Signature Murder

By Susan Shock

It's 1926 and Prohibition is the law of the land. Career girl Lacey Baldwin is teaching history at Fort Marsden College. But the town of Fort Marsden, Michigan has changed in the six years since she left for college. Her temperance reformer mother is deceased, as are both her brothers, victims of the Great War. Her cousin Michael is a police detective working for corrupt police chief Big Bill Burke. Ralph Shapiro, a man rumored to have connections with the infamous Purple Gang, has come to the small Central Michigan town, married to the wealthy Eloise Smythe, and has opened a speakeasy, Signature. Lacey's best friend Amanda Banfield, a wild young woman with more money than common sense, is a regular at Signature, and the womanizing Ralph Shapiro's latest mistress.
Things get even more crazy when good time girl Amanda persuades strait laced Lacey to come to Signature with her, as moral support as she tries to break up with her domineering lover. But when Amanda later leaves with Shapiro, Lacey realizes she was merely a pawn in one of Amanda's crazy schemes.
Hours later, Ralph Shapiro lies dead on a riverbank, three bullets in him, and Amanda is missing. The police believe that Amanda killed Shapiro, but Lacey has her doubts. When Amanda's sister Annadine pleads with Lacey to find out the truth, she reluctantly investigates assisted by Brendan Davies, a handsome anthropology professor.
As she tries to find out the truth about what happened on the river bank that night, Lacey is haunted by the, unsolved disappearance of her father many years ago. But there is a killer in Fort Marsden who doesn't want the truth to be known. Can Lacey unmask the murderer without losing her own life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Shock
• Release date: Oct 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466043916

Susan Shock

I attended Central Michigan University and obtained a bachelors and a masters degree in History, with a minor in Political Science. I have been married to my husband Allen for twenty four years. We live in Mt. Pleasant, Michigan with my brother Donald and our two cats Night and Caramel. I teach Sunday school at Immanuel Lutheran Church. My hobbies are writing, reading, sewing, drawing, crocheting and cats.

Book preview

Signature Murder

by

Susan Shock

Copyright 2011 Susan shock

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CHAPTER ONE

"Are you going to answer the phone?" David Baldwin asked, his handsome features beginning to blur. He looked exactly as he had on that last day she saw him, his short red hair unruly despite his best efforts to tame it, green eyes twinkling and set close together amidst high cheekbones and a strong jawline. And his voice had that soothing quality to it that no matter what was happening, somehow he would always make things all right. Lacey fought to stay asleep. She wanted to know where her father had been the eleven last years. Where had he gone on that summer day when he left the family home to go to open up his hardware store? He'd never reached his destination and hadn't been seen or heard from since.

But the phone rang once more and the scene dissolved before her. Opening her eyes she saw the familiar outlines of her bedroom. It had formerly been the master bedroom. She’d made changes to the room after her mother died and she inherited the house. Furniture with the simple elegant lines and light texture of the Art Deco movement replaced the dark and stodgy late Victorian furniture her mother owned. Lacey sat up in bed as the phone rang for a third time. The clock on the nightstand showed that it was just after two in the morning. Who was calling her at such an hour? It made her just a little bit nervous. She was a young woman living alone and that made her a target for burglars. Still, she threw the sheet off her and fumbled in the darkness for her robe. When the telephone rang a fifth time, she decided to forget about the robe. It was too hot for a robe anyway, but she'd wanted it for decency's sake. She stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. A warm breeze ruffled the curtains. It had cooled down very little in the hours since midnight.

Baldwin residence. She mumbled sleepily, wondering why anyone would choose to be awake at this hour. The voice on the other end of the line was frantic almost to the point of hysteria.

Lacey it’s Annadine. Is Amanda with you?

No, I haven’t seen her since about ten o’clock. Why? Annadine Banfield was the older sister of Lacey’s long time grade school chum Amanda.

She’s not home yet.

She probably lost track of time. I’m sure she’ll be home. She always comes home. But Annadine took no comfort in Lacey’s tired pronouncement.

