The Murdering Wives Club

by Sharon Thompson

  Tearing it open, my breath caught in my chest.

  A card inside simply read, in swirling letters:

  Come tomorrow morning 10am.

  The Sinful Roses

  They came to where I lived? They shouldn’t have contacted me. I was almost certain that it was one of their own regulations. They had listed many rules.

  1. Never mention this to anyone. EVER.

  2. Don’t come unannounced or without an appointment.

  3. Plan the deed meticulously and within three months from now.

  4. Repaying the debt may take up to three months to fully complete.

  There had been more of course, but instead of listening properly I got lost in the portrait over the mantel and mulling over telling them about my Tim.

  What could they want now? It worried me. I figured that they might have heard good things about John? Or that perhaps they’d seen Tim? I had forgotten about standing in the rain.

  Something was not right and that piece of card was a sign that things were not well. Not well at all.

  John was home early too. Bursting into the house like he was expecting to find me in a passionate embrace on his couch. What was making him suspicious?

  “I thought I’d come home early,” he said, pulling off his boots and jacket.

  He could have checked the attic – but he never did.

  “The neighbour said you’ve had callers. Two visitors. Marjorie saw an elderly woman earlier who dropped something off and a ‘trampish-looking chap’? They both worried her so much that she came out on her stick to tell me to buy you a cross dog.”

  “I think that Marjorie needs poisoning! I told you, I’ve seen no one all day.”

  “You didn’t see a woman dropping something off? The evenings are darker too. I worry about you being home alone here in this dark cul-de-sac. I just felt that I needed to come home and wasn’t I right? Especially if there are prowlers about outside.”

  He rambled on and on about the need for me to lock doors and how we should be vigilant. He also suggested that I visit Marjorie to check on her.

  Murdering the old biddy was all that was on my mind.

  Chapter 8

  Laurie Davenport

  As soon as Norah stops reading I start my apologies.

  “I cannot believe that woman. Such an awful thing to have to read! I wanted to stop you a few times but curiosity got the better of me.”

  She laughs loudly and I find myself laughing too.

  “Laurie, you can be such a prude,” she says, still laughing.

  It relieves the tension, but I’m still concerned.

  “I’m mortified,” I start again. “All that talk about her young lover and murder. As if we’d condone or understand such things? Are you going to be all right?”

  “I’ll say a few ‘Hail Marys’ and all will be well. Stop fretting. This is our job right now and she’s only trying to shock us. And, it seems to have worked.”

  “It definitely did!” The room is stuffy and I wonder if we could open a window but I say, “I didn’t know women could think such things, never mind write them down.”

  Norah doesn’t answer and I wonder what facial expression she’s using. I hate that I cannot tell what she’s thinking.

  “I’m fine, sir. Honestly, stop worrying. I’m a grown woman. She’s not going to shock me.”

  “Really? I’m aghast that she wouldn’t make you blush, even a little!” I flap my hand in front of my face in a comical fashion. “I thought I might faint.”

  Norah guffaws.

  “Someone needs to tell her that there’ll to be no more of that sort of thing,” I announce. “But have we learned anything more today – other than that I blush quickly and my scars don’t stop it from being noticeable?”

  “I didn’t notice you were all that uncomfortable when I was reading,” Norah says.

  I wonder about that. She is bound to have seen me shuffle at my crotch. A blind man could have seen I was aroused by some of the conversation. I’m almost thankful that my eyes cannot give me away now.

  But Norah decides to change the subject.

  “I can look and we can see if we can piece things together,” she says. “She described the house for example. I wondered if she did that on purpose? And it’s in Netterby. We can easily find such a house. She also made me extremely nosey about Tim. There cannot be too many garages around there with fellows called Tim having worked in them? Also she gave us names for the women. And the organisation is definitely called the Sinful Roses.”

