The Widows Club

“A farewell present, Mrs. Haskell. Teddy was ever a bird fancier. I settled in Chitterton Fells to be near her, even though we had assured each other that all was over between us. I came to the Haskell wedding reception,” the wind lifted his crinkly hair from his high forehead, “but too late, too drunk, to catch a glimpse. The first time I saw Teddy in all the years, other than to pass on the street, was at the restaurant soiree, the night Charles Delacorte died.”

“Teddy saw your daughter there.” I wrenched my eyes away from Jenny’s smile. “Maybe she wasn’t sure at first, but then the full horror must have hit her-that this was Wren,” I inched closer to Ben, “grown frighteningly younger than when last seen. No wonder Teddy blundered into the office to escape and, instead, found a body. No wonder she wouldn’t talk about that night. I don’t suppose she suspected-do you Mr. Digby?-that Wren had anything to do with Charles’s death, but I don’t doubt she blamed herself, all over again, for the old tragedy and… the results to Mother and now…”

Jenny was still smiling. “I’m not mad and I do not consider myself a criminal.”

Mr. Digby steadied the gun again. Mother trod over his feet, as he said, “I have not seen Teddy since that night.”

“I imagine,” Ben said to Wren, “that it was your father’s latest pseudonym, that of Felicity Friend, that embarked you on your voyage of revenge?”

“It wasn’t only revenge.” Jenny’s voice was wistful, a child’s again. “I wanted to help other women whose husbands were betraying them. And when Daddy became Felicity Friend and I remembered that book, The Merry Widows-that sold three copies, it all became clear. I had expert medical advice from Simon, who yearned to suffer at my hands. I could kill off Daddy a little bit at a time with every other man whose death I staged and bide my time until I decided to bury him.” Her eyes were on Mother, who was standing motionless with her wings spread. “You didn’t like to refuse me, did you, Daddy, when I asked you to put the occasional message in your confidential column? I told you it was a little game I was playing. But you worried nicely about what it all meant-the dickybird brooches… the deaths, but Daddy’s little girl was too big to go in the corner. And what you didn’t see couldn’t happen. What a weakling you are! Not even man enough to fight for your Teddy bear. I wish I could think she had read The Merry Widows and suffered accordingly, but even if she had-which isn’t likely-I don’t think her capable of taking the leap from fiction to fact. And such was your downfall, Daddy. You were ever so grateful (weren’t you?) that I was looking after Mumma, and came to see you sometimes.”

Jenny gave a childish giggle and addressed me. “I was at The Aviary the day you came, and he got the wind up, first that I might do something to tease you, and then that your charwoman had recognised him as Felicity Friend. I was so tempted to cheer him up by telling him I would kill her for him.”

I drew closer to Ben. The rustling of the trees and Mother’s feathers were for a moment the only sounds. “I should have guessed, with so much typing on his desk, when supposedly he hadn’t written in years, that Mr. Digby was a prime candidate for the role of Dear Felicity. And I should have realised that the only reason to wear plaits that make you look too young for your age is because you are too old for them. I suppose that makes me rather stupid, but I really prefer that to being diabolically clever.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Jenny stepped away from the angel. “And to think I thought you so guileless. I liked you. I really did. You gave me your wedding roses and I sent you some. But you figured out the way to trap me. Only it isn’t going to work.” She lifted up her arms and spread her fingers, as though pushing back the clouds. “It can’t work because my dear Daddy wouldn’t shoot me. He doesn’t have the courage.”

She stepped toward us. “I have nothing to lose, you see, because I have nothing to love. Mumma was gone a long time ago.”

She kept coming. She was right. Edwin Digby couldn’t pull the trigger. Closer, closer. Mother must have felt threatened, for suddenly her wings fanned out. Neck extended, she rushed toward Jenny, who turned her back and with an eerie, childish laugh, darted and zigzagged between the tombstones, arms outstretched. Maybe she didn’t look ahead, maybe she did. It doesn’t alter anything. She tripped and tumbled headlong into an open grave-the grave waiting for Ann Delacorte. And we were left standing in the wind-ruffled churchyard, listening to the gulls and the distant moan of the sea.