She's never been out this late. She's usually home by this time, no matter what she's doing. Her words were emphatic and tinged with anger. Lacey had the feeling that Annadine blamed her for the fact that Amanda had not yet come home. She sighed, and picking up yesterday's newspaper, used it as a fan to try and cool herself off. She'd forgotten just how hot summer in central Michigan could be.

You two went out together. Why didn’t you return home together? Annadine’s voice was accusing. Lacey sighed. Why was she somehow responsible for her friend’s behavior. They were adults, both twenty four years old and responsible for their own actions. She did not really want to divulge why Amanda had left her company, but she saw no choice.

Amanda left with someone, and no, I couldn’t stop her. Annadine should have known that no one could stop Amanda once she set her mind on a course of action. It was like trying to stop a force of nature.

There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Annadine said, her voice barely concealing her anger.

She left with him, didn’t she? Him referred to Ralph Shapiro, owner of Signature, an illegal nightclub and Amanda’s married lover. Lacey didn’t like him either. Just the fact that she was involved with a married man was bad enough.

I’m sorry. I tried to talk her out of leaving with him. Lacey heard a ragged sigh.

She promised me that she would break up with him. She knows he’s not good for her. What if he’s done something to her.

I'm worried too. Lacey said, a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach now that she was a little more awake. She found the light switch on the wall and quickly flicked it upward, filling the kitchen with light. She'd given it a good cleaning earlier in the day before she knew that she would be going out. So her mother would not haunt her, she reflected, gazing at the clean counter, the ice box which had been drained and fresh ice placed underneath, the dishes washed and put away, and the old battered oak table she'd scrubbed and then polished. Unlike Amanda, and Annadine, she didn't have servants to take care of her every need. If something needed to be done around the house, she did it, or it didn't get done.

Will you help me find her Lacey? Please. I can’t stand just waiting here and not knowing if she’s alive or dead. I’ve got to do something or I’ll go crazy.

If you're so worried about her, why don't you call the police? Lacey suggested. She heard a disapproving sigh at the other end of the line. She knew she shouldn't be surprised at Annadine's disdain for the police. The wealthy Banfields thought of the police as little better than servants, to be neither seen nor heard, but on call at a second's notice, when they felt like calling them.

Do you know what people will say if we bring in the police?

No, Annadine, I don't. She knew she sounded testy, but she didn't care. Amanda was an adult woman. It was not her duty to keep her out of trouble. That was all but impossible. Lacey knew that from bitter experience.

I am not calling the police. Annadine said stubbornly. Mother and Father would be absolutely mortified if I did so.

Then what do you want from me?

Help me find her.

Lacey yawned. The rational part of her didn’t really think anything had happened to Amanda. Most likely she was with her married lover doing what lovers do, and had lost track of time. It was late summer and very hot. Why would she want to hurry home? She didn't work. She didn't have to be at a job early the next day. But if something had happened to Amanda, she would never forgive herself for doing nothing about it.

Give me a few minutes to get dressed.

Thank you so much Lacey. There was relief in Annadine’s voice. I’ll be right over to pick you up.

After she’d rung off, Lacey stretched and then trudged upstairs and into her bedroom to get dressed. She flicked on the light and opened the armoire, looking for a dress she could throw on quickly. She took out a calf length summer sheath, sea green with little pink blossoms, and no belt. It was a bit long for 1926, but she wasn’t trying to be fashionable, not at this hour. She just wanted to be comfortable. She kicked aside the black T-strap pumps she'd worn earlier and bent down to pick up her comfortable loafers.

Lacey dressed quickly and then went over to the dresser. As she tried to get a hairbrush through her shoulder length auburn curls, she allowed her mind to wander back to the events of the evening. It had been a strange one. Between Amanda's antics and the behavior of other individuals, Lacey had the sense of being in a really badly written Victorian melodrama. But that melodrama, bad as it was, left her with a definite sense of foreboding. That foreboding had been with her since she got home. She’d not confided it to Annadine because she didn’t want to worry her if those fears turned out to be groundless. But thinking about it now, Lacey had the feeling that something terrible had happened after Amanda left with her lover.