  Norah’s figure is moving as she’s on her feet, softly pacing the floor. I want to take her into a hug and hold her there. Against me. If I put on music, we might dance? I could manage a waltz if we moved a few of the softer, lighter chairs. I didn’t enjoy life when I could. Charlotte and I partied, socialised, but we were never happy or content in each other’s company.

  I suddenly remember. I squint over at where I think Norah is, by the gramophone.

  “I’ve been to Netterby, you know. With Charlotte. About five years back. We went to a party there.”

  Norah laughs. “The Sinful Roses were throwing the party, no doubt?” she teases.

  “Certainly not!” I pretend to be offended. “It was at Ravenscairn House, the home of a very respectable lady – Lady Dornan.”

  There is a pause, then Norah says, “But might Charlotte have met a Sinful Rose there – or someone who told her about them?”

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” I say, and my heart sinks.

  Norah walks over and touches my arm.

  “Am I not the best Sherlock Holmes?” she says.

  I laugh. “You are.”

  “And you can be Watson.”

  “Oh, thank you kindly!”

  She begins to pace again. “Eve has not wanted to tell us much of value yet. It’s like she’s setting the scene, painting us a picture. She’s the oddest creature, isn’t she?”

  “The General will want a report. I’m to telephone him this evening. He’ll be glad that she’s cooperating. They often tried to get her to tell what she knew and now that she’s writing we’ll have to keep her at it.”

  “She recognised the Davenport name. Could it be that she knows your Charlotte?”

  “Most unlikely.” I find the thought chilling. “A criminal woman like that? Eve has been accused of terrible things. Arson and brutal murders. She did try to kill poor Marjorie Fellows too in the end, didn’t she?”

  “Marjorie was a key witness. She seems to be the one person who spent the time with Eve and even she has very little information on the other crimes. We’re doing well to have this in writing.”

  More pacing.

  “When you visited the north of Ireland where did you usually stay?” she asks.

  “Nice hotels in Belfast or sometimes on one of the big estates. My family has friends all over the British Empire.” I sound haughty and full of myself. “I felt we were working on our visit, though, and if I showed up at the usual spots I’d be asked about my condition and also about you and our reason for being in Northern Ireland. I wanted to stay somewhere inconspicuous.”

  “Of course,” Norah says and sits with a creak of the couch. “I only wondered if the locals or people you knew over here had any thoughts about our Mrs Eve Good. I’d say the gossip-mill has opinions and information which we would never get from a file.”

  “Good thinking, Watson,” I tease, sitting up to be closer to her.

  “Excuse me – you are Watson – I’m Sherlock,” she says.

  “We’ll see about that!” I take her hand and like the feel of her skin on mine. “We really are getting somewhere, aren’t we?” I ask the air of where I think her face is.

  “Yes,” Norah says. “I know we’ve had a terrible time lately but we’re learning a lot. It’ll all come together.”

  “I hate giving the likes of Eve a hearing – she doesn’t deserve it,” I moan.

  I suddenly feel very tired.

  �
��Could you help me upstairs, please? I might take a nap.” The thought of what I might do to Norah before a nap races across my dirty mind.

  “Of course, sir,” she says, rising to help me.

  “When are you going to use my Christian name? Please?” I insist, holding the material of her sleeve. I lean on her arm and we are in step as we move across the floor from the drawing room into the hall.

  “I’ll try, Laurie,” she relents. “I’ll make a call to the General now – let him know of our progress. You rest and I’ll do that and come back for you to go to dinner. It’s rabbit stew this evening and bread-and-butter pudding.”

  I yawn in reply. I would like to talk to Freddie myself but Norah knows that I need her to dial in the numbers for me anyhow, so it makes sense for her to relay our investigating to the General.

  We reach my bedroom and I become jittery. I sit on the side of the bed with a flop and let her help me with my laces. Might she undress me further if I was brazen enough to suggest it? I’ve taken to slipping the shoes on and off untied and it is spoiling their neat fit. The laces knot and her shadow tries to untie them and is level with my crotch for an agonising time. If only I were Freddie! He would say something seductive now. I open my mouth to try something and close it again.

