by Beth Byers
“I was checking the traps for rabbits.”
Evelyn nodded, and her gaze met Joseph’s. Robert realized how difficult it was for her to trap her friend. A tear rolled down her face as she said, “Oh Dean. I’m so sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.”
Joseph edged farther into the clearing and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Mr. Lenz, I need you to come with me.”
Horror filled Dean’s eyes and his grip turned punishing on Evelyn’s arms. “Ev?”
Evelyn squeaked, “You’re hurting me.”
“How could you?” he accused. Joseph pulled Dean’s hands off of Evelyn’s wrists and Robert rushed forward to pull her away. “How could you!”
Evelyn turned to press into Robert, and Robert marveled at the feel of her in his arms. Joseph and Rogers moved Dean away while Martha slowly pushed herself to her feet.
“Ev? Are you all right?”
Evelyn shuddered in Robert’s arms and then slowly turned to face Martha Lenz. Evelyn’s injured voice was hoarse and cracking as she said, “This is as much your fault as it is Warren’s, Martha.”
Martha stiffened. “How can you say that?”
“How could you break your vows? How could you bear Warren’s child and lie to Dean? How could you love someone like Warren when Dean loved you? You twisted a good and kind man into a murderer with your betrayal.”
Martha stared in horror. “What do you know? No one wants you.”
Evelyn shuddered at the attack and then her gaze went to Robert. Her green eyes were shining with tears, and Robert could see that the insult had hit its mark. There was nothing he could say to make it better. Not after a lifetime of being the extraneous human.
Instead he said, “Come. Let’s get you home.”
To Martha he said, “Mrs. Lenz, I believe your children need you. After all, you’ve robbed them of both the men that might have loved them.”
Mrs. Lenz met Robert’s gaze and then she shuddered as she turned to face the three little ones.
“Will they be all right?” Robert asked Evelyn.
“Their grandmother and aunt are lovely. They’ll be all right. Martha might be in trouble. Neither of them is fond of her and now this. She’ll have to work and look after herself.” Evelyn struggled through every word until Robert placed a finger over her mouth to stop her struggling to speak.
“What a mess,” Robert told her and then found Georgette near the Hobbs house where Joseph was loading Dean Lenz into the police auto.
“Are you all right?” Georgette asked Evelyn.
Robert answered for her. “She just got a confession out of the one person who seemed to actually like her. So no. She’s also overdone it on speaking.”
Georgette’s face filled with sympathy. “What a terrible crime. It doesn’t make things better, but a hot bath, a hot cup of tea, and a rather excessive amount of chocolate might take off the edge.”
Evelyn didn’t seem to believe it, and Robert didn’t blame her.
“Oh,” Georgette added, “and a good book. Something that pulls you and takes you somewhere else.”
Evelyn nodded and turned to watch the world pass by.
“Each day will make things better,” Robert told her, hoping he wasn’t lying. She’d caught his attention with the dichotomy between her size and Warren’s size. She’d kept it with her quietness. That quiet, collected demeanor. Her careful way of moving. The way she noticed the beauty of things and her gaze brightened.
Now that he knew how dark her life was, the way she lived in that disgusting little attic, the way she worked so hard for little in return and yet still found something beautiful in the world. Nothing was more attractive than that. Or maybe he was just ready to love, and she was so easily lovable.
18
The goddess Atë loved nothing more than the way Frederica Hobbs approached the Aaron house weeks later. There was no apology in her step. If anything there was a challenge, which was translated to the door when Frederica banged on it. Bam, bam, bam. The length of time it took to answer had Frederica stewing. That had, of course, been Eunice’s and Janey’s intention when they stood on the other side giggling.
Atë stared down at the two of them and she snorted in unbridled amusement.
“Where is she?” Frederica demanded. “Where is that brat?”
“There aren’t any brats here,” Janey told the woman as she opened the door. “Well…there weren’t until now.”
Atë’s snort was echoed by Eunice.
