Hyde Park Heist (Piccadilly Ladies Club Mysteries Book 1)

by Bettie Jane

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Acknowledgements

  More from Bettie Jane

  Copyright 2018 by Bettie Jane

  All Rights Reserved

  Hyde Park Heist,

  the first in the Piccadilly Ladies Club Mysteries,

  is dedicated to all the women scrambling to find their place in this world.

  Whatever your dream, whatever your hopes--never stop chasing them.

  xoxo

  bj

  Chapter 1

  November 11, 1921

  Armistice Day

  Rushforth Residence

  West End, London

  “Oh Edith, do come on already. The treasure hunt will not solve itself. I think Frankie has planned a whale of a good time for us tonight.”

  Julia was the only child of aristocrats George and Elizabeth Barlow, who descended from a long line of aristocratic wealth. She sat perched on the bed, her festive red poppy pinned to her black dress, and waited not so patiently for her best friend to finish readying herself.

  “Julia, we’ve been over this. I must look radiant for our night out. You said Jimmie will be accompanying us and if I’m to be in the paper—front page, I hope—I must look perfect. You never know who will see my photograph. Perhaps the man who is meant to be my husband will see it and this evening shall be the perfect beginning of the rest of what I’m planning will be charmed life.”

  “Darling, you worry too much about finding a husband. You’re only twenty-four.”

  “According to my parents, I’ve already long passed the acceptable age.”

  She put the finishing touches on her curls and donned a turban that coordinated well with her fringed-black evening dress. The stone in the center of her turban was the color of a red poppy. The treasure hunt invitation had declared it an Armistice Day hunt. Wear black with a red poppy flower, it read.

  “Besides,” Edith continued, “I intend to marry someone that my parents will disapprove of entirely, someone who drives a fast car and will dance with me all night. And other things, of course, if I get my way. I’ve created a plan for myself and I must be married before my twenty-fifth birthday. I’ve only got eight months left, darling. That’s not much time to find, court, have a romp—I have to sample the merchandise, you see—and then plan the most illustrious wedding this city has ever seen. My wedding will be the biggest party of the decade, I’m certain of it. Elizabeth Ponsonby, the queen of socialites, shall be envious when she hears of the display that will be my wedding.”

  She pulled on her gloves, apparently finally satisfied with her appearance. “Come now, Julia. Don’t be a layabout. We can’t keep our lovely friends waiting.”

  An exasperated Julia rolled her eyes then stood and straightened the lines of her dress.

  “You are utterly impossible. You do look divine. If that dress doesn’t land you a husband, I’m sure I don’t know what will. Not that I’ll ever understand why you want one in the first place.”

  “This dress or a husband?”

  “A husband, of course. I perfectly understand the need for fashion. Men, on the other hand, especially the type one marries, they are wholly unnecessary, my dear Edith.”

  “It’s not for you to understand, my dear Julia. Not all of us have the opportunity or the brains to work as you do. Not that my parents would allow me to work. My only choice is to marry. You, at the very least, have options. Why on earth any woman would choose to work instead of the good life with a husband to take care of the money, I’ll never know.”

  Julia smiled, willing herself to be patient. “You are quite smart, Edith, and you have every capability of forging a career for yourself. The world is changing, my dear. You’ve seen some of these men back from the Great War, all shell-shocked and violent. I don’t want a man like that. Not a bit. I’d rather be able to fend for myself. I certainly don’t need to be married to have the occasional romp with an enticing fellow. As you well know, Miss ‘I Like to Sample the Merchandise’.”

  Edith winked at Julia’s observation and compliment. “Okay, love. Whatever you say. We’ll not solve our differences on matrimony tonight. Where are we meeting Opal and Mattie? Are the boys coming? So it’s Frankie who is in charge of the hunt this time?”

  Edith peppered Julia with nonstop questions, as was typical for her when she was nervous or excited, or both.

