Obsidian Murder

by Beth Byers

  Obsidian Murder

  A Violet Carlyle Mystery

  Beth Byers

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Also By Beth Byers

  Also By Amanda A. Allen

  Summary

  Bonfire Night 1924.

  Violet, Victor, and friends intend to celebrate an evening with cocktails, bonfires, and fireworks. What they don't intend is to find a body instead of their Guy Fawkes. What's even more baffling? The obsidian blade. Once again, the friends delve into a wicked crime. Tensions rise as they realize that murder wasn't the only game afoot during the celebration.

  Chapter One

  “What’s all this?” Lila demanded as Violet made her way into the house.

  Vi shoved her multitude of bags and hat boxes behind her back and shrugged innocently.

  “There’s too many for that, my girl,” Lila told Vi with a smirk. “Someone felt the need to buy everything from the shops today?”

  Vi had hoped to escape a witness to the madness. The problem was that Violet should have had her purchases delivered to her house rather than appearing with the evidence in hand. Or rather, her real problem was that her old grey days had appeared that morning with a sense of needing to do something to allay those blues before her brother or Jack returned and found her curled up in her bed with her hair in a mess and her skin turned sallow.

  Her stupid, lascivious brother had married and gone to Paris without her. It was his honeymoon, so she only blamed him partially. If Victor and Kate hadn’t needed to be married posthaste due to an impending bundle of joy, Violet would have prepared a way to distract herself while they were gone. Instead, they’d left suddenly and Violet had been forced to recognize just how horribly dependent she was on her brother.

  It was a fact she hated. They hadn’t spent more than a few days apart since Victor had left for the war. He hadn’t ended up serving in battle because he’d been injured in training and then the war ended before he healed. Back then, Violet had known what to do. She’d volunteered in the efforts, helped as was needed, and done what could be done from the Homefront, praying the whole time her brother would return to her. She knew it had been a close thing—she had, after all, lost two older brothers to the war.

  “My life,” she told Lila seriously, “is too wrapped up in my twin.”

  “You two are rather dependent on each other. It would help having Victor gone if Jack hadn’t had to go catch murderers so far away.”

  “I feel like a failure,” Vi told Lila. “Am I not a modern woman? I don’t need Jack here. I need…something else.”

  Lila scoffed and then took Violet’s bags from her, setting them down in the center of the entry hall to grab Vi by the arm. “Tea, Hargreaves,” Lila told the butler waiting at hand, “and some frivolous and ridiculous treat, if available.”

  He nodded and lifted several of Violet’s purchases, disappearing into the house while Lila dragged Violet into the parlor.

  “Being modern doesn’t mean not loving someone.” Lila sounded a little like one of their instructors.

  Violet scrunched up her nose and threw herself onto the Chesterfield near the fire, dropping her arm over her eyes so she didn’t have to see Lila’s knowing gaze. The woman wouldn’t, however, let Violet moan in peace.

  “You tend towards the blues and greys, my darling. You went out to make sure you didn’t end up in a tangle of limbs and hair by the time your boys came home, didn’t you?”

  Violet nodded with her arm over her eyes.

  “It’s perfectly acceptable to love someone. It’s perfectly acceptable to have the blues. My brother spends the entirety of every winter seeing the worst of everything. Then, lo and behold, the sun comes back, and he goes wandering the woods again without being soaked through, and he’s a different creature. It happens, darling. Good for you in escaping into shopping rather than moping.”

  Violet raised her arm to scowl at Lila and then dropped it back down. She was having one of those moments where she knew she should strap on a cheery face and drop a joke, but she didn’t want to. Violet didn’t have to pretend for Lila, who was her oldest friend. They’d gone to the same boarding school and college and shared a room for much of that time. Lila could and had taken the worst of Violet.

  “Have you heard? There was a fire at that new little museum off of Hyde Park.”

  “What, no? Why do you know?” Violet lifted her head enough to examine Lila. “Why do you even care?”

  “Denny’s brother was there when the fire started. Everyone got out, but he said it was quite a close thing. He just showed up at our door, sooty and wild-eyed, requesting a bath and a suit. Turns out it’s the third fire his patron has had started at his properties!”

  She knew she should care more than she did, but Violet was having a hard time amassing concern. She dropped her head back to the Chesterfield. “A house fire is a good idea for a book. Jane Eyre-style perhaps, with someone saved at the last minute. He’s fine?”

  “A bit of a cough and swimming in Denny’s suit. It’s hard to believe that Denny used to be svelte. He’s so rotund now. A bit of a porker. Little brother is so slim. Maybe you should kill someone in your new book? Someone porky who cannot adequately run from danger. I’ll give Denny the rest of the message.”

  “Does he really read our books?” Violet asked with disinterest, finding she didn’t care all that much.

  “He does. I would mind far less if he didn’t read them with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates, giddy like a child to see what madness you two have concocted.”