“How can I help you, ma’am?” Eunice asked with deliberate laziness.
“I’ve come for my niece.”
Eunice stepped aside so the woman could enter, but Janey stood her ground and wouldn’t let the woman pass more than a few steps into the house.
Robert joined them in the hall with Georgette. It was Evelyn who would answer, however. She slowly walked down the steps and said with her healed voice, “I think you mean that you’ve come for your niece’s money, having realized that the money my father left in trust for me will no longer be paid out now that I’m not living with you.”
“Of course I don’t.” The woman was not a good liar.
“You told me I was a burden, stealing food from your son’s mouth since Father left me here.”
Georgette gasped and glanced at Robert, who was delighted at the way Evelyn stood tall and healthy as she faced her aunt.
“I suppose I was a bit harsh.” Mrs. Hobbs didn’t sound the least bit contrite.
“You and Warren both hurt me. You took the money I earned from my position at Scotland Yard. I did all the cleaning and the cooking.”
“We’re alone now, Evelyn.” Frederica’s gaze narrowed on her niece. “We have to help each other.”
“You just want her money,” Janey said. “Now that your son isn’t paying money, her trust isn’t paying money, and you don’t have her paycheck, it must be harder. You should stay here, Evelyn.”
Mrs. Hobbs started to reach for Janey with a scowl. Robert, however, grabbed the woman’s wrist, and he wasn’t gentle about it.
“I have a place for you,” Frederica said, snatching her hand back. “You can have dear Warren’s room.”
“I have a room.”
“We’re family.”
“You’re the woman who hurt me for years,” Evelyn told her aunt.
“I was a little harsh perhaps,” Frederica snapped. “You’re going to accept charity?”
“She won’t,” Janey hissed. “She’s paying Georgette and Charles even though they don’t want the money. And she’ll live with Marian and Joseph next and then we’ll all be family and you don’t matter anymore.”
Georgette glanced among all of the participants. “I’d say that sums it up. Please leave.”
“I need money,” Frederica Hobbs snapped.
Evelyn swallowed and then shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, Aunt. I won’t go back there.”
“It’ll be different this time.”
“No,” Evelyn repeated. “No. I deserve better than what I had with you and I always did.”
Frederica Hobbs’s attempts at politeness vanished. “Go to the devil then!”
“Or just stay with us,” Janey replied lightly. “Go away, mean lady. Eunice and I made cake, and we aren’t sharing with you.”
The woman slapped the door open, crossed the threshold, and stormed down the street.
“Good riddance,” Janey said. They all looked down at the girl, considered discussing manners with her and then Georgette shrugged and said, “Let’s have cake.”
“Things are always better with chocolate,” Robert replied, hanging back to enjoy the view of Evelyn from behind. Atë smirked along with Robert and they both found that things seemed right as they should be.
The END
Hullo friends! I am so grateful you dove in and read the latest Poison Ink Mystery. If you wouldn’t mind, I would be so grateful for a review.
The sequel to this book is available for preorder now.
A new baby, an elopement, an unexpected visitor. Georgette Dorothy Aaron and her family of orphans knew it would be an exciting summer, but none of them expected to be drawn into yet another murder investigation.
When they band together, however, surely they can accomplish anything.
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My newest series is now available. Keep on flipping for a sneak peak
April 1922
When the Ku Klux Klan appears at the door of the Wode sisters, they decide it’s time to visit the ancestral home in England.
With squabbling between the sisters, it takes them too long to realize that their new friend is being haunted. Now they’ll have to set aside their fight, discover just why their friend is being haunted, and what they’re going to do about it. Will they rid their friend of the ghost and out themselves as witches? Or will they look away?
Join the Wodes as they rise up and embrace just who and what they are in this newest historical mystery adventure.
