Page 16 of The Six Murders of Daphne St Clair

“Thank you. We’ve been disinvited from every party from here to Miami.

And we always spend the holidays in Miami, so that one is particularly painful,” Diane said.

“And of course, I worry how this will affect my husband’s real estate business.

” She sighed and gestured at her Versace walls.

“You have to understand, Brad built this from the ground up. Sure, he had some family loans and there was always the trust fund, but really, that gave him just a couple years, five tops, to become successful. And the thought of all that hard work being destroyed is tragic.”

“I bet,” Ruth said.

“Speaking of my husband’s business,” Diane said carefully.

“Someone at Sunshine Development reached out to me, Lucy Montgomery? She asked me not to participate in the podcast, said you were a risk to the company,” Diane explained.

She smiled but her eyes were examining Ruth, as if still trying to decide for herself.

“I told her that we wouldn’t be discussing the Montgomerys, that this was just an opportunity to set the record straight about my relationship with my mother, but it was a strange call.

My husband does a lot of work with Sunshine.

I wouldn’t want there to be any fallout. ”

Ruth snorted. So, Diane’s husband was in bed with Sunshine Development. As if she needed a reason to like these people even less.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a family thing.

I won’t get you in any trouble with Lucy, I promise.

Let’s just move on. How did it feel to find out that your mother was a killer, that she’s confessed to killing a lot of people?

” Ruth asked, before Diane could push for any more details about why the Montgomerys would care about a true crime podcast. Diane blinked slowly, as if trying to get her bearings.

“Well, I feel bad for them of course. But you have to understand, some of the men she married, well. . . some were more innocent than others,” Diane said, her voice soaked with an implication that only she understood.

“How did your father die?” Ruth asked.

“He was terminally ill when they got married. I was very young when he died so I don’t remember him.

But I’ve certainly read about his family, which was a very old and prominent one in New York,” Diane said.

A silence fell in the room, one so full of meaning that Ruth felt surprised that she even had to ask the next question.

“Do you think your mother killed your father?” Ruth asked.

“No. My mother always told Rose and I that he had cancer. You know, people were very unhealthy back then. My father smoked a pack a day, drank at every lunch and dinner, and ate nothing but steak and potatoes. He never gave one thought to antioxidants or the importance of self-care,” Diane said stiffly.

“Thirty-seven for a man in that time is like sixty-seven now.”

“Okay,” Ruth said, ignoring the big, homicidal elephant in the room.

“I’m sure she would have warned us now if she killed our dad. What’s the point of hiding anything?” Diane asked, a hint of doubt in her voice.

Ruth looked down, studying her Gucci tumbler.

Daphne was using the podcast to tell her story, unspooling her murders for her avid listeners, but there was no telling how many she’d admit to and how many she might try to keep hidden forever.

But Diane didn’t seem to care about the truth, she just wanted to live in the lie.

“That’s a good point,” Ruth said, deciding to change the subject. “What was Daphne like as a mother when you were growing up?”

“Well, it was always her show. She was the star, and we were the supporting characters. You know, Rose and I got a lot of attention because we were twins, and we were cute kids. And I think that made Mom jealous. She always liked our older brother more. James was her favorite,” Diane said, casting a sullen eye over her designer ice.

“I know that your brother and mother are estranged. Are you still in contact with him?” Ruth asked, thinking of the photo she saw of Daphne cuddling her son. As hard it might be to believe, the love in that photo was obvious.

“No, not since he finished college, back in the Eighties,” Diane said sharply.

“Do you know why they fell out?”

“I don’t think she told us they had fallen out. She just said he was going traveling overseas and wouldn’t be in contact. And then the years went by, and we just never heard from him,” Diane said.

Another long, refined pause. Even more awkward than the last. Ruth shifted in her seat, resisting the urge to adjust her bra, which was biting painfully into her ribs.

“Do you think your mother could. . .”

“Never,” Diane said firmly. “He’s the one person she would never have hurt. She loves him more than anything.”

More than herself? Ruth thought. What if James had found out the truth about Daphne and threatened to turn her in? How could someone like Daphne truly love another person? How deep could the well be when it was poisoned with so much violence?

Ruth wondered if James was really out there traveling the world or if he was buried in a ravine in some wet, shadowy place that the sun never touched.

“Are you sure? You didn’t know she’d killed anyone until recently. How well do you really know her?”

“Well, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Diane replied. “My mom has ruined her children’s lives, probably her grandchildren’s as well. And you have to think, what kind of woman would hurt her own family like that?”

Ruth stayed silent, not sure if Diane was expecting an answer or not.

In a strange way, knowing that Diane’s mother was a murderer cast her in a different light, made her seem stronger, or more interesting than she really was.

This was just a banal woman who had been transformed by events outside her control.

“A monster, that’s who,” Diane said finally.

BurntheBookBurnerz:

Diane is such a Karen. Rich, entitled, totally oblivious of other people.

