THE SUPPER CLUB MURDERS a gripping murder mystery packed with twists (Smart Woman's Mystery Book 3)

by VICTORIA DOWD

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Gerald said, wide-eyed in disbelief.

  The monkey agreed with another sound of intrigued wonder.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Firstly, why is the platform with wheels there? Yes, Joseph Greengage put it there, but it was Verity’s redecoration plans and she designed the structure to have wheels. Secondly, who knew the intricate system of tunnels and priest holes that led in and out of the castle? We were told Verity knew all the castle plans and now, of course, we know that she can use them easily to move around and store dead vicars. Thirdly, how is it Lord Elzevir ended up on his own at just before midnight? Because Verity “fell” and needed assistance from Marsha. She then sends Marsha home, insisting she be there to let Lord Elzevir in, meaning that Marsha is there on her own at the relevant time. Meanwhile, all the servants needed to be with Verity, which had been pre-arranged as an absolute necessity for her to take part in the evening. Look at her leg. The bruise. I saw all that dark make-up in the downstairs bathroom.’ I paused for breath.

  ‘And you forget, of course—’ Bridget held up her finger — ‘your last question, Ursula. Why are we here? Because it was Verity’s idea! She brought us all here to witness Marsha killing her husband.’

  Verity looked round us all, her face desperate with anguish. ‘Why would I do such a thing?’ Her voice had fallen to a fragile whisper.

  ‘Well,’ Aunt Charlotte smiled. ‘Of course, we come back to my old friend, the forfeiture rule, which I have mentioned several times and that now actually becomes much more useful. If he’s dead and Marsha is found guilty, she cannot inherit, so the money goes to the next of kin — you, Verity. And you’d be free to marry the man you love, who Lord Elzevir was trying to evict from his farm. Lee Colman.’

  He looked at her with desperate eyes. ‘Verity?’ he whispered.

  ‘It’s true,’ Verity began. ‘I do love you, Lee. But I would never kill my brother, not even for you. I loved him. As hard as everyone else may find that to understand.’

  ‘But you were lying to him, weren’t you?’ Aunt Charlotte nodded towards Verity’s leg. ‘You were pretending to need a stick.’

  ‘Yes, yes. God, yes.’ The tears overwhelmed her for a moment. ‘I was, and for that I am very sorry. He paid for me to live here. I have no income. When I fell from the horse, his unruly horse, I lost everything and I truly was crippled for months. It just became easy to carry on like that. He showed me love and affection. He looked after me in a way he never had before because he felt guilty.’

  Her eyes shone with a film of tears. ‘I liked being his favourite. I loved being in his light. It was like being near the sun. I just didn’t want to lose that. And I certainly would never have killed him.’ She looked around us pleadingly. ‘You’ve got to believe me!’

  ‘Why?’ Lee Colman said flatly. ‘You lied.’

  The monkey made a low-pitched sound of dismay and shook his head.

  Mother leaned forward in her chair, her eyes sharp. ‘But tell us this, Bridget, how she could have performed this feat? Mrs Abaddon and Lucy Morello were in the house with her. She would have had to get out somehow to operate the gate. Even if she had access to the remote, it wouldn’t work from there. No way.’

  Bridget was silent. A hole had appeared.

  There was an eerie quiet about us now.

  ‘The punch bowl,’ Mirabelle spoke quietly.

  ‘She used a punch bowl? What rubbish.’ Aunt Charlotte slumped back.

  ‘No, it smashed. Full of punch. But there was no flood of punch as you’d expect. Within minutes, there was nothing more than a damp floor. It drained away almost immediately. There was nothing there. Why would that be, Verity?’

  Verity looked around the room with panic stricken eyes. ‘I . . . I . . .’

  Marsha’s face fell. ‘Verity?’

  Verity looked at her, a look of realisation spreading. She was clearly very aware that Marsha must know what she was about to say. Verity looked down with shameful eyes. ‘Because one of the priest tunnels surfaces under the vicarage as well.’

  ‘Oh, of course!’ Bridget announced. ‘I mean, that just makes sense doesn’t it? If they needed to escape from the church, they might need to escape from there too. Jocasta told us there’d been priests living there for hundreds of years. When we got to Verity’s house to tell her about Lord Elzevir’s death, Lucy Morello emerged from her room with her AirPods in. She wouldn’t have heard any movement in the hallway. Mrs Abaddon told us she’d been downstairs in the kitchen clearing away.’

  Mother folded her arms. ‘But how did she bring the gate down?’

  Bridget pretended to look confused. ‘With the remote control, of course. You will note that it appeared in Marsha’s bag after the bag had been left there under the chair. Why would Marsha let it be so obvious and fling it out of her bag? She would have hidden it, not flaunted it. She didn’t know it was there.’

  ‘Verity?’ Marsha’s voice was low. Her mouth barely formed around the words. She looked at her in disbelief. ‘You were my friend. I would have kept you here. Looked after you even if your injuries had mended. I would always have been here for you. I would always have loved you.’

  Tears escaped from Verity’s eyes. Her face crumbled. ‘I know I’ve been lying. I know. I’m so sorry. Marsha, you’ve got to believe me. I never meant to cause any harm. I never meant . . .’ She swallowed her words and paused. ‘I didn’t kill him, Marsha. I swear it.’ She looked around at everyone.

  My mind tumbled with all their words. Thoughts hammered away in my head.

  ‘Marsha, please! You have to believe me.’ Verity cried.

  ‘Why should I? You’ve lied to me about your leg, about everything. It’s all been a lie. All this time, Verity. All this time.’

  I glanced across the room at where Dad’s shadow stood solemnly watching me. He shook his head slowly. No.

  CHAPTER 33: REVELATIONS

  ‘No?’ I said cautiously. My eyes stayed fixed on Dad.

  ‘Oh, Ursula, for God’s sake. When we have a solution, why not just accept it?’ Mother was exasperated, which is never good for her. She doesn’t do patience.

  ‘Because it’s not right.’ Mirabelle didn’t look at anyone. She sounded so detached now.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Bridget’s voice had a precise edge to it now. She stared at the side of Mirabelle’s face.

  ‘Oh God, here we go again.’ Tony Voyeur landed in the chair as if he was intending to crush it. ‘Three people are dead and someone not that far away killed them.’

  ‘That is precisely what we are trying to work out, Mr Magic Fingers.’ Mother remained poised. ‘Whoever killed Lord Elzevir was seen by the witch and the vicar who were cavorting around together.’

  ‘She just said who it was — Verity,’ Tony Voyeur answered. ‘And she certainly has been lying for a very long time.

  Verity sat quietly sobbing in the corner, her head in her hands, rocking slightly. ‘Oh God,’ she uttered intermittently.

  I looked at Dad. He shook his head.

  Bridget hadn’t stopped staring at the side of Mirabelle’s head, as if she was drilling her way through into Mirabelle’s thoughts. Mirabelle must have been aware of it but she didn’t turn to look at her.

  When she started talking, Bridget’s voice had a threat nestled in among every word. ‘I looked after you when they all cast you off. I took you in when you were breaking down and now — now, when they are here in front of you — you just fall on your knees in front of them? Pathetic.’

  The monkey let out a long slow noise of intrigue and put his hand under his chin, leaning in closer.

  Mother frowned. ‘What on Earth is she talking about, Mirabelle?’

  ‘Now, isn’t the time for this!’ Aunt Charlotte held the sides of her head.

  Lee Colman nodded. ‘The old woman’s right.’

  Aunt Charlotte looked around bewildered.

  ‘Look,’ Marsha cut in. ‘A lot has been revealed.’ She looked pointedly at
Verity. ‘I think we need to take a moment. We need to try and calm down and take it all in.’

  ‘Calm down?’ Tony Voyeur wrapped his dressing gown around himself tightly. ‘Calm down? There’s a body in the walls. A body in the moat. A body in the gatehouse—’

  ‘Good job they got rid of the library,’ Aunt Charlotte added.

  Marsha was at the door. ‘I will go and ask Mrs Abaddon to bring that tea and perhaps something a little stronger to settle our nerves.’

  Before she left, she looked at Verity. A sadness filled her eyes. ‘We’ll see if we can’t get some phone signal or something now. I think the rest is a matter for the police. We should leave it to them.’

  ‘Marsha? Marsha please,’ Verity pleaded. ‘You’ve got to believe me.’

  She and Verity looked at one another. All the complicated strands were there between them on full display and neither seemed to be aware that the rest of the room could see them. All that care and attention Marsha had lavished on Verity thrown back at her in one swipe. To discover she’d never needed the walking stick at all, never needed her constant assistance and all that devotion we’d seen. It must have burned. But probably not as much as the fact that it was quite possible that Verity had been trying to frame her for the murder, and what other way was there to see it?

  She’d carefully made sure Marsha was alone and the only person who could have done it. She’d put the key visibly in her handbag. She’d even organised a man to put in place a decorating platform on wheels. She’d set everything so carefully down to the last little detail to kill her own brother and frame Marsha for it.

  If there were any doubt whatsoever as to her guilt, all that wholesome innocence was instantly wiped away by the great lie she’d been living under. Lord Elzevir had died believing in her. All the care and attention lavished on her had been pointless.

  A new sadness had invaded Marsha’s eyes. That’s what betrayal does — it poisons everything, polluting all the good until nothing but the betrayal remains. It defies everything else.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Verity whispered.

  Marsha turned and walked out of the room.

  It had gone very quiet, very still in the room, as if we were poised for something else. As if something was missing.

  Verity sobbed quietly.

  I looked over at Dad, his head hung low in dejection. I couldn’t see any one of my memories without the filter of his unfaithfulness over it. He hadn’t just cheated on Mother — he’d cheated me out of the memory of a good and honourable father.

  I looked over at Lee Colman, who watched Verity with a new suspicious look. Had he known about the lie? He looked pretty surprised, but then they all had their secrets here. I pictured Ron, bent double by pain, somewhere out there in the rain and mud, looking into the slack face of his dead wife. Did he weep for her death or her infidelity that led her to it? The bitterness would infect every breath from that moment onwards.

  Even Joseph Greengage, quiet and solemn in the corner, had indiscretions he regretted.

  I glanced over at Mirabelle. She still wore that sorrowful expression — that strange penitent’s look.

  ‘Mirabelle,’ I began.

  Bridget cleared her throat. I ignored her.

  ‘Mirabelle, why isn’t it right?’

  The monkey cracked a nut and sat back on his perch as if he was settling in for the final scene.

  Mirabelle’s face crinkled. ‘I’m sorry?’ Every time she spoke it had a defeated note to it. But there was more than that. It was as if she felt the need to apologise for the words.

  ‘Mirabelle, you said “it’s not right.” What’s not right?’

  Bridget sniffed. ‘Well, you might ask now, lady.’ She held up her nose as if the cat had done something unspeakable. I looked down at the animal. It had — in her open handbag, but she hadn’t noticed yet and I wasn’t about to start telling her.

  I looked quizzically at Mirabelle. ‘What’s going on here? Why are you Bridget’s lapdog?’

  ‘It’s a cat, dear.’

  I ignored Aunt Charlotte and continued. ‘Why is Bridget making all these pointed little comments?’

  I saw Mother shift in her chair.

  ‘No. When I said it’s not right, I wasn’t talking about me,’ Mirabelle sounded frail. ‘I was—’

  ‘But you should!’ Bridget sounded as if she was ordering Mirabelle. ‘You should tell them! You should talk about you.’ She folded her arms defiantly.

  ‘Tell them what?’ Mother looked disorientated.

  Aunt Charlotte was on her feet, dominating the room. ‘Right, what exactly is going on?’

  ‘Ha,’ Bridget scoffed.

  The monkey imitated her. Then looked pleased with its mockery.

  Bridget’s face iced over. ‘You don’t like being on the outside, do you, you Smart Women? None of you do. Well, it’s your turn now. Where were you when she came to me desperate, ruined, a mess?’

  Tears pricked Mirabelle’s eyes and she looked away quickly.

  ‘It’s OK.’ Bridget put an overprotective hand on Mirabelle’s lap. ‘Don’t cry.’

  Tony Voyeur stood up and smoothed a finger along each black eyebrow. ‘Who cares? There’s a murderer! Most likely in this room.’ His eyes flicked to Verity. ‘You’ve just accused someone of killing her brother, something’s apparently “not right” and now we’re doing this? I’m getting whiplash!’

  ‘Disgusting,’ Aunt Charlotte murmured. She looked at him squarely. ‘Some things are more important than death. And we should know. We’ve seen enough of it.’

  ‘Oh, that makes us feel much safer,’ Gerald said.

  ‘This is madness!’ Tony Voyeur shook his head with the look of a defeated man.

  Mother looked him up and down. ‘So speaks the man parading around in a dressing gown with his name on the back and a house full of headless dolls.’

  ‘Tony, just let the ladies speak,’ Verity said quietly, wiping away the tears. ‘They have something they’ve needed to sort out from the beginning.’

  ‘Oh, and we’re listening to you now, are we, when you lied about your injury?’

  ‘And don’t forget, she’s probably the killer,’ Gerald added decidedly.

  ‘I didn’t kill anyone.’ Verity looked up at Lee Colman with pleading eyes. ‘You have to believe me. Please Lee. I didn’t kill anyone. I wouldn’t hurt Elzevir.’ She spoke so earnestly it was as if in that moment she was laying out her soul to him for inspection and judgement.

  Everyone watched her and Lee intently, waiting. The monkey clapped as if this was some sort of show he was watching.

  ‘It’s . . . It’s not up to me.’ He turned away.

  Bridget didn’t wait. She cleared her throat, brushing aside their conversation. ‘If you must know, Pandora, you always kept Mirabelle on the outside. She could never get between you and your wretched daughter. Before that, it was your precious George.’

  ‘Wait a minute, Bridget. You don’t get to talk about him.’ My eyes locked on her but I was aware of Dad’s shadow flickering at the edges of my vision.

  ‘That’s it! Just exactly what Mirabelle was talking about. Just that. Right there. No one’s allowed to talk about you or your precious father.’ Bridget gave a decisive single nod towards me. ‘That’s why she lied and you deserved it. All of you. But Mirabelle didn’t deserve the breakdown afterwards.’

  ‘Lied?’ I repeated slowly.

  ‘And you were so quick to believe her. Shows how much you really did care about precious Daddy. A philanderer indeed.’

  The room seemed to contract around me. The air was being squeezed out of me.

  ‘What the hell’s she talking about, Mirabelle?’ It was Mother I could hear in the background of all the new noise.

  Everyone’s voices seemed to grow muffled as if I was listening to them underwater. The only thing that grew clearer was Dad’s outline.

  Mirabelle looked straight at Mother. ‘I lied.’ She said it simply as if it was j
ust nothing.

  ‘Well, it seems like it’s confession time again,’ Gerald said with a large grin that he instantly dropped when he saw our reaction. ‘Lots of liars in the room.’ He raised his eyebrows towards Verity, who looked away.

  Mirabelle began in even words, thinking each one through carefully. ‘It was a lie. I told you George had an affair because I was sick of hearing what a saint he was. Sick of all the bullshit eulogising she did.’ She nodded towards me. I heard her breathe in heavily through her nose. ‘So, I told you a little white lie. I told you he had an affair. It was just to take the edge off his gleam. Make some light fall on me. I didn’t know you would turn so far against him. I didn’t know it would have such an impact on you and Ursula.’ Her words fell fast like spent cartridges.

  Aunt Charlotte’s mouth was hanging open. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  Mirabelle shook her head, and in that moment, I imagined hitting it so hard it dropped from her shoulders onto the ground as easy as one of Tony Voyeur’s dolls. But she carried on talking, sound carried on coming out of her mouth as if she was desperate to get rid of it.

  ‘Do you know what it’s like to stand in the shadow of someone else’s adoration?’

  I heard Mother. ‘How could you? All those years.’

  Their words were circling me now, filling up the air until the room felt swollen with them. But my eyes turned to Dad. He slowly lifted his head and looked at me. And then he smiled. And it wrapped around me like arms drawing me in. A pure smile. His face softening back to what I always remembered. And my head went blank.

  Mirabelle’s voice chattered away at the edges of my thoughts. ‘I didn’t mean . . . I . . . just said it. You just believed it, Pandora, and then the years rolled by and it was such an easy lie. But then Ursula knew and she started all the fire-and-brimstone suffering and you just got closer and closer to her. And I lost you. I lost me.’ There was nothing left of her voice now. She was making great stuttering sounds, forcing the words out through the tears.

  When Mother spoke, it was in a flat voice that sounded so detached. ‘He died with me believing a lie. He died with all my jealousy and hate on him.’