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Sneak Peek of Bright Young Witches & the Restless Dead
APRIL 1922. WASHINGTON D.C. USA
ARIADNE EUDORA WISTERIA WODE
“Give me some of the good stuff,” the man said, nudging a waiting girl aside. He was wearing a pinstriped evening suit with his hair pomaded back. Given the large ring on his pinky and the gold on his watch chain, Ariadne assumed he was quite wealthy or quite powerful or both. The large cigar hanging from his mouth suggested both.
Ariadne had been just behind him when he went shoving people about and she caught the girl he’d sent stumbling off her bar stool. The height of the girl’s heels didn’t help, but the man hadn’t even noticed he’d knocked the woman down. The girl shot him a nasty, unnoticed look and then turned to Ariadne with a glance that said, Can you believe this dirty bloke?
“We’re out,” the barman said. “Want a Coke?”
The shelves behind him were nearly empty of bottles, unlike the bar itself, which was full. Ariadne sighed. The speakeasy never ordered enough, always ran low, and then the boss took it out on her. He needed either more suppliers, to quit under-ordering, or to open a little less often. Some of the fellows in the bar were reeling drunk and could have been cut off before they’d reached that state. Sloppy drunks put everyone at risk of getting pinched.
“Give me what the management is drinking,” the man growled. “I know you got the good stuff, and I don’t want any of this second-rate swill that’ll leave me blind or dead.”
“Our delivery of the good stuff is late,” the barman said flatly. Whoever this shove-y man was, the barman was unimpressed. “No one’s drinking much until that comes along. Not even the boss man.”
Ariadne met the barman’s gaze, and he jerked his head to the back. There was a triggerman guarding the door, and the man didn’t move when Ariadne approached. His dark eyes fixed on hers, and there was threat in his stony expression.
Here we go again, Ariadne thought, ignoring his look and sliding past him without a flicker of a lash. Posturing was such a gent’s move. She had too much to do for this nonsense. When she felt someone watching her, she glanced back and caught the gaze of a bloke with dark, sharp eyes and slicked back hair, with a hefty drink in front of him. He was, she thought, almost certainly a copper. Hopefully he was dirty. Otherwise, they’d all be hauled away with time in the slammer. The goons anyway. The shadows liked Ariadne.
Either way, she wished she was a little less memorable in the drop-waisted, shimmery dress that showed off far more of her chest than she’d prefer. She dressed with the intent to blend in with the other dames. Better to be seen as an easy moll than what she was—a lady-legger. Or, more accurately, a booze-making witch.
“It’s about time,” Blind Bobby growled as Ariadne appeared. “Do you have it? I don’t pay full price for late goods. You’re costing me a pile of lettuce, girl.”
“They had checkpoints on the way in. I had to think quick and step even more quickly. You’re lucky I’m here at all, and you’ll be paying me the full amount or I’ll take a walk down to the next juice joint. Easy peasy.” She snapped her fingers. It was always better not to be too challenging, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself.
Blind Bobby put his gun on the table and leaned back. “Maybe I’ll just take the booze and pay you nothing, little girl.”
“Did you find someone else who makes gin that won’t blind you and can age wine and whisky with magic—because I don’t think you have found anyone like me.”
“I’ll pay you eighty percent.” He sniffed and growled, “From here on.”
His dark, beady eyes fixed on her, and he leaned in, strong jaw gritted. He intended to scare her, but Ariadne was only irritated. She felt as though every time she interacted with this grunting beast, he thought he could just tower over her face and she’d crumple. Ariadne laughed, a trilling thing that didn’t sound amused but conveyed her message.
Blind Billy nudged his gun once again, and Ariadne scowled at him, dropping all pretense of amusement. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted a challenging brow instead. “Do you really want to put a bean shooter up against magic?”
“Do you really want to put you and your little sister against my boys? There’s even smaller witch brats in that town of yours. What’s it called? Nighton? Bring her in.” The last was said to one of the apes standing about grasping their guns trying to look intimidating.
There was a sound at the tunnel door and several men poured through with Ariadne’s sister, Echo. She struggled in the grasp of…Ariadne’s head cocked and gaze narrowed.
