by Beth Byers
There was a long pause that Violet desperately wanted to witness with her eyes instead of just her ears.
“Why would you say that?” Dr. Lands laughed, but it was a hollow thing.
“It’s easy enough to figure out,” Parker told him. “Even if I hadn’t seen you stepping away from the body. Jones didn’t care enough to kill Greyly and doesn’t get anything out of his death. I’d have believed it of him if Greyly’s expensive ring disappeared or that old ruby fob on his watch chain.”
“So it was me?”
“We both know Clarkson is too dim to think of killing Greyly, and even if it occurred to him, he’s too weak to follow through.”
“What about the Lovegoods?” Lands demanded. “Why must you try to pin this on me?”
“I saw you, old man. I knew about your book, the things you documented. Why would you suddenly change your mind and kill Greyly? What possible benefit could there be for you?”
The silence was intense. Had Parker seen Dr. Lands? Violet hadn’t believed so, and yet she was convinced he had after hearing him speak. As far as Vi knew, Parker was trying this because she’d promised that if he got a confession, she’d finance a dig in Egypt for five years, with Wendell as part of his dig. Perhaps Parker decided to go all in like some sort of American cowboys and bad guys’ poker game?
Violet bit her bottom lip to hold back her questions and any tell-tale gasps. A choice that made her particularly grateful when she heard Dr. Lands say, “Why didn’t you say anything to the police?”
Parker cleared his throat weakly before he answered, “I never liked Greyly, and I never liked how he ruined your career. We’ve been friends for a long time, Stephen. Long enough for me to wish a different fate for you many times over. I never—I…by Hades, man, why?”
Violet peeked through the crack in the door, daring to look and saw Dr. Lands slump into one of the chairs that had been brought in so they could appraise the collection.
“The boy, of course. It was like watching my life fall apart all over again as he realized what Greyly’s scheme would do to his career. Poor Lancaster didn’t see it at first.”
“They think it was him,” Parker told Lands. “Stephen, they think it was the boy.”
“Over Clarkson? He has financial motive.”
“You didn’t account for Clarkson’s idiocy,” Parker told Dr. Lands. “You were too smart and too brave for anyone to believe the killer was Clarkson. No one who meets him and talks to him would think he would have the spine necessary to walk up to a man at the back of a crowd, shove a blade in at just the right spot for him to fall silent to the ground, and walk away as cool as you please.”
Lands paused, looking up at Parker. “I—are you…are you setting me up?”
Parker flushed and shook his head. “Of course I’m not. Why would you?”
The two friends stared at each other and then Parker breathed out, “You cut his throat.”
“Where are they?” Lands demanded. “Where—”
Lands shoved at Parker, knocking him to the ground, and ran for the French doors. Jack’s protective bulk left her as he gave chase. Only a moment behind him was Hamilton Barnes.
Violet slowly walked into the ballroom. She had thought it must be Dr. Lands. Out of sheer process of elimination rather than anything else. It had been a near-perfect crime.
“He would have gotten away with it,” Parker said from the ground. She offered to help him up, but he shook off her hand. “This was a dirty business. Yet I find I am concerned you won’t pay those 30 pieces of silver.”
Violet flinched, but she wasn’t afraid of the truth. “The boy he was trying to protect would have gone to jail for his crime.”
Parker straightened his tweed jacket and his glasses, smoothing his hand over his head. “He might have gotten off. There was no evidence to tie him to the crime.”
“His life still would have been ruined. You know his family describes him as earnest and hardworking. Does he deserve to have his life destroyed because someone else committed murder?”
“For him,” Parker shot back, but Violet could see his heart wasn’t in it. He simply felt guilty for his part in rapping his friend.
“You’ll get your silver,” Violet told him, heading towards the front of the house. Jack and Hamilton couldn’t take her home, but the servants who were left could call her a black cab. She could go home, curl up in her bed, and be grateful that there was no reason anyone would commit murder on her behalf.
It only occurred to her as the cab parked in front of Victor’s house that she had more reasons to be grateful than that no one had a reason to kill on her behalf. She had little doubt there were a good handful of people who would kill to protect her. And, she told herself, there were even more who would mourn her. She sat in the black cab for too long, and eventually Hargreaves came down the steps, paid the man, and brought Violet inside.
She let him hand her up the stairs, and as they went, she asked, “How would you like to spend the rest of November in Italy?”
He opened the front door of her home. “I would like that, my lady.”
Violet didn’t immediately go inside the house. Instead, she turned to look down the street to the grey stone house on the corner with the large garden. In either house, she’d have a home because of the people who loved her. In either house, she’d have safety and security and peace. But she wouldn’t have Hargreaves. She grinned up at him, winked, and asked, “How much of a raise will it take for you to abandon my lesser twin and run my house instead?”
“Hey now,” Victor said, as he pulled Violet inside. “We will have to create some sort of schedule instead, and we will share him. Did Jack get his man?”
“He did.”
“And it wasn’t Denny’s brother.”
“Dr. Lands.”
“Thank God,” Lila said from a doorway. “Denny! It wasn’t Wendell.”
Violet followed Lila into the parlor were Denny had his head between his knees as he breathed slowly in and out. He finally sat up and asked, “How?”
Violet explained what had happened, and Denny stared for a long time before he spoke. “Why did they do that? If it didn’t work—Dr. Lands would know they didn’t have anything on him.”
“He probably already knew that,” Violet said. “They risked it because I promised Parker I would finance a dig.”
“But why did Jack and Hamilton try it? It could have ruined their case.”
