved that box. I added my own things later, when I got older. Mama got me that cameo broach. I was so excited when I added it. There was the charm bracelet. Eventually, my first strand of pearls. I still have the jewelry box. But—I haven’t seen that ring in ages. Not since India, I guess. Maybe after? No.” She shook her head. “No. It wasn’t in the box when I gathered my things after the Spain ramble.”

  Violet nibbled her bottom lip and spun Melody Russell’s board to the list of people involved. “Who on this list would have known about that ring?”

  “My brothers, I suppose.”

  “Aunt Jean would have known,” Rita added. “She used to go through the box with me. She taught me how to polish it all.”

  “And she was there when Mrs. Harriet Russell died.”

  Violet erased Melody’s board and added Harriet Russell with the motives:

  GREED- Jean Albright went from a poor relation to having money.

  LOVE- Jean Albright lived in the house with the successful, handsome, devoted Mr. Russell. How attractive that must have been.

  JEALOUSY- Jean had the same start as Harriet, yet look at the differences.

  HATRED- Would jealousy turn a sister’s love to hatred? Were they devoted at all? Perhaps they were simple strangers.

  MERCY-

  SELF DEFENSE

  ANGER - Very possibly.

  POWER- Jean went from poor relation to the adviser of Rita, the bridge between Rita and Philip. She went from almost useless to needed—at least for a while.

  “No,” Rita gasped. “Oh my goodness, no. Not Mama. No.”

  “Did Mrs. Albright know you were going on a date?”

  Rita nodded and then furiously hissed, “She knew that Melody wanted to join us as well.”

  “Who beyond Mr. Russell and Mrs. Albright knew you’d be at the club?”

  Rita shook her head over and over again before Jack said, “Miss Russell, answer the question.”

  “Only Aunt Jean knew. I complained to her so often about Melody. I’m sorry Papa. I didn’t realize.”

  “She made overtures,” Mr. Russell said, sounding exhausted, “after my wife died and before I returned to England. She suggested we could be a family still, without Harriet. I told her I’d never entertain the idea.”

  Rita bit down on her lip as she wiped a sudden tear away. “She told me that our family would never be complete if I kept flitting about the world without Papa. She said Papa needed us to come home. When I told her I couldn’t face it without Mama, she told me I was a selfish child, and she’d ensure Father was well without me.”

  “You’re her pseudo-daughter,” Violet said. “She wanted you afraid, but not hurt. As long as you surviv
e, she could use you to get to Mr. Russell.”

  “Violet,” Jack said. “I cannot strangle a woman.”

  “Of course you can,” Violet told him, trying and failing for merry. “Men have been strangling women for ages.”

  “You may not be able to”—Mr. Russell stood, shoulders straight and eyes roiling with too many emotions to read—"but I will. If your fiancé is correct, and I know she is in my very soul, this woman murdered both of the women I loved. My…” Mr. Russell fell to his knees as he moaned. “My Harriet. She was my everything. I—”

  He folded in on himself and the others left him to his daughter and his tears.

  Chapter 19

  “Now to trap her,” Jack said.

  “I say we just poison her as well and leave her to die alone. Possibly on a moor. Definitely in the cold,” Lila suggested as she opened the door to the library. “I also recognize that we barely had breakfast, but I need a cocktail.”

  “You’re a vengeful woman,” Denny told his wife, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. “I love it. I’m going to need you to avoid your crazy sister all the more now.” Lila smiled at him, and he dipped her back as if they were dancing and kissed her fiercely. When he looked up from his kiss, Denny told Violet, “Masterfully wicked thinking, my friend.”

  “How are we going to trap her?” Violet asked, as Denny made them all cocktails. He’d found the chocolate liqueur and sent a maid for cream. Denny only made one drink outside of a G&T, and it was chocolate liqueur, strawberry liqueur, white rum, cream, and ice. He always used a heavy hand on the chocolate liqueur, and the two of them had become sick on them more than once.