  “Thank you,” I sigh when she’s also turned down the bed and mentioned where she left my shoes so that I don’t trip on them. “I would be lost without you. I’m extremely grateful for all of your assistance.”

  “I know that, s– I mean, Laurie. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

  I make my way to brush my teeth in the washbowl in the corner and realise that it has been almost a week since I thought of taking some sleeping powder or anything else to aid my living.

  I carefully make my way back to the welcoming bed and sink into the pillow. I’ve changed in a matter of days. I haven’t thought of myself much at all. I’ve been tired and have slept soundly. I’ve laughed and found pleasure in the company of others and I’ve enjoyed my food. The list of positives goes on as I lie there in the cool crisp sheets in a clean bed and I am grateful to be alive.

  My wife trying to kill me has opened me up to new possibilities. Who knew that would happen?

  Chapter 9

  Norah Walsh

  “I’ll get that criminal woman transported as soon as I can,” the General promises on the telephone.

  Fredrick is always full of his own importance. It’s wrong that men like Fredrick Ashfield are given any sort of power. It goes right to their dicks.

  “If it helps Laurie, then we do it.”

  I listen to him twitter on about his fondness for Mr Davenport and I must admit that the handsome ass has a sense of loyalty to his dead friend’s brother – and yet I wonder if there’s something more to his interest in all of this Sinful Roses business. Men in power perhaps know the real reach of the Murdering Wives Club.

  I don’t like having to explain to Fredrick what a harlot Eve Good is. After all she is a fellow female and I do see some of her traits as admirable. As much as I shouldn’t admit it, she fascinates me. The women at home in Meath, huddled around the church doors or the candles for lighting in prayer, would have something to say about her. Since the outbreak of war, Giles’ worries about the morality of women and the downfall of society is echoed everywhere. Even with men blowing each other to bits, it is the actions of women that are causing concern on home turf.

  If Eve Good were in the midst of holy Irish women, there’d be hell to pay. She’d be well and truly hung out to dry by the god-fearing females who patrol Irish society. They’ve got opinions about the likes of me too – and I’m nothing of note in comparison to this bitch.

  “And why isn’t Norah home taking care of her own grieving father then, eh?” these whispering women start. “Working for the British! Traitor to her own, that’s what she is.”

  Daddy, to give him his due, stands up for his only daughter and replies to all gossip, “You know nothing about it. My precious Norah is a patriot, but she’s clever and knows how to seize opportunities that present themselves to her. She is her own strong woman.”

  If any of them had been given a chance to leave Irish shores they’d have grabbed it with both grubby hands. I know that and so do they. I refuse to feel guilty about my choices. Lord Wester was a means to an end: an escape and an education. Being nanny to a lord was cause enough for them to spit at me. If they knew I was his mistress, I would never be able to show my face in Meath again.

  Now, in Davenport, I keep to my duty and summarise Eve’s letters to Fredrick.

  “You could easily read them before you send them on to us,” I suggest and then bite my lip. What am I doing? I need him to need me! “But I suppose busy men like you don’t have the time for epistles from murderers.”

  “Continue to telephone regularly and let me know what’s happening,” Fredrick orders before slamming down the receiver.

  I’m just like everyone else under his command now. Again, I should have known this would happen. I am no longer the naive slip of a girl who left Ireland. I know now that I’ll have to work hard to achieve anything in this life. Things don’t just fall into my lap. Sometimes a woman needs to use everything in her box of tricks to succeed. Eve thinks that she’s the only woman to have taken an unsuitable lover. The only one who has thought about terrible things. Ha!

  I know from her file that she too is an only daughter. Born to devoted parents who spoiled her with kindness and patience. There’s no reason why she is such a lunatic. She’s ordinary-looking, I suppose. Blonde, petite, with peculiar eyes, that when open spark a fear – even in me.

