A Murder Most Odd

by Beth Byers

  A Murder Most Odd

  A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery

  Beth Byers

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Sneak Peek of Bright Young Witches

  Also by Beth Byers

  Summary

  June 1926

  Violet and Jack are the matron of honor and best man at Rita and Ham’s wedding. Rita’s father is so excited, he’s bought the couple a country house near Vi’s and arranged a several daylong celebration, culminating in a wedding, wedding breakfast, and wedding ball.

  On the first day, there is a large picnic in the ruins near the house. On the second day, there is a snipe hunt and the winner receives a shocking prize. On the third day, the bright young winner falls dead in his soup. Who would kill the lively young man? And why?

  For Em. Miss you, sister.

  Chapter 1

  Ham’s grin was a combination of baffled and delighted with a touch of sheepishness. He looked at the gathering guests without surprise, but he had to have known so many people were coming to his wedding celebration. Violet watched as he shook his head, taking in the crowd, and then a polite smile replaced his genuine grin. His happiness only seemed real when those dark brown eyes landed on his soon-to-be wife, Rita.

  From the outside, the couple must seem like something of a mismatch. Rita was—in the simplest of terms—gorgeous. Blonde, slender, marcelled curls, large blue eyes, and just enough curves to demand attention. Among her group of friends—both Vi’s people and those here—Rita was the loveliest by far.

  Ham had a good decade and a half on Rita. He had lost much of his hair and didn’t bother to slick back the remnants of his locks as was the style. Instead, he kept his hair cut close to his head. With his dark beard and muscled form, he seemed to belong to a different era. Vi could just imagine him as a pirate with a cutlass or a highwayman waving dual pistols. He seemed especially masculine next to the men that had been invited to this party.

  “I’d have thought it’d be you who ended up with Rita,” Vi heard from just out of sight. She slowly turned her head but couldn’t quite see the gents who were talking. Only a double set of shining shoes and excellently made pant cuffs extended into her vision. Vi considered clearing her throat, but she did love to eavesdrop.

  Across from her, tables spread across the garden. Tents were up, servants flit among the glittering throng in black and white uniforms, carrying trays of cocktails and small bites. Vi had avoided the crowd to find a bench near the trees. It was a typically favorite spot for Vi, as she loved to enjoy the shade while she watched people interact.

  The back garden was lined with wild trees. Parts of the original property might have been used for farming in bygone eras, but the farmland had been sold off, leaving behind the woods kept for hunting and privacy.

  The gents that caught Vi’s ready ear were leaning against a tree along the same tree-line but far enough they hadn’t noticed her. Vi bit down on her bottom lip to hold back her reactions as anything that started with one of them thinking they had a chance at Rita was something Vi was interested to hear.

  “Always thought I’d be able to talk her into taking me on,” one of them said, sounding a little down.

  Vi had to fight hard against leaning forward to see the man’s face. His voice was young, his shoes were nice. The need to lean forward and see who had thought they’d be able to marry Rita was a near-physical force that Vi had to fight back, especially when the gent said, “Thought we were a perfect match, but she kept saying we’d never be happy.”

  “Who cares if she’s happy?” the first, smooth voice said. “All that money. It’s a travesty. The adventures we could have had…”

  Vi’s gaze narrowed. We? Those fellows thought they’d take control of Rita’s money and run off on their own adventures financed by Rita’s fortune. Vi only wished she were surprised, but she’d had her own money-grubbing pretend lovers.

  The one-time lover of Rita muttered, “Apparently, she cared if she was happy.”

  There was enough of sarcastic humor that Vi didn’t hate either one of them fully, though the subject of the conversation was enough to make her skin crawl. These fellows needed a well-deserved lesson, the both of them.

  “Why didn’t you make her think she’d be happy?” the first fellow asked sardonically. “You’ve lost acres upon acres of the ready money. Look at this place. Rita’s bobby certainly didn’t buy it. That rich father of hers did. He fixed it up too. Did you walk through it? It’s practically glowing. It’s as shiny as a brand new mansion, but with all the arrogance and stature of a place that’s been around almost forever.”

  “I did,” the lover groaned. “I saw it all. It’s…painful. I wouldn’t have minded being the lord of this manor.”

  Meanly, the other one said, “It should be painful, you fool. What do you want to wager that the bobby will get a yacht? He probably already has one. A policeman stole her from us. A policeman!”

  “Did you see the auto?” the one-time lover replied. “I’ve never ever seen a shinier auto. I don’t think you can even buy that model of auto yet. Russell ordered it for the bobby right from the maker. It’s the first one off the line.”

  “Oh, I saw it,” the meaner of the two gents said.

  “Jerome,” the second man replied easily. “Rita was never going to be mine. Do you think I didn’t propose? A beauty like her, heiress to Croesus himself, and as ready to go on a safari as a sail around the world? I begged. On my knees. I tried everything. She fell for none of it.”

  Vi’s gaze narrowed. Fell for…no wonder Rita was so upset by Ham throwing her love aside. Rita’s options had been men who pretended to love her and lied to her. Rita’s other option had been Ham who had thought he wasn’t good enough for her. No wonder Rita had been so crushed when Ham had sidestepped her love with the idea that there was someone better for her than Ham.