ShockAndBlah:

But it can’t have been easy to have Daphne as a mother. . . even before you found out she was a killer.

CapoteParty:

She was probably nervous. She knows everyone is listening to this podcast, including people she knows. What’s the right way to react to finding out your mother is a murderer?

PreyAllDay:

Remorse. Concern for the victims, some of whom she would have known.

ShockAndBlah:

Maybe she didn’t like a lot of them. And why should she be remorseful? She didn’t do anything.

HauteHistoire: “Hi, guys, today’s TikTok episode is devoted to Daphne’s twin daughters, who are an aesthetic all on their own!

Now, in the media, twins get a bad rap. Think The Shining .

Think Dead Ringers . Think Patty and Selma from The Simpsons .

And there is something a little creepy about the St Clair twins.

They’re often photographed together at events, they dress so similarly that they always seem to be matching even if they’re in different colors, and you just know they’re getting plastic surgery together because that’s the only way they’d stay so identical!

So yes, they are the kind of twins that might haunt your dreams.

. . and they’ve got Freddy Krueger for a mother!

But let’s not forget that twins can be chic, and fashion owes a debt to the iconic Mary-Kate and Ashley.

“So, we know the twins love labels. One quick Google and you’ll be blinded by the Versace, Gucci, Pucci.

If it’s got a soft c and a big price tag, they’re wearing it.

I’ve opted for a vintage Gucci silk shirt, a Prada headband and some tight, patterned Versace shorts.

Finish with heels and you’ve got the perfect look for shopping, chilling at the club bar in Palm Beach or visiting your mother in a federal prison. ”

Things were finally changing for Ruth. The podcast was a hit, and money was starting to trickle in.

It was on this newfound high that she agreed to go to a party with her best friend Chelsea, who was home for a visit from New York.

Usually, Ruth would have refused to attend a party full of their old college friends, painfully aware that she was a cautionary tale of the successful student who had failed to launch.

And of course they would have heard the rumors about her.

Everyone did. But this time she had the podcast and half a bottle of prosecco in her stomach, so why not?

As they got ready, Ruth thought of Daphne and chose a clingy miniskirt and plum lipstick.

It was a far cry from her usual slogan tees and outdated skinny jeans ( was her favorite pair really from Costco?

Christ ) but she couldn’t deny that the look suited her tall frame.

Chelsea was still doing her makeup (when had everyone but Ruth learned to contour?) so Ruth sat on the couch and pulled out her phone.

Two more missed calls from her mom. Fuck. But this time she’d left a voicemail. There was her mother’s voice, but much more strained and anxious than usual, as if she only had a moment to talk and she desperately wanted Ruth to hear her.

“Ruth, you have to stop this podcast. The things you’re saying. . . this is dangerous . Stop this now, before something happens.”

Ruth put the phone down and took a gulp of prosecco.

Her mother sounded so anxious and afraid, and that made Ruth’s mood sink.

Ruth knew that Parkinson’s could make people paranoid, that it could also intensify personality traits and stop them filtering themselves.

But Ruth also knew that her mother had some very good reasons to warn her off this podcast, even if she was determined to continue.

Besides, Louise might not want to admit it, but they needed money.

In a few years, Louise might need healthcare attendants and specialist treatment, stairlifts and walk-in baths, and Ruth would need a way to help pay for it.

It occurred to Ruth that she could see why someone might kill for money. Why she might kill for money.

Ruth drained the glass of prosecco and deleted the phone message. Hopefully Louise would understand once the podcast was finished. Besides, this wasn’t a good time to think about dark things. She had a party to go to.

As soon as Ruth walked in, she felt the full force of the party’s attention find her.

“Ruth, I love the podcast! I thought to myself: yes, finally, this is the Ruth we’ve all been waiting for!”

“Ruth, how did we lose touch? It’s been too long! What’s Daphne really like? And why did she call the cops up and confess? Was someone on to her?”

“Have you interviewed the police? I remember you got into some trouble with them a while back. Is this triggering for you?”

It hadn’t really hit her yet how many people listened to the podcast. But here were the people she knew from college, all suddenly fascinated by her work.

It was a bit disarming because while she did count some of these people as genuine friends, many of the others hadn’t bothered to keep in touch once Ruth’s life became a depressing vortex of money problems, anxiety, and personal tragedies.

But against all odds, Ruth, the grade grind from college with generic sneakers and a whopping student debt, had pulled it off.

Ruth downed a couple of tequila sodas and tried to channel Daphne, the confident femme fatale on the prowl for a victim.

She felt a new kind of power surge through her as she talked to people, aware that everyone now saw her as different and exciting.

A few of them even saw her as something more: enticing.

The thought made her body ache as she considered how long it had been since she’d had fun with someone, shorn from the complexities of a long-term relationship. How long had it been since she’d gone out into the night, ready to make some deliciously bad decisions?

She didn’t go home alone that night.