by Beth Byers
Rita and Violet watched her leave and then looked at each other in horror.
“It’s too late for Lila,” Rita said, holding her own chest, “but not for us, Vi.”
“It might be too late for me,” Violet said, with a frown, hands on her chest. “I love my clothes.”
Lila and Rita gasped. “Really?”
Violet turned and then shook her head. “Not now. I’m just saying, Jack really does want children. And Lila told me I have to put his happiness first to have a happy marriage, and I do want to be happy too and maybe that means ruined dresses. I don’t know how this works. Why can’t they just eat bread and meat when they come out? Somehow Lila has become the expert, and I am confused about the entirety of life now that she’s advising me.”
“They don’t come with teeth,” Rita reminded Violet.
“I know,” Vi muttered. “I did meet my nieces when they were bloody and slimy. Now that I think back, it was horrible.”
“You said it was beautiful,” Lila snapped. “You swore it.”
“I lied,” Violet lied. It had been beautiful. Meeting the twins was amazing. Seeing their first breaths, holding them, all of it. It had been haunting Violet, and she was—maybe—ready to have a baby herself. The question was—was Violet going to be pregnant like Lila and glow? Or like Kate and turn into a weeping, crazy, swollen melon?
Lila crossed her fingers over her stomach and crossed her ankles on the table in front of her. “You are lying, Mrs. Wakefield. I know you better than anyone, and that was a lie.”
“Except Victor,” Rita shot out. “Victor knows Vi better than you as does Jack.”
Rita snorted as Violet muttered, “I need a drink. Did you see what happened to Kate’s silk blouse? That was French.”
“I did.” Rita’s expression was mocking Violet.
Vi glared at both Lila and Rita. “We’re back to no more lifting of brows, sarcastic snorts, and general scoffing.”
Rita rolled her eyes as Lila snorted evilly.
“I hate you all,” Violet snapped.
Chapter 15
Violet walked up the steps of the Piccadilly Ladies Club the moment they saw Mrs. Partridge leave. The woman at the door opened it so Violet and Rita could walk in without pause. “Mrs. Wakefield. Miss Russell.”
“That’s Lady Violet to you,” Violet snapped. “Where’s the management?”
“Not here, my lady,” the servant said calmly.
To hide her relief, Vi narrowed her gaze and lifted a brow at the servant.
“I—I’m sorry?”
“You’d better be,” Violet said, sweeping in. She crossed to the bar and ordered a cocktail. She sipped it for a few moments, and then made her way up to the rooms, Rita following.
“Did you find out what room it was?” she asked Rita.
“Yes,” Rita said. “Are we not sneaking in?”
Violet shook her head. “What are they going to do? Kick us out? We don’t really come here anyway. And they aren’t going to call Scotland Yard.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Your father’s money,” Violet shot back. “How are we getting into her room?”
Rita scowled as she held up the key. “Your father is rich too.”
“It’s all tied up for Gerald,” Violet replied offhandedly. “Landy might not be bribed though, so here’s hoping we don’t get caught and if we do, he isn’t the constable on duty.”
Rita unlocked the door to Mrs. Partridge’s room, and they slipped inside.
“Look for replies to the advertisement lying about. Or items from my house. Or mice.”
The room was clean and without personality. The desk itself was clear, but Violet crossed to it to pull open the drawers. She found Partridge’s copy of the contract of Ginny’s admittance to the school as well as letters from the teachers.
Vi frowned. There was nothing about the pranks. Nothing that led to the Partridge woman being the one who was tormenting Violet and Jack.
She pressed her fingers to her forehead. If it wasn’t Partridge, it could be anyone. How many times had Violet meddled in someone’s life? How many times had she stepped in to help, whether with money or with the determination to find a killer, with no reason to believe that she had any right to tinker in their lives?