  Violet smiled at the image Lila presented before she curled onto her side, propped her head on her hand and admitted, “I don’t feel like writing.” Violet hated being blue. Hated it. More, she hated feeling as though the reason she was blue was because her brother was away enjoying his first weeks with his bride and Jack was away working. She was not a dependent creature.

  “Maybe you should go bother your man of business and buy something ridiculous. A company? Oooh! A confectioner’s shop? Finance a fashion career? Buy something from ancient Rome?”

  Violet grunted.

  “Let’s go visit Ginny,” Lila suggested. “She’s at school suffering. She needs her guardian to appear with treats.”

  Violet shook her head still propped on her arm. “She’s just settling in. I think if we appeared, it would be entirely unwelcome.”

  “Do they still call her Lady Guttersnipe?”

  “She’s decided to channel a lofty disposition when it comes to such shenanigans.”

  “Ah,” Lila said. Vi could hear her friend rustle but didn’t bother to get up. The door to the parlor opened, and a tea cart was rolled across the floor. There was more rustling, and then Lila nudged Vi with her shoe. “Sit up, darling. Drink this tea. It’s almost entirely whiskey.”

  Violet sniffed and sat fully up, taking the tea with a scowl.

  “Don’t look at me like that, my girl. I’m not the one who snuck about with Kate and didn’t learn about modern prevention methods.”

  “But then,” Violet said after a long sip of tea that left her nose burning, “a Violet junior wouldn’t be on the way.”

  “Too true,” Lila said with a grin. “How many of those bags were ful
l of baby things?”

  Violet shrugged. The answer was rather a lot. She had also, however, found a new kimono with silver and purple dragons and a delightful nude day dress that drew attention to Violet’s slenderness.

  “Cheer up, love,” Lila ordered as she handed Violet a plate of petit fours. “This is just a grey day. Nothing to pummel yourself over.”

  “I feel a little—”

  “Do you think I don’t know what it’s like? I was quite despondent the last time Denny went off with his brother for one of his masculine weekends of pints and whatever else they do. I suspect they simply drink the whole time. I quite scolded myself raw over it.”

  “I do hate that I feel so blue when I should be happy for Victor.”

  “You aren’t grieving that he married Kate,” Lila told Violet flatly. “You’re worrying in advance that you won’t know what to do without him around daily.”

  Violet winced.

  “Especially because you want to be married to Jack and want Victor to be married to Kate. You simply have forgotten how to be apart from your twin, and it doesn’t help that he’s rather the most ideal of brothers or that you two have done everything together for so long neither of you know how to do without the other. Victor uses you to manage his household and finances and to defend him from your grasping relatives. You use him to manage your tendency towards the blues. Neither of you write as well without the other.”

  Violet flinched.

  “Time to redefine yourself, my love. Shall we look into one of those ladies’ clubs or start up an orphanage? Become the patron of an artist? You aren’t the only one at loose ends. Denny suggested that we have a child since Victor and Kate were. I—I don’t know if I’m suited to motherhood.”

  Violet put down her teacup and realized all of the sudden that Lila hadn’t appeared only to help Violet but to seek help for herself. Suddenly her blues started to fade. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

  Lila bit her lip, her gaze darting to the side, and Violet winced—internally this time—for Lila. Vi waited, letting her friend have all the time she needed.

  “Yes.”

  “Honestly, darling? You’re already a mother, my love. You have been taking care of Denny for so long that you don’t realize that you have the skills and all the ability to sacrifice. And do not discount your fiendish sister. How often do you go home and step in for your parents? The little ones will be easier than your Martha or Denny. And now that Denny inherited, you can hire someone to change the nappies.”

  Lila’s mouth twisted. It was her turn to grunt in reply and sip her loaded tea to avoid answering.

  “I think you’d be a good mother,” Violet said, leaning down so Lila had to meet Vi’s gaze and see the honesty there.

  “What about you and Jack?”

  “And babies?” Violet shook her head. “I—oh.”

  Lila laughed and then demanded, “Can you believe Denny asked about children? He says to me yesterday over dinner, ‘What about it, my love? Shall we procreate and fill the world with chubby younglings?’”

  Violet could hear Denny’s lazy voice asking in just that way, and she shook her head. “What did you say?”

  “I couldn’t speak,” Lila replied dryly. “I was too busy choking on the soup.”

  Violet laughed and the last of her blues faded. She leaned back, crossed her legs, and asked, “Am I weak?”

  “It’s perfectly acceptable to love someone and miss them,” Lila replied. “That’s what my mother told me when it was me in this boat.”

  Violet nodded and scolded herself once again. This time, however, she felt brighter about it. Things were fine. She would find balance again without daily Victor. It wasn’t like she hadn’t lived that way previously. A new balance, a new life, a new partnership—they’d always be twins.

  “Cocktails tonight, my love,” Lila declared. “While I debate Denny’s plans for a family, I need to indulge my bright young thing. Stay up late, dance without a care, enjoy my svelte form.”

  “You are not a—ah—wife who has to change everything with a child, my love,” Violet told Lila seriously. “You are rather spoiled.”

  “Yes, but I suspect I’ll be one of those cooing mothers who talks about their infant all of the time while others look on in boredom and consider whether they should acquire new friends.”

  “I shall stay reliable, especially if you name this child Violet junior.”

  Violet set aside her doctored tea and plate of petit fours and rummaged through the cart, looking for a sandwich, and discovered a coffee pot behind the teapot. Oh, the lovely Hargreaves who anticipated Violet’s wants so easily. She poured herself a cup of Turkish coffee and then placed a cucumber sandwich on her plate. Violet did love cucumbers and the mix of butter and herbs.

  “Look, you’re feeling better,” Lila said. “Victory is mine!”

  Chapter Two

  “You’re sneakier than I thought,” Violet told her twin as she stretched her toes towards the ceiling the next afternoon. She felt like she’d tangled with a black cab the previous evening and ended very much the loser. Waking had been vicious when her own groan had been the noise that jerked her awake. Violet had shoved her eye mask back, glanced blearily around her room, dug out a couple of aspirin, downed them and curled back onto her side.

  She’d fallen back to sleep the moment she decided to remain abed for the day. To be fair, she hadn’t thought Victor and Kate were returning that day. He’d arrived in Violet’s room, thrown himself on her bed, and sent her bouncing into the air, waking her for the second time.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Victor lied.

  “Ah, brother,” Violet groaned. “You know exactly to what I refer. Having to get married in a rush. I never did see signs of shenanigans between you two, and to be honest, I’m surprised. I know everything about you.”

  “Except that.”

  “I probably shouldn’t know that,” she mused, examining her pajamas. Perhaps she would have dressed for the day if she had realized Victor and Kate were returning to London. Surely they had intended to stay longer? Violet thought they had intended more time in Paris, but she wasn’t quite sure of the date. Why had they come back? Did Victor somehow know she was drowning in the blues?

  Maybe she was wrong about the length of the stay in Paris? Violet couldn’t count on anything that required her wits given how the space behind her eyes ached. Her stomach was roiling. With Giles and his magical concoctions unavailable, she’d been forced to suffer through the morning.

  It all came back to Lila and Denny. Lila wanted to keep Violet cheery and dragged her out for cocktails and dancing. Too many cocktails in fact. Too late of a night, in fact. With far too spicy Indian food sometime after midnight.

  “Shall I call you Papa Bear now? Daddy-O? Sneaky, sneaky Daddy-O?”

  Victor blushed lightly. “It wasn’t like…ahh…leave it. You’re a vixen. You should be focused on spoiling the kid and not bedeviling me.”

  Violet laughed as Victor scowled. “Time to grow up, my little flower. Being the Daddy-O is a serious business. I purchased rather a ridiculous amount of things for the little mite while you were gone.”

  “What am I going to do? By Jove, Vi! I’m not ready to be a parent,” Victor moaned. “The only skill I have is making cocktails. It turns out that’s frowned upon for children. My goodness, I don’t know that I’ve ever held a baby, and Kate says I must hold ours.”

  Violet’s laugh had their two spaniels lifting up their heads to examine their people before shooting them both a look that was very much a command to silence.

  “Don’t laugh,” Victor whined.

  “It’s funny,” Violet told him without a smidgeon of apology. “Daddy. Papa.” Violet’s laughter increased with each dramatic wince. Marrying Kate was everything Victor had ever wanted—becoming a father terrified her twin into his wits leaving.

  “Oh, is it?” Victor’s gaze narrowed on hers, and his eyes filled w
ith a wicked joy. “Did you know Father took Jack and Tomas shooting before we left the homestead?”

  There was too much glee in that question for Violet to feel comfortable. “Ah, no.”

  “Seems their guns were malfunctioning, so only Father had a rifle that worked.” Victor’s laugh was an evil cackle. “Father explained it was one thing for a son to have to marry quickly. He’d hate to see the same thing for his daughters.”

  “Ahh,” Violet choked, sitting fully upright and staring at her twin. His dark eyes and sharp features were enjoying her blush far too much. “No.” The last bit was a plea, but her prayer was too late.

  “He expects to walk his daughters down the aisle as slim and beautiful on their wedding day as they were the morning of this conversation.”

  “What now?” Violet bit her bottom lip until it hurt just to see if this were real and not actually some sort of hallucination.

  “It gets better,” Victor added gleefully. “You know how good Father is with a gun. He spent the entire time talking to them about respecting his daughters while shooting a fly off of a leaf or some other such madness.”

  Violet flopped back onto her bed, put her arm over her face, and groaned. Victor’s chuckle was a terrible echo of her laughter when he and Kate were pushed into an early wedding for their approaching bundle of joy. Violet was excited to be an aunt, but she had been more excited at the time to watch Victor’s face flush a brilliant red as he’d told her why they were marrying so quickly.

  She had, of course, guessed by that point, but she’d made him lay it all out, playing stupid while his betrothed had choked back her laughter. Vi should have known that Kate would eventually explain that Violet had guessed, and he would get revenge. He always did.