by Beth Byers
“Unless the two were arguing about the knife and it got out of control,” Barnes told her.
She nearly rolled her eyes. “Then someone would have heard something. There would have been yelling, accusations, gesturing. One of the guests would have seen.”
Barnes glanced at Jack. Both of them were looking at Vi as if she were a prized pupil. It was a little condescending, but she loved Jack and even Ham, so she was going to let it go. They had understood each other and left her to find her way after.
Violet lifted her brow at Ham. “You don’t think it was a crime of passion either. Greyly’s been maddening for years. You aren’t looking for why someone got fed up. You’re looking for the final straw that pushed someone over the edge.”
“What changed,” Jack said, but it wasn’t a question. It was an explanation of what he’d been seeking. “You’re right. I think it was one of the men who worked for Greyly.”
“And you’re right,” Ham added, “that no one had any reason to note what these men were doing. They don’t have connections here to trip them up and they’re too smart to talk. Each of them guesses it was one of the others, but none of them knows each other well enough to pinpoint who was finally pushed too far.”
Violet fiddled with her ring. “Unless you go back to someone who might be protecting another. Or if it’s a treasure, you’re either going to have to find it or watch for someone who suddenly has more money, and get them when they reveal the change in circumstances.”
“You want to set a trap?” Jack glanced at Hamilton and then they both took a seat near the desk, with Jack pulling Violet to his side. He wrapped an arm around her waist and sighed. “The weakest links are those who care about each other. No one saw anything. There are no fingerprints on the knife. Any of them could have physically killed Greyly. We’re looking for a needle in a stack of needles, and they’re all the same.”
“We might lose this one,” Ham said. “It’s early days yet, and we might catch a break. It seems unlikely, however, that we will. I’m not an admirer of murderers, but this one was well executed.”
Violet pulled away from Jack to pace.
“We need to break and go home,” Jack said. “To come back to it tomorrow and see if our men finding anything for us in the meantime. I’ll interview everyone who hasn’t been yet. See if I can find anything.” Jack pressed his finger to the space between his brows, and Violet had little doubt that his head was aching.
“Shall we take bets?” Ham said, to lighten the mood. “Jones and Lands will say they were watching the show. Wendell will admit he was looking for that article. The Lovegoods will alibi each other, and the fainter won’t have any defense at all.”
“It was dark,” Violet agreed, nodding at Hamilton’s rundown of what could have happened. “If I hadn’t been standing directly next to Jack and touching him, he could have slipped away without me knowing. That’s the problem. Denny and Lila felt certain Wendell was with them until he wasn’t. It was dark, it was crowded, we were blinded by the torches and the fireworks, and no one had any reason or ability to see into the dark shadows by the house.”
“Interview them,” Hamilton said. “I’ll put a man on them as they leave. We’ll follow them and look for anything that might give us a break in the case.”
Violet wanted to come up with some clever answer. The best they could do was play the men off of each other. She didn’t think that would help.
She waited for Denny and Lila to join her. Jack ran a few questions past them, but all they could say was that they had no idea when Wendell had disappeared into the darkness.
Denny hesitated as a maid brought Violet’s coat, and Jack helped her into it. Then Denny said, “My brother is a good kid, Jack. He wouldn’t have killed this Greyly fellow. Not even if he realized how badly his career could be ruined.”
A part of Violet wanted to wrap Denny up in a hug and a part of her wanted to point out that he’d hadn’t seemed to know that his brother was jealous. She stopped herself when she realized that it was possible that Denny had known. How did a lazy man deal with something like that? Let it go? Eat some more chocolates? Wait for it to blow over?
Vi would have asked Lila, but when she looked at Lila, she realized that Lila knew exactly how Denny felt and what he’d been doing to deal with the issues around his brother.
“How long has Wendell looked down on Denny?” Violet asked Lila.
Her friend winced as she took Denny’s arm and hugged it.
