Obsidian Murder

by Beth Byers

  “She’s gone to Denny’s house,” Victor answered, “to examine the nursery there and to meet Letty, who arrived this morning. Mrs. Lancaster says that Beatrice’s cousin must meet with her approval before she takes up the role of full-time nanny for the children.”

  “Is Kate still ill?”

  “She’s sleeping off being sick,” Victor said. “It wears her out, sicking up. She sleeps it off and then she’s better for the rest of the afternoon.”

  “You should ask her mother if she ever discovered anything to help. Maybe there’s some hedge witch remedy that will take the edge of it all off.”

  “She already gave me a list, and I sent Mr. Giles for it all. Ginger beer, tea, crackers, dry toast. I don’t know. Some sort of tea mixture and herbs. I’m not sure. Ginger candies and peppermints.”

  Hargreaves arrived with the tea trolley, and behind him Hamilton Barnes entered.

  “Did you get the house?” Barnes asked, as he slumped into an armchair. “We’ve had a break in the case, but I’m not heading back out without food and coffee.”

  “You heard the man, Hargreaves,” Violet grinned. “Save him. Perhaps a platter of sandwiches and some coffee as well.”

  “Of course, my lady,” Hargreaves said, leaving the parlor silently.

  “What’s the break?” Jack asked.

  “We’ve caught Jones trying to sell some things he took from Greyly’s house.

  “He was stealing?” Violet demanded in awe. “And he got caught because of his tail?”

  Barnes nodded. “Feel almost bad for him. He wouldn’t have been caught without the shadow. We need to go down and question him. See if we can pin him down. Perhaps Greyly caught him taking things, and Jones killed the man.”

  “But there would have been a fight,” Violet said. “The only way this murder would have worked without witnesses is if it was utterly quiet. Otherwise, people might have noticed.”

  “She’s not wrong,” Jack said.

  Victor cleared his throat. “Wendell is still your main suspect, isn’t he?”

  The two investigators shared a look, and then Jack nodded once. Victor cursed and Violet poured them all tea as though a good cuppa could somehow change the fact that it was all too likely that Denny’s little brother had killed someone.

  “You could see how he’d have been so upset.” Violet stood to pace after handing everyone a cup of tea. “He seems to be obsessed with working hard. If he realized that all his hard work was gone to the wayside, especially if he realized what Greyly wanted to do with the information he had these men plant, he might have snapped.”

  Jack explained Greyly’s cult plan to Victor, who cursed again and then said, “I’m going to need some whiskey in my tea after hearing that nonsense.”

  Violet didn’t want to spend her afternoon thinking about murder. She was so tired of it. She was tired of wondering why someone killed another person. She had seen enough of murder to be grateful that Ham and Jack did what they did. Murderers needed to be caught and punished so there would be less. Violet, however, wanted to go shopping for furniture for her house and start imagining her next bedroom.

  “Did you discover anything else about the suspects?” she asked. “If you started with the assumption that Wendell was innocent, how would you proceed?”

  Ham shook his head and rose as Hargreaves came into the room with a tray of sandwiches. He filled a plate with a stack and sat back down, leaving Violet’s question to Jack.

  “We can’t do that, Vi. We have to follow the evidence. Right now, the evidence points to Wendell Lancaster, as painful as that might be for our friend.”

  Violet paced the room while they ate, wishing there were a way to discover the killer. She just couldn’t allow herself to imagine Wendell as the killer. Not when she knew it would hurt Denny. Vi hadn’t realized how protective she was of Lila and Denny until she’d seen them react to Wendell’s vitriol, and she hadn’t realized how much she respected Denny’s heart until she’d seen him defend his brother after that nonsense.

  If it were young Geoffrey? Violet considered her little brother and knew that she probably wouldn’t be as kind to her brother as Denny was being to his. She hadn’t expected to come to the conclusion that Denny was kinder than Violet was, but she was starting to suspect that it was the case.

  She was as nearly surprised to discover that it wasn’t all that shocking after she’d mulled the idea over. The question after that was—if Denny was right about his brother—how could she prove it?

