Obsidian Murder

by Beth Byers

  Jones was tall—taller even than Jack—and his shoulders were broader as well. Vi’s brows lifted as she watched the man slowly turn to face them. He had a deep tan that shouted a life spent outdoors. “Parker. Heard you had some good finds recently.”

  Violet glanced past Jones’s oversized shoulders. Wendell Lancaster—Denny’s earnest brother—was maneuvering out of the ballroom so casually he could only be up to trouble. Violet focused on Jones, tilted her head, and asked bluntly, “Did you set the fires?”

  “Me? Why would I do that?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Why would I tell you?”

  It was a good question, and Violet considered before answering. “You’d rather tell me that the Scotland Yard man brought in to find out who did this.”

  “I’m sure you’re prettier and more agreeable than every bloke who works for Scotland Yard, but I didn’t set those fires, and I don’t have any reason to go after Greyly’s setup here. If he hadn’t hired me, it isn’t like Parker and his cronies would.” Jones winked at her. “I’m a bit of hack, darling.” She ran her gaze over him, noting his unrepentant look as she heard Parker growl.

  “You’re a danger to knowledge,” Parker nearly shouted.

  Violet had lost interest in Jones given his attitude. If a fellow admitted the things Jones had just admitted, he didn’t have a reason to go after the work Greyly was producing.

  “You know who does have a reason to go after Greyly?” Jones continued. “Parker here. The man’s irrationally obsessed with archeology. There’s more to life than history. This is a man who doesn’t see the forest for the trees.”

  Parker snapped something she couldn’t make out. This was dissolving into an arguing match that would lead to no new information. Violet turned and saw Jack following after where Denny’s little brother had gone. So, she wasn’t the only one who thought the man had been acting nefariously, but Violet didn’t think Jack had even met Wendell yet. What had Jack following the man, then?

  Violet excused herself from the fray and followed Jack out of the ballroom. Off of the ballroom was a servants’ hallway that was filled with those coming and going. One of the maids asked Violet if she needed help, but when Vi shook her head, the maid returned to her work. Violet looked for doorways, but the hall was a straight shot to a servants’ staircase. Violet skipped down the steps, which came out at the end of another hall. To the right was the kitchen. To the left was yet another hallway with doors off of it.

  Violet walked down the dark hallway, listening carefully for the sound of Jack’s voice and found him standing at the edge of a doorway, in the shadows. She tiptoed closer and breathed, “Jack?”

  “Vi? You following me?”

  “Wendy.”

  Jack placed his hand on her hip, pulling her into the shadow of his body. She peeked around the doorway and found young, earnest, hardworking Wendell digging through the desk next to him.

  Violet stepped into the office with Jack just behind her. “What’s all this, then?”

  Wendell gasped and spun, and Violet sighed as she saw that he had an artifact next to him.

  “Is that a knife?”

  He flinched. “I—ah—”

  “You were supposed to be earnest and good,” she told. “I find you both disappointing and unsurprising.”

  “He is Denny’s brother,” Jack said.

  “I—well, I am hardworking. This—I—my mentor…it’s complicated.”

  Violet crossed to him and lifted the knife. It was another of those wood and glass looking things. “This is a bad idea.”

  “I wasn’t going to use it, I just—I—”

  “Violet,” Jack said, sounding exasperated. “Please get away from the criminal man with the knife.”

  “He’s Denny’s brother.”

  “Martha Dean was murdered by her husband and the father of her children, Violet. Step away.”

  Wendell paled, and he glanced between them. “I didn’t—you don’t understand.”

  “So explain,” Violet said, hopping up on the desk next to Wendell. “Spill all your secrets, my lad.”

  “Violet,” Jack snapped.

  She turned and held out her hand. He sighed, crossing to her, pulling her from the desk and settling under his arm.

  “He wouldn’t do anything with you right here,” Violet told Jack.

  “I wouldn’t do anything at all,” Wendy shot back. “Never. You’re Lila’s dearest friend. She loves you more than her own sister.”

