Candlelit Madness: A 1920s Historical Mystery Anthology including Violet Carlyle

by Beth Byers

  “I didn’t sign on to hurt a little one.”

  The low voice growled at the first man and Violet heard the thump of a solid blow. “No one asked you what you signed on for. Get to it.”

  The man left the library and Violet waited. The other had been silent so far. Was he gone as well? Or had he waited to see if she’d dare to show her face? The first man had taken the stairs in the front of the house and would have to find the babies while Violet knew where they were. She also knew where the ivy grew thick and deep on the side of the house.

  The thought of the babies had her daring to sidle to the right and peek out from behind the curtain. A man with thick dark hair, thick, broad shoulders, and the thick low voice was in the hall. He was silent and unmoving, probably waiting for her to appear again.

  Violet risked all and tiptoed across the library to the open window and was out and into the bushes with near silence. She hurried around the house to the back where the ivy was thickest and then took hold, climbing up when the biggest, meanest villain was watching for her in the hall.

  Perhaps he didn’t think that anyone left behind with a baby would dare such a thing. He should never underestimate the motherly instincts of a woman. The twins might not be her own but they were part of her. Violet also knew her brother well, better than all those living, including his beloved wife, which meant she knew where he kept his revolver.

  She climbed onto the balcony outside of his bedroom and waited with her heart in her mouth as she saw a shadow pass in the hall. She was hidden behind a gauzy curtain, but whoever was making his way through the house looking for the twins would never imagine she’d be on the balcony. The moment his shadow passed, Violet eased the door of the balcony open and darted into Victor’s dressing room. She pulled a hat box from the top of the closet, checked the gun for ammunition and considered.

  The man would be looking for the babies, but Geoffrey had quieted them. It was a race between Violet, who knew where they were but was bound by how she could get to them, and the man, who was secure in his strength.

  She bit down on her lip and then hurried back to the balcony. If she kept climbing, she could possibly reach a window outside of one of the servants’ bedrooms. But would it be unlocked? She could only hope that the servant had never seen a reason to lock the one so high. Violet tucked revolver into her lingerie—all she had to work with since her belt was currently occupied—and took hold of the ivy once again. It took her too long to reach the top, especially as she had to go slower as the ivy grew thinner, and she could hear the babies crying again.

  Someone had told these men that the house would be empty. Or her brother had been persuaded from the house. Had it been one of their trusted servants? No. They’d never work at the house if they were anything but trustworthy.

  It had to be the gent who had invited Kate and Victor out. But why? Had he just assumed that the babies wouldn’t be home or did he just not care?

  A Greek scholar in this area of the country had struck Violet as odd, but Kate had been so delighted at the thought of conversing with him, though not so much about leaving the twins behind. Surely it had to be him. Was he even a scholar? He was a fool if he thought Kate would not notice. Violet felt that if they survived this night, the supposed Greek scholar might not survive the next one.

  She hurried up another level of the ivy and then it broke under her. She bit back a scream as the ivy failed, but she caught herself with her anchored hand and then tried again. Whatever it took for the babies. She reached the window as the ivy pulled away from the wall and pushed it up as slowly and quietly as possible, clinging to the sill. The sound of the man banging his shoulder against the servant door drove Violet through the window and across the small room.

  She took a slow breath as she cracked the door. She stepped into the hall with the revolver leveled. He must have sensed her behind him for he turned quickly and froze. He met her gaze and she used her free hand to press her forefinger against her lips. She expected him to be angry, but if anything there was relief.

  She took a step away from the door she’d come out. “Step into that room.”

  He moved silently and she followed.

  “Sit down.” She nodded at the bed, holding the revolver steady.

  He did.

  She kept the revolver aimed at the fellow as she dug through the servant’s drawers and pulled out a pair of silk stockings. These had to be a luxury, but she would happily give whoever’s room this was a half-dozen pairs.

  “Hands behind your back.”

