Obsidian Murder

by Beth Byers

  She knew it when she’d played her games with him, but as twins, they were two sides of the same coin, and not just because they looked alike. They both took after their mother: tall, slender, with sharp features, dark coloring, and cleverness in their air. More than that, however, they understood each other completely and thought similarly.

  “Did Father tell you of this momentous occasion or was it Jack?”

  “I saw them come in from their little adventure. Jack seemed like he’d gone for a stroll through the roses. Entirely unruffled. I can assure you I was not so comfortable when I had to walk with Kate’s father before the wedding. Tomas, however, looked as though he were about to expire on the spot. I suspect that he may have…ah…previously…engaged…you know what I mean.”

  “No need to elaborate,” Violet told her twin. She didn’t want to know about her little sister’s passions. “So Tomas was the one who spilled about their little interlude with Father?”

  “Indeed,” Victor replied, and they shuddered in unison. He’d already faced the music as far as Kate went, and she was his wife now. Violet was almost positive that Victor could hardly believe his luck. He seemed to spend random moments gazing into the distance in a surreal haze, shocked that his dreams had come true.

  Violet sat back up. Jack hadn’t reacted to her father in any way as far as Vi could tell. Her mind was skipping over the last few weeks, trying to recall. She doubted her father wanted to push Jack away, so perhaps Jack hadn’t been too bothered? He hadn’t been behaving differently since they’d finally announced their engagement. She considered how he did act, and any dawning worries were slain before they could take flight. Jack loved her, and he showed it with his actions.

  “I’ve hired an assistant to plan the wedding with Beatrice as a main go-between. I’ve discovered I have little desire to do more than select my dress and the date,” Violet told Victor. “I think we should consider a month by the sea somewhere. Perhaps even somewhere warmer.”

  Victor’s head cocked as he considered. “Is it time yet to go back to the Amalfi coast? It has been a while. I confess I’d like to escape such easy access on the part of Kate’s mother. She’s driving me mad.”

  Violet smirked. Mrs. Lancaster was finding a good number of reasons to come to London. She’d already planned two trips, and each of those seemed to require that she spend a day or two with her daughter. Violet could understand Mrs. Lancaster’s desire to visit with her daughter, but she’d also used the opportunity to school Victor. If he didn’t escape again soon, he and Kate wouldn’t be able to without Mrs. Lancaster including herself in the plans.

  “I suppose we have to start asking Jack and Kate where they want to go,” Violet sighed, but her tone was light and teasing and Victor grinned in reply.

  Victor crossed his legs. “I believe in marrying Kate, I have somehow bequeathed my vote to her. Jack, however, will never get a vote. It’ll always be yours.”

  “Am I such a dragon?” She dropped back to her bed and crossed her arms behind her head. “I’ve been thinking we should write a series of detective stories where the culprits are monsters. The first monster should, of course, be Lady Eleanor with fangs and claws. Perhaps one of the detectives will have a small child.”

  “A child?”

  “A girl.”

  “Perhaps a Vi Junior?” Victor guessed.

  “Perhaps,” Violet mused. “After all, you’ll know about being a parent soon. Since the horrendous Miss Allen revealed our actual names, Mr. Monroe from the publishing company states we should start publishing under Lady Vi and her lesser brother.”

  Victor groaned at Vi’s joke. An article had been published revealing the twins as the author V.V. Twinnings and stated that Victor was the lesser twin.

  “We’ve already decided upon names for the little mite.”

  “Have you then?” Violet waited with her brows lifted, and even though he couldn’t see her face with her flopped back, he knew her well enough to guess at her expression.

  “Peter Lionel if we have a boy.”

  Naming a boy after the brothers they’d lost in the Great War was almost painful.

  Violet nodded at Victor to prevent herself from thinking too hard about their lost brothers. With her dreams lately, the last thing Vi needed was to spend time thinking about the dead. Better to focus on the good.

  “And Vi Junior if it’s a girl?”