  There was a knock on the door and Hargreaves stepped in. “There’s luncheon prepared, my lady, if you’d like.”

  Denny poured himself the last of the mixed cocktail before leading the way to the dining room with a cocktail in each hand, while Violet and Jack went to invite the Russells.

  They all came though the Russells looked sick. Violet took one look at them and told Hargreaves, “Perhaps the Russells would like some ginger wine. I find it to be most comforting when things are falling to pieces.”

  “They don’t know that about you at the ladies club,” Rita joked.

  “Oh!” Violet said, “The ladies club—” Violet stared at her drink. “It’s such an innocuous place. A perfect place for asking your aunt to meet you and telling her that the police suspect your father.”

  Rita stared at Violet, sipped her ginger wine, then set down her wineglass with shaking hands. “You want me to help you trap her?”

  Violet nodded. “Send her a note. Tell her you stormed from here when you realized they were going to arrest Mr. Russell. Tell her you can discuss it further and need her help in saving your father.”

  Rita’s hands didn’t stop shaking, but she nodded. Violet glanced at Hargreaves, who left and returned with a pen and paper. Rita’s hand was trembling as she wrote, and Violet saw more than one tear fall onto the page. She didn’t say a word about the tears as they lent credence to the trap.

  Rita finished and then cried into her soup. Her father didn’t notice. He was too lost in his own thoughts. They were dark and terrible things by the expression on his face. When they finished with their meal, Jack told Mr. Russell they needed him at Scotland Yard. They left while Rita contacted the ladies club and spoke with one of the women who managed the place.

  In the morning, they’d do their best to manipulate a murderess into confessing that she killed her own sister and a young woman both for having the sheer gall to marry the man Jean wanted. Violet sent Rita to her room when she didn’t stop crying and sent Beatrice after with a sleeping draught to see her through the night.

  “The part where the people around them realize why the person they loved was killed is not my favorite part,” Denny said. “I’m glum now. Feels callous to send her off to bed and turn on some jazz music.”

  “I’d suggest we go shopping or out for a distraction,” Lila said lazily, as she propped up her feet on the ottoman in front of her, “but I don’t want Jack to murder me after he finishes with that Jean woman. What a terrible monster she is.” Lila yawned delicately. “Does an afternoon and evening of lingering over cocktails seem as callous as dancing?”

  “What if we curled up with a book,” Violet suggested, already knowing she was going to spend the afternoon working on her own book. When Denny gave her the oddest look, she left him with Lila in the parlor and retreated to write.

  Violet sat down to her desk. The stepmother in her story was both a combination of Lady Eleanor and Melody Russell, but that seemed too callous. Somehow the girl who had started as something of a blank slate became the girl who had fallen for a man old enough to be her father.

  Her motives, however, adjusted as Violet recognized that whether Melody had loved Mr. Russell or not, Melody Russell had been loved. It was tragic the way her husband referred to his wives, though. Would she have died a little knowing that Harriet was ‘my Harriet,’ or had Melody known and accepted that her husband was still in love with his first wife?

  Violet considered what she’d seen of him that day. He’d seemed well and truly upset when he’d appeared at the door to check on his daughter. She had thought he loved his young wife when all the fight left him. Yet when he’d learned that his Harriet hadn’t fallen ill and died—that she’d been murdered—well, that had destroyed him. It had sent him to his knees, curled in on himself.

  Violet started writing, the story telling itself, perhaps even exorcising itself. She didn’t stop when the dinner gong rang because she didn’t hear it. She wrote until Beatrice appeared with a tray of sandwiches and then carried on, long after forgetting to eat until Jack returned, picked up the chair she was sitting in and physically moved her away from her typewriter.

  “Aren’t you out of ink on your ribbon?”

  Violet rubbed her eyes and yawned.

