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

by Beth Byers

  “Poison,” the doctor repeated.

  He leaned down and Vi saw his hands were shaking. Did he have some sort of palsy or was he simply needing a drink? Vi saw Pederson in the hall and then crossed to him asking quietly, “Is he a drunkard?”

  Pederson’s gaze widened and then he nodded once. Vi reached out, and squeezed Pederson’s forearm and then returned to Jack. She pushed up on her toes and whispered into his ear and her already stiff Jack turned to stone.

  Jack waved the stewards out of the room, somehow taking command, and sent one of them for Hamilton Barnes. He sent another for the captain of the ship. And he sent a third for Kate Carlyle and her nanny. It was Jack who lifted Mrs. Hanson in his arms and started towards the area of the ship used as a sick bay. He looked back at Vi, and she mouthed, “the twin.”

  She didn’t follow and Jack nodded once. He understood. He wasn’t happy to be separated until they were certain she was safe, but she knew better than to accept a drink from some random fellow, and whoever poisoned Mrs. Hanson—if it wasn’t herself—had no reason to hurt Vi.

  Chapter 8

  Violet hurried through the ship towards the area where the keys were mounted to a large board with hooks. There was generally a steward nearby, and she intended to demand from him which cabin belonged to the Nielsens. Before she reached the board, however, Rita came darting up.

  “Jack sent me.”

  “So protective,” Vi muttered. She hooked her arm through Rita’s. “Do you know where the Nielsen twin is?”

  Rita nodded. As they hurried through the ship, Violet explained what had happened since she’d last seen Rita.

  “Do you think she tried to kill herself?”

  It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had decided to die rather than continue with one such as Liam Hanson. Violet remembered Margaret’s words. I’m far past a little thought and everything I have to give. Margaret had been hopeless the night before. It was possible she’d found something to make it all stop. Bruised and tired, it might have been the best choice as far as she was able to see.

  Vi knew about grey days and blue outlooks. She knew about that feel in the air as though all that was there was darkness. The way it seemed so difficult to just move your arms. The way that things that usually made her happy brought smiles only by reflex. She had pretended to be happy more than once.

  Had Margaret done the same but had enough of the struggle? Vi shivered. She never, ever wanted to do to her twin what Violet was about to do to Ruth. Rita stopped outside the door of the cabin, and the two friends met each other’s gazes. They were about to ruin Ruth’s day.

  Vi considered how she’d feel if she lost Victor. It would never be the same again. Things would never be as bright. As deeply, as horrifically as Violet missed her great-aunt, it was possible to find good things. She’d expected to eventually lose Aunt Agatha. But Victor, Vi shook her head, rejecting the thought immediately.

  Of course, Margaret wasn’t dead. Vi prayed and then knocked on the door. There was no answer. This time, however, Vi sighed with relief. She knocked again.

  “Mrs. Nielsen?”

  Rita walked towards the steward’s compartment as Violet knocked again.

  “Mrs. Nielsen?” Vi called. The relief was growing. Mrs. Nielsen was elsewhere. She didn’t know her sister was struggling to survive. She didn’t know. Now, perhaps, it would be someone else’s turn to tell the woman of her sister’s condition. Someone who wasn’t Vi. Someone who wasn’t a twin. Someone who wouldn’t project the trouble of the one twin on the other.

  Violet knocked again. “Mrs. Nielsen?”

  There was no answer, but she heard Rita say, “The steward says she’s in there.”

  Vi closed her eyes, her hopes fading.

  “I told him what happened,” Rita said carefully, understanding her friend too well. “He’s going to open up the cabin in case she’s sleeping deeply.”

  The steward stepped forward and Vi stepped back, whispering to Rita, “I had hoped…”

  She didn’t complete the thought, but Rita took hold of Vi’s hand and squeezed. The steward knocked again before he turned the handle and then opened the door. Mrs. Nielsen was on the bed, another open robe, but she at least, was wearing full pajamas.

  “Would you wake her, ma’am?” The steward stepped back, and Vi didn’t blame him. She would rather be woken by someone she knew peripherally than a strange man.

  Violet sighed and then took in a deep breath. She reached out a hand, trembling in advance for Mrs. Nielsen and then shook her shoulder.

