From the Files of
Minutes of Board Meeting, Monday, 11th May
The minutes of the March meeting were approved as read. Treasurer, Mary Ellis, reported a current balance of £139.71 and fended off an accusation by Betty White that £2.13 had been misappropriated for the purchase of fertilizer for the gardening committee. Activities Chairwoman, Martha Grub, made a motion that a trip to Hampton Court be made an annual event. Motion seconded by Mrs. Shirley Daffy and unanimously approved by the Board. Mrs. Agnes Levine, Membership Committee, circulated copies of the updated standard Telephone Approach To Prospective Members. Two spelling and three typographical errors were called to the Board’s attention, but the document passed by a two-thirds vote for immediate implementation. Corrected sample attached. Refreshments of currant buns and cocoa were served. The meeting concluded abruptly at 9:36 P.M. when the news of Ann Delacorte’s death was received.
Respectfully submitted,
Millicent Parsnip,
Recording Secretary
The Widows Club
Membership Committee Member:
Good day, Mrs. Jane Smith (fictitious name). I am telephoning at the request of a mutual friend who tells me you may seriously be considering the possibilities of becoming a widow.
Mrs. Jane Smith:
a. I am indeed.
b. Is this an obscene phone call?
(If the response is b, pretend you have the wrong Jane Smith, on whom you are playing a practical joke, and hang up. Otherwise proceed.)
M.C. Member:
Let us be sure we fully understand each other. You do dream of having your husband murdered?
Mrs. J.S.:
I can’t think of anything nicer.
M.C. Member:
Well then, Mrs. Jane Smith, you are exactly the sort of woman we want in The Widows Club, a local organisation that offers a vast assortment of social and cultural activities along with its guilt management services. Your sponsor will be happy to discuss them with you, if you decide to join us.
Mrs. J.S.:
When may I be admitted to your ranks?
M.C. Member:
That I cannot tell you. The admittance procedure varies anywhere from a few days to a few months. We do ask that you begin preparing yourself emotionally. Get plenty of rest and exercise to control nerves. Endeavour to treat your husband as though you were readying him to go away on his holidays. A little kindness now is an investment in both your futures.
Mrs. J.S.:
I cannot wait to begin.
M.C. Member:
Good. Now we come to the matter of the initiation fee. The Widows Club realises it is difficult for many women to come up with one thousand pounds cash. If you can, splendid; otherwise we ask that you make a contribution of jewelry-your engagement ring, gold watch, etc. The Widows Club does not discriminate on the basis of economic status. On payment of your fee it is required that you enclose a brief, handwritten application. This, along with the note you recently wrote to an advice columnist, will be kept on file.
Mrs. J.S.:
How and where shall I deposit the membership fee?
M.C. Member:
The current depository is the statue of Smuggler Jim in St. Anselm’s churchyard. The left boot contains a crevice ideal for the purpose. Please deposit the fee between midnight and four A.M. during the next forty-eight hours. On the remote chance that you are seen in the churchyard, say you felt a need to come to terms with death.
Mrs. J.S.:
And then?
M.C. Member:
Relax and wait. You will receive notification of approval through the confidential column of our local advice columnist, Dear Felicity Friend. Mrs. Jane Smith, it is my privilege and pleasure to assure you that your husband will be detained on earth no longer than strictly necessary. I look forward to that happy day when you join us at one of The Widows Club’s general meetings and receive your membership badge.
22
Primrose was, I think, disappointed that I didn’t faint dead away or, at the very least, go into hysterics when she and Hyacinth entered Delacorte’s to find me in the most compromising of positions, inches away from Ann’s body.
“My dear Ellie,” she said, as she propped me against a bureau, “what a very nasty shock for all of us. I have for years considered bows and arrows one of the menaces of modern society, but, on the bright side, we must remember that Mrs. Delacorte was hardly a person you would have wished to keep as a friend.”
“True, but I didn’t kill her to get her off my guest list.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Primrose soothed. “This wasn’t a murder, it was an execution. Oh, the thrill, Hyacinth, of being proved right!-professionally speaking.”
I wished she would keep her voice down. I could not shake the feeling that the murderer might still be here, lurking behind a piece of antique furniture.
Hyacinth lowered me onto a chair. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Prim. We suspicioned (did we not?) that Mrs. Delacorte had used The Widows Club for her own ends. But there has to be more. She must have taken some action to precipitate this.”
I pressed my fingers to my eyes, trying to shut out the horror of Ann’s unflickering gaze. “Life is what you make of it,” she had said. “If you want something done, an obstacle removed from your path, it is best to go to the top.” I heard myself giving the Tramwells a fractured account of my visit here this morning.
Primrose fluttered in circles like a moth. “Somehow Mrs. Delacorte discovered, or guessed at, the identity of The Founder. After you left her, she went to see him or her. Putting you up for membership would not have sealed her fate, so my belief is she requested that Bunty Wiseman be eliminated; perhaps she even put the squeeze on The Founder. But that is neither here nor there. Mrs. Delacorte placed herself in a very perilous position and it was decided she had to be removed. It most assuredly would not do to have members of the club stepping outside the club’s charter. Oh, dear me, no! The results would be murderous mayhem.”
“Absolutely,” said her sister. “But I feel very strongly that the swiftness of the response indicates a breathless kind of fury, due to the fact that Mrs. Delacorte’s desired victim was a woman and one whose husband she coveted. We have much to discuss-why we are all here, for instance-but now we must do the courteous thing and telephone the constabulary.”
“Not for a few minutes, please. I have something I must retrieve from Ann’s bag.” I pried myself out of the chair.
“Dear me, of course!” fluted Primrose. “The note you wrote to Dear Felicity Friend! Who is, as Hyacinth and I have been meaning to tell you, none other than Edwin Digby, under the guise of another female pseudonym-”
“We can go into all this later,” Hyacinth interrupted, but Primrose swept on.
“Butler has confirmed the suspicions aroused, Ellie, when you spoke of the page you saw in Mr. Digby’s typewriter. The writing had the cadence of something from an advice column. And when Mrs. Malloy arrived at The Aviary that day she mentioned that she had seen him entering the…”-Primrose stumbled over the next word-“Gentleman’s. Her hints that she could keep her mouth shut suggested that this observation had been made somewhere other than The Dark Horse. Earlier she told you, Ellie, that she had cleaned the executive toilets at The Daily Spokesman and knew the identity of Felicity Friend. Am I making myself clear?”