by Beth Byers
Hettie gasped. “I’d wager if I’d told him that he wasn’t poisoned—the woman’s murder method—therefore it wasn’t me, he’d have agreed.”
Ro scoffed. “Where do we begin? I thought of seducing the detective in order to get information from him. It seems so beneath us, but what works, works. What do you think?”
“Oh ew,” Hettie said, and noticed Ro’s grin. “You think he’s attractive. He is attractive, but you just got rid of the last lump.”
Ro lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t think we should rule out anything that might get us the result we want. Perhaps with Detective Truman it wouldn’t be so awful.”
“That’s the gin planning,” Hettie laughed. “If we don’t go to hell for planning to divorce those bastards, you would for seducing the man investigating his possible murder.”
“I feel like it’s inevitable given how much I hate Leonard. Now’s not the time to play small.”
Hettie nodded, suddenly serious again. “Whatever it takes to keep our freedom, now that we’ve finally acquired it. Pinky swear?”
Ro chewed on her lip nervously for a moment. ‘Whatever it takes’ covered a lot of ground. Ro wasn’t precisely certain she was willing to do whatever. She did have some lines she wouldn’t cross. Such as murder.
“I’ll tell you what. Whatever it takes as long as it feels like the right choice. I won’t murder anyone to prove I didn’t murder Leonard.”
Hettie raised her glass. “Whatever it takes. Within reason. Agreed.”
She extended her pinky finger and locked grips with the one Ro extended.
“I feel like we’ve done this a thousand times since we met. Yesterday,” Ro added. “Can you even believe that we found each other at the beginning of this debacle? The fates are smiling on us, I think, Mrs. Hughes.”
“Right then, we must stop being the nice, gullible women who got us into the mess in the first place. How devious can we be? I know!” Hettie exclaimed. “Let’s visit Madame Romano’s and see if she can summon Leonard and Harvey from the great beyond. Maybe they can tell us who was behind their murder. Plus we’d have the opportunity to yell at them one last time. I think they deserve that, don’t you?”
Ro shook her head with renewed vigor. “Oh, dear. No, I couldn’t possibly dabble in the occult, Hettie.”
Hettie raised her eyebrow in judgement. “You said whatever it takes, Ro.”
“Yes, and I meant it. Mostly. However, I couldn’t stand talking to Leonard or any other dead person. I’ll make you a deal. If we can’t prove our innocence any other way, Madame Romano will be our last ditch effort.”
Hettie nodded. “You have a deal. Besides, I don’t want to see Harvey’s dead face again. Once was enough, I’m afraid. Do you think spirits rot to match their corpses?”
Ro drummed her fingers on the edge of her chair, contemplating their options.
“Let’s throw a party. Like the bottle party but we’ll invite everyone we know who was at the party last night. Perhaps one of the guests there knows something or heard something?”
“A party feels a bit heartless. What if we called it a memorial for the dead? That will sound a bit more reasonable, don’t you think?” Hettie asked.
Ro nodded, barely acknowledging Hettie’s mental gymnastics. “Besides, maybe the person responsible will be curious enough to show up themselves. I say we place a wager on who did it. Do you suppose it was a jilted lover or the husband of a jilted lover? As I see it, those are the two best options.”
Hettie clapped her hands. “A wager! How wonderful! As long as we don’t tell anyone about it. We are working quite hard to limit the judgement of our peers. I think women are much more inclined to get revenge in less violent ways. Look at us, for instance. We were prepared to run, but we’d never have physically hurt them. My bet is on a man.”
“My bet is on a woman. I think there are women out there much more proactive than you and I. At least I’m hoping so for the sake of humanity. We can’t all be ciphers.”
Hettie agreed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be looking forward to this, but I am. I wonder what that mean Detective Harris will think of our party.”
Ro shrugged. “What does it matter? You know, he assumed you’d commit murder for a mere chance at love.”
Hettie shuddered and then her head cocked. “You know…”
As she trailed off, Ro cleared her throat to prompt her.
