by Beth Byers
“But why would I?”
“Your father married a child, and she was driving you mad,” Denny explained. “If this were a book, you’d be my number one suspect until we found out that Mrs. Russell was stepping out on your father. Then, we’d discover it was him. Why would anyone just try to scare you?”
Rita answered for them, so they didn’t have to. “Because I was trying to make it seem it wasn’t me, or they love me.”
“Exactly,” Denny told her happily. “Isn’t this fun?”
“Mmm,” she answered, her expression a very sound no.
“This is what you asked for,” Lila told Rita, unsympathetically. “Finding a killer isn’t a very kind business.”
“It hurts when it’s you or the people you love.”
“We know that,” Lila said with that same lack of sympathy. “Denny’s brother was on that board not too long ago. Violet’s whole family has passed over that board.”
Rita’s brows lifted. She accepted a cup of tea from Violet, and they all turned to the boards.
“I want to know who benefits from Melody dying,” Rita said. “I refuse to believe my father killed her. You can put him on your list, but I reject that idea.”
“Of course you do,” Hamilton told her. His gaze lingered on Rita’s face, and Violet’s eyes widened. She shot her gaze at Jack, who saw the same interest on their friend’s face. They turned as one to Ham. He saw their question and shot them both a look that was a clear command to leave him alone.
Rita Russell was beautiful beyond most women. With her blonde hair, blue eyes, and even features, she was near perfection in a feminine form. Add in the daring and she had to be almost intoxicating, Violet thought, to the discerning man.
She winked at Ham.
“So Rita, tell us,” she asked, “who loves you?”
“I thought we’d already discussed that my lovers moved on without much regret.”
Violet’s lips twitched when Ham bit back an objection, but she simply said, “I don’t mean lovers only. I mean anyone who has or does ever love you. Denny, a list! Write Mr. Russell and Mrs. Russell the first. Who else?”
Rita’s mouth twisted and she took in a deep breath. “What a terrible thing to discover you aren’t sure who else you can add to such a list. People who love Rita? Her parents—” Her gaze moved around the room, never quite meeting anyone’s eyes. She sighed. “Well and truly loves me? Aunt Jean. Mrs. Greene, the missionary who travels with me. Ah, perhaps my uncle Eddie is somewhat fond of me. Uncle Malcolm does not appreciate independent women, let alone more adventurous women like myself. He never really liked my mother, either.”
Denny added the three names. Violet stared at them and considered who would go on her list. There would be far more names, Violet knew. She turned to Rita. “Just because you travel doesn’t mean you can’t build relationships, Rita. It’s time to make friends.”
Rita nodded and sipped her tea, but what could she say?
Violet was a busybody on occasion, but she refrained from the insulting comment that you started by being a friend. If she’d moved and followed her adventurous mother her whole life, continuing on alone, then she may have never learned how to make those early forays into long-term friendship.
Chapter 17
They left for breakfast as a group while Victor and Kate loaded into Victor’s automobile. Victor had determined to motor down to the country houses so they could stop whenever Kate needed. She was sending him loving glances as Victor consulted with Jack on the locations where Kate might stretch her legs or use the ladies.
Violet grinned at her brother while she was sitting on a table in the great hall, swinging her legs.
“Is this,” Denny demanded, “what comes of procreating? Where is that lad I once knew? The one who took the train so he could squeeze in a few extra cocktails for his long weekend.”
“It is, indeed,” Victor told Denny merrily. “I’m off to buy a house with the right kind of nursery and garden, my lad. The days of freedom and booze are gone, and we’re onto nappies and I don’t know. What else do babies do?”
“Cry,” Lila told him. “Endlessly.”
“Poo,” Denny added. “Spit up.”
“Love Auntie Vi and despise dear, old dad.”
Victor scowled at all of them and announced, “You’re next.”
“Too right,” Ham said. “Would you mind dropping me on your way?” He glanced at Jack and added, “I’ll be back.”
Violet handed Kate a basket. “You’re visiting Ginny, yes?”
Kate nodded.
“These are for her.”
Victor, Kate, and Ham left and the rest of them glanced at each other. Violet had stepped into the kitchens earlier to get sweets for Ginny and had seen that there were two constables in the kitchens having breakfast. They blushed and rose when Violet saw them, but she simply waved them back and told them to enjoy. There was another watching the street, she knew, and they were changing in and out.
Would Jack end up leaving to work as well, or was he going to stay? When she looked at him, he gestured with a tilt of his chin towards the parlor. Ah, she thought, time to question Rita more. They brought her back to the room. Violet examined the chalkboards. Rita rose and stood next to Violet and then she asked for the chalk.
Vi handed it over and stepped back next to Denny, who rubbed his hands together and then zipped his mouth. They grinned at each other while Rita looked at the timeline. Before she lifted the eraser, it read:
1— The first Mrs. Russell died.
2— Mrs. Albright joins Rita in India traveling for ___.
3— Mr. Russell returns home to England
4— Rita travels the world, eventually going to Africa and then coming home
4a—Sometime during Rita’s Africa (?) trip Mr. Russell meets and marries Melody Russell
5—Rita Russell returns to England. (She’s enjoying her time here. How long has she been back?)