  Chapter Eighteen

  “May I come with you to question Jones?”

  Hamilton winced and eyed Jack, who said, “Vi—”

  She nodded. It was understandable. She wasn’t an investigator, and Jones was at the Yard, not at some house party she had been attending. She continued pacing as Jack and Hamilton prepared to leave.

  “Are you all right, Vi?” Jack had crossed to her and she glanced up at him and smiled.

  “I’m fine, darling.”

  “I’ll tell you what we find out.”

  He shouldn’t be doing that either, but she wasn’t going to argue with him about bending the rules for her. Instead she tilted her head and said, “I may just spend the afternoon shopping for possible house furnishings. Do you have any requests for colors?”

  Jack grinned at her, and his eyes glinted. “You’re excited.”

  “I am,” Violet admitted. She tangled their fingers together and ignored Victor and Ham to press a kiss on Jack’s cheek. “It’ll be all ours. I think I’m happier that things need to be replaced than if it were all fresh.”

  “Perhaps not a very feminine master bedroom.”

  “Perhaps I can comply with that.” Violet pressed a second kiss on Jack’s cheek. “Gentlemen. Catch Jones as the killer, please.”

  She left them in the parlor and ran up the stairs to her bedroom to get her handbag, her coat, and to ring up Lila, who agreed to abandon Mrs. Lancaster to the children and come shopping with Violet.

  “Do you think that Wendell is innocent?” Violet examined the Chesterfield in front of her. She could order one for her new home, but she wanted to see the house first. She simply wanted an idea of what was available. Her mind wasn’t, however, on the Chesterfield or the armchairs she’d seen. Her mind was on the murder of Greyly. Violet told Lila about the cult of Hephaestus that Greyly had been trying to set up, and Lila had laughed until she cried.

  “The stupidest part of it is that anyone who wanted to join his little bacchanal club wouldn’t care if it were real or not. They aren’t looking to justify what they’re up to. It’s a modern world where we don’t have to remain imprisoned to the patterns of our ancestors.”

  Violet didn’t disagree with Lila, even though it all struck Vi as utter nonsense. She followed Lila through the warehouse and asked again, “But you really don’t think it was Wendell?”

  “He’s the most obvious choice?”

  Violet nodded with a wince.

  “I still don’t think it was him.”

  “But—”

  “Look, Vi,” Lila said, stopping to face Violet. “I know where the evidence is pointing, and I understand why you think it might be Wendell. I swear to you that in my heart of hearts—I do not believe that it was Wendell. I do not believe that Wendell would, under any circumstances, kill someone. Please know, Vi”—Lila took Violet’s hands, ensuring their gazes met—“I am furious with Wendell’s attitude about Denny’s inheritance.”

  “Then I don’t think it was him either. How are we going to catch who it was?”

  Lila shook her head. Violet felt a bit helpless. She wanted to save Wendell for them, but she had no idea how to make that happen.

  She returned home after saying goodbye to Lila, both having lost joy in the purchasing of things for her house, and found Mr. Lyle Clarkson sitting with Victor.

  “I thought I was supposed to meet Mr. Wakefield,” Clarkson told them a little stupidly. Violet glanced at Victor, who shrugge
d.

  “Did you send for Jack?”

  Victor nodded, shooting Clarkson another look.

  “Excuse us for a moment, Mr. Clarkson,” Violet told him. She and her twin went into the hall. “What in the world?”

  “I don’t know,” Victor said. “He knew where we lived from Greyly. As an assistant, he had the information from when Greyly visited.”

  “Is he really this idiotic?” Violet hissed.

  “I think so,” Victor admitted.

  “Where is Kate?”

  “She joined her mother at Denny’s house to meet the children.”

  Vi winced. Lila probably shouldn’t have left when she had. Though, Lila had gotten into the black cab with the explanation that she needed to escape the baby before she decided that it was time to have one of her own.

  “What do we do?” Violet asked Victor. She knew what she wanted to do, she wanted to go in there and pin the murder on Clarkson instead of Wendell. “If he’s really this simple, he can’t possibly be the killer, can he?”