  “Biggie is a mean guy,” the man said. “You don’t want to cross him.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” Violet told him. “I heard what he said about the babies.”

  The man winced. “You could save one.”

  Violet didn’t deign to respond to that nonsense. She just waited until the man had turned away from her with his hands behind his back and then realized she’d put herself and the babies at risk if she dared to try to bind him.

  “Geoffrey,” Violet hissed. “I need your help.”

  A moment later, he opened the door. She handed him the revolver and he held it with shaking hands while Violet quickly tied the man. She tied his wrists, his elbows, and then bound him about his mouth.

  “Is that the last of them?” Geoffrey whispered. “What’s happening?”

  “Take the babies into another room,’ Violet told him. “Victor has been persuaded from the house.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because they’re here,” Violet replied quietly, nodding at the bound man. She eyed her little brother. “He’ll be back soon, but I can’t have him walking into a trap.”

  The sound of an auto on the drive punctuated her concern and Violet closed her eyes. The man was in the house and might be armed, and Victor wouldn’t hold back with his daughters at risk. She examined the room and decided there was only one thing to be done. She locked Geoffrey and the babies away again and then climbed back down the ivy, her descent aided as more ivy tore from the wall to hang ragged and broken. The gardener was going to be upset, but she’d pay him extra to trim it.

  Victor would leave the auto at the front of the house, open the door for Kate, and then walk with her up the steps. Even if they were discussing the idiocy of whoever had persuaded them from the house, they’d never imagine that they’d been invaded. Violet landed on the grass behind the house and hurried around the side, back to the French doors at the library. The auto had been turned off. She peeked into the library. The guy she’d knocked unconscious had been untied and dragged into the room. He shifted where he lay on the floor, and she bit back another strident curse before she crossed to the fireplace and picked up a poker. She stood in the shadows of the doorway while the gent moved about, coming slowly to himself.

  In the hall, Violet could hear Kate, “Of all the things, why would you pretend to be a scholar when you aren’t? It doesn’t make any sense, Victor.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t care. He wasn’t a man who enjoyed learning for the sake of adding to one’s store of knowledge. Instead, he said, “I could use a cocktail, love. Would you like one?”

  “I’d like the lights to be working. I need to check on the babies.” Kate’s next comment was muffled as the tap, tap of her running up the stairs. Violet heard Victor step into the parlor and then heard a dark curse from her brother.

  “What’s this now?”

  “Move it,” the low voice growled.

  “Where’s my sister?” Victor demanded. Violet could understand what her brother was doing. She knew him too well not to. He wasn’t giving her away. The question was whether she was still in play or if she and Geoffrey had already been discovered and removed from the scenario.

  “Sister?” the low voice growled, surprised.

  Violet grinned. Idiots. He told Victor the one thing he needed to know. Violet was still in play and if anyone knew what that meant, it was Victor.

 
; “Pretty devil might be a better term,” Victor said conversationally. “G&T?”

  The man huffed. “You rich fools. Are you really going to make me a G&T before I lock you in the closet and steal you blind?”

  “Are you now?” Victor asked, dropping ice loudly into the glass. “You’re underestimating m’sister.” Victor didn’t mention a weapon, which he would have if the man were armed hoping it would alert Violet.

  “My boy has gone for the baby. Your sister and your wife will do whatever I want,” the low voice growled.

  “Do you think so?” Violet heard the edge of a tremor in Victor’s voice and knew that the father in Victor was in full alarm.

  “Know so. Women are all the same.”

  Violet stepped into the hall and winked at Victor. The stress in his gaze faded immediately.

  “Idiot,” Violet said. To her brother, she added, “He hadn’t met me yet.”

  The man turned, but Violet swung the poker at him while Victor picked up a gin bottle and slammed it down on his head.

  “Oh,” Violet said as the man dropped like a load of bricks. “Did we kill him?”