  Jerome’s tone became even more mean as he replied, “Turned you down, did she?”

  “A dozen times. Two dozen. Endlessly.”

  Jerome’s mean laugh was becoming old.

  The lover said, “She’d chuck me on the shoulder and tell me she’d drive me mad before our third anniversary.”

  Cue the mean snort, Vi thought, and then heard the mean snort.

  “You’re a fool,” Jerome said. “You were the closest to reeling that fish in, and you failed.”

  “I allowed her to side-step, so I’d have another chance,” the lover almost whined. “I had to slither my way back in.”

  “Effective,” Jerome said meanly. It was a smooth meanness that had an air of erudite precision. Vi had to wonder what this Jerome’s plan would have been if it had been him getting all the ‘no’s.’

  “I suspect I wasn’t the only chum of hers who realized she was pretty and rich and thought why not? Our Rita is sharp for a girl. She never took me seriously.”

  Vi’s gaze narrowed on the phrase ‘for a girl’ and she leaned forward, unable to hold back the desire to see what Jerome and the lover looked like. Her movement caught the two gents’ attention. The taller one cleared his throat and tried for a charming grin, but Vi didn’t succumb. The other had the grace to look embarrassed with a deep blush appearing on his cheeks.

  The blushing fellow was fair, with curly blonde hair that his pomade was not controlli
ng, and he had a bit of thickness about the middle. The other gent was tall, thin, handsome, and suave. She identified him as the meaner one of the two—the ‘Jerome’ in a mere moment. Given his comments and lack of embarrassment, surely he had to be the one throwing around the insults.

  Vi stared openly at him as his gaze moved over her. She had little doubt he was cataloging her value with her long black-pearl necklace, made-for-her dress, and diamond and gold bangles. On closer inspection, she could see that he wasn’t handsome. There was a certain something to how he held himself that made one think he was devastatingly handsome despite the reality. The reality? His nose was too large as were his lips. His eyes were a little too far apart. His build looked more padded with cotton than muscles. No, he wasn’t handsome—just confident.

  Vi grinned evilly, but her voice was cheerful and friendly as she held out her hand. “Violet Wakefield.”

  “Jerome Harrington,” the suave fellow replied.

  Of the two, she preferred him as he hadn’t been playing with Rita’s heart.

  “I believe Rita told me about you,” Vi said lightly. “Jerome, isn’t it? Something of a wart. But witty, leaning towards mean.”

  “Albertson.” Jerome’s grin flashed, and Vi couldn’t help but laugh at the mischief in his expression.

  Jerome took her hand, lifting it to his face. He pressed a slow, flirtatious kiss to her knuckles and laughed as she rolled her eyes at him. “Meet Percival Batting.”

  “Did she mention me?” Batting asked with a desperate, avaricious hope.

  What was he hoping for? That Rita would leave the man who adored her for the fellow who had obviously been after her money? Vi let her gaze move over him, lifting a quizzical eyebrow. As she did, his blush increased to a painful red.

  Jerome watched Vi torture Batting with her expression as Jerome added, “One-time lover of our Rita and loser to the Yard man.” The word ‘yard’ was said so meanly that Vi’s goodwill faded.

  “Well, she’s the Yard man’s Rita now,” Violet said easily, hiding her feelings. “And losing is right. I can see you’re poor losers.”

  Jerome laughed again. His suave grin didn’t fade in the least at her attack. “Me?” he sounded hurt. “I never aspired to the fair Rita’s hand.”

  “Oh, of course,” Vi snapped. “You didn’t want the…what was it? Acres and acres of ready money? So much of the green she could practically fill a swimming pool with the gold and swim through it?”

  His reply was the suave, confident expression that demanded she believe he was handsome.

  Vi refused to believe it and she let that refusal fill her gaze.

  He told her plainly, “I prefer to be freer than dear Batty here. I have no desire to shackle myself to a curvaceous pot of gold.”

  Vi rolled her eyes.

  But Jerome continued, “I’ve always been fine with begging a few pounds off of my friends and letting them pay the way on our next adventure.”

  Vi sniffed, lifting both of her brows. She was disgusted by both of them and only Percival Batting seemed bothered.

  “Tell me,” Jerome asked smoothly, letting desire fill his gaze.

  “What is that look supposed to mean?” Vi demanded.

  He didn’t even blink as he asked, “Have you ever been to the heart of Africa? It will change your life.”

  “What are you saying?” But she knew.

  “Perhaps you need a guide?”

  “A paid one?” Vi asked.

  That suave grin was her only reply.

  “What did you say? Who cares if she’s happy?” Vi asked easily. “You’re such a good friend. It’s no surprise you didn’t aspire to her hand. Even you have to recognize she’s not stupid enough to fall for you.”

  Jerome didn’t even shuffle his feet or glance away. He just shrugged and said, “Broke gents aren’t to be trusted. Rita knew what I was the moment she met me.”