  “Take a breath, Edith,” Julia said with amusement. “We’ll take the bus to Piccadilly Circus where our treasure hunt starts. We’ll meet up there with Jimmie, Cecil, and Frankie as well as Opal and Mattie.”

  “How thrilling. I do love getting a feel for public transportation. It feels so liberating. I feel like I am embarking on an adventure that will help me to understand those of a different social class. Not that I have much in common with that sort of person, mind, but how wonderful that I can expose myself to the culture of others while drinking my way across London. The last hunt we did stirred up quite a ruckus. It was quite charming. Will this one be as interesting? I do bore quickly, Julia.”

  Julia, both amused and annoyed with Edith’s lack of awareness of the words she chose, took her friend by the hand and pulled her down the hall and out the doors once they’d donned their coats to protect from the chill in the November air. “This hunt will be more outstanding than the last, I can practically guarantee it. I’m sure Frankie pulled out all the stops for this. If we ever arrive there!”

  The bus ride was a short one from Mayfair to Piccadilly Circus, and Julia spotted her group of friends waiting for them at the stop. Opal and Mattie looked the part with their long strands of pearls, their own black dresses with red poppy brooches, and matching turbans with red gems. The gentlemen, Frankie, Jimmie, and Cecil were dapper as ever with their perfectly tailored black suits, red poppy flowers and fake mustaches.

  Together they were a stunning portrait of the carefree youth of the social elite.

  It was Opal, with her perfectly coifed auburn curls, who pulled Julia into a hug as soon as she stepped off the bus. “I’m beyond thrilled you two have arrived. These blokes are such a bore.”

  “Where’s your brother? I’d rather hoped he would join us this evening. He is always such fun.”

  Opal smiled. “Oscar has other obligations this evening.” She looked at Cecil and winked.

  Frankie spoke, ignoring the way Opal flirted shamelessly, pointlessly, with Cecil. “Now, now, Opal, don’t judge us so harshly. We won’t be boring for long. You’ll have your fun. We must at least begin the evening as gentleman, wouldn’t you agree? There’s plenty of time later for all the debauchery your pretty little self can handle.”

  “Do you promise, Frankie?” Her voice dripped with flirtation and promise.

  “Cross my heart, Opal.”

  “All right then, let’s get on with our hunt, boys,” exclaimed a quite excited Edith. She hopped up and down on her toes with unchecked, childlike eagerness. Julia thought how much Edith’s mother would have disapproved of her daughter’s excitable disposition, so she refrained from asking her to calm down. She knew how hard Edith worked to overcome her mother’s constant criticism. “I’ve waited all day for this. I sat through the yawn-inducing Armistice Day par
ade this morning and then I took a rest so that I could recover from the strain of such a tiring morning out of doors. I’m ready now, boys. I’d like some adventure and some gin, not necessarily in that order.”

  As an afterthought, she added, “Someone had better kiss me before the night is through if they know what’s good for them.”

  The someone to whom Edith referred, not so subtly, was Frankie. Julia, as well as the rest of the group, knew Edith had intentions set on Frankie, not as husband material, of course, but rather as someone she could enjoy the occasional roll with. If only Frankie would cooperate. He seemed rather oblivious to Edith’s advances, which became more and more overt with the passing of each day.

  “Right. Let’s misbehave then, shall we?” Mattie said, her arm looped around Cecil Rampton’s.

  “Absobloodylootely,” said Jimmie, grabbing Julia in a hug and spinning her around before planting a whopper of a kiss on her. Julia responded in kind to Jimmie’s kiss, and when it was over and she was sufficiently breathless and red-cheeked, she asked, “Who’s got the first clue, then?”

  Frankie tipped his hat. “Why, Miss Barlow, I’m the organizer of our fine festivities this holiday evening.”

  “Say you brought your camera, Jimmie? And that it works at night?”

  He set Julia down and picked up a hard, black leather-bound case that was hiding behind Cecil.

  “Here, I’ve got it then. With enough light and patience, my camera will capture magic anywhere.”