  “Perhaps I did,” Victor said, taking the responsibility onto himself. It was removed from both of them when he growled and tried to rise. Violet leapt back while Victor leaned down and whacked him again.

  “There’s one untied in the library,” Violet told her twin. “Also one in the poor maid’s room and another in the garden, but those two are bound.”

  “Victor!” Kate called, “I can’t find the babies or Vi!”

  “They’re upstairs in the servant’s rooms,” Violet called. “Perhaps stay with them while I go get the constables.”

  “The constables?” Kate shrieked. “What? Why?”

  Victor answered while Violet leaned over and took out a sheet from the big man’s jacket. It was a note from the ‘scholar’ about the jewelry they could find at Victor’s house. The idiots had spent so much time trying to break into the safe and taking the silver, they’d completely bypassed the vanity where Kate kept her pearls and diamonds. Easily at hand for Kate and easily taken for a smarter criminal.

  “They really are fools,” Violet said, handing the signed note over to Victor.

  “Lucky fools,” he replied. “You didn’t kill any of them, and Jack isn’t home to finish the murder.” With a wicked grin at his wife’s pale face, he said, “I told you we could trust Violet to keep the babies safe.”

  Two Shots by Torchlight

  The Lola Rose Mysteries

  C. Jane Reid

  February, 1923

  Regal Rose Hotel, London

  “Brandon, kindly remove your heel from my toe.”

  “Apologies, Lola. I can’t see a thing.”

  “One would expect that someone would realize he is standing on a lady’s toe by the change in floor level.”

  “I say, Willa, these shoes have rather hard soles.”

  “Do you have a torch, Henry?”

  “I was just getting it, Mr. Canfield.”

  “A torch?”

  “Don’t panic, Lola, it’s electric, not flaming.”

  “Well that’s a relief, Gordie.”

  “Americans.”

  “There’s no need to be rude, Willa.”

  “Merely stating a fact, Lola my dear.”

  A beam of light suddenly blinded them.

  “By Jove, not in the eyes,” Brandon said, holding up a hand to shield his.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Darring.” The lift attendant shifted the beam downward. The light illuminated the confines of the hotel lift, revealing the faces of the five people trapped inside.

  Gordie looked to Lola. “Are you all right?”

  “This isn’t the first time the electricals gone out on me,” she reassured him. “Though you are sweet to ask.”

  He flashed her that warm smile.

  Lola removed her hairpiece and shook out her red curls, then attempted to tame them under the feathered hairpiece once more. The unruly curls refused.

  “I don’t believe this trim is working for me.”

  “I don’t believe any trim would work for that hair,” Willa said, the gap in her front teeth readily visible in the dim light with her wide grin. Lola couldn’t help but notice that Willa’s smile, however, was tense and didn’t reach her eyes.

  “I do believe that emerald dress works for you,” Lola told her with a grin of her own.

  Willa smoothed her hand down the beaded, drop waist dress, then adjusted the fringed wrap laying over her bare arms. “I do believe you are correct.” She laughed nervously.

  “What floor do you think we’re on,” Gordie asked Henry, the lift operator, as he crossed to the elaborate gate.

  “Between the first and second,” Lola answered.

  “Miss Rose is right,” Henry said. “But she knows the floors almost better than me.”

  “That’s because she’s constantly counting them,” Brandon said.

  “I was not.”

  “I’m afraid you were,” he told her. “Since the tenth floor.”

  “Wait,” Willa gasped, “did you say we’re between floors?” Her cherub face paled.

  “That’s right, Miss Maitlyn,” Henry said, “but don’t you worry, miss. They’ll know we’re stuck.”

  “Everything will be fine, Willa darling,” Brandon said, putting an arm around her shoulder. Lola eyed them. It was rare that either of them made any public displays of affection. They were hard at work keeping their engagement secret from their families, only have recently confessed to seeing one another socially.

