by Cynthia Kuhn
“What do you mean, what the society did to your sister?” Judith asked.
“Once Betty retired from the university, you forgot about her. You should have seen her, lying around her apartment like a broken doll.”
“She told us she wanted some space after Nala died.” Judith spoke calmly.
“Wasn’t Nala the name of Elisabetta Vega’s partner?” I was confused.
Millicent glowered. “Yes. And Elisabetta will always be Betty to me.”
“Wait,” I said. “Elisabetta is your sister?”
“Yes, my sister. Everyone knows that. You really need to get up to speed, Lila.” Millicent looked sharply at Judith. “Betty and I are very close. Sisterhood might not mean anything to you other than a handy political slogan, but it does to me.”
“We love her, Millicent,” said Willa angrily.
“But you abandoned her.”
“No, we didn’t,” Judith said, a pained expression on her face.
I was still trying to process the sibling connection. “But you have different last names.”
“And different fathers,” Millicent said. “Doesn’t make us any less related.”
Half-sisters, then. Perhaps that accounted for why they didn’t resemble each other in the least.
“But…” I began, pausing to attempt to sort out my thoughts.
“Yes?” Millicent asked, snapping her fingers. “Out with it.”
“Why did you want to kill Roland in the first place?”
“It was a combination of things, really,” Millicent said, fixing me with a thoughtful gaze. “I didn’t plan to kill anyone, but once I started, I found I had quite a knack for it.”
So disturbing.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. Since you’re not walking out of here alive.”
I started to shiver.
“As you know, Betty was up for professor emerita status. Roland wrote a horrible memo outlining the reasons why she didn’t deserve it and asked me to make copies for the meeting to hand out to the entire department. It would have humiliated her.”
“That’s terrible,” Judith said. Her hands were shaking, but her voice was even.
“It is. I destroyed it. But on the same day, he…well, he asked me to submit something else that would have libeled my sister. And I was having none of that.”
Light dawned so hard that it made my head ache.
“Does your sister write mysteries?”
A repellent smirk spread across Millicent’s face. “I knew you’d figured it out.”
“What are you talking about?” Willa interjected.
Millicent gestured with the gun. “Go ahead, Professor.”
I put my palms onto the floor to steady myself. The laser beam of hate she sent my way was dizzying.
“Did you know Elisabetta writes mysteries?” I addressed my colleagues.
“Yes,” said Willa. “As Eve Turner. But only a few of us know.”
“They’re superb,” said Millicent. “Extremely smart and sophisticated.”
“I think so too, actually,” Willa agreed politely, as if we were all sitting at book club, sipping tea together, which only intensified the surreal quality of the moment.
“But what do her books have to do with Roland?” Judith asked.
I tried to think of a way to explain without setting Millicent off. I opted for my calmest teacher voice and addressed my fellow captives. “Are you familiar with Poe Collins?”
I heard Millicent mutter something about a “ridiculous pen name.”
My colleagues seemed confused. Both were shaking their heads.
“He’s a literary critic who has published several articles recently, but I could only find two at our library. From what I could tell, Collins’ thing was to choose specific authors and write scathing articles about why…um…” I glanced at Millicent. “Do you want to explain?”
“Go on,” she commanded.
“About why, in his opinion, they were failures.”
Willa and Judith glanced at each other.
Millicent jumped in at that point. “His latest article savaged my sister’s work. In its entirety. He gave it me to proofread and submit to the journal for him, as he always did. I don’t even know if he was aware that it was Betty he was attacking, but it didn’t matter.” She made a face. “I was having no more of Roland Higgins. I’ve hated him for years, but this was the last straw. I knew he would be the first at the department meeting—he was always so concerned about staking out the best chair for his fat ass—so I took a chance he’d be alone in the room and went to stop him.”
“You were protecting Liz,” Judith said soothingly. “I understand.”
“You understand nothing,” Millicent snarled. “It was more than protection. I wanted revenge for every horrible thing he ever did to her. From the harassment forward. I’m talking about real revenge, not like those Briar edition books you think will have such momentous impact. Though one did come in handy when it was time to hit you, Judith.”
“Ah,” said Judith. I admired her composure under the circumstances.
“I read that ritual book too,” Millicent said, sneering at the red volume next to Judith. “You overanalyzed every single element of your stupid little group, didn’t you? Though you appear to have overlooked the part where Briar Rose was awakened by the kiss of a man.”
Willa made a sound of disgust, and her voice was harsh. “We don’t have anything against men. Just against the silencing of women. And haven’t you overlooked the fact that your own sister was part of the planning Judith just described? You say you’ve done all of this on her behalf, yet you’re mocking her work. Are you completely soulless?”
“I hope that’s the case, considering what I’ve done,” said Millicent. “And what I’m about to do.”
My teeth began chattering slightly. It took concentration to make them stop.
“After it was over, I was delighted to have dispatched of Roland. It awakened something in me, I’ll confess.”