“What have I done?” Violet asked. “If it isn’t Partridge, then it could be so many people. I need it to be Partridge. If it doesn’t go back to that one most recent fight, my goodness, Rita. Do you know what I am? What I’ve done, meddling in other people’s lives?”
Rita stared at Violet. “Where is all this coming from? It isn’t like you at all.”
“I might have gone without sleep when Jack didn’t come. I knew he was working, but I couldn’t sleep, so I worked on rewriting my book.”
“Why didn’t you just sleep? What is wrong with you?”
“Jack wasn’t there,” Violet muttered. “I’m dependent on him for sleep now. I’m weak. A delicate damsel who needs rescuing.”
Rita scoffed. “This is what comes from no sleep? You’re going to be worse than Kate when you finally become pregnant.”
Violet jerked at Rita’s accusation. “Don’t say that. That’s a terrible thing to say.”
Rita lifted a brow.
Violet groaned. “It’s going to be the same with you and Ham.”
“I’m not going to lie to you,” Rita said, opening the wardrobe and flipping through Partridge’s clothes. “You’re pathetic exhausted, and just because I apologized on his mirror with used lipstick does not mean I’ve decided what is right for me.”
“You protest too much,” Violet told Rita.
“I plan to,” Rita said, frowning as she picked through Mrs. Partridge’s wardrobe. “There’s nothing to see here. Absolutely nothing. It’s possible this isn’t the person. We did know it was unlikely to think of a schoolmarm putting mice through the slot.”
Violet’s mouth twisted as she rubbed her temples. “It’s possible that I’m a little high strung when exhaustion finally hits me, and I shouldn’t have had that drink. This is fruitless.”
Violet shoved up from the desk and made her way to the door.
“Let’s hire someone to follow her,” Rita told her, reaching the door first.
“I thought we already had,” Violet said dryly.
Rita shook her head, and then she screamed when she opened the door and found the most masculine, beautiful matron either of them had ever seen.
“Smith!” Rita jerked back. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to search the room, obviously. What are you doing here?”
“Same,” Violet said. “Are you in love with Beatrice?” she demanded with a hope that the sudden question would trip him into an answer.
Smith was too clever. “I don’t believe in love.”
Violet’s gaze narrowed on him as he pushed into the room and then shut the door. He crossed to the bed and lifted it, looking under the mattress and putting it back perfectly in the same spot.
“Beatrice is too good for you,” Violet told him.
“I don’t believe in love or relationships. She just needs to be careful on the stairs. It’s a simple precaution.”
Violet glared as Smith opened the drawers of Partridge’s desk. “I looked there.”
“But you aren’t me.” He slipped his hand into each drawer and felt along the top of the drawer.
“We didn’t do that,” Rita said. “Feel around on the top of the drawers. We just glanced in.”
Smith scoffed, adjusted his wig, and then opened the wardrobe and dug through each pocket, shoe, and hatbox.
Violet glanced at Rita, who bit her lip. “We need to improve our investigative skills.”
“You need to stop meddling,” Smith told them.
“Yes, we might need to stop meddling,” Violet admitted. “It leads to mice in the letterbox and snakes in the library.”
Smith glanced back at them. “Or a stabbing in the alley
. You’re on a quick road to being the next murder victim in Jack’s life.”
“Mr. Wakefield,” Violet snapped. “What else have you learned?”
“Your man-of-business’s office was searched. I saw them leaving when I went to search there myself. Too late to follow them, though.”
“What?”
“Your man keeps all of his files locked up. Whoever it was didn’t get into them.”
Violet stared. “Did you?”
“Of course I did.”
Violet sighed.
“Your man-of-business is a good man. He doesn’t even skim.”
Vi glanced at Rita, who said, “Let’s just leave. We’ll have another cocktail, sleep, and start again tomorrow.”
“Do you want to live?” Smith asked.
“What is that supposed to mean? This person isn’t violent.”
“Tell that to Bea and Landy.”
“Bea?”