  “Enough writing, Vi. We tracked down Russell’s rowing team, as many as we could in a reasonable time. They confirmed the story of the double infinity ring. We tracked down those who knew Mrs. Albright. She was cagey, but her previous landlady said she talked about Mr. Russell rather a ‘concerning amount.’ During all of that, did you write?”

  Vi nodded and admitted, “I turned the murder into part of the book. Not all of it, of course, but enough to make me feel better.”

  Jack leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was a short journey to her cheek and then her chin, and soon she found herself lifted and carried. He sat down on one of the large chairs near the fire with her kneeling over him, and it was easy for time to pass too quickly.

  She pulled back when she couldn’t breathe and met his gaze. It was nearly as hot as she was. She jerked in a breath when Denny spoke from the doorway.

  “That might be a record. Remember those days, love? Before we gave up on being pure and good?”

  Violet would have blushed, but as she was already so hot and flushed from Jack’s kisses, her body couldn’t turn any redder without combusting. Instead, she pressed her cheek to his chest and watched Denny and Lila in their casual leaning.

  “Indeed, I do, my lad,” Lila said. “These are more righteous souls than ours.”

  Denny’s grin was so broad, Violet thought he might hurt himself. “I don’t like you very much right now,” Violet told him.

  “Jack was the one who left the door open,” Denny said and sniffed innocently. “This is hardly our fault if we were going for a bit of a stroll down the hall and discover something of a show on the other side of an open door.”

  “Victor bribed Denny to keep you from each other,” Lila told them casually. “There’s nothing doing but to give in and remain chaste on Denny’s watch. He’ll be far worse, you know, than Victor should Denny discover things progressing. There’s a whole case of chocolate liqueur on the line from that little bottler near Paris who doesn’t have any more for Denny to buy.”

  “No matter the price,�
� Denny squeaked. “Not for a while yet. I can’t wait that long!”

  “I like that liqueur,” Violet declared, gaze narrowing.

  “Earn it with me,” Denny suggested. “I’ll give you two bottles.”

  “Out of twelve? I’ll give you two bottles.”

  “Are you bargaining with Denny about—”

  Jack trailed off and Violet pulled away from his chest and grinned at him. “Maybe.”

  “Hmm,” was Jack’s only reply.

  Violet stood, stretched out the kinks of writing, and then turned on Denny. “We aren’t going to do anything. Go away.”

  “I know that,” Denny told her. “You’d have been on the bed if Jack planned to do more than kiss you senseless. It was simply fun to harass you.”

  “He waited until he felt enough time had passed,” Lila announced. “He tiptoed down the hall and waved me forward as if we were invading France.”

  Violet frowned fiercely but Denny giggled, picked up Lila, putting her over his shoulder, and left. He called back, “The door will be open on our side as well. Random inspections! Don’t get comfortable.”

  “We could lock him out,” Jack suggested. “But first, we have to go down to the cellar, get all the chocolate liqueur and move it to our house.”

  “There are so many reasons to love you,” Violet told him, “but that is definitely high on the list. Ooh! Some of the strawberry liqueur too. Ooh, and both kinds of rum. Anything that looks fun.”

  “We could empty the whole cellar. Just to see the look on his face.”

  Violet laughed so hard it hurt. “I don’t think you realize the level of that undertaking, and Victor might cry.”

  Chapter 20

  The ladies club was ready for them. They were open at all hours, but if you weren’t a member, their doors didn’t open until 9:00 a.m. even if you were meeting with someone there. Violet and Rita arrived at 7:30 a.m. with Jack in tow. Special circumstances had the ladies club making allowances. Hamilton Barnes was already there with Mr. Russell, who had been ‘taken in’ the previous evening. It had translated to Mr. Russell calling his solicitor and spending the evening at Ham’s home. Violet noticed Ham’s new pin-striped suit, which drew attention, she suddenly realized, to his much slimmer figure. How long had he been losing weight? Perhaps his old suit had hid the changes he’d been making?