Ilsa McIntyre’s sensational murder trial ten years before was the catalyst that brought the three members of the Eldorado Explorers Club together.
At first glance, the death of her late husband seemed to be a flat-out case of suicide. Ilsa had pulled into her usual parking space in their garage one late afternoon to find Alfred McIntyre hanging from a rope around his neck. The far recesses of the garage had been dark, and she’d not been aware of the corpse until it was dangling right in front of her windshield. Her panicked escape and screaming flight along the sidewalk – all the way to the main road where a police cruiser picked her up – became the stuff of neighborhood legend.
The fact that this gruesome event had occurred on Halloween only added to its mystique. The flashing police cars and wailing EMS vehicle added a lot to the enjoyment of the trick or treaters that year. But Ilsa’s adult step-children (this was her second marriage; her first husband had simply vanished one day) did not accept the appearance of things. They insisted on an autopsy of the most detailed kind.
This post-mortem exam revealed traces of certain psychotropic substances in Alfred McIntyre’s body. How did these substances get there? Alfred had never been known to indulge in anything more than the occasional glass of brandy.
The prosecution contended that Ilsa had introduced the psychoactive drugs secretly to her husband – through poisoning his tea, adulterating his snuff, or perhaps vaporizing them while he slept. She then “abetted his suicidal tendencies,” during his “altered state of consciousness” until he decided to string himself up.
Her subsequent hysterical procession through the neighborhood had been mere theatrics, in the prosecution’s view. And the fact that McIntyre hanged himself right in Ilsa’s parking space could be taken as a final act of spite against the person that he – on some tormented level – suspected as being his killer. Also, his recent announcement that he planned to donate the bulk of his fortune to “charitable causes” added to the suspicion directed at his unfortunate widow.
This seemed like a fantastical hypothesis, but it had already been laid out in detail by a marginally successful murder mystery writer, Carlita Blade, in her novel, The Quandt Street Assassin. Like her other books, this one was noteworthy for its graphic depictions of violence and sex and its empathetic treatment of the murderer who, more often than not, managed to get away with the crime.
‘Carlita Blade’ was the pen name under which Ilsa McIntyre published her works of fiction.
Ilsa had agonized over the title for a long time, finally settling on Quandt Street as the locale for the grisly murder tricked up as a suicide. Quandt had the proper ring and was just hard enough to spell so that people would remember it. Also, it had been an earlier married name of Nazi propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels’ wife, Magda. An association with this notorious woman, who murdered her own children as Nazi Germany crumbled around her, seemed just the thing for the novel.
The reference was too obscure for the average reader, though. What was the alternative? Hitler Street would have been much too blunt. Anyway, the book never caught on – until Alfred’s death. Ilsa’s indictment and trial propelled The Quandt Street Assassin onto the bestseller lists.
Day after day, Margaret and Pauline sat among the spectators in the packed courtroom to watch the proceedings of the ‘Unfortunate Widow Trial.’ Space was at a premium, but the two ladies always managed to find a way in, often by bribing people to hold places for them.
They could afford it. They were financially well-off widows with enough money to indulge every perverse whim. Both of their husbands had succumbed to uninteresting natural causes, and they had the feeling that they may have missed out on something.
One court session found them seated together near the front. Recognizing a kindred spirit, Pauline struck up a conversation.
“Isn’t this positively thrilling!” she said. “I try not to miss a single day.”
“Absolutely,” Margaret agreed, “too bad we no longer have the death penalty. Wouldn’t that make things even more exciting?”
The highlight of the trial was Ilsa McIntyre’s tearful appearance on the stand. She denied any knowledge of illegal drugs and bemoaned the “terrible coincidence” with events in The Quandt Street Assassin. And yes, her books were available at various retail outlets.
Like most observers, Margaret and Pauline were certain Ilsa had committed the crime; they looked forward to seeing her reaction when the guilty verdict came in. But the prosecution lacked enough hard evidence to convict ‘beyond a reasonable doubt.’ So, the jury, which included a crypto fan of the Carlita Blade novels, let Ilsa off.
Margaret and Pauline were as surprised as anybody, but they overcame their disappointment and approached Ilsa to offer their congratulations. The three of them hit it off immediately. They formed a little clique they called the ‘Eldorado Explorers Club.’
The name was Ilsa’s idea, in recognition of an organization mentioned in Joseph Conrad’s novella, Heart of Darkness. Pauline and Margaret weren’t familiar with the story; they left the literary stuff to Ilsa, but they liked the name of their club. Since its founding, they had not admitted any new members.
Ilsa may have been officially acquitted of her husband’s murder, but Pauline and Margaret were not convinced that she was truly innocent. They never questioned Ilsa on the topic, however. It didn’t seem polite, or particularly wise. Neither of them wanted to end up in a Carlita Blade novel.
They just enjoyed Ilsa’s company and generally followed her lead for club activities. These included luncheons, bar hops, gambling, and attendance at felony trials – all excellent opportunities to exchange the latest vicious gossip. Funerals were also a preferred activity, and the more noteworthy the corpse, the more likely they were to show up.
They were angry, frustrated, and spiteful – drawn together by the power of mutual interest. They strove to “be there when the unspeakable happens.”