“You know, my aunt told me I was making a mistake with Harvey. She told me love letters didn’t disguise a poor disposition.”
“Yes, I’ve heard an I-told-you-so so many times that I might actually commit murder. Except from my parents, of course, who hoped I’d be the balm to cure terrible Leonard’s soul.”
Hettie rubbed her thumb over her lips before shoving her drink away to stand and pace. She stretched her legs and neck as she thought. “I should have listened.”
“Yes, yes, I should have too.”
“My friend, my best school chum,” Hettie continued, almost not hearing Ro. “She told me he was a bit snake-ish.”
“You were wrong, they were right. I was wrong, they were right,”
“Yes, yes,” Hettie said. She placed her hand over her heart. “By Jove, Ro, we need to promise.”
“Promise?”
“Promise that we don’t make that same mistake again.”
“Well,” Ro said reasonably, “we aren’t the same creatures we were. Oh those poor lambs we once were.”
“Yes, but we were blinded by love. By romance. By words and pretty eyes and promises. We were idiots!”
“We’ve learned,” Ro said comfortingly.
“We’ve learned, but we’re still women. We’re still softer than we should be. Only a few months ago, Harvey swore he’d change, and yet here we are.”
Ro breathed in deeply and then slowly admitted, “I might have given Leonard more chances than I should have.”
“Once our hearts are involved, we can’t be trusted. We’re fools. FOOLS!”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“We’re fools,” she repeated. “We can’t trust ourselves. We should have listened to the people who warned us.”
“All right—”
“So,” Hettie added, holding out her pinky again, “that detective was wrong. I don’t want to marry again. I can’t even imagine it, but will I change my mind after all this fades? Maybe.”
“Maybe,” Ro said, feeling doubtful.
“I don’t trust the future version of me any more than I trust the past version of me. I need a conscience, a—ah—muse for my love life. A voice of warning. And,” Hettie said meaningfully, “so do you.”
Ro nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m an untrustworthy minx.”
“You can’t see clearly when it’s you,” Hettie said. “And I can’t be trusted when it’s me.”
“You know,” Ro said thoughtfully, “you could trust me. With all I’ve been through, I would be wary and viciously judgmental on your behalf. I wouldn’t be blinded by love.”
“We need rules,” Hettie said. “First—each other’s approval.”
“Second,” Ro shot out immediately, “not someone who needs money.”
Hettie nodded. “There are honorable poor men, but I won’t risk this again.”
“Exactly.”
They eyed each other and then Hettie said, “I threatened the detective with a private investigator. We should hire one, maybe several, and find someone reliable to investigate whoever we might be considering.”
Ro laughed evilly. “If I’d met Leonard’s family and truly spent time with them—and perhaps if I’d been a little wiser—I’d never have married him. He was mean to his sisters, dismissive of his parents, and his brothers made my stomach hurt.”
“Then number three is that families must meet approval,” Hettie said.
“And until then,” Ro said brightly, “fun.”
“Fun,” Hettie swore and they shook their pinkies once again.
> Chapter 9
“Now that we’ve established rules for our future selves, let’s establish how we’re going to clear our names. We don’t even know why the police suspect foul play. What is it, I wonder, that they know that we do not? And how can we learn this information for ourselves?”
Hettie sniffed and then stretched her feet out. She hadn’t bathed yet despite wanting to badly the night before. Or rather, earlier that morning. “You make a solid point, Ro. Although remember we have much more information than the police do regarding potential suspects—if it even was a murder. Have you considered it’s likely that we know the killer? Maybe we’d stop on the street to say hello or invite them to our houses.”
“By Jove, you’re right. We are in the best position to solve what happened. Assuming one of our husbands was indeed the target.” Ro sighed. “Half of the people we saw joining Leonard on the yacht were rather awful. Maybe another person was the intended victim and everyone else was just…unlucky.”