  “Lila is my dearest as well,” Violet told him. “And she thinks you’re earnest and hardworking. She went on about it. Makes me wonder if she wishes you were something that you’re not.”

  Wendell closed his eyes. “I’m not the main archeologist. I’m one of the assistants. I just want to help Lands. He’s a good man.”

  “That mentor you were talking about?” Jack asked.

  Wendell was pale with bright circles of red on his cheeks. He nodded, and Violet glanced at Jack. His own gaze was focused on Wendell, but Violet wondered if he believed him.

  “What are you looking for?” Jack asked.

  “Greyly wanted Dr. Lands to claim he had found an obsidian dagger at our site. It wasn’t even of the right era. And I’m not sure it wasn’t a fake. Lands knows, and he’s…well, he’s been good to me. Greyly is obsessed with these obsidian blades, and they seem to be turning up all over the place in his digs. It’s laughable, but Greyly just says whatever he wants and expects people to fall in line.”

  Violet sighed and handed Jack the knife. Jack glanced down at it and gave it back to Wendell.

  “Why didn’t you say any of this yesterday?”

  “Are you kidding? Denny torments me on the best of days. He doesn’t think I should want to work in Egypt digging up ancient garbage, and he generally disapproves of anything other than cocktails, dancing, and his wife.”

  Violet shot Jack a look. He was far more calm about this revelation than Vi. Maybe she just wanted siblings to be something special. Violet frowned at Wendy. “You have a good brother.”

  “Are you serious?” Wendy demanded as Jack snorted.

  Violet spun on Jack. “I like Denny!”

  “I like Denny too, darling. But—his strengths don’t seem to be the positives that you and I enjoy.”

  Vi stepped away from Wendy and Jack. “So what were you looking for?”

  “Just what I was wondering,” Jack added.

  “Just proof. A letter, something. Something to give Lands a chance to clear his name from these interferences.”

  Violet lifted her brows, staring at him. “Or to destroy some supposed proof?”

  “No, hardly that.”

  The reality was, Violet thought, they couldn’t believe him. Greyly had Wendell under suspicions, and Vi suspected that any of these archeologists who’d been pulled into whatever this was called had reason to destroy evidence.

  Violet glanced at Jack. “This Greyly is a scoundrel.”

  “So it seems,” Jack said mildly.

  “Why don’t we help Wendell out of this…ah…scandalous employment?”

  “How are you going to do that?” Wendell demanded. “I—no one will hire me now. I had no idea when—I appreciate your help, but Greyly is my life. I don’t have another option, and working for Greyly is better than nothing.”

  Violet faced Jack. “You explain it. I’ve left my date.”

  He growled in his throat as she left them both. The night was wearing on, and she’d learned very little. It seemed to her that Greyly was a scoundrel, that Lands and the rest had a good reason to despise the man, and that anyone who objected to the situation should have steeled his spine and left Greyly.

  When Violet found her way back to the ballroom, Greyly cornered her. “I assume your Mr. Wakefield is working the case?”

  “Mr. Wakefield can speak for himself. I, however, am bored.” She grinned at him, took a cocktail from a passing tray, and made her way towards the cases again
. The one with the jewelry was particularly interesting to her. Violet loved jewelry. She had a rather large amount of it, as she’d inherited from both her mother and great-aunt as well as been spoiled by her brother. Jack had taken up the mantle of spoiling Violet as well.

  She ran her fingers over her gold bead necklace. The golden beads were the size of pearls, and they were strung in very long strands that was the fashion of the day. Her wrists were heavy with jewelry, and some time, centuries ago, another woman had lived and worn that heavy gold bracelet on the other side of the glass. Violet leaned closer to examine the etchings in the bracelet. It was just a simple etching, but it was lovely.

  “Careful, sweet sister,” Victor said. “If you lean too far over, you may just show the world the rest of your chest.”