Smith didn’t answer as he ran his hand over the top of the wardrobe and then knelt to check beneath it.
Vi groaned and then called after him, “Stay away from Beatrice.”
Violet played with her wedding ring while she tried to decide where Jack would go to sleep. Not Ham’s couch again. The hotel or Victor’s?
She took a guess and made her way back to her old room and found Jack there.
“I was wondering where you were,” he said as she took off her coat and dressed for bed.
After washing her face, Violet drew a deep breath in and then joined Jack on the bed. “I went a little exhaustion-mad today. I’m going need you to breathe deeply, keep your heart beating, and warm my toes.”
“I can do that,” Jack said, kissing the top of her nose. “What did you find out?”
“Smith is a very attractive, yet still masculine, woman. I was a little jealous of the way his rouge was blended into his natural flush. He is an expert at cosmetics. Far better than I and I’ve been playing with them for years.”
Jack laughed and Violet propped herself up on her elbows. “I don’t want you to leave Scotland Yard.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I know.”
“I just need to try ideas out in my head. I do that in my journal.”
“I know that too.”
Violet lay her head on Jack’s chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was her most comforting lullaby. The thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud was music to her ears. She was just so tired and angry. She hadn’t been prepared to be so outraged about pranks being played on her. She would have thought that she’d have been able to laugh those things off, but they were so mean.
“How ridiculous is it that I’m mostly bothered by how much this person seems to hate me? Sending out those pieces of my journal to ruin my closest relationships. Destroying Aunt Agatha’s china. Burning the newest V.V. Twinnings book. It’s so hateful and cruel.”
Jack tangled his fingers with hers and lifted them to his mouth to kiss one fingertip after another. “People generally like you. I suppose it must feel odd to have someone dislike you so thoroughly.”
“I feel like a whiny little beast that it’s affecting me so thoroughly,” Violet told him, pushing up on her elbows to look at him. “Broken china and a book that will probably be better when Victor and I write it again. I haven’t lost anything that can’t truly be replaced.” Violet sighed and then asked him, “Who was the body?”
“John Moore. A poor man who couldn’t afford a burial and didn’t want to burden his wife.”
Violet winced. “He knew he was going to die?”
“Of the same thing that seemed to have killed his father. Moore gave his body to science in the hope that his son wouldn’t die of the same thing.”
“Are they all right?” Violet asked, eyes wide.
“No, they lost their father. But the university doctors who were looking at his body and trying to understand what killed him will be able to carry on their work.”
Violet pressed her face into Jack’s chest and took in a deep breath.
“How did he end up at our party?”
Jack took in his own deep breath. “A student needed money and saw the prank advertisement.”
“What’s happening to him?”
“He’s been expelled.” Jack sighed. “He was bright enough. Just stupid.”
Violet pushed up again and met Jack’s gaze. “He must have talked to the organizer?”
“He did.”
“And?”
“It was a street boy who was paid a dollar for every time he was the go-between.”
“And the street boy?” Vi asked, almost painful in her hope that they’d have a clue.
“He’s slippery so far, but we’ll catch him.”
“So it wasn’t murder at least,” Violet said, relieved. “It’s odd that no one has heard anything.”
“Yet,” Jack said. “Your advertisement goes live tomorrow in the Piccadilly Press. I’m sure that we’ll be inundated with useless information and possibly a few gems worth following.”
“The Hotel Saffron staff is going to take the information, catalogue it, and we’ll bring it to Kate and Victor who are going to use the chalkboards to sort it all. Unless, of course, the party was the culminating event. Then we’ll get comfortable again until someone else decides to torture us.”
“You are glum,” Jack told Violet and rolled her beneath him. “Stop it.”
She shook her head, watching his gaze narrow before she reached up and tickled him and saw a shock of surprise on his face. It was all she needed for a full-on attack, which turned out to be all she needed to shake the blues and finally sleep.