Lindsey Noel. She scowled at him. He was the shining son of Nighton and the fellow intent on finding his way into Ariadne’s sister Circe’s knickers.
“Well, if it isn’t Lindsey Noel. Are you joining in on threatening my sisters? All of my sisters?”
Lindsey blushed, but his voice was mean. “I know where you live.” His fingers dug into Echo’s bicep.
“And I know where you live.” Ariadne glanced at Echo, who seemed fine despite the white circles under Lindsey’s pressing fingers. “Why’d you let them take you?”
“I wanted to see what Lindsey was up to. Sooner or later, Circe will see he’s milquetoast playing at being a leading man. She believes that front he puts up, but the mannered handsome puppy will fade into what he really is—another arrogant rube with a rich daddy. It’ll go easier if it’s me telling her what he did, and after all—he put his hands on me.”
Easier, Ariadne translated, than if Ari were the one who told Circe her lover put them all at risk with his playing at being a bad boy.
The idiot Lindsey let go of Echo, but it was too late. The smirk she shot him was enough to have him wondering, would he lose Circe over this? The unfortunate answer was that Ariadne could only wish.
The other men glanced at each other, smirking, when Blind Billy grunted, “No one cares about your hick problems.” He gestured and the goons lining the wall leveled their guns at Ariadne.
She sighed. “Until I get paid, you won’t be able to open the bottles at the delivery point. Try as you might.”
Blind Bobby laughed meanly and Ariadne yawned. He shoved the table back, grabbing his gun as he did, and shoved it into Ariadne’s face, pressing it hard against her forehead.
“Careful,” she said quietly, “guns do malfunction so easily.”
“Open the whiskey, Petey,” Blind Billy ordered.
Ariadne rolled her eyes and telepathically told her sister, Draw your magic. Ariadne opened her mind and senses to her own magic. She’d originally approached Blind Billy once prohibition went into effect because the church basement where the speakeasy was housed was a place of power. Her magic, always strong, thrummed through her with a vengeance here. Echo’s must be a tsunami of power given the dead that even Ariadne could sense.
The ghosts are restless, Echo sent.
Of course they are, it’s a de
secrated church. How did Noel know about us?
Echo’s mental snort seemed to ricochet about Ariadne’s head and they both knew the answer: Circe. Soft, trusting, blind-with-love Circe. Lindsey Noel wasn’t surprised in the least by their magic. Their sister hated keeping what they were from her ‘sweet’ Lindsey. She must have talked, and he’d gathered a full confession, given his presence.
Foolish girl.
The grunting of his man trying to open the bottle caught her attention. The goon was yanking at the stopper in the whiskey bottle, desperate to open it. He finally brought out a large knife, but it bounded off of the glass as though it were stone instead of a little bit of cork and glass. Finally he looked up at Blind Billy and shook his head.
Blind Billy pulled the gun back enough just to shove it back against her head again. “That’s gonna leave a bruise.” His laugh was ugly and he glanced at his men until they were snorting with unbelievable laughter as well.
“Balm of Gilead is an easy enough potion to make for someone like me,” Ariadne told him, drawing her magic so deeply that her bobbed hair was slowly starting to rise around her face. “The bruise will be gone in minutes. I carry it in my handbag.”
“What about the hole my bullet leaves?” He cocked his gun and then, to her horror, swung his arm wide, aiming at Echo. “Will it cure that?”
“Fool,” Ariadne said, finished with this nonsense. She dropped to her knees, covering her head when the gun misfired, and magic rushed into Ariadne as the place of power energized her and she sent the rest of the guns into either misfiring or not firing at all.
With Echo there, ghosts were caught in the energy in the church and within the sisters. The ghosts went mad, merging into a tornado of shadows that sent Blind Billy’s goons into shrieking like little girls. Point of fact, Ariadne thought as she started to crawl away from Blind Billy, her little sisters wouldn’t have whined like these boys.