  Frankie bowed dramatically to the ladies. “May I present your first clue of the evening?” He extended a slip of paper, and Edith snatched it with red-polished nails and read it to the group.

  “Worn like a manacle, this marquise diamond ring is the symbol of the old ways failing in our new post-war reality. The wearer of this valuable ring is not bound to its symbol of virtue, instead mocking the sacred institution of holy matrimony.”

  “Are you mad, Frankie? Sacred institution? Since when is that your position?” Mattie reached out and pinched Frankie’s cheeks, much as an aged aunt would do.

  Edith, ignoring Mattie’s opinion, clapped her hands together in childlike glee. “The Lady Eliza Withers has a rather famous marquise diamond ring that her husband brought to her from Paris. And everyone knows she sleeps with practically everyone in town except her husband. Am I correct, Frankie?”

  He bowed, quite dramatically. “Miss Edith Rushforth, you are correct, my dear. I shall purchase your first gin for you. How do you suggest we proceed, friends?”

  Jimmie’s irritation was evident to Julia in his scrunched eyebrows, his wary, nearly black eyes and the set of his tense shoulders, that replaced the carefree attitude he possessed moments before.

  “Frankie, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Her husband is—well, you’ve seen the papers—he’s a tyrant and not one I think we should cross.”

  “Nonsense,” Edith said, “We are all a bit of tyrant sometimes, don’t you think? I’m sure he’ll see it as good fun. We take the ring, of course, but then we’ll return it. No harm done. I’m in. Who else?”

  Mattie and Cecil both nodded, Jimmie glowered, Julia shrugged her shoulders, and Opal grinned from ear to ear.

  Jimmie pled his case one more time. “I’d rather find some other treasure to chase.”

  This time it was Mattie, with her bright blond hair and perfectly painted lips, who argued with him. “Eliza Withers is a cow, Jimmie Hutchins. She is cruel and entirely deserves to have a prank played on her. Why, the way she so openly goes about defiling her marriage is simply despicable. She should have never married a man more than twice her age simply for the money or the title. I don’t pretend to like her or agree that we should even return the ring once we take it.”

  Julia raised her eyebrows as she noted Mattie’s departure from her normal role as moral compass of the group with curiosity. She’d have to ask her later if something was amiss.

  Jimmie Hutchins, outnumbered by a crowd of gin-thirsty young socialites, reluctantly gave in. “I only hope we have plenty of opportunity to capture photographs. That’s the main reason I’m here.”

  The group largely ignored Jimmie’s objection.

  Edith seemed completely unfazed. “Of course there will be plenty to photograph, Jimmie. Our first stop appears to be the Candlelight Club. I happen to know that both Eliza and her husband frequent that club practically nightly. I’d bet my poppy flower that’s where we’ll find them. This will be so easy, Frankie, that you’ll have to think hard how you’ll entertain us for the rest of the evening. I will be quite disappointed if this hunt is as simple as all that. Well, shall we, then? Some dancing, ladies, perhaps some gin? Let us be well-lubricated. I’m certain our minds will be sharper then, don’t you think?”

  The energy in the group was its own character; cheer and desire for adventure bubbled out from each of the well-dressed urban hunters, and Julia smiled outwardly as it carried them through town to the Candlelight Club.

  ______

  November 11, 1921

  Friday Evening

  Candlelight Club

  West End, London

  Edith led the way into the Candlelight Club, followed by the entourage of treasure hunters. Cheerful, upbeat jazz filled every corner of the venue. They filled two tables they’d pushed together and the boys went to the bar to order. Frankie led them back to the tables, each holding two drinks in their hands.

  “We can change it up for the second round if you want, but they are famous for their gin cocktails so I insist we start with these.”

  “Marvelous,” said Edith. “Julia, do you see the Withers here? I’m quite ready to see what Frankie has in store for us once we’ve collected Eliza’s ring—or as Frankie likes to call it, the symbol of Lady Withers mockery of fidelity.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t see them yet, so we’ll simply have to wait it out,” Julia said. “I’m certain we’ll be able to keep ourselves occupied with dancing, don’t you think?”

  “How will we get the ring off Eliza’s bony fingers anyway?” Mattie asked.

  Edith laughed. “She does have unusually long, bony fingers, doesn’t she?”

  As if on cue, a hush settled over the table as they noticed Lady Withers and her husband saunter into the room, her narrow hips swaying in time to the music and her red shoes, a perfect match to the massive red poppy she wore on her dress, click-clacking their way across the floor.

  Julia noticed Jimmie stiffen as his eyes made contact with Eliza Withers. Neither of them let their gaze linger, but Julia noticed there was something shared in the glance between the two of them.

  Interesting, she thought, recognizing the lingering want in Eliza’s eyes, though her glance at Jimmie was brief. It seemed Julia wasn’t the only young woman in the city who was pining, at least to some degree, for Jimmie Hutchins.

  File that away, Julia, she thought to herself. Julia wasn’t the possessive type. Quite the opposite, in fact. She loathed the thought of making a fool of herself for one man. Why should she? She was young and there were so many eligible bachelors. Not to mention the non-eligible, but still quite available bachelors. If rumor held that Eliza took many lovers, the same was true for her husband Philip. Julia was familiar with some of the more scandalous sort that told of Philip’s time in Soho. However, Julia considered herself a legitimate journalist, one that didn’t form an opinion based on the rumor mill. It sill helped, quite a lot, to be aware of the gossip. Often, what was rumored to be true found at least of morsel of reality. Her attention to the little details is what had solidified her still-fledgling position in the newspaper world.

  There was another reaction Julia noticed when Eliza Withers strolled in to the Candlelight Club. Mattie Hawkins peered over the glass of her gin, conversing with Cecil, but her jewel-green eyes were quite locked on Jimmie’s face as he watched Eliza.

  Poor girl, Julia thought. Jimmie and Julia had already covered the topic of Mattie’s less than subtle affection toward Jimmie. J
immie played the field, for certain, but unlike Julia, Mattie was quite prudish in her opinions. Never in a million years could Julia imagine Mattie being a good match for Jimmie. He was too much of a rogue to match her proper sensibilities. Hopefully, she’d fall for someone else and leave Jimmie Hutchins where he belonged—firmly in her memory as someone she’d fantasized about from afar.

  Edith, undeterred from her enthusiasm for this treasure hunt, immediately began plotting how to secure the ring.

  “First, we must determine whether she is even wearing it. She’s already dancing. Jimmie, dance with me? Let’s get close enough to see if she’s got it on her.”

  Jimmie hesitated and before he had a chance to speak, Julia spoke up. “Leave poor Jimmie alone, Edith. I’ll dance with you. Come on.”

  The two women downed the rest of their drink.

  Julia winked at Frankie. “Hey boys, another round for when we return, shall we?”

  Frankie nodded and lifted his glass in a mock toast. Julia and Edith giggled like schoolgirls as they joined the throngs of beautiful people bouncing and shimmying in time to the trumpets and saxophones that filled the grand room. They sidled up alongside where Eliza Withers danced with her husband. Julia noticed that Eliza was in fact wearing the ring. She also noticed that Eliza cast her eyes around the room searching for someone. Someone that was definitely not her husband, Philip, who was also looking around the room in the opposite direction. They’d arrived together, but whether the Withers left alone or together at the end of the goings on, only the night knew. Julia had her suspicions.

  Edith leaned in toward Julia, not skipping a beat in her dance steps as she hissed in Julia’s ear. “She’s wearing it!”

  Julia nodded. At the end of the song, the girls returned to the table, breathless and sweaty from their activity.

  “She’s got it. Now, how can we take it from her?”

  Mattie sniffed dismissively. “We could always just knock her over the head in the ladies room. Perhaps cut off her precious bony finger?”