  “Give me a hand, Henry,” Gordie said. Henry handed Lola the flashlight—torch, Lola reminded herself—and stepped to the gate. Brandon made a move to join them, opening his mouth, but Lola plucked at his coat sleeve and mouthed a stern “no.” Brandon pursed his lips with a glance for Gordie’s empty right sleeve, but he nodded.

  Gordie opened the gate one-handed and then ran his fingers along the edge of the door to the second floor where it was exposed halfway at the top of the lift entrance. He pushed his fingertips into the seam.

  “It’s tight,” he said, “but I think we can pry it open with something.” He worked his belt buckle loose and pulled his belt free. “I’ll get the door pried and you try to leverage it open.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Working with his only arm, Gordie fit the edge of his belt buckle into the seam and pried it back and forth. As soon as he had the buckle slipped through a narrow crack, Henry stepped forward and tried to push the door open. Gordie helped and soon they had it halfway open.

  “Now what?” Brandon asked.

  “Now I go through.”

  Willa gaped at Gordie. “What if the door closes? What if the lift starts again? You could be killed!”

  “Nonsense,” Lola told her. “Henry has the lift in park, or whatever it’s called, and we’ll hold the door open. But there is one problem,” Lola told Gordie. “I’m going first.” She flipped her stand of pearls over her shoulder to hang down her back.

  “Lola—”

  “Give me a leg up.” Lola moved to the door, handing the torch back to Henry, and hiked up her skirt. She smirked when she caught Gordie assessing her calves and knees.

  He quickly raised his eyes, and she grinned. “Ready?”

  He blinked. “Ready?”

  “For that leg-up.”

  “You want me—”

  “Of course you.” She bent her leg to undo one strappy heel, then the other, and handed them to Willa. “Mind these for me, won’t you?”

  Willa clutched them to her.

  Gordie bent and held out his hand. Lola placed her foot into it and grasped the bottom of the second floor landing.

  “On three,” Gordie said. “One, two—” and on three, he straightened, lifting her with a strong arm as she pulled herself up. She shimmied through the opening, stopping once when the lacy fringe on her dress caught. Gingerly, she freed it, got a knee under her, and c
limbed the rest of the way out of the lift.

  The second floor was dark and eerie. Lola stood quietly for a moment, taking it in. The hotel felt entirely different in the dark. Alien, but also serene.

  “All right there, Lola?” Gordie called out.

  “Yes. Let me see if I can open the door wider.”

  She pressed her back against the frame and pushed with her hands and one foot against the door. It slide open, then jerked the rest of the way, nearly dumping her back inside the lift.

  Gordie put his hand on her waist to steady her. A chill raced her back it from the touch. He quickly let go.

  “Step back,” he told her. She did so and he hefted himself out of the lift.

  “Me next!” Willa tossed Lola’s shoes out of the opening then held up her hands. With Brandon lifting from her waist and Gordie and Lola grasping her hands, they pulled Willa out. Brandon and Henry followed.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” Lola said, smoothing down her cocktail dress and checking the lacy in the torchlight. No sign of a tear, thank goodness. It was her first time wearing it.

  Willa giggled somewhat hysterically. “You look like a very well-dressed prowler in that black.”

  Lola struck a pose. “Hand over your jewels.”

  “Oh, but they’d never go with those pearls.”

  “True.” Lola began pulling the strand of pearls around to the front again, but Willa stopped her.

  “Do keep them that way. It’s very striking.”

  “I’ll say,” Brandon added.

  Willa and Lola both fixed him with a look. His eyes widened. “What did I say? They are striking.”

  Gordie chuckled. “Shall we go to the lobby?”

  “I’d best stay with the lift,” Henry told them. “But take this.”

  He held out the torch as though unsure who to give it to. Lola accepted it. Brandon began walking towards the grand staircase, moving past the shuttered amenity shops the Regal Rose Hotel boasted. Lola hesitated.

  “Lola?” She could see Gordie’s concern in the torchlight.