  “I doubt it,” Victor agreed. “Could he really be this simple or is it an act to hide the murder he committed?”

  “Oh, that was a good point,” Violet replied. She glanced back at the parlor. “Jack is going to need to do the questioning. Were you able to reach him?”

  Victor nodded.

  “We had better send for tea or coffee,” Violet suggested, “and stop leaving him unattended.”

  They returned to the parlor as awkward as puppets with one string cut. Violet cleared her throat. “So, Mr. Clarkson, are you also an archeology enthusiast?”

  Mr. Clarkson shook his head. “No, no. I—”

  Violet told herself to not ask questions Jack would need the answer to, so she said, “Dreary weather we’re having.”

  “Indeed, indeed.” Clarkson glanced around the room and fell silent.

  Violet shot Victor a look to take his turn at getting the conversation going. “You a fan of jazz, Clarkson?”

  “No.”

  Victor glanced at Violet, who shook her head slightly, but he stared even harder. Her gaze narrowed on him and then she asked, “Do you care to travel, Mr. Clarkson? Victor and I were just discussing a trip to somewhere new.”

  Clarkson shook his head. “I prefer my own bed. Not one to gallivant about and waste money sleeping in someone else’s bed.”

  Violet barely kept back the sound of an irritated scoff as she glared at her brother, a demand to take up his part.

  “Ah, what do you enjoy?” Victor asked, as they all looked up in sheer relief as the tea trolley was brought in.

  “I collect stamps and rare books.”

  “Oh, how nice. Victor and I enjoy books as well. What kind of books do you collect?”

  “Religious treatises,” Clarkson said.

  Violet bit the inside of her mouth to hold back another frustrated grunt but then smiled prettily as she asked, “How do you take your tea, Mr. Clarkson?”

  “Milk, four sugars,” he said.

  Vi grinned at the answer and made him a milky, sweet tea, handing the teacup and saucer to him. She made a cup of tea for her brother. He was a lemon-only man, and Violet poured a teacup for herself.

  They drank the tea silently and when Jack arrived, Victor didn’t even try to quiet the, “Oh thank goodness!”

  Victor rose and crossed to Jack, shaking his hand and leaning in to whisper to him. Violet was sure it was a comment about Clarkson. She pasted a smile on her face as she poured Jack a cup of tea. She’d have added whiskey to it if Clarkson wouldn’t have reason to make a fuss about it. She handed Jack the tea, and he grinned at her and took a sip before turning to Clarkson.

  “Surprising to find you here,” Jack said.

  “You told my man that you expected to speak to me today. He—” Clarkson glanced about quickly and then timidly said, “He said you were quite upset. I wasn’t sure where to go except for here. Uncle said you were engaged to Lady Violet.”

  Jack paused, blinking. “I did.”

  “Here I am,” Clarkson said.

  Violet bit her lip to hide a reaction and then hid it further behind her teacup. Jack cleared his throat. “Yes, well. You are your uncle’s heir?”

  “I expect so. There isn’t anyone else really.”

  “But you aren’t certain?” Jack frowned.

  “He liked to say I was too stupid to have money. Wouldn’t be all that surprised if it’s all tied up and I just get a place to live and an allowance.”

  Violet bit down again on the inside of her mouth, this time to hide her frustration. Clarkson was the best bet for motive outside of Wendell. Clarkson smiled at Jack, a jolly expression, and said, “It’ll be nice to not have my uncle around.”

  Vi pressed her lips together, not even bothering to hide her reactions.

  “Oh?” Jack set down his teacup and pulled out his pencil and notebook. “Why is that?”

  “He yells a lot,” Clarkson announced.

  Violet set her own teacup down, leaning back and closing her eyes. Her hopes for Wendell Lancaster to be saved by Clarkson’s guilt were fading. There was something wrong with the way this man’s brain functioned. Violet had to move Greyly out of the despised part of her mind, given that he had been allowing his nephew to work and his caring for the man.