Chapter 16
The key to shaking the men Jack set to tailing Vi and Rita was stupidly easy. The two women went into a ladies lingerie shop, held up some shocking bits of lace to their chests, and then disappeared into the back of the shop. For a fitting? The men wouldn’t know because they couldn’t cross the threshold, making disappearing as simple as a handful of pound notes for the shop girl to pretend to bring back more things and a promise to return and spend heavily later.
Really, Violet thought as she eased through the rear door of the shop, you’d think that Jack would have realized they’d shake his blokes. Especially when Jack had included Landy. The man deserved the dressing down he was going to get. She sidestepped through the alleyway to the street beyond with Rita at her heels carrying a larger than usual handbag.
“How did you find where to meet the street boy?” Vi asked Rita. “You never said. Did someone answer your ad?”
Rita grinned. “I found the right advertisement and answered it.”
Violet jerked with worry. “How were you not recognized?”
“You go to a silent movie show and the person comes and sits behind you. I wore a wig and didn’t turn around. I said that I guessed that you were the subject of the torment and that I’d always hated you.”
“Did you have anyone with you?” Violet hated that she sounded accusing.
Rita shook her head as they waved down a black cab. “I received a message last night with the showing and the seat number. There wasn’t time to get help and make the show.”
“You might have called.”
“And risked Jack finding out?” Rita gave Violet a smirk and Violet let out a sigh.
Vi slid into the cab next to Rita and they made their way to Hyde Park where the wigged and disguised Rita would meet the street boy. Hopefully, they’d be able to get a glimpse of whoever employed him. A glimpse, Vi hoped, would be all she needed to identify who hated her so much. Wouldn’t it? Violet had to know the person. Though, as cautious as this prankster had been, it was likely they wouldn’t see anyone but the street boy. That might be enough, though, to catch him at least.
They had the black cab stop near the entrance of the park. Violet got out of the cab and hurried towards the side path that would lead her near where Rita was supposed to finalize plans with the fiend and be paid the first half of the money.
&n
bsp; Violet walked from tree to tree. She was wearing a hat low over her head, a plain dress out of character for Vi’s usual style, and no jewelry at all. She looked a little like Beatrice and had borrowed her former maid's coat to seal the persona.
Violet stepped behind a tree and peeked out as Rita walked towards the statue where she’d agreed to meet the street boy. No one was there. Violet crossed her fingers and stepped back behind the tree when a hand covered her mouth and she was yanked against a large body.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Jack whispered. “I don’t know why I am.”
The boy hurried up the path, running with a paper in his hand. He met Rita, threw it at her feet, and disappeared across the garden. Ham appeared on that side and dove at the boy, tackling him while several other men surrounded them.
Jack let go of Violet’s mouth. “The men were following your cab,” he told her. “You should have gotten separate ones.”
Rita leaned down to pick up the note, read it, and crumpled it in her hand.
“How do you know that?” Violet demanded.
Jack scoffed. “You should have realized the moment you shook Landy that it was too easy. We were ready and the cabbie was ours.”
Vi groaned and pulled away from Jack, reaching Rita just as Ham did. Vi glanced past Ham for the boy and found the child wriggling and cursing in Landy’s grip. Vi’s gaze narrowed on him, but Ham was already snatching the note from Rita.
“Nice try?” He cursed nearly as foully as the child, but the boy had a real gift of language. “Damn it! Take the boy back to the Yard, Landy. We’ll speak to him there.”
To Violet and Rita, he said, “Smith was in the theater. He was able to follow the person who met Rita back to the Hotel Saffron.”
Vi gasped. Rita, however, smiled slowly. “The clever beast.”
“You both need to stay out of this, Rita. Bloody hell, you’re going to get hurt!”
Rita’s smile hadn’t faded. “Would you care, Ham?”
His curse was the answer Rita wanted as she tucked her arm through Vi’s. “I really did like that lacy thing at the lingerie shop. Shall we go back?”