  There was no reply.

  Vi frowned and glanced at Rita who reached out and tried for the second time. When Mrs. Nielsen didn’t wake, Vi gasped and then reached out and tried a third time, shaking the woman fiercely. A nearly identical moan to earlier occurred and Vi closed her eyes.

  “I think whatever is wrong with Mrs. Hanson may be wrong with Mrs. Nielsen.”

  The statement echoed in the chamber and was almost impossible to believe. Two women poisoned? What were the chances? Vi found herself skipping through motives. Had the women inherited money and they were suddenly worth more dead than alive? Had the sisters seen something and a criminal needed them silenced? Had the partners decided to rid themselves of their wives and then fight over the curvy blonde?

  “We need the doctor,” the steward said with a wince that declared he, too, knew the doctor was a drunkard.

  “He’s busy,” Vi said almost absently. “We’ll need to take her to him.”

  The steward wasn’t particularly large, but he seemed up to the task. He lifted Mrs. Nielsen and Violet and Rita went before and behind to clear the way and keep those who would interfere back. Down the lift, down a passageway, and through a rather terrible looking door that once was white but had become dingy with age.

  Inside, Jack looked up first. He took in the sight in a moment and then glanced at Ham who was watching the doctor. Jack cleared his throat, somehow telling Ham that something was wrong without needing to explain.

  Ham looked up, saw his wife, saw the steward, and then saw Mrs. Nielsen. “Bloody hell.”

  Jack seemed to agree though he said nothing.

  “Bloody, bloody hell,” Ham said again. His gaze met the captain’s and then crossed to him. There was a deep dark sigh and then Ham pulled the captain from the room.

  The doctor turned when Kate’s nanny, Jane, ordered, “Examine the new patient, doctor.”

  Vi’s brows lifted and Kate said, “She was a nurse before she turned to nannying. She said after the Great War she wanted to spend more time with life than death.”

  Vi felt a rush of relief. Nanny Jane wasn’t a woman who would let the doctor make mistakes if she could stop him.

  “What is to be done?” Vi asked the nanny, ignoring the doctor.

  She paused. “I think it might be a dose of arsenic.”

  “But she’s not dead,” Rita said. “I thought that would kill you.”

  “It must have been too small a dose to be successful,” she said. “You can survive such a thing if you don’t take enough.”

  “But what are the chances that this was self-administered considering it’s both of them?”

  Nanny shrugged. “That isn’t a question for me, ma’am.”

  Violet looked to Kate. “Have you been conscripted to looking after the patient…” Vi winced. “…patients.”

  “I’m here to lend weight,” Kate told Vi. “Nanny is the real nurse. I’m here to channel your stepmother and imperiously order things around. I don’t believe, however, that Jack intends for us to be alone without himself, Victor, or Ham.”

  “Where is Victor?” Vi asked, wanting desperately to see her twin and know he was well.

  “He and Denny have the babies,” Kate replied. “Nanny Jane was having her breakfast while Nanny Poppy stayed with the babies. Now Nanny Poppy will be in charge of the three of them while Nanny Jane sees to the patients.”

  Nanny Jane was putting an IV
in each of the women’s arms. The doctor started to object, but Nanny Jane snorted. “Look at those hands of yours, doctor. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  The doctor blushed darkly and started to snap a reply, but Jack placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. Jack didn’t squeeze but they could all see his hands shaking, and the doctor couldn’t argue otherwise.

  “Good of you to be here, nurse,” the doctor said, striving for his place of power, but he was ignored. His blush turned to fury, but this time Jack did squeeze. Not hard, Vi was sure, but with enough firmness to ensure the doctor knew where the real power lay, and it wasn’t with Nanny Jane or the drunk doctor.

  “And where are the husbands?” Rita asked low, looking at the two women.

  “The captain sent several of the stewards looking for them.”

  Vi didn’t care about them. Except, she thought, the chances of this being some sort of suicide pact.

  “Ma’am,” Nanny Jane said. “Sir.”

  Nanny Jane glanced around the room, drawing attention to everyone but the doctor.