  She married John Good when she was quite young. I cannot recall the exact date of their wedding but I know it made me stop and take note that marrying young, for her, was not a good plan. It seemed to change her and it would have been the same for me. I escaped that bullet but ran into another one.

  Lord Wester’s idea to take me across the ocean with his family was much more appealing than being shackled to another pig-farmer and a distant cousin of a cousin. And, yes, I had to let a hairy married lord sneak in under my sheets occasionally, but I learned to manipulate that to my advantage in the finish too. Eve Good isn’t the only temptress, no matter how much she boasts about it.

  The female prison guard and I exchanged glances. She didn’t like that blonde bitch either. Yet, Laurie seemed taken with her tales. I suppose they’re shocking to the likes of him. Even warfare kept Laurie Davenport from the true realities of murder. From what I can gather, he was an officer spared from the main battles. His responsibilities lay in ordering men about and organising tasks such as building and repairing roads and bridges. It was the laying and clearing of mines that proved to be his downfall. He talks about a mine being an enemy one lodged deep in the mud, but I wonder sometimes if it was one of his own that blew up and maimed him and killed some of his comrades. Perhaps he doesn’t remember exactly what happened and wonders? There’s more to his war wounds than just the mark of an enemy. He’s lost all confidence and belief in himself. Charlotte hasn’t helped, but the poor divil pulls at my heartstrings something shocking. There’s an innocent vulnerability that I want to fix or perhaps hug out of him.

  He likes to touch me, but I can tell from the way he does it that it is because he cannot see me. Like I enjoy bare feet in sand, his fingers in mine ground him in that moment. The touch gives us a connection. It’s not because he wants a grope. He’s a gentleman and is such good company.

  Poor vulnerable Laurie also blushes at the mere mention of sex. How can a man make it almost to his fortieth year and still feel embarrassed by something he should do everything in his power to get? I try not to smirk at his embarrassment. Surely he must have thought of us making love? I've considered it. From when we first met I have daydreamed about him kissing me. I wish that I didn’t and I really want to stop the thoughts. Being in Davenport Manor was to be a new direction for me. A chance to prove myself. Yet, Laurie does make
my belly flutter with butterflies.

  Fredrick won’t have told him about us. I’m a dirty little secret that men of power and wealth think they can pass around as a plaything. “Laurie needs a woman like you. But if he knew of my real hope for you being in Davenport Manor, he wouldn’t have it,” Fredrick said. “You’d be ordered out. Laurie is a good sort, but he’s also a right prude. He’d rather be faithful to the whore who’s trying to kill him, than fall for a beauty like you. Let’s work on him in secret and take this slowly. You’re the expert seducer, Norah. I’ll leave it to you to make him fall in love with you.”

  It does hurt that Fredrick can just pass me on to his pal like I’m a worn pair of shoes. I thought he might be even a little bit sorry to hear me agreeing to our spilt. I hate to admit it but sex with Fredrick was fierce fun. If he didn’t speak, I quite enjoyed our time together. Being a mistress to the British only bothers me when I think of those at home in Meath. The Irish see the British war with Germany as an emergency to be avoided. The majority have no interest in the invaders’ problem. But – they would be interested in what I’m up to, though.

  The British and Fredrick worry about the Irish rebels siding with Hitler. This stops Fredrick from trusting me completely. It’s possibly not as silly a reaction as I once thought. I may be Irish but I know which side my bread is buttered on. I know who I must be loyal to now.

  I had agreed to accompany Laurie to speak to Eve Good before realising where she was imprisoned. Being in Armagh, I was very close to home. Terrifyingly close. Fifty miles to be exact. The island of Ireland is small and my accent was remarked upon. I was very worried that someone might have known someone who would tell of me being in the North with a blind British officer. Every bit of me knew that I needed to get back to Davenport and fast. I had to keep my head down. In the not too distant past, cavorting with an English soldier on Irish soil could get me tarred and feathered and have my red locks shorn off.