  Violet straightened and spun on her brother. Her gaze flicked past him to Kate, who held a cocktail in one hand and Victor’s arm in the other. “Hello, dear twin,” Violet said smoothly. “Who knew that the same man who had to marry so swiftly would also be such a good guardian of my virtue?”

  Kate burst into laughter as Victor blushed. “It has been entertaining to watch.”

  Violet bit back her smile to hide her humour. “Do you have the servants commanded to send for you should Jack appear?”

  Victor’s ears turned a bright red.

  “And what about if you aren’t there?”

  Victor cleared his throat and glanced at Kate, who said, “Oh my love, I have nothing to do with this.”

  “Father controls my allowance,” Victor told Violet as though she would accept such nonsense.

  “I might find that more interesting,” Violet told Victor, “if I weren’t well aware of how much you have from Aunt Agatha.”

  “Trapped again,” Kate told Victor, patting his chest. “Just tell her that your father is terrifying.”

  “That’s not it,” Violet told Kate.

  “She should just stay my sister forever and never actually marry or move.”

  Kate rolled her eyes at Victor. “She’s not going to stop being your twin. Quit being an idiot. She’ll never find a man who puts up with you as well as Jack does.”

  “Jack won’t go anywhere,” Victor whined. “He knows he’s won.”

  Violet sipped her cocktail to hide her grin. She had to admit—even if only to herself—that she was happy to see him as uncertain of what the future would hold without being in each other’s pockets as she was.

  Chapter Nine

  Jack appeared when Violet left her brother for another cocktail. The party was moving from the ballroom towards the French doors, leading to the garden where servants had prepared the bonfire. The fire hadn’t been lit yet, but the fireworks would be starting soon. There was a table covered with champagne glasses, and the area around the bonfire was lined with burning torches that were already lending a magical air to the outdoors. The heavy rain of earlier had ended, and they were lucky enough not to be caught in the wet as the evening festivities started.

  Violet considered finding Parker and then decided against it. She saw Jack near Denny and Lila, and made her way towards them instead. She slipped her arm through Jack’s and pressed her face into the warmth of him.

  “I think we should stop with this fire investigation. Greyly should contact Scotland Yard and bring in official help rather than trying to manipulate you into helping him,” she told him. “We should be spending our efforts on that other matter.”

  “What matter?” Victor demanded, but Violet only grinned evilly at her brother. His gaze sharpened on hers, but he couldn’t know what they were up to so he wouldn’t end up getting into trouble with his mother-in-law.

  Jack shrugged. “We’ve been discussing our housing options.”

  “Just move into my house,” Victor said.

  Kate rolled her eyes behind Victor’s shoulder, but Jack laughed and clapped Victor on the shoulder.

  “I know you don’t want Violet to move out, my friend, but she is going to all the same. I promise, however, that I won’t drag her to Timbuktu with me.”

  Victor shuddered at that thought and then told Violet, “We’re diving deep into a new series if you are moving out. That way you’ll have to drop by all the time.”

  “Oh my goodness, you two are ridiculous,” Kate said with a laugh. “Jack, the house at the end of the street is owned by a very old man who is finally moving in with his son. I suspect if you reached out to his man of business, you might be able to buy and renovate the house before you marry Violet. Vi, maybe renovating the house, writing your books, and managing your business interests will keep you out of trouble.”

  “Unlikely,” Victor pronounced.

  “On the very same street?” Violet demanded. She considered the houses in her mind. “The red one with the wrought iron fencing that is lilies?”

  “No.” Kate shook her head. “The grey stone one. His granddaughter and her children are there as well, but the house itself is owned by Mr. James, and they’re all moving when Mr. James moves.”

  Violet paused without looking at Jack. She had become almost as stone-like as the house. That was her favourite house on the street, and its garden was even larger than Victor’s. It was lovely. So close. She wanted it suddenly and deeply.

  “I’ll talk to them,” Jack said, before Violet could even turn her gaze to his and let him see her thoughts. Maybe he could read them through the statue version of her, or maybe Victor’s wide, wanting gaze was enough for both of them.