“Hey now,” Denny mused. “No need to see the worst in the blighter. He’s young yet.”
Lila shot Denny an exasperated look. “Wendell was always a bit of a well-meaning know-it-all who believed in hard work and good deeds to win the day. He never did like it when things went well for Denny if there didn’t seem to be the corresponding hard work.”
“He’ll learn.” Denny’s look at his wife was so love-filled Violet had to hide her shock.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t believed Denny had loved Lila. Vi had known he did. She supposed she’d just assumed that Denny’s laziness kept him from feeling emotions that deeply. Vi felt utterly repentant. She really should apologize to Denny at a later day. Perhaps with a box of his favourite chocolates and a bottle of his favourite drink.
“He’s idealistic,” Denny told Ham and Jack. “Wendell is too idealistic to commit murder. He didn’t do it.”
“I’ll do my best to prove that,” Jack said.
Denny hesitated and then nodded, holding out his hand. “I can’t expect anything else.”
They all knew what Jack hadn’t said. He hadn’t said he’d somehow let the murderer go if it turned out to be Denny’s little brother. Wendell was in good hands, but they weren’t forgiving hands. If Wendell had committed a murder? No one, not even Denny, would give the younger man a pass.
Violet rode back to Victor’s house with Denny and Lila. They walked her up the steps and inside to find Victor sitting in the parlor, smoking a cigarette in the dark.
“Is Kate all right?” Violet asked.
Victor rose and walked quietly towards them, shooing them into the hall and shutting the door behind him. “She fell asleep on the Chesterfield waiting for you, Vi.”
They turned towards the library and settled into seats around the room. They’d have requested tea, but they weren’t quite that spoiled. The night was late, and instead they shared cigarettes as they caught Victor up on what had been discovered.
“There wasn’t a great revelation?” her twin demanded.
“I wish there had been,” Violet told them. “Jack is bothered by his last case. He doesn’t have the energy for this one.”
“Which is why he called in Barnes,” Victor told her. “Don’t worry about your love, Violet. Even he knows he’s a bit off.”
“Don’t worry about your love,” Violet told Victor. “It’s normal for a woman to be sick while growing a baby.”
Victor grunted. “Apologies, dear one, worry as you wish, and I’ll do the same.”
“Kate will be fine,” Lila told Victor. She turned to Violet. “Jack will be fine. They’re hardly alone. Unlike those archeologists of yours who don’t have anyone to trip them up or connections to the rest of mankind, we’re a family. We’ll do whatever is necessary to get Jack back to being the best investigator around. We’ll help take care of Kate, and all will be well.”
Violet and Victor glanced at each other and then Victor said, “We’ll help find your brother a better job and clear his name.”
“Bit of a blighter really,” Denny said around taking a long drag on his cigarette. He handed it to Lila, who had refused her own cigarette but was stealing drags off of Denny’s.
“It’s not like we don’t have our own blighter brother,” Violet told Denny. “We’ll need you to commiserate when he gets out of school.”
“Thought you were handling young Geoffrey,” Denny said to the twins. He put up his feet and crossed them, glancing between the twins before he looked
at his wife.
“We’re losing that battle,” Victor admitted and lit another cigarette. “The boy’s a wart.”
“Can’t save them all,” Lila told them.
It wasn’t an answer any of them wanted.
“We’re not done trying yet,” Violet countered. “For Geoffrey or Wendell.”
“All for one and one for all and all that,” Denny added, stubbing out his cigarette and standing to pull his wife up. “It’s late, love. Shall we conquer the world tomorrow?”
“After we sleep in,” she said.
“And a good full English,” he added. “Nothing chases a murder so well as eggs, sausages, roasted tomatoes, and beans.”
Violet stood herself. Perhaps an answer would come in the morning.