  “Why then?”

  “I’m fun,” Jerome replied.

  “I’m fun,” Batting lied. “I’m handsome. I’m a catch.”

  Vi rolled her eyes in unison with Jerome and then laughed, sliding her arm through his offered elbow.

  “I don’t know how she sidestepped Mr. Romance here,” Jerome said dryly. “The only mystery left is how she ended up with the brokest of us all.”

  Vi glanced back at Ham. Rita was saying something to her beloved, and his head was tilted down to her. Vi didn’t need to be close to know his gaze was loving. In fact, even from this distance, the normal mask over his expression had faded. His love for Rita had been becoming more and more apparent if you knew him.

  “I believe she found a man who can be trusted.”

  Jerome snorted and glanced at the Percival fellow who wasn’t even bothering to hide his disbelief. They both shook their heads, and Violet was the one who was scoffing this time.

  “Do you know why the broke sons of good families never marry the heiresses?” Vi asked, channeling the sarcasm from Jerome.

  “Why?” Percival asked instantly.

  He was so earnest it seemed to be a mystery he intended to use as his North Star. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he pulled out a pencil and a notebook and wrote down anything.

  “Because,” Violet explained slowly as if the fellow had been hit on the head, “the man from the supposedly good family is so busy eyeing the money, he misses what’s important to the girl. Every heiress who marries is going to end up with someone poorer than her.”

  “What?”

  “Yard man or third son of a duke, neither of them have money. The difference isn’t all that great.”

  “But the third son of the duke is well-connected.”

  “So is the rich woman,” Vi snapped. “There’s nothing you can offer but love.”

  “Love?” Percival scoffed and Jerome sniffed sardonically. He was so stupidly expressive with his snorts and sniffs, he could have challenged Denny.

  “Are you schooling us? Scolding us?” Jerome asked so very easily. “I’m not sure I can tell, and the moment I believe that your Ham fellow isn’t more in love with the money than your Rita is the moment Hades rises up and invades good old England.”

  Vi rolled her eyes and said, “I am both schooling and scolding. Perhaps instead of looking for some heiress to fill your coffers, you could support yourself.”

  “Rich aunt,” Percival said, jerking his thumb towards Jerome. “I’ve enough to get by. We both do. Just never hurts to have a little more. Yachts are a bit beyond me. Working is also beyond me.”

  Violet’s voice was friendly even as she said, “You. It doesn’t hurt you to take her money. It hurts Rita terribly to be married to someone who doesn’t care about her.”

  “I would have cared about her,” Percival lied. “I do care about her. She’s a great chum.”

  Vi scoffed.

  Percival was blushing once again when he said, “I’d have been good to her.”

  “You’d have kept your affairs carefully secret and never raised a hand to her?” Vi offered, almost cheerily.

  Percival didn’t even catch the dark sarcasm in Vi’s tone. Jerome, however, did. His reply to it was another easy wink and patting her hand where it rested on his forearm. Vi rolled her eyes and told them, “I need a drink. After talking to Mr. Dim here, I might need several.”

  She started to leave, but Jerome kept her close. “Tell me, are there heiresses here today? You seem to be a woman to know. I heard Rita’s new friend is rich. The earl’s daughter. Do you know her?”

  Vi glanced at him and then replied, “That one is married.”

  “I prefer them married,” Jerome said entirely seriously. “I don’t actually want a wife. I was asking for poor Percival regarding the unmarried heiresses. I prefer the wealthy married ones. They’re far less trouble.”

  “Mmmm,” Violet said.

  To think that she was on this fellow’s list of targets, and he didn’t even know what she looked like. It was enough to make her desire
a very distinct revenge. She just prevented herself from narrowing her gaze on him, taking him by the ear, and teaching him the meaning of respecting women.

  There were other ways. Other ways and other tools. Her gaze flit around the party and landed on one subject. Would he fall for it? She grinned up at him and he smiled in return, no suspicion in his gaze. More the fool him.

  “How do you feel about older women?”

  “Older, rich women?” There was a twinkle in Jerome’s gaze as he said, “You understand a fellow instinctively.”

  There was nothing instinctive about understanding this man. Vi just prevented herself from rolling her eyes. He was about as mystifying as a sunny day. Vi turned her gaze away before she gave her intent away.

  The event of the day was a garden reception while guests arrived at the house. They were roomed, changed, and then filtered down to the garden when they were ready. Across the garden, there were sprinklings of crowds.

  “I like all women,” Jerome told Violet while they moved among the crowd, Vi subtly leading him towards her target. “My favorite are the spoilt, rich ones, but they’ve all got their place.”

  She had little doubt that it was only her sex and status that prevented Jerome from adding something disgusting like in my bed. She didn’t even feel bad when she nodded towards a very particular woman. “Then you should consider her.”

  Chapter 2

  Jerome Albertson’s gaze followed Violet’s to an elegant, if older, woman in an expensive gown. She wore diamond earbobs on her ears and a long strand of pearls around her neck. There were layers of pearls on her wrists and a large brooch on her chest. Everything about the woman was expensive and tasteful.