  “Now you just need to buy a country house near Jack’s family home,” Violet said merrily, as Jack placed his hand over hers where it rested on his elbow. “And we’ll be perfectly situated to stay in each other’s pockets.”

  Victor nodded. “Shall we go country house shopping, Kate?”

  She shook her head and told him, “We won’t buy without looking this time.”

  Victor winced as the fireworks show began, and they all turned to watch the show. On the other side of the unlit bonfire, Denny and Lila were talking with Wendell and an older man that Violet hadn’t met yet. He was almost as tanned as the Jones fellow from earlier, so Violet’s guess was that was Dr. Lands, Wendell’s mentor.

  Denny lifted his champagne glass to her across the stack of wood. Jack waved over another servant, and they all took their glasses as another round of fireworks burst. There was a symphony playing in the background and the music wafted over the garden, adding to the festivities.

  Violet took a deep breath, laying her head on Jack’s shoulder. What if they were able to get that house? It would be perfect. She was afraid to get her hopes up. When they weren’t surrounded by strangers, she’d need to make sure he knew she’d rather overpay than live farther away from her twin. She wasn’t exactly sure of the state of Jack’s affairs. She knew he wasn’t poor and that he worked because he wanted to, but she wasn’t sure if he had quite the same amount of capital as she had, given her inheritance.

  Whatever it took, she thought, her attention being caught by a lovely burst of purple and blue. The torches were behind them, lighting the way back to the house, but the view in front of them was dark to let them see the fireworks clearly.

  Small groups of shadows congregated here and there. Some of the women, like Vi, seemed to shimmer every time the fireworks exploded, but in general, it was impossible to say who was who now that they were away from the torches. Violet curled her fingers through Jack’s and watched the show.

  He was standing behind her, with his arms wrapped around her to keep her warm. She could feel the press of his chest against her head, and his chin settled on top of her head. “This could have been a better evening.”

  “I could have been your date,” she told him. “Rather than poor Parker. I hope he doesn’t mind that I abandoned him.”

  “Why him?”

  “He’s a legitimate archeologist.”

  “Then why is he here with the poseur and his table of minions?”

  “Probably because I bribed him,�
� Violet admitted.

  The group oohed at a particularly large firework, and Violet felt his chuckle, though the sound of it didn’t reach her.

  When the gasps quieted, she said, “Perhaps a quiet dinner?”

  “Then dancing?”

  She started to agree, turning to face him, as a scream broke through the sounds of the fireworks and the music. Violet gasped, and Jack tugged her closer, instinctively protecting her from whatever had caused the scream. Shouts echoed the scream, and the lights on the back of the house went on.

  “Before this begins,” Jack told Violet, “You do look beautiful tonight.”

  Their gazes met. She could see the worry in his. Another fire? Something else that would draw them back into this just as they were attempting to free themselves and focus on their own lives.

  There was another scream that was followed by a deep shout, “Harvey! By Jove, it’s Harvey! Send for a doctor.” A moment later the command was followed with, “Now!”

  “Stay here,” Jack told Violet. “Whatever it is—you don’t need to add it to your dreams.”

  She nodded, moving towards Victor and Kate. Injured or sick. Heart attack or even—please no—another murder, Violet had no desire to add to the fodder of her already excessively disturbing nightmares.

  Violet placed her hand on her brother’s elbow on the opposite side of Kate and then pressed up on her toes. There wasn’t any way to see what was happening, but Violet tried all the same. She didn’t want to see Greyly’s injury or watch him expiring from a brain fever or something else, but her curiosity was burning.

  Victor put his hand over her eyes. “Careful, love. No one enjoys to see our witty Vi stumble from those dreams of yours.”

  “He’s dead,” someone hissed.

  Another person repeated it until it echoed from all sides like the wind in a storm. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

  “Do you think he had a heart attack or a brain attack?” Violet asked.

  Victor paused. “He didn’t look unhealthy.”