Chapter Fifteen
The dreams got her again. The one that made Violet want to crawl out of her own skin wasn’t about Greyly and his dead eyes. That was the dream she had expected and been prepared to handle. Instead, she dreamed of the mother who had been killed and left behind her children. Somehow the dream twisted, so the dead woman from Jack’s recent case was Violet’s own mother, who had also died but not from murder, and Violet herself. At times, in the dream, it was even Kate. Except when the killer was coming for Kate, the baby was also at risk.
Violet tried to save each of them. Over and over again. She tried to stop the killer, but instead she lost them every time. Every time, she was too slow. Every time, Violet felt their blood on her hands, a feeling she had experienced before and never wanted to feel again. The worst part was, however, the baby. Her sweet Violet Junior. In the dream, the baby was a boy, and Violet had been nuzzling his nose with hers when the killer came from behind the shadows. The baby was killed and when Violet looked to the side, she saw Kate’s eyes, staring and dead.
Violet’s gasp turned into a whimper, and she pushed her eye mask back. The last thing she wanted was darkness. What she wanted was to curl onto her side and find Jack there, able to hold her to chase the dream away. She wondered if, across London, Jack was waking from his own dream about the murdered mother. He had been haunted and more human than he usually was since he’d come back from this last case. Before, he’d always kept his emotions in tight control, unless it pertained to her safety.
Usually, when Violet thought of Jack, she thought of this mountain of a man who loved her. In a world where she’d lost brothers to the war and seen more than her fair share of people die, he had always seemed like he could shield her with those broad shoulders of his. She felt safe when Jack was around. That hadn’t changed. What had changed was that the lioness heart that she kept hidden behind merry jokes and light-hearted banter was ready to flex her claws and protect her love.
Violet rose and got her journal and a pen and then returned to her bed. She stacked her pillows high and deep to support her back and then crawled under the covers, propping her journal on her knees.
She wrote: SUSPECTS.
Violet had to admit she was a bit inured to murder victims, which she hated. Violet didn’t care so much who killed Greyly. The most she could say was that she very much hoped that it wasn’t Denny’s brother Wendell. What Violet cared about was the darkness in Jack’s gaze. The way he was distracted by the shadows in his thoughts.
She wrote out the names:
WENDELL LANCASTER
DR. STEPHEN LANDS
DR. SIMON JONES
DR. RICHARD LOVEGOOD—the uncle.
DR. LOVEGOOD—the nephew.
MR. LYLE CLARKSON
Violet focused on the only name she cared all that much about. She wasn’t sure what to think of Wendell Lancaster. He was Denny’s brother and opposite. Violet wanted to shake the man and tell him to appreciate Denny for who and what he was, but she also could remember her sister, Isolde, assuming that Violet wasn’t on her side.
The problem with siblings was that relationships were complicated and these were wound up in the expectations and failings of a parent as well. Siblings might have been all right if they didn’t hear their parents bemoaning a child. Or, if they didn’t see the failure of a child and then how it affected the other people they loved.
Violet could imagine how seeing Denny fall easily into love and then easily into an inheritance while knowing exactly how hard Denny didn’t work would be maddening for the child who did work and try.
And yet, Violet knew how great Denny was. She could remember when their friend Tomas was in the heart of his shellshock and Denny—who hated to move—walked with him daily until Tomas had left London. Violet, herself, had asked Denny and Lila to help with orphaned children entirely unrelated to them, and they had opened their home without a second thought. Those children would be arriving that day, and Violet knew that the murder would pull her away from helping with them as she had promised, and yet she also knew that Lila and Denny would expect nothing else than for Violet to help find the killer and look after Jack.
The realization of how blessed Violet was to have Lila and Denny made her want to shake Wendell until sense filtered through his brain. She was angry when she filled out the notes after Wendell’s name, and she knew it.
WENDELL LANCASTER— Motive? Certainly. He was caught searching through the Greyly’s things twice. Wendell also had gotten what he thought was a dream job only to learn that the chance to work on a dig would ruin his reputation. This was made worse by having Greyly stop the digs he was supporting. Did his archeologists know that Greyly was moving on? Wendell wrote or put his name to Greyly’s ridiculous article about Hephaestus. Did it have something to do with protecting his mentor?