She walked over to her bedroom window, left open in the hopes of catching even the smallest breeze that might cool down the stifling heat in her bedroom. Amanda's new lemon yellow Pearce Arrow Roadster was still parked on the street in front of her house where she'd left it hours ago. Lacey felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and despite the heat, she shivered.

CHAPTER TWO

HOURS EARLIER

Lacey heard the horn and instantly knew who had pulled alongside her brick cottage on Radcliffe Street. Only Amanda Banfield would loudly and repeatedly honk the horn of her new and expensive roadster. Lacey set down the student research paper she was grading and walked out onto the porch. Her friend waved enthusiastically as she got out of her automobile. Amanda Banfield seemed to epitomize the new and modern woman as displayed in fashion magazines such as Vogue and Vanity Fair. She was tall and boyishly slender. Her sleek black hair was perfectly bobbed, her eyebrows plucked, and she wore bright red lipstick on a mouth that formed a perfect little cupid's bow. Her dress had been purchased at a boutique in New York city. Lacey suspected it was a Chanel design, for it had a sailor inspired collar and drop waist that managed to accentuate Amanda's slender figure. She carried a small leather clutch purse in one hand and held a cigarette, in a faux tortoise shell holder in the other.

Darling, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days. Laced smiled, amused and bewildered at the strange affectations of speech her friend had lately adopted. She thought she was being sophisticated. She apparently didn’t realize that in a small town in Central Michigan she sounded ridiculous.

I’m home most evenings Mandy. She said as they embraced warmly.

But I’m not. She said, glancing at Lacey, her expression a mixture of affection and resignation. Really Dear, you would look so much more stylish if you bobbed those copper locks.

Lacey sighed. They had this discussion every time they saw one another. Lacey knew that in appearance at least she was hopelessly out of date. She didn’t wear her hair boyishly short. She was petite but her figure was curvaceous, and she had a prominent bosom. But she considered herself as much a modern woman as her so stylish friend. She had a master’s degree in history from Bryn Mawr College and she lectured in history at Fort Marsden College. She wasn't rich, but she lived on her own, drove a car, and paid her own bills.

I’m sorry Amanda. I’m hopelessly lacking in style. I’m surprised you even choose to associate with me. Amanda laughed now. It was a dainty girlish laugh that was in contrast to the sophisticated looking creature who stood on Lacey’s porch smoking a cigarette and who looked totally out of place in the quiet neighborhood where Lacey lived.

"How could I not associate with you, my oldest and dearest friend? In fact that’s why I’ve come over. I want you to go to Signature with me tonight." Lacey frowned. Why did they have to get into this argument again. Drinking watered down alcohol from teacups and inhaling noxious cigar and cigarette fumes for several hours just did not excite her.

Mandy, I don’t drink. Besides, it’s illegal.

Oh posh! Amanda exclaimed, stubbing out her cigarette. She took a chrome and red enamel compact from her purse and daintily powdered her small turned up nose. No one pays attention to that silly law, not even the police, except for your too serious police detective cousin Michael. Lacey tried unsuccessfully to repress a smile. Some months ago her cousin had stopped Amanda and given her a stern lecture on the dangers of driving too fast. Of course it had done no good.

It’s still the law. Anyway I don’t drink. I never have.

That’s only because your mother, God rest her soul, was a temperance reformer and she guilt tripped you into being a teetotaler.

That’s not why. The truth was, she’d tried alcohol once and just had not liked it. Though it was true that Sylvia Baldwin would have probably disinherited her if she knew about her daughter’s one experience with what she referred to as the demon rum. It came from Sylvia having an alcoholic father and brother. But Sylvia was gone now, having died of cancer eight months ago.

Mandy I’m just not a drinker.

Then don’t drink. Just come with me. It’ll be fun.

I’ve got three classes to teach tomorrow.

It’s summer. Who takes college classes in the summer? Amanda’s bright red lips formed a pout. Lacey shrugged her shoulders.

People who want to graduate early, or who just love to go to school.

Or who have nothing better to do. Amanda finished the statement for her. College was never considered an option for Amanda Banfield. School always bored her. She'd barely graduated from high school. But now her face became serious. When she spoke again her voice lacked the big city affectation she was so enamored of.