Violet and the rest watched as Rita began writing.
1—Harriet and Philip marry.
2—Rita is born.
3—Philip takes a job with Bank of Mountmarch.
4—Philip, Harriet, and Rita move to Russia.
5—Philip, Harriet, and Rita move to Spain.*
*Somewhere in here, Melody is born.
6—Philip, Harriet, and Rita move to Greece.
7—Jean Albright is widowed and moves to Greece.
8—Philip, Harriet, Rita, and Jean move to—
“Why are you adding all the extra bits?” Denny demanded.
“It makes me feel better to include Mother, even if she doesn’t matter to the investigation—she matters to me.”
“Ignore him and proceed,” Jack directed, shooting Denny a quiet-down order with just a look.
Rita finished:
—India.
9—Harriet Russell dies.
10—Philip Russell takes a home office position.
11—Jean and Rita tour India.
12—Jean and Rita go to Spain for a ramble.
13—Jean returns to England.
14—Rita travels to Africa with Mrs. Greene.
15—Phillip marries Melody.
15a—Rita returns to England.
She told the others, “I came home, met Melody, and fled. I went to Paris for six days and then decided I needed to be the modern woman I wanted to be and face my life. I came home, looked up old friends, and pretended I wasn’t bothered by having a stepmother a decade younger than myself. A good friend of mine from India was a member of the Piccadilly Ladies Club and she invited me. That became my refuge, and I was making my own friends, discovering clubs, being accepted by women who found my travels exciting rather than odd.”
“Only Melody dug further and further into your life.” Violet refilled her coffee cup, realized she was feeling the most refreshed she had in simply ages, and left the refilled coffee on the table. “Until she turned her gaze on the club.”
Rita continu
ed writing on the board:
16—Met Emily Allen and heard a tirade on Violet Carlyle after someone suggested that Lady Violet would be an excellent addition to the ladies club.
17—Met Lady Isolde on a walk and later had tea with her, hearing more about Lady Violet and discovering where she shopped.
18—Lied to Melody about joining the Piccadilly Ladies Club.
19—Tracked down Lady Violet and persuaded her to tea.
20—Lady Violet picked up the gauntlet of excluding Melody from the club.
21—Cocktails and jazz at the Sakura Club, Melody is poisoned and soon dies.
22—Asked Lady Violet for help with Melody’s impending death.
23—Shots fired.
Violet paced while Rita returned to the tea tray and poured herself a cup. “It’s rather horrible to see it laid out like that. To somehow turn the transition of Melody from a vibrant, frivolous woman into chalk and words on a board.”
“She’s far more than that,” Jack told Rita. He stood and crossed to where Violet was pacing, standing just a few steps in front of her route., but when he spoke, it was to Rita again. “Do you know if anything was happening before you came back? Anything that caused alarm for your father or Melody?”
“I haven’t been very close to Father since we separated in India. I still love him, of course, and he me. Mother was the bridge between us. She would tell me what Father thought, and I imagine she would tell him the things I said to her.”
“Did your Aunt Jean try to fill that role?” Violet asked. “There was overlap between when your mother was living and when you traveled without her. Did she contribute after? She must have known that your mother bridged you and your father.”
“She did. She’d write him long, chatty letters after we separated and tell him everything about what we were doing. After I went onto my separate trips, she’d write me long, chatty letters about Father, family gatherings, my cousins, things that were happening in London. Gossip about people in her life.”
Violet took the chalk up and wrote between 13 & 14—Jean takes up the role of bridging Rita and her father.
“Tell me more about your mother,” Violet said. She felt as though she didn’t have a handle on the family at all. They seemed entirely foreign to her.
Rita nodded and started to explain. “Mama was perfection. Beautiful, charming, she was utterly different from Melo—oh, Father.”
Mr. Russell walked into the room, causing everyone to look up a bit guiltily. Mr. Russell looked as though he’d caved in on himself. His clothes were perfectly put together because, certainly, he had servants to look after him. Even still, his shoulders curved in. He had dark circles under his eyes.
He glanced at the chalkboard and then demanded, “I thought you were finding my wife’s killer, not gossiping with my daughter.” He was speaking directly Jack. “Get about it already.”
“Father,” Rita said softly, and he turned on her with an enraged gaze.
“Your mother is gone. She died and left us, and we had to carry on. I won’t feel guilty for finding something else, something different with Melody.”
“Father, that—”
He looked at his daughter so fiercely that Violet felt the need to interfere and took a breath, but Jack shook his head. He was watching the two of them avidly.
“Enough, Rita!”
“No,” she snapped back. “We’re suspects in this. They think that we could have had a reason to kill Melody. You could have. The cuckolded older man who married a woman too young and too pretty. We’re going to answer their questions so we can get on with our lives. If Melody loved you, she wouldn’t want her murder to go unsolved, nor would she want you blamed for it!”
“Blamed? Murdered?” Mr. Russell slumped into a seat, all the fight escaping him.
Gently, Rita said, “Answer their questions Father. They’re good people. They’re not going to do anything other than use the information to try to find a killer.”