“I think your Leonard is the most likely target. After all, the yacht was his, wasn’t it? Given the way those parties went, always sort of spur of the moment who comes, I would think that Leonard was supposed to die. Him or someone who was a constant presence with him.”
Ro shook her head. “Actually, the yacht was mine. My aunt complained to the end of the world when I bought it. She never understood the pull the water has for me. To her credit, she complained but still paid for it.” She grimaced. “I’ve realized that my whole life, I’ve been dependent on another. First my aunt, then Leonard. I need to become my own woman, Hettie. It’s past time.”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll help you become independent.”
Ro burst into a fit of slightly maniacal giggles for what seemed like the fifth time since she’d learned Leonard was dead. “I don’t think that’s how independence works.”
“Listen, my newfound, beautiful, overwhelmed friend. Baby steps. You must take baby steps. Step one. Depend on me, not some gigolo who is after your money. Step two, depend on yourself. Look at how smart you are—finding me, making me your friend—you’re a genius really. A prodigy.”
“You are quite right.” Ro raised her drink in a toast. “Here’s to independence, vis-à-vis baby steps. I think clearing our names of murder is a grand baby step to take. Then I’ll be completely free of Leonard and for the first time, I’ll be on my own.”
Hettie’s eyebrows raised. “Did you hear anything I said? Not alone. You’ve got me. But…” Hettie’s head tilted and she frowned at Ro. “Will you be on your own? Or will you still be dependent on your aunt?”
Ro blinked and then admitted. “I don’t know. Financially I mean. I suppose it depends on what Leonard did in the will. As far as everything else goes, I’ll be alone, except for you. Alone in a good way…in a free manner. Now that the shock is fading, I’m feeling relief. It’s like I’d already mourned him and his death was only the last step.”
“I see,” Hettie said, still frowning. “You should discover that.”
“What?”
“The details of your inheritance, if there is one. I think people kill over money rather often.”
“I suppose people could think I had something to do with his death if I inherit. Leonard barely tolerated me. He wouldn’t have left me anything worth killing over, especially without children.”
“So how do we, given the number of people who would have enjoyed putting Leonard out of his misery…our misery…their misery? Either way, how do we narrow down to the one person who actually acted on the fantasy?”
“Let’s make a list, shall we? We’ll call it the Who in the World Killed Leonard Compendium.” Hettie rose and started digging through the desk, looking for the implements for the list. “I do hope you have plenty of paper. It’s quite a long list, I’m sure.”
Hettie stood and walked to the ornate desk and produced several pens and a rather large sheaf of loose paper. “Will this do?”
Ro eyed the large stack and grinned. “It will at least suffice as an index or table of contents to the real list of those who wanted him dead. First on the list should be his mistresses and their husbands.”
“You can’t have multiple people in the first spot, Ro, else what’s the point of having a numbered list?” Hettie’s voice was firm, but there was laughter in her eyes.
“I never learned all the names and identities of the mistresses I know about. I’m sure there were many I wasn’t even aware of.” She shivered at the thought and then gagged. She hadn’t as successfully propelled him from her bed as it seemed Hettie had evicted Harvey.
“Fine. You win. First place, mistresses and their husbands. We’ll have to come back around to this category and get more specific. Who else?”
“I’ve been considering this question since the moment we learned they were dead and that it may have been more than an accident. Yet still my mind goes blank when I have to actually think about it. So many people hated him, Hettie. My goodness, I hated him.”
“Business associates?” Hettie offered.
Ro nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! He’s cheated several people. Most recently, Edward Stewart. I think he was quite angry about the thousands of pounds that Leonard managed to swindle out of him.”
“Wonderful,” Hettie said and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Not wonderful that he was cheated. Wonderful that you thought of a specific name. Number 2, Edward Stewart. Any other recent business dealings that Leonard behaved badly around?”
“James Greyson is the other one I can think of who was angry enough in the recent past to want to see him dead.”
“James Greyson, Number 3. Who else?”
“Mrs. Stone.”
“She did business with Leonard?”
“No, her husband did, but she appeared to be a little, ah, clingy. Oddly clingy given her number of lovers. Perhaps she was angry that she couldn’t have Leonard all to herself.”
Hettie’s Harvey had been a lover as well. The most recent lover if the scene she’d witnessed as they left for the yacht had been accurate. “I’ll put Mrs. Stone on the list, but I think she might have been on the yacht that night. Do we know if she’s survived?”
“Poor Mr. Stone. He’s quite elderly, you know, but still vital. He seems quite adoring of her. I always found it so…so…disgusting. Him loving her as he did. Her accepting that love, batting her lashes at him, and then mocking the poor gent later. I’m sure he’ll be devastated if she didn’t make it off the yacht alive. I’m not sure he won’t be better off.”
“Think how much better our lives would have been if we were unaware of their extra-marital activities? We’d be grieving our husbands right now. If she did die, I wish that for him. Just oblivious and able to mourn properly for his newly dead wife.”
“I suppose. I don’t know if I wish to be the mourner who didn’t know. Legitimately devastated over the loss of a husband who didn’t deserve that from me. I would hate to not have the wisdom I have now. If we hadn’t been broken by those louts, we might be willing to marry again. We might have gotten manipulated by yet another lout again.”
Ro shuddered. “So do we tell him?”
“I’ll put an asterisk next to the Stones. Let’s find out if she’s still alive. That will tell us how to proceed with that particular duo. Who else?”
“His brother hated him. They were constantly taunting each other with money and success. I don’t know that either of them would have sunk to the level of murder, but there is quite a bit of family money to fight about. Perhaps his brother, Reginald, decided to accelerate their lifelong feud. I never did understand why they hated each other so. Don’t misunderstand, they were both beastly. The fervor of their hatred could have set a forest on fire. It was, quite honestly, difficult for me to comprehend. Why not expel them from your life? It’s not like you must have your sibling around.”
“Right then, number 4, Reginald Ripley, brother of deceased,” Hettie said and scrawled out another name. “W
ho else?”
Ro drummed her fingers on the dark mahogany arm of the chair she sat in. “In the spirit of number one being a category of person, his mistresses and their husbands, I think number five should be everyone in attendance at the party the night the yacht went down. Specifically, anyone at the gala who didn’t board the yacht on the night of its sinking.”
“We would be included in that very specific category. Who else didn’t follow Leonard and Harvey to their demise?”
“Perhaps we should interview the wait staff. As we both know, they hear a lot when nobody notices them.”
“Ro, I’ve been struck by another thought. Who could we speak to that would have more intimate knowledge of his business dealings? Perhaps he employed a solicitor who would be well-versed in the details of Leonard’s business dealings?”
“Wonderful. Yes, Mr. Cooper’s firm represented Leonard. I’ll speak to the solicitor and see what I can discover.”
“We’ve got a day’s work ahead of us and a rather good start, in my opinion. It will take us a good portion of our remaining daylight to speak with the following people. Edward Stewart and James Greyson, both on the other end of a bad business arrangement, the solicitor Mr. Cooper who may have insight into those deals or others worth investigating, Mr. and Mrs. Stone, although I do think that it’s a stretch to consider that the poor fellow had any knowledge of his wife’s hobbies.”
They both snickered at the word hobby. Hettie carried on, caught up in her list.
“Leonard’s brother, Reginald, and of course, anyone who was at the party who didn’t board the yacht. I think we’ll need the ship manifest in order to compare those present at the party with those who made it onto the yacht.”
“Shall we divide and conquer, then regroup to share our discoveries?”
Hettie nodded. “Great idea, Ro. You take the solicitor and Reginald. I’ll speak with the Stones and with any of the wait staff I can reach from last night. I might even ask that nice doctor if he had any indication that it was anything other than an accident.”
“In the meantime, I’ll see if there is a surviving record of the ship’s manifest and the list of passengers she carried last night.”