  “Look at Mrs. Hanson,” the nanny said. “Her heart is racing. She has messed herself.”

  The nanny must have cleaned Mrs. Hanson while Violet was out of the room.

  “Her stomach is clenching. She didn’t make it to her bed. Was that because she passed out or because she lost her balance? I wouldn’t be surprised if this is arsenic poisoning. Given that she’s not dead, she might well survive. Time will tell.”

  Vi winced. Arsenic. It was the easy answer for someone who would poison. Something everyone who had read a Christie novel would think of.

  “Was Mrs. Nielsen poisoned with arsenic as well?” Vi asked absently. What else could it be? To her surprise, however, Nanny Jane cleared her throat.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Really?” Kate gasped. “Whatever else could it be?”

  “Look at her,” Nanny started and the doctor scoffed.

  “What do you know of it? A nurse who hasn’t practiced for years?”

  “I read medical books,” Nanny Jane said to Kate. Vi’s sister-in-law reached out and squeezed the nanny’s hand.

  “I am well aware of how much knowledge one might acquire with an eager mind and good books,” Kate told Nanny simply.

  The doctor scoffed but Jack said, “Enough.”

  The threat wasn’t in the words, but the tone, and Vi ignored both her beloved and the idiot doctor.

  “Please explain, Nanny,” Kate said.

  Nanny nodded. She was entirely unruffled by the doctor. She simply gestured, “Mrs. Nielsen is having convulsions. They’re slight compared to what she might have had earlier before you found her. She’s got dilated pupils, and it seems some muscle paralysis. I’m not entirely certain she's unaware. She might just be locked in her body.”

  Vi gasped in horror and only recognized a moment later that she was one of a chorus between herself, Kate, and Rita.

  “What do you think it is?” Jack asked Nanny Jane.

  “I believe it is hemlock.”

  They all stared at her.

  “For Mrs. Nielsen, she might be in danger yet. Only time will tell. For Mrs. Hanson, I believe she’ll survive.”

  Violet glanced around, sickly. “Where are the husbands?”

  There was no reply since they had no idea. Jack met Vi’s gaze and then Vi said, “What about the curvy blonde woman? Has anyone checked her cabin?”

  “Mrs. Kristiansen?” Rita asked. Conviction filled her gaze and Vi agreed. They both glanced at Jack who said, “Neither of you are going. I’m sure Ham has come to the same conclusion.”

  Vi glanced at Rita and the two of them knew that the gents had already discussed the same idea. While Rita and Vi had been looking for the twin sister, before they realized she was also a victim, Ham and Jack had thought ahead.

  “Detectives,” Rita muttered darkly.

  “You can take the man out of Scotland Yard,” Vi added, trailing off. She didn’t need to complete the thought, but Jack rolled his eyes at her as if she had.

  Chapter 9

  Vi and Rita left the sick bay with Jack. He had leaned down before they left and whispered into the doctor’s ear. The man had scowled and squeaked and objected, but before they left, he had made his way into the corner of the sick bay and sat with his arms crossed over his chest like a child in a dunce’s cap.

  They found Denny in the passageway with a steward who had refused to let him pass.

  “I wasn't invited to the party,” Denny scowled. “But I found the abusive husband.”

  Jack’s brows rose.

  “I had an idea and I left the babies with Victor and Lila. She told me it wasn’t a burden to her to rock a baby, but if I thought she was going to do more than look on in interest while we meddled, I was very wrong.”

  “Why would she even say that?” Rita asked, unable to keep from laughing. “She rarely does anything but sit back languidly and look pretty.”

  “She scolds!” Denny’s defensive tone prompted another round of inappropriate laughter.

  “Oh Denny,” Vi told him. “You do brighten my day.”

  “Rather like a puppy,” Rita told him before he was too happy by the compliment. They grinned at each other like squabbling siblings.

  Rita wore a light blue dress with scalloped edges that hung loosely on her form, attempting and failing to give her the lines of a mannish figure. Rita was far too voluptuous for such disguises, but she did look expensive and beautiful.

  “You know,” Vi told Rita, “you’re pretty and expensive like Victor.”

  Denny giggled. “Ah, our other courtesan.”