“I—don’t see how the differences between Melody and my Harriet matter to this,” Mr. Russell said.
Violet’s head tilted at the differences there. Melody. Just Melody. And my Harriet. Violet was the one who answered because she thought that he might accept the answer a little easier from her.
“I can’t explain why,” Violet told him, pouring him a cup of tea and gesturing to Denny to get something stiffer from the bar in the corner. Denny returned a moment later, and Violet added more whiskey than tea. “It’s just the full picture helps us pick out the frayed edges. It’s easier to understand.”
“That’s all?”
Violet nodded and promised, “That’s all. We just need a picture to start with.”
He frowned and rubbed at his chest. “Harriet was perfection. Rita had it right. My first wife wasn’t just beautiful—and she was. You’ve seen my daughter. You’ve even met Jean, who looks similar enough to Harriet—paler, less vibrant version of Harriet that Jean is. That can give you an idea.” He sipped the tea, then set it down and continued.
“She was ambitious for both of us. She pushed for those well-paying, difficult positions in the far reaches of the world. She did it because she wanted to see the world. War or no war. My wife knew what she wanted, and she pulled Rita and me along with her. Rita grew up to be as she is. She would never have been anything different after such a life with her mother. Jean tried so hard to get Rita to come home, to consider college, to use her position to meet and marry someone like your group here, but Rita wouldn’t have it.”
“I thought Jean traveled with Rita?” Violet wondered.
“She did, but she had no passion for it. When Harriet died in India, Jean wanted us all to go home. I finished my assignment. Jean had joined us when her husband died, leaving her with nothing.”
“How does she live?” Violet asked, frowning. She wouldn’t have thought that the put-together woman she’d met would have been a poor relation.
“My wife included Jean in her will. Not a huge amount, but enough to allow Jean to be comfortable. They had money in their own right. Both of them. My wife and I used hers as seed money to grow a fortune with what I knew of banking and investments. Jean’s husband frittered hers away and died poor and bankrupt.”
What did the once poor sister matter? “Did you have any indication that Melody might have another person in her life?” Violet asked.
Mr. Russell blinked at the switch rather stupidly and flushed. “I know you won’t believe me, but we loved each other, she and I. She wasn’t seeing another man.”
“Was she acting oddly at all?”
Mr. Russell frowned and admitted, “She had been since Rita came home. Jean was around more, and between the two of them, Melody stopped feeling like she was enough. Jean had been critical of Harriet. She was worse, far worse, when it came to Melody. I had to tell Jean that she had to respect Melody as my wife or return to her own family. It wasn’t very kind of me, I’m afraid.”
Chapter 18
Violet was back to pacing as Jack thoroughly questioned Mr. Russell about his business. He had left his position at the bank even though he’d become a partner in it and owned a large portion. There wasn’t any bad blood between him and his partners. His brothers had no expectations of more than simple bequests. Rita was his only heir now that Melody had died, and the bulk of the funds had never been changed from Rita.
“Her life won’t change,” Mr. Russell said, giving his daughter a bit of a worried expression. “She had no reason to kill Melody. I’ve always given her a large allowance. She could do anything she wanted with the money she has access to now.”
“Did you ask her to stay? To stop traveling?”
Both of them said no. Violet’s mouth twisted, and she spun the ring on her finger. Her fingers itched, and she felt certain she was missing the most important part of this madness.
“If Rita dies,” Violet started, “your brothers?”
“I told them I was changing my will. It never benefi
ted them before, but I assumed Rita would outlive me and didn’t have any other plans. Now, the money will go into a trust that will see to the education of my nieces and nephews and then needy children. No one will materially benefit by Rita’s death. My own death puts the money in Rita’s care. I fear she’ll be the judge then. They know she has little reason to leave anything to them or her cousins.”
“What about the other side of the family?”
Mr. Russell shook his head. “There’s only Rita and Jean.”
“Maybe there is someone else,” Violet started. She was going to say that perhaps Mrs. Russell would have had a lover, and Violet could see that, but it didn’t explain Rita’s near-miss where the shooter had been told to not hurt Rita.
“Nothing adds up,” Violet said. “Nothing but Rita or Mr. Russell.”
“We didn’t,” Rita argued. “Father would never, and I don’t have any reason to.”
“I agree with you there,” Violet said, pouring herself a tea and whiskey. “If you had reason to kill Melody, it would be because she was having a baby or something, but the doctor told Jack she wasn’t expecting.”
“She was young,” Mr. Russell said. “She asked me if I minded if we didn’t have children right away, and I told her that we’d do whatever she wished. Even then, I would have seen to that child certainly, but the money I have now—it came because of Harriet. I could never take it from Harriet’s only child and give it to another, and my will attests to that. The money I set aside for Melody would have been given to any children we had. It’s there in black and white. The bulk of the money would have gone to Rita. My other children would be well enough off, but it wasn’t an even split. Not even close.”
Violet wanted to slam her hand down on the table and demand the truth, but anything that Mr. Russell said would be verified. Jack, Ham, whoever else was assigned to this case would ensure that what he said was the truth. Mr. Russell couldn’t be so stupid that he didn’t know that. If he was lying, it wasn’t about something they would catch him in.