Murder at the Ladies Club

by Beth Byers

  “Oh!” Rita shivered. “Don’t say that.”

  “That is bad,” Lila told Violet. “If not for the clothes, you might be able to make an argument that the stepmother wasn’t trying to take over Rita’s life. The clothes, however—those are alarming.”

  “I would be furious if someone helped themselves to my clothes,” Violet admitted, thinking of her rather excessive wardrobe. Even before she’d inherited so nicely from her great-aunt, Violet had spent most of her money on books and clothes.

  “I just…I can’t…I can’t carry on like this,” Rita said, dropping into her seat. “I lied to her. I told her I had offered my sponsorship to the ladies club to someone else. I told her I couldn’t possibly go back on it. Not to this woman. An earl’s daughter!” Rita said, laughing. “Piccadilly doesn’t even have us join like that. I made it all up. She’s going to find out, and then she’ll tell my father, and then I’ll be in the doghouse for wanting to have my own life. My goodness, it’s just not right! That’s my club, my refuge, and to have that giggling child appear and demand my friends’ acceptance?” She shook her head. “Do you know how you qualify for joining? You have to be well-connected and educated, like the both of you, or be outstanding in some way. A woman reporter like Miss Allen or an author like you, Violet. And that doesn’t count the rumors of your business acumen and charity work.”

  “We’re both joining this club,” Lila said. “You, however, Rita, need to do something else. Why don’t you just go to South America?”

  “I am enjoying London,” Rita confessed. “I decided to approach England like I do other countries and explore. It’s so much fun. Also, Father—he’s all I have. Look what happened after I left him last time. He ended up married to grasping, pouting child. He seems surprised every time she pops up and asks for something. I think he tells her yes just to make her go away.”

  “Oh dear,” Lila said.

  “Your father is a grown man and quite an experienced one,” Violet countered. “He might have been manipulated by this woman, but this is your life.”

  “I’m not ready to leave England yet,” Rita insisted earnestly.

  “Don’t,” Violet said. “Don’t let her drive you away. But wearing your clothes and insinuating herself into your life? No. Move in with your aunt, with a friend, into a hotel if you must. But distance is a requirement.”

  “I—” Rita glanced between them. “Something must be done.”

  “Indeed,” Violet agreed, while Lila simply held up her teacup and declared, “Hear, hear!”

  Chapter 4

  “There you are,” Jack said and Violet spun. She had just left the ballroom where she’d been having her jiu jitsu lesson. She was sweaty and probably smelled, but she threw herself into his arms and kissed his cheek. She’d had to make a bit of a leap to reach his shoulders since he was so much taller than her, but he caught her without an issue.

  His dark hair was ruffled from the wind and his dark eyes were fixed on her face. He was not a very expressive man, but she caught the glint in his eyes and she just had to press another kiss on his jaw. He held her against his chest, and her feet dangled off the floor.

  “There you are!” She tried to avoid a squeal, but she couldn’t quite hold it back. “Are you done with your case already or just back for a day or two?”

  Jack pressed a kiss on her forehead and then her lips. “The case wrapped up rather quickly. I fear the murderer disposed of the weapon rather terribly. Once we found it, everything fell together.”

  Violet linked her arms around him and apologized for her sweatiness. “Are you back for a while?”

  “I plan on it. Ham knows I don’t want to leave, especially while Victor and Kate are house shopping. Shall we go with them and see the houses?”

  “I would love to,” Violet told him, hesitating, “and I love Ham for keeping you home. Only—”

  He waited, his eyes warm on her face, and Victor ran up the steps to outside of the ballroom. “Are you just going to stand there holding her off the ground?”

  “Don’t you have a wife to look after?” Jack asked idly, letting Violet down, though he kept hold of one of her hands.

  “I do,” Victor said. “I’m keeping my twin, however, so you’ll just have to look forward to my pretty face.”

  Jack held out his other hand and they shook, Victor grinning shamelessly and Jack pretending he wasn’t pleased to see Victor.

  “You two are precious,” Violet told them both, letting go of Jack’s hand. “I believe I shall go refresh myself and meet you downstairs. You are staying?”

  “I need to see to a few things at the yard,” Jack said. “What if I return this evening for dinner? I wanted to let you know I was back. The Savoy?”

  “Yes,” Violet said, “that does sound lovely.”

  “We’ll come,” Victor said. “Who doesn’t love the Savoy?”

  “No,” Jack replied flatly. “We’ll meet you later at a club. You choose which one.”

  Victor’s grin remained steady as he lifted his brow, but Jack didn’t cave. Victor finally clapped Jack on the shoulder. “You win, but you’re buying the cocktails.”

  Jack didn’t object and Violet hurried down the stairs and into her bedroom. She had an appointment with her man of business before luncheon and plans to join Lila and Denny afterward for lunch.

  She dressed in a navy blue dress with a pleated skirt and a white blouse, adding a grey and white jumper over her blouse. She completed the ensemble with her grey wool jacket and black cloche. She wore sturdy shoes for London’s winter. It was wet and cold outside with the type of chill that blew right through one’s bones.

  Violet dressed rather quickly and hurried from the house, taking a black cab to her appointment. She found Rita Russell in the waiting room. Violet paused, examining the woman with her bright blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. “Are you sure that you haven’t decided to take over my life? Your stepmother might have you rather on her side, but—”

  “No, no,” Rita said with a sniff. “I have to move the money I inherited from my mother. I thought if there was any man who wouldn’t condescend to me and who was also excellent at his business, it would be Lady Violet Carlyle’s man.”

  Violet made a slight nod.

  Rita spoke as Violet reached the door to the office. “I feel as though I have crossed a boundary. Again. I—I would like to actually be friends. I wonder if I can invite you to dinner?”

  Violet considered. She was feeling a bit hunted, but she also agreed with Rita’s reasoning. Finding a man of business who didn’t try to control an independent woman and who was also trustworthy could be a difficult endeavor. Simply finding another independent woman and discovering her man of business certainly cut the search down.

  “Possibly,” Violet finally answered. She went into the office and closed the door before speaking.

  “Have you met her yet? Miss Russell?”

  Mr. Fredericks, her man of business, shook his head. “Do you want me to refuse her business?”

  Violet tilted her head. “Would you do that?”

  “You’re not just my most profitable client, Lady Violet. You’re my favorite.”

  Violet laughed. “I trust you to keep my business private.”

  “Of course,” he said, handing her a cup of Turkish coffee and a scone.

  She sipped the coffee. “That is delightful. I would never interfere with your business beyond expecting my own privacy.”

  Mr. Fredericks nodded, and they finished their business quickly. Violet’s eyes widened slightly at the profits, and she asked about finding a house near Lila and Denny for Victor, but on a whim, she told him to look for one for her and Jack as well.

  Rita had left by the time Violet exited the office.

  “She didn’t have an appointment,” Mr. Fredericks said as he escorted her out, “so she had her initial meeting with Jones.”

  Violet let the matter drop. She returned home to her brother and found that he’
d dressed for the evening as well. “We have reservations.” Victor grinned at his wife and kissed her cheek. “Kate does enjoy the scallop and shrimp bouillabaisse. One can’t ignore the needs of an expectant mother.”

  Violet smacked her brother’s arm before running up the steps to her bedroom. She washed quickly and then took out her newest dress. She had purchased it in her first, aborted attempts to buy more exotic lingerie. Instead, she had walked away from those for the loveliest blue dress that gathered just under her chest. She found the blue broach from her mother and pinned it to the dress to accent the gathering, then smoothed the hem, straightening the fringe that ended near her knees. She chose to skip all other jewelry except black pearl earbobs to allow the broach to shine.

  Violet added the matching blue headpiece, her new blue shoes with diamond buckles, and then quickly did her makeup. She was running late for her dinner with Jack, but she was delighted to spend the evening together after the last few weeks separated. She had told him he needed to follow the gossip in his investigations more, but he’d just laughed and said the only reason she’d discovered the guilty was because they would gossip with her. He’d ended it with, “the poor, unsuspecting fools.”

  Violet played with her engagement ring as she glanced through her makeup. Jack did enjoy the darker brick red lipsticks that she sometimes wore. He’d kissed them off of her often enough. Given the glint in Victor’s eye, she suspected her twin would do what he could to prevent Jack from doing just that this evening.

  When Jack saw Victor and Kate, his eyes flashed with humor. He took in Kate’s exasperated glance at Victor and then held out his hand for Violet.

  “Hullo darling,” Violet told him.

  “I see your brother is up to his usual,” Jack replied.

  “He does seem to have an inexplicably sudden reservation this evening.”

  “We, however, have a private table.”

  “A travesty,” Victor cut in. “I’m sure that it can be corrected.”

  “Mmm.” Kate rubbed her belly and winked at Violet. “Victor, I am feeling unwell.” Alarm crossed his face and Kate leaned back into her seat. “This monster you’ve given me is kicking my lungs.” She sounded a little breathy, and Victor lifted her into his arms and turned on Jack.

  “This round to you, my friend.”

  “What did you offer her?” Violet asked Jack after Victor carried Kate away.

  “I just asked.” Jack lifted Violet’s fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss on each of them. “We’re allies, she and I.”

  Violet’s grin escaped and she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Will April ever come?”

  “I would reply, sooner or later—” Jack paused to press another kiss on her forehead. “But it does feel like later, doesn’t it?”

  Violet leaned back. “Are we staying? I would be all right with staying. Enjoy the evening, the wireless, a little dancing, cocktails at home.”

  Jack pressed another kiss to her forehead and one to her cheek and then leaned down. “Victor would never let me have you to myself, my dear.”

  She grinned at that and her escaping giggle had him pressing his fingers over her mouth.

  “Are you choosing his side?”

  “Never.” Violet kissed the fingers against her mouth. “I chose you.”

  “He’s your twin.”

  “Which you knew when you asked me to marry you.”

  “He’s not going anywhere. He’s going to demand you choose him endlessly.”

  “I’ll switch sides endlessly,” Violet told him honestly, “to keep you both on your toes.”

  Jack grinned at her then, one of those rare full grins that she loved so much, and she felt as though she’d won a prize to sneak one from him when he held them so close.

  “I suppose I can accept that,” he told her, “as I knew what I was getting into with you, Lady Violet Carlyle.”

  “Trouble,” she told him.

  “Trouble,” he agreed.

  “Fun?” she suggested.

  “Fun.”

  Chapter 5

  The art deco mirrors at the Savoy glittered with light, making it all the glitzier in the foyer. A band from America was playing on the stage, and the music had Violet shimmying near Jack. He stoically glanced about, taking it all in. As usual, his penetrating gaze flicked from place to place without ever seeming to settle. Violet, however, had little doubt that he’d be able to recall details despite the dimmed lights and clouds of smoke.

  Jack tugged Violet, and she glanced up merrily. She’d completely missed the tuxedoed gentlemen who’d approached to show them to their table.

  “I asked for a quiet, more private corner. I hope that’s all right with you, darling.”

  “Of course it is,” Violet said. “How else will you tell me all about your investigation?”

  Jack’s quelling look did nothing to stop Violet’s curiosity, but her plans were ruined by, “Oh! Oh! Lady Violet. Lady Violet it is you.”

  Both Vi and Jack turned, and Violet groaned just loud enough to be heard by Jack.

  “Darling,” Violet told him evenly, “may I present Mrs. Russell.” Violet looked beyond the lush, young blonde and saw quite an older man. He was tall and trim like his daughter, Rita. His hair had gone gray, but his eyes were the same brilliant blue, and he was rather handsome, really. Any sympathy Violet felt for the girl faded immediately. The man was looking at his young wife as though he could hardly believe she belonged to him—and not in a shocked, delighted way, but the way of a person who realized their diamonds were, in fact, paste.

  “Hello,” Jack said, holding out his hand to the gentlemen. “Jack Wakefield.”

  “Frederick Russell, so nice to meet you. My wife,” he glanced down at the blonde, “was just telling me about meeting you.”

  Jack glanced down at Violet curiously, but she could hardly explain while they were looking on. What a strange story to tell as well. “Ah,” Jack said, “this is our table. It was a pleasure.”

  “Perhaps we can put our tables together.” Mrs. Russell fluttered her lashes up at her husband.

  Jack had become stone under Violet’s hand, and Violet cut in. “That does sound delightful. I do, however, intend to keep Jack to myself this evening. I fear I can be quite greedy when it comes to a dinner with Jack after he’s been out of town.” Violet applied that arrogant air she preferred never to use and smiled brightly as she vaguely promised, “I’m sure we’ll see each other soon. Rita is a rather dear friend.”

  Violet turned her face to Jack, shot him a look, and he nodded at the other two, and they escaped.

  “What,” Jack demanded as he seated her, “was that?” He ordered them drinks as they relaxed.

  Violet nibbled her bottom lip, holding back a laugh. She leaned forward and said dramatically, “It all starts with Miss Emily Allen.”

  Jack’s gaze zeroed in on her so completely, she felt certain she could feel the movement of his eyes over her face. “What does Emily have to do with it?”

  Violet lifted a brow, crossed her arms over her chest, and shot him a nasty look.

  “Miss Allen.”

  Violet’s laugh escaped. “I was only—”

  “Yes, yes.” Jack waved his hand.

  “So Em,” Violet told him. “She is a member of this Piccadilly Ladies Club where a Miss Rita Russell is also a member. Apparently, Miss Russell asked her for the name of a rather—how shall we describe me?”

  “A pearl of great price?” Jack teased.

  “Victor says I have overused that one,” Violet told him. “An inexplicably notorious yet well-connected female.”

  “One perhaps who has solved a murder or two to the consternation of a certain escaped fiancé.”

  “Escaped?” Violet laughed. “As though a lion from the zoo.”

  “Better than that,” Jack declared, taking a drink of his old-fashioned. “Far better than that. As though I could fly.”

  “Very smooth,” Violet told him, raisin
g her glass.

  Jack’s expression was smooth innocence. Their dinner arrived, and Violet’s expression widened as she looked beyond Jack. “By Jove! Jack! Is that the same dress that Mrs. Russell is wearing?”

  Jack glanced behind him, saw Rita Russell—having no idea who she was—and nodded. “The same dress Mrs. Russell is wearing? Yes, I believe so. She is, however, made for that gown. It looks like it would on you. Isolde is a bit, ah—more abundant, like Mrs. Russell. She’d never wear that gown.”

  “Jack,” Violet declared, “are you a follower of women’s fashion?”

  “I have eyes,” Jack told her with the tiniest of smirks.

  “Do you?”

  “I might admire the feminine form.”

  “Might you?” She tried pressing her lips to hide the smile, but it didn’t work. “Jack,” Violet told him, “that beautiful, bronzed blonde is Rita Russell. Her stepmother, the child bride, bought the same dress.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Jack lied, grinning at her.

  “Yes, you do,” Violet countered. “You just want me to explain, knowing it sounds ridiculous for being quite so petty. You’re a cheeky lad.”

  Jack and Violet ate in companionable silence. When they were nearly finished, Violet spoke. “Lila and Denny will be at the club.”

  “Do you think Kate has confessed?”

  “I think Victor realized the moment that Kate said she was ill. Victor has become domestic.”

  “You know that now?” Jack asked. “I saw that whole thing too. He lifted her up and carried her out of the room.”

  “He did,” Violet agreed.

  “So how do you know anything else?”

  “He didn’t check her forehead, frantically send for a doctor, or glance about helplessly and beg for assistance. He lifted her up—quite romantically, I might add.”

  “And carried her to the bedroom. An act I understand.”

  “By Jove, Mr. Wakefield. What an unaccountable conversation for the dinner table.”

  They finished their dinner, but the look Jack gave Violet turned her quite red. They left soon after, and as they got into the auto Jack had arranged, Violet glanced back and saw that Mrs. Russell was leaving along with Rita and her date. Mr. Russell loaded them into an auto and left on foot.