Lacey, I really wish you would go with me tonight. I’m in a bit of a sticky situation. Lacey sighed wearily. Amanda always seemed to be getting herself into sticky situations, and they nearly always involved men.

Not again. Tell me what you’ve done. Her friend’s impulsive nature had been the bane of Lacey’s existence since they were small children. She remembered clearly when they were five years old Amanda slapping a girl at a birthday party because she’d made her angry. The girl had been the one giving the party, the one with the birthday.

Well you know about the man I've been seeing, Ralph Shapiro. Lacey nodded. Amanda had been infatuated with Ralph Shapiro for some time. She'd hoped her friend had gotten tired of him and found someone else to obsess on.

I know all about him. He's married and much older than you. And he excites you. Mandy why do you do these kinds of things.

I don’t know. Mom and Dad are furious. He’s from Detroit. But he’s lived here for about five years. He’s married to Eloise Smythe.

Is that the same Eloise Smythe whose family owns the Hotel Magnifique?

The Smythes counted themselves as one of Fort Marsden's oldest families, having settled that part of Isabella County not long after after the town's founder, Colonel Marsden. Determined to make Fort Marsden into a resort town, they had established a high class hotel in the downtown. Amazingly the Hotel Magnifique turned out to be quite profitable.

Yeah those Smythes. I sure know how to pick them, don't I?

Does Eloise know you’re having an affair with her husband?

I don’t think so. She’s practically a recluse since she had polio a couple of years ago. Look Lacey, I’m trying to break it off with him. I wanted you with me when I do this. He’s kind of jealous and possessive. I don’t want to be alone with him. If he sees you with me, he’ll leave me alone. Please Lacey? Her friend nodded in spite of the suspicions in the back of her mind. Amanda's motives for doing something were rarely so transparent, or logical. Briefly Lacey considered asking Amanda what she was really up to, but she doubted she would get a truthful answer. Lying came easily to Amanda, way too easily.

"All right. But why go to Signature in the first place? He owns it. Wouldn’t it be better to stay away?" But Amanda shook her head vehemently.

It’s the place to go if you want to have a good time. I'm not going to sit home alone just because he thinks he owns me. Don’t worry. Ralph won’t bother us in front of other people. We’ll need to go in your car though. Dad will have a fit if he finds out I’ve gone there. The old tyrant has forbidden me from going near the place.

He should know better than to think that you'll actually obey him. Lacey said dryly. Amanda smiled.

Exactly. Anyway, I'll be here around seven. I've already told Mom and Dad that we’re going to the pictures. Trust me, we’ll have fun.

Amanda ran down the porch steps and practically skipped over to her car.

See you tonight. She said, waving cheerfully as she drove away. But Lacey sensed a false note in her friend’s optimism and she suspected she wasn’t being told everything about Amanda’s situation with Ralph Shapiro. Still, maybe she could do with an evening out. Her mother of course would not approve of Lacey going to a speakeasy, even if she didn't drink. Lacey could imagine Sylvia Baldwin's reaction to such news. She would roll her eyes and then glare disapprovingly at her daughter. Then would come the long lecture on the evils of alcohol and of associating with those who consumed alcohol. Lacey had heard the lecture so many times, as had her two older brothers. They used to recite it to each other for fun when she wasn't around. But her mother was dead, as were her brothers. She’d already agreed to go out with Amanda. She didn't like to break promises. Now she needed to figure out what to wear.

Lacey turned and went back into the house. She walked upstairs and went into her bedroom. She had a considerable number of dresses in the armoire, some handmade, some bought when she was going to college in Philadelphia. All were very respectable and what Amanda would call frumpy. The hemlines were well below the knee. Ruffles and lace predominated, and cotton lawn was the primary fabric used in the construction of the dresses. They were great for afternoon tea or church or a garden party. None were suitable for going out to an illegal nightclub. She could almost hear what Amanda would say if she chose to wear one of those dresses to Signature. She did not feel like listening to another round of Amanda telling her how hopelessly out of fashion she was. Then an idea came to her.

She went across the hall to her little sewing room. Growing up in this house it had been her bedroom. Now it contain a sewing machine and all her sewing supplies. Lacey walked over to a battered oak bureau that she used to store cloth and other sewing notions. She opened the second drawer and pulled out several yards of rose colored satin that she’d bought back in Pennsylvania. There was more than enough to make herself a nice evening dress, if she could finish it in time. She had her McCall’s one hour dress instructions. She took the cloth, picked up her sewing scissors and set to work.

Her one hour dress took an hour and a half, but when she finished it and took a look at the results, Lacey liked what she saw. She hoped Amanda would approve of the results.

II

Oh Lacey, you look fabulous. I think I’m jealous. Amanda exclaimed when she arrived at Lacey’s house at 7:30 PM, half an hour late. The dress Lacey made, and which she was now wearing, was sleeveless, and came to just below her knees. It had the typical drop waist which was the style, and a matching sash wrapped around her hips and tied into a graceful bow.

Good. I don’t want to hear any more comments about me being hopelessly out of style. Lacey said, slipping into a pair of T-strap pumps and pulling her curls back with a silver and black comb adorned with diamond shapes.

Gracious, would I say something like that? Amanda exclaimed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She wore a skinny black dress with spaghetti straps and adorned with fringe at the hem and bust line. A sequined black turban with a single feather on the front and beaded black silk bag, completed the outfit.

Are we ready to go now? she asked, opening her bag and taking out a gold and black stripped cigarette case with a built in lighter.

I’ve been ready for some time. Lacey said, picking up her own evening bag, beaded in a pattern of spring flowers with a chain strap. You’re the one who was late. They walked outside and down the porch steps to Lacey’s year old Fordor sedan, which looked like a spinster cousin next to Amanda’s roadster.

I’m sorry about that. Ralph called the house demanding to meet with me tonight at one of our special places. I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.

And how did he handle this news? Lacey bent down and turned the crank starter. The vehicle roared to life.

Not very well. They had climbed into Lacey’s vehicle. Lacey gave her friend a serious look.

Mandy perhaps we ought not to do this.

Of course we ought to do this! Amanda practically shouted, waving her cigarette defiantly out the window. I’m not going to hide at home when I can be out having a good time. It’s over between us. He’s just going to have to accept it. He doesn’t own me.

All right then. You’re going to have to show me where this place is. I’ve heard rumors about it, but I’ve never been there my self.

Such a sheltered life you lived at that woman's college. Amanda said, pointing one long white arm forward. "It isn’t that far from where you live. Go a couple miles east until you come to Ridder Road. Turn left and then drive for about five miles until you come to a dead end. There’s a little tumble down old barn on the right. That’s Signature. It looks like a wreck on the outside. But inside is a different story. Inside the joint is hopping. You’ve got to see it!"

Lacey followed Amanda’s directions and found herself driving through country she was not terribly familiar with. This was northern Isabella County and there was a lot of farmland. She passed fields of wheat that were just beginning to turn amber in color. Dark green stalks of corn reached for the sky while their fruit nearly burst from green packets. Occasionally she passed the weathered remains of abandoned homesteads. Clapboard houses with their paint peeling stood silently on the landscape, long forgotten, the sad remnants of past lives. They drove through the remains of the village of Leaton, where her father was born. It was nothing now but a few farmsteads that were neither picturesque nor profitable, she was certain. They drove past the remains of Longwood, formerly Isabella City, briefly the capital of the county before it was moved to Mount Pleasant. Longwood had even less to recommend it. It's post office had closed in the 1870s. Lacey suppressed a shudder. Such places haunted her. She felt almost like a voyeur, watching the death of others dreams.

Interesting landscape. she remarked.

I suppose. Amanda drawled, her tone of voice indicating that it was anything but interesting.

Why would anyone come out here to drink alcohol? she asked. Amanda laughed.

Your problem girl, is that you live in the past.

Just what do you mean by that?

You went to that nice little woman's college just like your mother wanted you to, and now you're teaching and being ultra respectable, just like she wanted. But you have no life of your own. You do what everyone else wants you to do. So boring!

And so necessary. Lacey said, her voice growing testy. My parents didn't have scads of money like yours. They worked all their lives. They had to. And so do I.