  She glanced at Jack, searching his face to see if Jack thought it was an act, but she didn’t think he was doubting Clarkson. Violet played with the ring on her finger, rising to pace the parlor while Jack asked Clarkson more questions. By the end of the interview, it was apparent that Clarkson actually had an alibi the whole time. He’d been helping the people who had been setting off the fireworks. Violet knew Jack would double check, but she didn’t doubt it was legitimate.

  “Back to Wendell?” Violet asked as Clarkson left the house. “Or did you learn something from Jones?”

  “Nothing you’ll like,” Jack told her. He set aside his notebook and propped up his feet. “Jones didn’t alibi the Lovegoods because he was thieving, but he saw them during the fireworks show. He’s certain that they were together and that they didn’t kill Greyly. Jones was taking things from the ballroom, which was unattended. The Lovegoods were smoking near the back of the crowd. He also said that they let Greyly support their digs, but they could afford to dig on their own. Greyly’s death won’t ruin them in the same way it’ll ruin Lands, Wendell, and Jones’s own dig.”

  “Damn it!” Violet let the worry for Wendell fill her face.

  “I’m sorry, Violet. I do have an idea, but it requires Hamilton’s approval since it’s out-of-bounds of normal Yard procedure. It also requires Wendell to go along with it.”

  Violet’s brows lifted, and she leaned forward.

  “Tell me.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Did you find anything out from Jones that would change things for Wendell?”

  Jack shook his head.

  “You think this is going to work?”

  Jack shook his head, but he tangled his fingers with Violet’s. “But we’ll try.”

  “For Denny,” Violet said.

  “This is completely irregular,” Hamilton said. “It’s just as easy that Wendell and Dr. Lands were working together.”

  Violet patted Hamilton on the back. “You’re a good man, Ham.”

  “I’m not sure how I let you talk me into this,” Hamilton told Jack, giving him an exasperated look.

  “It’s the villa on the Amalfi Coast,” Violet told him. “You have time off coming up, and you want to go with us. We can’t go if this case is lingering on.”

  Hamilton snorted. “As though you wouldn’t let me stay there without you. Try again, Lady Violet. I know your generosity too well.”

  Violet laughed. He had her there, but he was as worried about Jack as Violet was. Even as they waited for Parker to appear with Dr. Lands, Jack was caught by the shadows again. Vi didn’t know what had happened in the north, but she was certain she didn’t want to know. She w
as already having bad dreams about whatever had happened without her knowing. Maybe her imagination was filling the blanks worse than it had been, but every time that thought struck her, she remembered the look in Jack’s gaze and thought it was worse than even she was imagining.

  She glanced at Hamilton, who looked as worried as Violet was about Jack. They were standing in the ballroom of Greyly’s house where the displays had been half-emptied. “How did anyone not notice so many of these had been partially emptied, and where did Jones keep the contents?”

  “We were focused on the body,” Jack said dryly. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her close to him, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “Let’s get into position.”

  It was a stunt they’d pulled before. Getting the murderer to confess while they listened. Now it was up to Dr. Henry Parker to convince his old friend that he’d seen what had happened and trip up the man who had murdered his one-time patron flawlessly.

  Violet followed Jack to the hall off of the ballroom while Hamilton took position on the other side of the room.

  Jack tucked Violet close to him and then turned her so they were pressed against the wall in the hallway. If anyone walked down the hall towards them, they would only see his arm and possibly her skirts fluttering between his legs. If Dr. Lands decided to get violent, Violet would be safe. She laid her head against his chest and listened to his heart for long, silent minutes.

  Eventually there was a clatter in the ballroom followed by the sound of footsteps. Voices lowered in speech reached Violet and Jack, but at first the words were indistinct until the men reached the center of the ballroom.

  Why were they talking about the weather? She shot Jack an exasperated look.

  “They need a catalogue of all the items and then we’ll value the things that Jones stole for his case. Shouldn’t take too long.” It was Parker’s voice. Violet pressed her face into Jack’s neck as she listened, to muffle any sounds from her reactions.

  The sound of the men opening the cases carried on for a while and then Parker asked, “When are you going to explain why you did it?”