“Why did you attack Judith?” Willa demanded.
“I was trying to frame you, remember? I hoped you’d start to suspect each other. No one seemed to be talking about the symbol on the knife, so I had to get another one circulating out there. So I brought Betty’s embossed copy of the Woolf book and waited until Judith was alone.”
She produced a laugh that sounded like a demented bird screeching in a horror movie. “Then I learned Eldon had co-written the Poe Collins articles. If I didn’t stop him, he’d publish the article on Betty’s work.” Millicent sighed dramatically. “Though even if he hadn’t been a co-author, I probably would have killed him anyway. Having Eldon around was like Roland coming back to life. Couldn’t have that. I’d run out of holy society relics by then, so I had to whittle my own stake.”
She whittled a stake and carved the symbol on it? That was dedication. I suppose there were no lengths to which she wouldn’t go, given her singularity of purpose.
“Was that you who destroyed my office too?”
“Yes,” she said. “I was hoping the symbols in your office might prompt some conversation about the society with the detective. I made sure they were colossal. Impossible to ignore. You know, clues for dummies.”
“I did talk about the symbols with the detective, but they were all pointing to my cousin,” I said, fighting a flare of anger. “I didn’t know they came from a society.”
“Way to connect the dots. I thought you were smarter than that,” Millicent scoffed. “You’d already received Betty’s necklace I sent you. Didn’t Calista tell you about the society when you wore it to see her?”
“No. She told me to hide it. She must have known that no current society member would have given it to me.”
“Then how did you find out about the society?”
“From Simone,”
I said. “She saw the necklace and thought it meant I’d been invited to join.”
“What?” Willa seemed perplexed. “How did she know about us?”
“Her mother belonged to the society when she was here,” Judith reminded her.
“It’s a pity she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.” Willa addressed me. “We all take a vow of secrecy. That’s why none of us could explain anything to you.”
Millicent rolled her eyes. “Well, I’ll admit it was harder than I thought it would be to frame the society…because most people didn’t know it existed. Should have thought that through.”
“Were you also the one who pushed me into the bonfire?”
“Yes,” she said. “The second note told you to wear the necklace to the Halloween party, and you defied me. Punishment was in order. Plus, by then, I was just plain aggravated by the sight of you. But let’s cut to the chase here, shall we? I did everything. All of it.” Millicent sounded triumphant. “Laughing the whole time at how ridiculous you all are, thinking you could change history.”
Judith spoke up. “We just wanted to claim a space for women who have not been able to speak their truths. Like you, Millicent.”
Millicent trained her gun on Judith. “Do not presume to know anything about me. It might interest you to know I have a far higher IQ than Betty. Probably higher than all of you. To be blunt, I could smash your precious literary interpretations to smithereens without even trying. All you professors think you’re so smart, but oh, how easy it was to fool you. Almost got annoying by the end, how slow you were.” She cleared her throat and addressed me directly. “Speaking of idiots, aren’t you wondering where your boyfriend is, Lila?”
“Do you mean Nate?”
“Yes. He’s probably waiting for you at your house right now. I put a note in his mailbox cancelling your plans. It wasn’t very bright of you to make arrangements in the main office…I could hear every word you said. From there, it was simply a matter of dividing and conquering.” Millicent laughed. “It was very helpful of Tad to get arrested too. Now he can take the blame for everything. Or he and Calista can split it. I couldn’t care less.”
“Well, I care,” I said, furious. “What makes you think any of this is fair?”
“Fair?” Millicent glared at me. “Life is never fair, Professor.”
The anger coursing through my body was preferable to the fear. My thinking seemed more focused somehow. I ran through a few escape scenarios in my mind, but they all ended with Millicent shooting someone.
“Please, Millicent, why don’t you let us go? We won’t say anything,” said Willa. Her coaxing tone provided an odd contrast to the steely look in her eyes. “Think about it. You could walk away right now and leave town. As you just said, Tad or Calista will take the blame.”
“And miss all the fun after your bodies are discovered? I don’t think so.” She sounded almost merry. She would enjoy killing us. I tried to catch one of the other women’s eyes in a desperate attempt to telegraph something, anything, that might spark a plan.
Willa spoke up again. “There’s got to be something you want, Millicent. Could we make a deal?”
“What I want,” Millicent said coldly, “is to make you suffer for ignoring my sister in her time of need. If you hadn’t—”
“We never ignored her,” said Judith evenly. “She and I speak weekly, and she has been invited to all society events.”
“But you didn’t come to visit her much after Nala died. I was the only one there for her, same as it’s been our whole lives. I may be the younger sister, but I’m much stronger, in every way. Actions speak louder than words.”
“We were respecting her privacy,” Willa said. “She told us she wanted to be alone to grieve.”
“Well, you didn’t believe her, did you?” Millicent was clearly incensed. “You could have tried harder.” She cocked the gun and aimed it at Willa’s head. “Now you will pay for that.”