Why, Violet thought, wondering the reasoning behind Greyly pushing that obsidian blade and volcano god madness. It was difficult to believe that a man who had been so capable of creating an empire with his finances would genuinely believe in something so ridiculous.
She would love to ask him about it. She was a business person who spent too many mornings reading reports and doing research on her own investments. She might have considered investing in some venture Greyly was behind until she found out about the madness of his theories. How many times had he ruined a business project because of his obsession?
Did Wendell realize that he’d been sucked into ruining his reputation for a man who wouldn’t even keep him digging? At least for the other archeologists who had worked for Greyly, they had years of doing a job that was coveted even with the Greyly nonsense to go along with it.
Violet examined the next name and started filling in the information.
DR. STEPHEN LANDS—Motive? Not so sure about having a motive, given that he had worked for Greyly for years and knew what the man was. Would he have murdered Greyly if he knew that the dig was coming to an end? Was he getting vengeance for ruining his reputation? Something beyond the book he had been writing? Parker said Lands wouldn’t get another dig after working for Greyly, and Lands didn’t seem to have the money to finance his own operation. Did he have an alternate plan for his life? Where had he been during the fireworks show?
DR. SIMON JONES—Motive? Not sure about a motive. He seemed to have a plan in place. He knew what he wanted to do. He knew that his reputation was ruined as far as archeology went, but he didn’t seem to be haunted by the idea. Where had he been during the fireworks show?
DR. RICHARD LOVEGOOD— Motive?
Violet sighed and looked up from her journal. Things seemed to be the same for both of the Lovegoods. They would probably alibi each other. Nothing appeared to have changed for them. Would they kill Greyly together? If one of them did it, would the other cover for him? It was hard to say. No one knew them well.
MR. LYLE CLARKSON — Motive? Money. Greyly’s heir. He’d fainted when someone had inferred he had a reason to kill his uncle. He was the man’s assistant, so if Greyly had been up to something nefarious, Clarkson might know better than anyone else.
Violet assumed that Jack would be tracking Clarkson down early today. As soon as it was reasonable to approach the man and di
scuss the murder with him, Jack would be at that door. She glanced at the clock on the mantle and saw it wasn’t yet 7:00 a.m. She was tired all the way to her bones after the restless night and the dreams. Thinking back gave her the shivers, and she stared down at her useless journal. All she’d done was collect her thoughts, but she hadn’t come to any conclusion regarding the murder, nor did she have any further thoughts on why Greyly had been killed.
In Violet’s opinion, they all had motives. The question was why they were killing him after all this time. The only one who seemed to fall into the category of a recent reason to kill Greyly was Wendell. Violet wasn’t going to go there in her head. If Wendell had killed Greyly, Violet didn’t want to know about it, and she didn’t want to see the effect of it on her friend.
She flipped through the pages and the recollection of what she’d discovered about her melancholy struck her again. On the days she was more active, she was less inclined towards the blues. Violet pushed her covers back and changed into her active clothes. She made her way to Victor’s ballroom where they had their jiu-jitsu lessons, and Violet went through the motions she’d learned until she was sweaty and her legs were shaking.
If she needed to move to find a brighter outlook, then that was what she was going to do. Especially on the days when Jack was struggling to find peace as well. She started a bath for herself and added in some lavender oil and some Epsom salts and then sank into the water. How long until Beatrice returned with the children? Violet guessed it would be that very day. She would have to ensure that Lila and Denny had everything they needed for the children, that the man of business was pursuing the house on Victor’s street, and that Jack knew that they were there to help however they could.
Violet slipped on her kimono when she got out of the bath and wrote notes for Jack, Jack’s man of business, and Lila and Denny. The only one that really mattered was to Jack: