Nearly A Murder: A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery (The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Book 22)

by Beth Byers

  Violet thought of Ruth Nielsen who seemed almost disconnected from the world around her. Did she know her husband was cheating on her? Did she care? She realized, of course, that her twin was being abused, because she’d interfered that evening. But why hadn’t they offered Margaret a home? Why hadn’t Ruth done something more for her twin?

  But why didn’t Margaret do something for herself? Vi tried to imagine Jack hurting her and her leaving, but she couldn’t do it.

  “Maybe because they’re business partners,” Jack suggested. “It limits what Oskar Nielsen is willing to do.”

  Violet turned onto her side and then glanced up at the stars. The stars didn’t move despite Jack and Violet moving. The stars, so far away, gave Vi and Jack the illusion of being still even though they could feel the rocking of the boat and the slow movement against the water. Vi’s gaze moved from star-to-star. She knew the constellations, but she didn’t care at the moment. She cared only that they were beautiful.

  “Is there some way to help Margaret? Should we just ask her to her face?” Vi pretended to do just that. “Hello, we’ve noticed you’re somewhat abused, and we’d like to offer you transportation to a safer place.”

  “She’d have to leave behind her sister, Vi. Perhaps, Ruth doesn’t want to also leave her husband.”

  “Perhaps they can’t afford themselves,” Vi added. “Perhaps, they’re concerned about a roof over their heads and food to eat. I suppose when describing being spoiled, there is me, who would be able to eat and live with or without you.”

  “Perhaps,” Jack said. “There are endless perhaps, Violet. And you can’t fix everyone’s life.”

  Vi felt as though it were a message for himself rather than Margaret. Vi couldn’t fix things for Jack or for Margaret. But there was a second part to that as well. Each of them needed to change things for themselves.

  She tangled their fingers together and placed her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Her happiness had never been fixed by him, but his presence had helped her while she struggled through grey days and a blue outlook.

  What had changed things for Vi was staying active, working on things she loves, spending time with her family, and ensuring she was sleeping and eating well enough. How simple it seemed, yet endlessly hard to accomplish.

  Violet sighed and felt the creeping chill from the summer evening that even Jack couldn’t fix in the face of winds off the water. She pushed up into a sitting position and said, “I’m going to go back to the room.”

  Jack hesitated and she pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Just me is fine, darling. I should like very much to take off this fabulous gown and put on my even-more-fabulous pajamas and a kimono. These cosmetics would do well on a washcloth rather than my face also.”

  Violet rose and made her way through the ship, almost missing her passageway and then her cabin. As she opened the door to the cabin she heard a loud noise in the cabin opposite. Vi’s stomach dropped and her gaze widened when the steward slipped out of his little closet where he was at the ready for the first-class passengers. His gaze met hers as they heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

  “I’ll take care of it, Mrs. Wakefield.” His name tag read M. Baldwin, and he knocked firmly on the door to the cabin, jiggling the handle when it wasn’t opened.

  Violet couldn’t quite shut the door to her cabin. She left it cracked and listened as the steward pounded on the door. A drunk Liam Hanson answered the door, and whatever the steward said had Hanson growling at him.

  Baldwin replied firmly and Hanson growled louder, pushing out into the passageway.

  “If you think you can tell me how to treat my wife,” Hanson snapped, “I’ll teach you otherwise.”

  “Mr. Hanson.” The steward’s even tone was entirely without an emotional inflection. “You will leave this cabin and not return until the alcohol has left you, or you will find yourself in the brig until you’ve sobered up.”

  Mr. Hanson shoved past the steward, making him stumble hard into Violet’s cracked cabin door. The poor man fell back, tripping over the lip of the cabin door and landing harshly on his back.

  “Oh!” Vi said, kneeling down. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine, fine,” the steward said, but there was pain in his voice.

  Violet helped him back up when he started to rise on his own, at the same time as Margaret Hanson found her way out of her cabin and offered her hand as well.

  “He didn’t know. He’s…not aware of how harsh he is when he’s in his cups.”

  Violet examined Margaret’s face and asked softly, “Do you really believe that?”

  Margaret didn’t answer, but Vi could see that the woman did not believe her own lies. Violet moved to the case where Jack had pulled bourbon and ginger wine from earlier and poured both the steward and Margaret a drink.

  She unapologetically handed both Margaret and the steward aspirin and then told Margaret, “I suppose you know how to handle your bruises.”

  Margaret’s face paled, but she didn’t counteract the statement. To the steward, Vi said, “And I suppose you cannot take time to rest.”

  “The end of my shift is coming soon, Mrs. Wakefield.”

  Violet nodded and said, “Send both of our rooms Turkish coffee in the morning, would you?”

  “That’ll be Pederson on then, but I’ll be sure he knows.”

  Violet nodded and then glanced at Margaret, who was staring towards her own cabin, apparently wanting to leave, but too hesitant to do so.

  Gently, Violet said, “We’ll all feel better in the morning.”

  “Of course,” Margaret agreed, but neither of them believed it.

  Violet said gently, “If you need help leaving him—”

  “Thank you. No.” Margaret shook her head and laughed bitterly. “No. I’ve nowhere to go.”

  “Your family won’t help you?”

  “My British family will never let a divorcee come home. Ruth would, but Oskar…there’s nowhere.”

  “Perhaps that can be changed with a little thought and effort,” Violet suggested.

  “Believe me,” Margaret told Violet starkly, “I’m far past a little thought and everything I have to give.”

  She left and Vi’s gaze met Baldwin’s. Both of them looked after Mrs. Hanson with terrible sympathy.

  Chapter 7

  Violet woke to the sound of a soft knock and she rose, put on her kimono, and crossed to the door quickly before Jack woke. They had stayed up far too late, approaching a full twenty-four hours awake by the time Jack had wrapped his arm around her waist.

  She opened the door to the cabin and found Pederson, the morning steward, with two rolling carts. Vi took hers, carefully bringing the cart into the room as silently as possible. While she carefully maneuvered, Pederson knocked on the door opposite.

  Vi admitted to herself that she was going a little more slowly when she realized she might get a glimpse of Margaret. The woman didn’t, however, answer the door. Vi frowned and asked Pederson, “Did her husband come back?”

  The fellow eyed her askance and asked, “You were the one who witnessed yesterday’s kerfuffle?”

  Vi nodded. “Just a little worried about her. Perhaps we should have the ship’s doctor attend her?”

  Pederson scowled and admitted, “I wouldn’t see the ship’s doctor unless I had no other choice, madam. If she’s bruised, she’d be better off taking aspirin and a long rest.”

  Vi’s gazed widened and she glanced down, only noting then the snagged carpets that were lining the hallway. This ship really was the worst. She thought that a little more time in research and a little less time in frivolity would have made for a far better trip.

  Violet waited with Pederson and there was no answer.

  “Should we check on her?” Vi asked. She wanted to, but she didn’t have a key like Pederson.

  He hesitated, placing a brake on the cart so that it could linger outside the room. He said, “We’ll ask again in an hour
.”

  Violet nodded and then slipped back into her cabin and into the tiny bathroom with a cup of Turkish coffee. There was quite a small bath and Violet stepped into it to wash off the day before. The water was barely warm, and she regretted the trip more and more.

  “Norway will be lovely, my girl,” she told herself with a faint hope. She had little doubt it would be lovely. In Norway, if their hotel was as undesirable as this hotel, they’d simply change hotels or even cities.

  She was in no hurry because she didn’t want to wake Jack, so she lingered in the bath until both the water and the coffee were cold and then she exited, in fresh pajamas and considered curling up next to Jack. She freshened her coffee and then risked cracking the door to see if Margaret had taken her own coffee. The cart was missing, and Vi considered that a good sign, as the woman was able to get up and get her coffee.

  Vi made her coffee and turned, finding Jack's gaze on hers. She crossed to him, handed him her cup and returned to make another for herself. She curled up next to him and said, “There was a ruckus last night. Mr. Baldwin, our steward, made Mr. Hanson leave.”

  Jack’s jaw flexed and Vi said, “I was fine. Mr. Baldwin took a tumble.”

  Vi could see the rush of fury in Jack’s gaze and knew that his protective instincts were high.

  She repeated, “I was fine. I don’t know that the same could be said for Margaret. I offered her help in leaving and she said that her family wouldn't help except for her sister, whose husband would not help.”

  Jack didn’t say anything, but the air around him changed, and she knew he was furious. Violet nudged the coffee in his hand. Too little sleep and not enough coffee combined with anger wasn’t a good combination for the most tolerant and understanding of men. Violet loved every inch of her oversized husband, and he was not tolerant of men without honor.

  When Jack’s face didn’t ease, Violet crawled onto his lap, taking his face between her hands. “Breathe, darling.”

  It took him a long moment to respond and she felt his jaw flex under her hands. She ran her thumb back and forth, striving to soothe him but uncertain if she’d achieved it. She hummed low and then lifted one finger to press against the wrinkle between his brows.

  His eyes glinted with humor and he said, “I’m not going to storm across the hall and teach Liam Hanson the lesson he deserves.”

  “That’s good darling, as you’d alarm Margaret Hanson. Mr. Baldwin forced the rogue away, and she’s alone.”

  “Where did he go?” Jack’s voice was dangerous and Vi hesitated to answer. There was a rescuing knight in him, but sometimes he forgot that he could only protect while he was present. The long term protection was only possible with Margaret’s help.

  “I don’t know,” Vi admitted. “Perhaps the gentlemen’s smoking room?”

  Jack considered. “He seemed in his cups. When you’re witless from drink, anywhere is possible. It wouldn’t even be surprising to find him sleeping across the counter in the bath, or in one of those lounge chairs.”

  Violet shrugged, hoping that wherever the man had slept, it had been uncomfortable and cold. She hoped he would wake as stiff as his wife and possibly Mr. Baldwin. She hoped he got a seasonal cold from the chill and it lingered for weeks, reminding him of the type of man he’d been and what he’d done to the woman who should have been able to trust him.

  “Vi darling,” Jack said and then paused. He continued, “Check on her, would you? See if she needs a safe place to sleep while she recovers? We could give her our cabin for the day. Aspirin, perhaps?”

  Vi pushed up on her knees and kissed his cheek. It was the man who thought of the little things that she’d fallen in love with. It was his penetrating gaze that knew her and loved her. What was more intoxicating than a man who wanted her for her? Absolutely nothing.

  Violet dressed easily. One of her favorite nude rose dresses that set off her complexion, a quick brush through her hair and then a turban over it. Stockings, comfortable shoes, and a lacy cardigan to keep her warm. Vi left off all jewels but placed a silk scarf around her neck. With the breeze off the ocean, she wanted something more. She put on the barest trace of pink lipstick, decided she looked presentable enough to be seen by anyone other than her family and crossed to the cabin across the way.

  Vi knocked and there was no answer. Her mouth twisted and she glanced at Pederson whose head slipped out of the little compartment for stewards as they looked at the door together.

  “Did she answer for you before?”

  Pederson shook his head.

  “Did you take the coffee away or did she take it in?”

  “She took it in,” he replied. “I added aspirin and then I was called to assist an elderly passenger. When I came back, it was gone.”

  “The aspirin was clever,” Violet said, deciding that Pederson and Baldwin would both be getting a large something rather than a little something. “You’re a good man, Pederson.”

  He blushed lightly and nodded and then Vi knocked again.

  “Mrs. Hanson?” Vi called. “Mrs. Hanson? It’s Mrs. Wakefield.”

  There was nothing. For no reason, whatsoever, Vi felt a chill. “No one has seen her yet?”

  “I saw several stop by this morning,” Pederson said low, whispering the confidence that he shouldn’t share, but they were both worried. “The twin sister, her husband, some blonde with curly hair, a dark-haired fellow. It’s been a regular train.”

  “Perhaps she thinks it is us.” Vi paused and then asked suddenly, “Was her twin with her husband when they visited or did Mrs. Nielsen come alone?”

  “She came alone.” Pederson frowned. “Does that matter?”

  Vi started to shake her head, but she couldn’t. If Violet were hurting and Victor had come by, Violet would have swung the door open and told him everything. She knew they were close, closer than most siblings, but Vi thought back to the way that Ruth Nielsen had easily cut off her brother-in-law and protected her twin. Ruth knew what Margaret was experiencing.

  “Did she know what had happened?” Vi asked. What did that matter? Vi bit down on her lip and fiddled with her wedding ring.

  “I don’t know, ma’am.” He considered, his dark eyes meeting Vi’s. He was a hulking Norwegian with inexplicably dark eyes.

  “I think we had better open this door,” Violet told him flatly. “Just to be sure.”

  “I—”

  “I will take full responsibility,” Violet told him. “Should it come down to it, you can step away to help someone else, and I’ll just take your keys.”

  His gaze widened and then he blushed as he handed her his keys. “What shall I say I was doing?”

  “Go get my husband fresh coffee,” Violet told him. “Perhaps aspirin and toast for a hangover.”

  He nodded and disappeared and Violet waited until she counted to thirty and then slipped the key into the lock, knocking as she did so. There was no answer. Violet bit down on her bottom lip even as she straightened her shoulders and then she opened the door.

  “Mrs. Hanson?”

  There was no answer.

  “Mrs. Hanson?”

  Again, no answer. Violet considered leaving and then stepped inside. When would she get a chance to snoop again? She had no respect for privacy, Violet scolded herself. But when she took another step into the room, she saw a pair of shoes lying on the floor near the bed. They were lying on their side, which paused Violet as her mind caught up with what she was seeing.

  The shoes were in feet. And the feet were attached to legs. And the legs were attached to a lovely torso. The robe Mrs. Hanson was wearing covered only a silk nightgown. It was cut low, and Violet could see a dark bruise on the chest between Mrs. Hanson’s breasts with the bruise edging more towards the left.

  Vi winced and then saw another dark bruise on Mrs. Hanson’s thigh. Vi had stopped breathing and she dropped to her knees next to the woman, pushing her onto her back, eyes welling with tears when Vi saw the woman’s chest move.

/>   A low groan filled the air and Vi squeaked. Her squeak was followed by a scream, “Jack!”

  She knew he would come and so she checked Mrs. Hanson for some wound, some terrible injury that Vi could attend to, but there was nothing. Vi frowned as the door to the compartment banged open and Jack dropped down next to her.

  “Where is he?” Jack growled.

  “He’s not here,” Violet whispered. “Jack! She’s alive!”

  He started and then lifted her into his arms. “The doctor!”

  Vi considered the words of Baldwin the night before, but she didn’t let them delay her. She hurried to the steward’s compartment. There was a telephone and Vi connected herself to the doctor’s compartment. There was no answer.

  She tried again.

  Nothing.

  She tried again.

  Again, there was nothing, so she looked at the other connections and tried the captain’s cabin instead. Finally an answer. Vi explained, begging for help and then abandoning the line for her husband and the poor Margaret Hanson.

  Had Violet done this? Had Violet somehow pointed out the lack of options for Mrs. Hanson and made her want to end things? Or…perhaps someone else had tried to end things instead. What if there wasn’t a wound not because there had been no ill-intent but because the instrument of death hadn’t been a knife or a gun but a poison?

  A flock of stewards arrived with an elderly and drunken doctor and Vi’s gaze narrowed on the man.

  “Oh ho,” he said almost cheerily. “Sea-sickness?”

  Jack turned towards Violet, eyed her and then said, “Not sea-sickness.”

  “Oh?” The doctor blinked blearily at Jack. Then his watery, ancient eyes glanced down at the body of Margaret Hanson breathing shallowly on the bed. He frowned. “She doesn’t seem well.”

  “We think she may have been poisoned,” Violet told him flatly.

  Those old eyes widened and then filled with doubt.

  Jack, however, repeated firmly, “Poison.”

  Neither of them said whether they thought it was self-administered or nefariously-administered.