Violet reached out and smacked Denny on the back of the head. “You’re family, Denny. You were sure it wasn’t Wendell, so they operated as though you were correct. If it wasn’t Wendell, the only logical person who could have done it was Dr. Lands.”
“So they tried this trap because they believed in me?”
Violet nodded.
“Over Wendell?”
Violet nodded and glanced to Lila, only to see her friend with tears in her eyes. Violet slowly turned her baffled gaze to Victor, whose head was tilted as he examined his friend.
“No one likes me or trusts me over Wendell, Violet.” Denny sat up. “No one. Most people don’t trust me at all.”
Violet smacked the back of Denny’s head again, but she took his hand and said clearly and precisely. “We do.”
“You do?” Denny demanded, as though he couldn’t believe her.
“We do,” Violet said. “It’s over. We’ve won. They’ve won. I don’t know the right way to say it since we shouldn’t have been involved at all. We’re done with the case.”
Victor closed his eyes in relief. “Time for a cocktail.”
“With a side of chocolates,” Denny declared.
“Indeed,” Violet agreed. “Nothing else will do.”
“I’ve been thinking on it,” Jack said a week later, as they took a yacht out onto the sea. The blue ocean was shining below and the sky was bright and clear overhead. It wasn’t warm given that it was November, but it was warmer than London.
“On what?”
&
nbsp; “Our bedroom,” Jack replied. “Grey and dark blue. Those are the colors I like.”
“May I have dragons?”
Jack nodded.
“What else?”
“I should like a garden bench,” he added. “For sunny days to read your books in the garden.”
“That sounds lovely. I should like to sit with you on that bench and read other authors’ books. What else do we need for it to be ours? Beyond the grey and blue bedroom and the garden bench?”
“I shall need to carry you over the threshold,” Jack told her, pushing up on his elbow and tangling his fingers with hers. They were lying side by side on the deck chairs as the yacht moved over the water. Violet lay her head on his arm, letting the sound of the wind, the sea, and the gulls fill her.
“I like this dream,” she said.
“It’s not a dream.” He turned her face to his and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Another kiss to her right cheek and then one to her left. Finally, he kissed her breathless before he pulled back, staring into her eyes. “This is our life.”
“What a lovely life it is,” she said, resting her head against his chest.
The END
Hullo, my friends, I have so much gratitude for you reading my books and enjoying them. Are there words enough to explain how that feels? Almost as wonderful are reviews, and indie folks, like myself, need them desperately! If you wouldn’t mind, I would be so grateful for a review.
The sequel to this book, Murder at the Ladies Club will be out soon! The preorder is up now!
I am delighted to announce the coming of a new historical mystery series, The Poison Ink Mysteries.
July 1936
When Georgette Dorothy Marsh’s dividends fall along with the banks, she decides to write a book. Her only hope is to bring her account out of overdraft and possibly buy some hens. The problem is that she has so little imagination she uses her neighbors for inspiration.
She little expects anyone to realize what she’s done. So when Chronicles of Harper’s Bend becomes a bestseller, her neighbors are questing to find out just who this “Joe Johns” is and punish him.
Things escalate beyond what anyone would imagine when one of her prominent characters turns up dead. It seems that the fictional end Georgette had written for the character spurred a real-life murder. Now to find the killer before it is discovered who the author is and she becomes the next victim.
Preorder Here.
FYI, I write under my real name, Amanda A. Allen, as well. If you like books with a paranormal twist, you’ll find I’ve written plenty! Books and updates for both names are available through my newsletter If you’d like to sign up, click here.
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Also By Beth Byers
The Violet Carlyle Historical Cozy Mysteries
Murder & the Heir
Murder at Kennington House
Murder at the Folly
A Merry Little Murder
New Year’s Madness: A Short Story Anthology
Valentine’s Madness: A Short Story Anthology
Murder Among the Roses
Murder in the Shallows
Gin & Murder
Obsidian Murder
Murder at the Ladies Club (coming April 2019)
Weddings Vows & Murder (coming May 2019)
A Jazzy Little Murder (coming June 2019)
The Poison Ink Mysteries
Death by the Book
Death Witnessed
Death by Blackmail
Death Misconstrued
Deathly Ever After
The 2nd Chance Diner Mysteries
Spaghetti, Meatballs, & Murder
Cookies & Catastrophe
(found in the Christmas boxset, The Three Carols of Cozy Christmas Murder)
Poison & Pie
Double Mocha Murder
Cinnamon Rolls & Cyanide
Tea & Temptation
Donuts & Danger
Scones & Scandal
Lemonade & Loathing
Wedding Cake & Woe
Honeymoons & Honeydew
The Pumpkin Problem
The Brightwater Bay Mysteries
(co-written with Carolyn L. Dean and Angela Blackmoore)
A Little Taste of Murder
(found in the Christmas boxset, The Three Carols of Cozy Christmas Murder)
A Tiny Dash of Death
A Sweet Spoonful of Cyanide
Also By Amanda A. Allen
The Mystic Cove Mommy Mysteries
Bedtimes & Broomsticks
Runes & Roller Skates
Banshees and Babysitters
Hobgoblins and Homework
Christmas and Curses
Valentines & Valkyries
Infants & Incantations (Coming Soon)
The Rue Hallow Mysteries
Hallow Graves
Hungry Graves
Lonely Graves
Sisters and Graves
Yule Graves
Fated Graves
Ruby Graves
The Inept Witches Mysteries
(co-written with Auburn Seal)
Inconvenient Murder
Moonlight Murder
Bewitched Murder
Presidium Vignettes (with Rue Hallow)
Prague Murder
Paris Murder
Murder By Degrees