Epilogue

Primrose expressed my sentiments exactly. “I can have no sympathy for The Founder; but I am saddened that Jenny got lost somewhere in childhood, a place many of us like to revisit but do not want to relive, and that she is dead. Let us thank God her end was quick and trust that Mr. Digby is successful in persuading that friend of his at Scotland Yard that The Widows Club does exist. Although my strong feeling is that with its guiding force gone, the organisation may degenerate into a social group.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Hyacinth’s earrings swung. “And now, my dear Prim, I think we should leave the charm of Merlin’s Court for the charms of home and writing our report to our insurance company employer. Not, Ellie, that things haven’t been entirely delightful here this afternoon with the constabulary buzzing in and out.”

Actually I felt rather sorry for the police. They must have wondered whether they were coming or going. Mr. Digby and Ben had remained to keep vigil over Jenny’s body while I raced home to report the accident, only to find uniformed lawmen spilling all over the ground floor of Merlin’s Court.

Poppa and Magdalene occupied chairs of honour as they gave statements concerning the Raincoat Man (yes, our other villain had staged another kidnapping attempt). Hyacinth, Primrose, and Butler hovered in the background, supplying the occasional salient point. And lounging against a wall with a self-deprecating smile on his lips, was the hero of the hour, my cousin Freddy.

To return to the disappearance of Magdalene, Hyacinth, and Butler, it will be remembered that they had gone in pursuit of Sweetie and each other. And there they were, milling around the grounds near the gates, when Reggie, the Raincoat Man, slithered out of nowhere, yelling “Hands up!” He was in the midst of complaining that he kept kidnapping more people than he really wanted when Freddy stepped, unnoticed, out of the cottage.

My cousin had been harboring nasty suspicions about the Tramwells and Butler. He was certain they had Ben tied up and gagged and were keeping me and Magdalene hostage while they holed up at Merlin’s Court until their boat arrived to take them to France… or something along those lines. He had been rattling his brain trying to think of some way to conduct a rescue without getting hurt himself when there he went walking smack into the bunch of them. Reggie’s remarks suggested to him, as did the gun, that here was the leader of the gang. Feeling chuffed that his theory was right on, our hero stood for a minute, unseen, at the back of the group and was on the brink of fleeing the scene-to fetch help, as he tells it-when he remembered the chains he wore. Slipping one off, he tossed it around Reggie’s neck, yanked until he could hear the villain’s veins pop, then suggested that the gun be dropped.

Everyone (except Reggie) was ecstatic. But Freddy, unwilling to have the excitement peter out, voiced doubts that the Tramwells and Butler were innocent. Figuring Magdalene might be vouching for them under duress, he marched all of them, along with Reggie, into the cottage to telephone the police, which is why I couldn’t find them when I went looking for my missing persons. Magdalene had just persuaded Freddy that Reggie was the only counterfeit in the group when she saw, through the window, Ben and Poppa running down Cliff Road, almost mowing down Primrose, who was searching for Sweetie near the gates.

Magdalene came out the cottage door. Explanations followed. The police arrived, Reggie was removed in handcuffs, and the decision was made to adjourn to the main house. Freddy didn’t have any tea and the ladies expressed a dire need for its reviving qualities. Shortly thereafter I arrived with my news that Mr. Digby’s daughter had fallen in an open grave, Ben had climbed in after her, and we were sure she was dead.

“An afternoon to remember, Ellie, old girl.” Freddy crossed his legs at the ankle and inserted his hands in his pockets, studying his sockless feet.

“Yes,” I said, “and you were marvellous. I’m sure I looked very ingenuous and wide-eyed. If my lids as much as flickered-I saw Jenny.” A chorus of agreement arose from everyone. Ben was showing the last policeman off the