  “We were considering either Agatha or after Mama and call her Penelope name. I suggested we put them both together and do Agatha Penelope, but Kate reminded me that we may well have more than one girl.” There was just enough of a tremble in Victor’s voice for Violet to be able to laugh even though her heart was in her throat. Was she ready to love another Agatha? Losing Aunt Agatha had been painful indeed, and to have a near-daily reminding of their loss would be difficult. Violet wasn’t sure she could do it, but she was also sure that no one deserved to be memorialized with a name more than Aunt Agatha.

  Violet smiled at the thought of a little Agatha and then blinked the shine in her eyes away before her twin sat up and noticed. She curled onto her side and then rolled off the bed. “Out with you. I’ve decided to get dressed today after all. Where is my love, Kate?”

  “She went to wash up and I suspect curled up on her bed. She’s been falling asleep at the drop of a hat. If she didn’t have a maid keeping an eye on her in the bath, she might just drown.”

  Violet smacked her brother’s foot and ordered him from the room. A near-drowning in the bath seemed like just the thing to start this—ah—afternoon out correctly.

  It was coming up on Bonfire Night in a day or two—she really should look up the date—and a chilly rain had settled on London with a vengeance. She could hear the splatter of raindrops on the window panes, and the bath she’d lingered in warmed the portion of her bones she hadn’t realized had become quite so cold. Looking back, she should have brought a coat with her the previous evening instead of just her wrap. Without Jack to wrap an arm around her shoulders, she’d become thoroughly chilled.

  Violet slowly dressed in front of her fire. There was very little about the day that demanded she hurry. She thought she’d have some tea and then return to her bedroom to start the new book. She hadn’t realized how much she needed Victor to bounce ideas off of. Normally, when they wrote, she started the story and he read after her, leaving notes, and then carried on from where she left off. They were so united in how they spoke and wrote that it seemed as though only one person was writing, despite their unconventional methods. She had started three stories while Victor was gone and Jack was working in the north, but they had all petered out before she’d had very much of the story.

  Violet applied her makeup slowly, blending the rouge into her cheeks and muting the too-bright rouge with a light layer of powder. She wasn’t intending to leave the house that evening, but sometimes just the process of playing with makeup was soothing. She finished her face off with a deep red lip and drawn on brows. Sniffing at the faded headache and testing the idea of food against the feel of her stomach, she took the first dress from her closet. It was a drop waist with loose sleeves to her elbow and the color of rust. Vi couldn’t quite decide if it set off her complexion or made her look yellow. She suspected the question itself was reason enough not to wear the dress again, but she slipped it over her head regardless.

  After dressing, Violet strolled down to the parlor for tea and found that Kate had not awoken, but Lila and Denny had arrived. They were leaning back in the parlor entirely at home.

  Chapter Three

  “Don’t speak to me,” Violet told Denny with a scowl. “I never should have let you talk me into so many mint juleps.”

  He grinned lazily. “Did you not have a remedy this morning?”

  “You know,” she pronounced with a narrowed gaze, “as we discussed it last night, that Mr. Giles—the genius of remedies—has been gallivanting about in his home village or some such while Victor was honeymooning.”


  Denny giggled, glancing at Lila as though he’d pulled a clever stunt.

  Violet’s scowl deepened. “Did you entrap me?”

  “You made your own choices, dear Vi,” Denny said, while the twinkle in his eye told another story. Violet recalled the number of drinks he’d pressed into her hands the previous evening. Denny had seemed helpful at the time. She should have known instantly he was up to something.

  He crossed to the tea tray and loaded a plate with biscuits and sandwiches and then propped his feet up as he leaned back on the sofa. He popped the entirety of a smoked salmon sandwich in his mouth before settling his plate on his lap.

  “Oh, laddie,” Lila said with a sigh as she watched her husband hardly chew the sandwich. “Feel free to get your vengeance, darling Vi. Maybe after we’re sure he’s not choking. I’m not ready to be a widow. Turn your attention this way, darling. We do come with the most delightful information.”

  Violet lifted a single brow and sipped her tea, channeling her stepmother.

  “Turn off that Lady Eleanor nonsense, darling one,” Lila said, kicking Denny when he started to speak. “You remember Denny’s brother?”

  “The soot-covered one?”

  “He’s quite the knowledgeable young man. He’s coming here, darling.”

  “Here?” Violet rubbed her brow.

  “Here. I do hope you don’t mind. I told him you’d be ever so helpful.”

  “Me?” Violet demanded. “Why? Does he need investment advice?”

  “Denny told Wendell you were helpful. Your father told Greyly—that’s Wendell’s patron—you were ever so clever.”

  “My father doesn’t care that Aunt Agatha trained me in investing,” she said, while wondering who Wendell and Greyly were and what they had to do with her. She felt as though she were missing part of the conversation that might be important.

  Lila laughed as Denny said around his sandwich, “Darling Vi—” He swallowed and then finished. “No one cares about that. Your father told Greyly all about you meddling in all those investigations and discovering killers. Sometimes even ahead of Jack. The earl loves that part.”

  “What Greyly loves, however,” Lila said, leaning back and biting her lip to hide her smile, “is Jack.”

  “He’s not alone there,” Violet replied. “Has he met Jack?”

  “He’s heard of him. After your father told him all about you with a side of Jack. It seems Mr. Greyly focused on Jack. He went and talked to Barnes this morning.”

  “Because of the fires at his properties?”

  “Mmmm,” Lila nodded. “Denny told his brother that you were brilliant at ferreting out secrets and crimes. Whereupon, Mr. Greyly lifted his prodigious brows and harrumphed as Denny said you were just the one—”

  Violet closed her eyes and took a long sip of her tea, considering sending someone for more aspirin. “What now?”

  “You darling, you’re just the one!”

  Violet rubbed her temples. “My head still hurts, Lila.”

  She blinked rapidly, trying to do something about her dry eyes and slowly turned her gaze to Denny. Violet flinched from the sight of Denny shoving another sandwich into his mouth. He shrugged at her flabbergasted expression and then ate another sandwich, moaning at the perfect mix of herbs, cucumber, and butter.

  “It goes like this,” Lila said very slowly. “Denny’s brother, Wendell—”

  “Wendell?” Violet repeated.

  “Isn’t it a delightful name?” Turning to Denny she said, “Darling, we should start making a list of terrible names to give our children.”

  “We should,” he said around his sandwich. “This is why we’re in love, sweet perfect wife.”

  Lila scowled at her husband and then returned to talking slowly to Violet.

  “So, Wendell is an archeologist who started working for a fellow this last year. He’s been somewhere…you know…far away and dirty.”

  “This is the sooty brother?”

  “Yes,” Lila answered. “He’s just returned to England with a few of the other grubby fellows. They’re all coming in from wherever this patron has been supporting digs.”

  “That’s what they’re called,” Denny added. “Digs.”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “Even I knew that, love.”

  “So, Greyly wants to have a show of what he’s discovered.”

  Violet shrugged, somewhat intrigued by the idea while also being entirely uncaring. If her head wasn’t hurting quite so much, she might have been interested whether they were digging in Greece, in Turkey, or in Egypt. She might have even been persuaded to visit such a show.

  “However,” Lila said in that slow drawl, “there was that fire yesterday. There’s been a few more fires, actually. The diggers are coming in to London and with their arrivals—fires!”

  “Fires?” Violet asked, rubbing her eyes again. Her headache was fading as intrigue grew.

  “Fires! Wendell showed up at our door once again today along with the patron of the digging—Greyly. It seems Greyly shared a pipe with your father last night.”

  “Did he?” Violet sipped her tea as she considered. She’d poured herself Earl Grey tea as a comfort. Her stomach hadn’t settled yet and the idea of a liver pâté sandwich made her feel quite ill. Tea was just the thing. Perhaps a dry piece of toast. “This soot-covered, working brother is a story made up to tease me while I am unwell.”

  “I assure you,” Lila said seriously, “we are quite convinced Wendell is a changeling. My darling Vi, he’s earnest, knowledgeable, and hardworking. Babes were switched at birth.”

  “Earnest?” Vi demanded. “That doesn’t sound right. He’s Denny’s brother.”

  “I know!” Lila’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I swear it’s true.”

  “Knowledgeable?”

  Denny cleared his throat. “Young Wendell has an article in some journal or other. I’d read it, but I’m not sure where you’d even find such a thing.”

  “Well,” Violet told him, “perhaps if young Wendell were writing about chocolate you’d bother to discover this article.”

  “Indeed.” Denny crossed his legs. “I thought Victor was back. I could do with a cocktail, and I prefer when they are delivered by him as though on wings. As for Wendell, far better to bend that brainwork towards something of value—like chocolate.”

  “All I’ve heard so far is that you supposedly have a brother named Wendell—we shall now call him Wendy, I think.”

  “Yes. Do.” Denny rose and moaned at the effort. “G&Ts, Vi? Lila, love?”

  She shook her head, and Denny lifted a brow at Violet, who also declined. Vi had a firm rule of not drinking cocktails when she still felt quite sick from the last round. She really should consider avoiding becoming zozzled again.

  “There have been too many fires.” Lila continued the story to the sound of ice clinking and rustling near the bar. “There was another fire in a warehouse near Dover. This morning’s fire was in the offices of the archeological company, and they’ve gotten word that there was a fire at Greyly’s home in the country as well. Do you believe it?” Lila bounced on her chair, a smile on her lips. She was entirely unconcerned with whatever had been lost and far more intrigued by what had led to the slew of arson.

  “My father told Greyly about me?” Violet scoffed, focusing on that part of the conversation.

  “At the club, over cigars no doubt and port. Don’t you think port?”

  Violet did think port, but she simply lifted a brow and waved them on.

  “Wendy and Greyly showed up at the door this morning when I was just settling into my nosh and begged an introduction. Somehow Greyly discovered we could introduce them to you, and the next thing you know, they came over to us posthaste and pleaded for help.”

  “You were coming anyway”—Violet scowled at Denny—“to see the effects of your machinations last night.”

  “I was,” he agreed happily. “Does your head hurt much?”

  Violet grabbed
an embroidered pillow and threw it at Denny.

  “So, after spending my breakfast with this Greyly, I knew my day wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t get to introduce you.” The glee in Denny’s voice had Violet glancing between the two of them. No doubt Lila had been convinced to not say anything about whatever was happening just so Denny could enjoy it more.

  “You have to tell her the other bit,” Lila told Denny.

  He squirmed a bit and then admitted, “I telegraphed Jack.”

  “He’s working,” Violet said, setting down her tea to stare at Denny. “A mother of four children was murdered. Her youngest child is a baby. Only a few months old.”

  Denny’s gaze widened. “Vi— Jack is quite a bit larger than me.”

  Vi’s gaze narrowed further.

  He shuffled and then cleared his throat. “Look, Vi. You know if it were me, I’d let you get into whatever trouble you wanted. I’d endorse the trouble. You know this. But…also…Jack…so, so big.”

  “Dear Wendy and his patron want to invite you to a Bonfire Night party. The old guy…” Lila glanced at Denny. Denny examined another sandwich before eating only half of it with a single bite.

  “He thinks that the suspects will be at the party.” The way Lila said it had Violet’s head tilting as she examined her friend. Lila glanced at Denny and then winced dramatically.

  “Is Wendy a suspect?”

  “What? No!” Denny said as Lila nodded and winked both eyes alternatively.

  “Ohhhhh,” Violet cooed. The last of her blues faded and her headache transitioned to the back of her head. Violet downed all of her tea. “Do tell me more about this criminal brother.”

  “No!” Denny squeaked. “Never Wendell. You’ll break my mother’s heart, and I’ll never hear the end of it. Never. Even if it is Wendy, it’s not Wendy. Whatever you need, Vi. Pin it on someone else.”

  Violet stared at Denny. He scowled back at her, and they engaged in a stare-down that he immediately lost.