  They reached the portion of the ship with the gymnasium and then found the empty steam room. Inside of it lay Liam Hanson. Vi considered waking him with a swift kick, but he was balanced so precariously on the too small bench that she decided instead to reach out a solitary finger, place it against his shoulder, and push.

  He rolled and splatted hard against the floor. Vi jumped back as he was falling and grinned at Jack at the sight of the moaning Mr. Hanson.

  Jack’s gaze was filled with humor, but his voice was mean when he said, “Wake up, Hanson!”

  Mr. Hanson’s reply was more croak than speech.

  “Hanson!” Jack nudged the man with the toe of his shoe, and he wasn’t gentle about it. “Wake up!”

  Slowly, Mr. Hanson opened bloodshot eyes. Jack told him, “Get up.”

  “Here now,” Hanson groaned. “What’s the big idea?”

  “Get up,” Jack said with an ice cold fury that had Hanson scowling, but standing. As he measured himself against Jack and realized just how lacking he was, Hanson adjusted his stance from aggressive to defensive.

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Hanson asked.

  “Your wife is potentially dying. Not that we expected you to be sympathetic.”

  “Maggie?” Hanson demanded, actually sounding upset. “My Maggie?”

  “Your punching bag?” Denny countered. “Yes. She’s in the sick bay, and you’re the main suspect.”

  “Me?” Hanson asked. He seemed genuinely confused, and Violet had to wonder if he was entirely unaware of how others viewed him.

  “You,” Denny snapped. “Even I think that. You’re a right prick of a husband and a shame to mankind.”

  If Jack hadn’t been there, Hanson would have attacked Denny. He almost lunged and he had to wipe his hand over his mouth before he collected himself. He left a smear of something behind and then wiped again, using his sleeve as his handkerchief.

  “By Jove,” Jack told him. “We’ve seen the bruises on your wife.”

  Hanson’s ears turned red with fury, and he ground out, “How did you see any such thing?”

  “So you don’t deny them?” Rita asked silkily. “The deep aching marks you left on your Maggie?”

  “His punching bag,” Denny countered. “Don’t act like he loves her.”

  “I do love her,” Hanson said defe
nsively.

  “Do you?” Jack asked. “Love her and bruise her?”

  “How did you see her…” Hanson was furious that the bruises had been seen, but he didn’t want to admit they were there.

  “The marks of your affection,” Denny goaded. He grinned at Hanson when the man turned an angry gaze on Denny. Comfortable in the security of Jack, Denny added again, “I saw that deep one on her breast.”

  That was too much for Hanson and he lunged at Denny, hands out in a grasping manner that said he’d have wrung the life out of Denny’s neck if given the chance. Denny stepped back as Jack held out a strong arm and clotheslined the abusive Hanson. The man hit the wall of Jack’s arm, flew back, and ended on his back, winded.

  Jack put his hand on the man’s wrist and pressed on it meanly. There was no gentleness, no kindness, no mercy in her husband. Vi wondered if she should be afraid, but she knew that she never would be. There would never be a time that Vi feared Jack. Drunk, furious, enraged, jealous, maddened, and he’d still be safe for Vi.

  “You will be still,” Jack told Hanson. “You will listen. Your wife has been poisoned. You are, of course, the main suspect. I am going to remove my foot from your wrist, you will stand up, and then you will walk like a man, or I will truss you like a baby and drag you behind me like you deserve.”

  Hanson gaped at Jack, feebly jerking at his wrist. “I…I…”

  Jack waited, still, his gaze on Hanson. The two men stared each other down and then Hanson stuttered, “All right.”

  Jack slowly removed his foot and then they watched Hanson try to rise. He failed. He tried again and stumbled back. Slowly, Hanson turned onto his hands and knees and pulled himself up with the bench like a feeble old man who was too weak to stand up on his own.

  He turned and faced them. “Maggie is dying?”

  There was a bit of a plea in those words. A bit of a begging that none of them could answer.

  “Perhaps,” Violet told him without sympathy, “she might survive. Her prospects are…” Vi started to tell him of Mrs. Nielsen, but she didn’t think he deserved the knowledge. “Hopeful is not the right word, but something approaching that.”