That doesn't mean you can't go out and have some fun once in a while. Drink some bathtub gin, hoot and holler and raise a fuss. Life's too short to spend it doing boring respectable things. Lacey considered asking Amanda what she knew about doing boring respectable things. She'd never done anything respectable in her life, of that Lacey was sure. But she decided to end the discussion, for she knew nothing good would come of it.

Almost before she realized it, the road came to a sudden and abrupt end. Amanda’s words were an understatement. Signature wasn’t just a tumbledown old barn in need of a coat of paint. It was a ruin that looked on the verge of collapse. Made of planks of wood weathered gray it was devoid of windows and had one long narrow door painted brown. Lacey wouldn’t have believed this was Signature at all if she hadn’t seen so many Model As and Model Ts parked in the dirt around the building, dirt that must have once been farmed for crops. As Lacey parked her car on one side of the building, she could hear voices raised in laughter, as well as horns playing a jazz melody. Lacey recognized the tune.

Oh Lady be Good. she said. For once, Amanda looked impressed.

Well, I guess you weren't totally sheltered at that fancy woman's college. she remarked.

I know what jazz is, and I like it. Lacey said defiantly as they got out of the car. But she felt self conscious all of a sudden. She didn't believe in ghosts, but she had the feeling her mother was somehow looking down on her at that moment, and with disapproval.

I'm not drinking Mom. she said under her breath. It had been a hot muggy day, and the evening showed signs of being hot and muggy as well. She really wished she was at home with a glass of ice tea, sitting on the porch with her cat Whiskers.

It was when they got out and walked up to the plain brown door that Lacey saw that there was no doorknob.

How do you get in? she asked. Amanda laughed.

They don’t just let anyone in off the street, or in this case the cornfield. You have to know the password. She knocked loudly on the door. A small narrow window was revealed and a pair of gray eyes stared balefully at the two.

Password. Hissed someone on the other side of the door.

Bees knees. Amanda replied smugly and then winked at Lacey. Now she heard a thunk as the deadbolt was turned and then the click of locks being released. Seconds later the door was opened and Lacey and Amanda were allowed to step in.

At first sight Lacey was stunned by Signature’s interior. She had expected a shabby run down roach infested dive, for that was certainly what it appeared to be on the outside. Inside was different. Very different. There were no windows and yet Signature’s interior was not dark. Large ceiling chandeliers made it as bright as day. The walls were painted a cream color and then decorated with huge palm trees and tropical flowers. The tropical paradise theme extended to the furnishings as well. There were light wicker tables and chairs and even the bar was constructed of unstained wood so that it retained its light color.

Isn’t this the cat’s meow? Amanda declared as they made their way over to the bar.

The tables and chairs look familiar. Lacey remarked as she continued to examine their surroundings.

That’s because they used to be in the Hotel Magnifique. Ralph brought them over when he had it redecorated. Gorgeous, isn’t it?

Lacey nodded. Signature was filled nearly to capacity with people. All manner of citizens were present. In a corner two young lover held hands and drank cocktails. A table in the center of the room was occupied by four students from nearby Fort Marsden College. Lacey even recognized two of them as students from her morning American history class. They were laughing, drinking what looked like martinis, and smoking huge cigars that filled the air with acrid smoke. Two middle aged couples sat at the next table, stirring their drinks and conversing quietly. Lacey thought she recognized the mayor and his wife. On a raised platform near the bar several scantily clad women were doing the Charleston at a frenetic pace while a six piece jazz band accompanied them.

I’m surprised the police haven’t raided this place. She mumbled and then noticed that the Chief of Police and the City attorney were enjoying shots of whiskey up at the bar.

Well that certainly explains things.

At that moment a man appeared from a doorway on the right. He was thickset, with dark features and salt and pepper hair slicked back with hair tonic, from a high forehead. He wore a white summer suit and had rings on each finger of his two beefy hands. He saw Amanda and frowned.

Here comes Ralph. Amanda muttered, her voice suddenly serious. Ignoring Lacey, Ralph grabbed Amanda by the arm.

What the hell are you doing here? he demanded.

Amanda wrenched her arm from his grasp.

"I’m here to have