“Wait,” said Willa, arms out before her, as if that would shield her from the bullets.
The sound of running feet in the hallway made us all turn towards the door.
A moment later, Millicent tumbled backward, her weapons clattering on the cement.
The ritual book dropped with a thud onto the floor soon afterwards.
We scrambled to our feet. Willa, pale but resolute, went over and stood next to the unconscious Millicent to make sure she stayed put.
I stared at Judith. “You saved us.”
“Must admit, that was very satisfying,” she said, though she was trembling.
“But you only had one chance to hit her with the book!” I exclaimed.
“Indeed.” Judith smiled. “We’re lucky it worked.”
“Now that’s real poetic justice,” Willa mused. “Don’t you think?”
Suddenly, Nate jumped into the doorway, his body landing in some kung-fu-esque pose. He was dressed in black and had a flashlight dangling from his belt.
“Thanks, but we have things under control,” Willa informed him.
He stood up and let his hands fall to his sides as he looked around, obviously confused.
As the other women started to fill him in on what had happened, Nate headed straight over to where I was standing.
And kissed me.
For a long time.
“Wha—what was that?” I asked, astonished.
“I don’t know,” he said, seeming equally surprised. “Let’s revisit it later.”
Chapter 24
On Friday morning, I sat at a small table in the crowded student union with the other women who had survived The Millicent Ordeal, including Calista. The gently falling snow visible through the large windows added a tranquil backdrop to the scene.
What a difference a week makes.
It had taken several days to suspend the images cascading nonstop through my mind. Police swarming in, guns drawn and grim. Millicent, waking to discover herself cuffed and in the custody of officers, emitting bloodcurdling screams. Willa and Judith, blankets around their shoulders, talking with the paramedics. Detective Archer taking down my description of events as I held an icepack to my throbbing head. At least this time he was no longer looking at me with suspicion. Thank goodness for that.
Judith had just invited us all over for Thanksgiving dinner when Calista interrupted, “Sorry, but I have to know before we talk about anything else…Millicent’s in jail, right?” Her cheeks, bright from the cold, just about matched her hot pink sweater. She clutched the mug of tea in front of her as if absorbing strength from it.
“Yes. Tad’s out, she’s in, and they charged her with the murders, so as long as the trial goes well, she’ll be there for a very long time,” said Judith, turning her small gold watch around her wrist as she spoke.
Millicent deserved to be locked up for life in a tiny gray cell. But poor Elisabetta. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to have a sister like that, who had done so many terrible things supposedly on her behalf.
Calista smiled. “That’s wonderful news. And I have more. Spencer just gave me a copy of his letter recommending tenure. It still has to go up through the different levels, but it’s very supportive—unlike Roland’s.”
We all cheered.
“And how are we doing today?” Judith asked, making eye contact with each of us individually. Her stunning white hair was becomingly gathered into a long braid, which provided a striking contrast to her deep burgundy jacket.
“I’m fine,” I said, though it came out sounding more like a question than a declaration. I was still a little shaky.
Willa was more decisive. “Absolutely perfect.” She readjusted her amethyst wool wrap and straightened up. “Ready to move on.”
Calista agreed. “But first…” She groped around in her giant canvas bag, pushing aside books and papers, then made a sound of triumph and prese
nted me with a small red box topped with a mauve ribbon. “This is for you, Lil.”
“What’s this? I didn’t know we were giving gifts. It’s not Christmas yet.”
“Open it,” she commanded.
I carefully removed the paper and lifted up the lid. Nestled inside was a necklace on a chain—the Briar Rose symbol engraved on a silver disc.
I looked up at Calista, puzzled.
“We’re disbanding the society,” she said. “But we wanted you to know we think of you as an honorary member.”
“I’m flattered,” I said. “I wish I could have participated. I think. I mean, it seems like everyone I know is a member, but I still don’t know what the society was for.”
“Well, in truth, you still can participate,” said Judith. “We’re going to come aboveground, as it were, and form a brand new group devoted to the study of women’s literature through the department.”
“Wait, it was a literary society?” I had been so far off of the mark. “How did it begin?”
“As a women’s support group, initially. Liz and I had been involved in something similar in grad school, and it just seemed natural to start one here. The society has been active at Stonedale for several decades now. In addition to helping each other solve workplace-related issues, part of our purpose was to create an alternative canon, to foreground women writers we thought had been overlooked or unfairly disparaged. Lately, we’ve been experimenting with starting our own press, so we bound together mockups named after our favorite authors to see what might be involved and whether it was sustainable. We were going to call them Briar editions and emboss them with the society seal.”
“The ones you saw were not for public consumption,” Willa said. “The words inside were placeholder gibberish, not the actual texts.”
“Yes,” Judith agreed. “These were just examples—meant to circulate privately among society members. There was one additional book with our ritual language, which Calista had bound when she did the others.”
“That’s the one you threw at Millicent?”
“The very one.”
“I’m so grateful for that book. And for your excellent aim.”
