Hijinks & Murder

by Beth Byers

  Jack shook his head. With a low voice he said, “It is not. You are not broken. Not in the least. You are extraordinary.”

  Violet rolled her eyes and Jack cupped her cheeks holding her gaze on his. She was bare before him even though she was fully dressed. It was more uncomfortable than being naked. “Perhaps the main part of my problem is simply that I am without purpose.”

  “Without purpose?” Jack frowned. “I don’t see you that way.”

  “I feel that way. Like I’m only wandering through life, bored and purposeless,” Violet scowled. “It’s not that I haven’t always struggled with grey days. It’s just now I don’t have the distraction of the business things for Aunt Agatha anymore. I write, but it doesn’t have the same hunger now that I don’t need the money from the books to live. I don’t have children nor am I ready for them. I—I can do whatever I want and what I find is that I struggle to want to do anything.”

  Jack, unlike everyone else, didn’t look at her as though her woes were ridiculous. She knew they were. She knew that across London other women were struggling to survive day-by-day. Those women worked hard to eat, to dress themselves, to care for their children. Violet wanted nothing more than her own life of ease.

  She was well aware that struggling to be happy when you had everything was idiotic but that just made her feelings all the more difficult to carry. It was like there was something inside of her heart and mind that was amiss and being unable to share and have another person understand what was going on left her feeling lonelier than before.

  “Darling Vi,” Jack said, kissing her forehead. “I don’t have any idea what to say.”

  She turned to face him, seeing the worry in his eyes and it made her feel even more of a failure. They spent so much of their lives together and she found herself having moments and days of drowning in an inexplicable darkness.

  “Does it help to know that I love you?”

  She nodded, leaning forward to press her forehead against his.

  “Then know that I do.”

  They curled into each other until Hargreaves knocked on the door with coffee and after he left, Violet took a seat next to Jack on the Chesterfield and leaned into his side. She still felt better but there was a frantic need inside of her to figure out why she felt so grey on her bad days.

  “Will you love me if I’m like this for the rest of our lives?” she asked him, and a fervent kiss was her answer.

  Violet and Jack dressed for the scavenger hunt with care.

  “The last time they did this,” Jack told her as he pulled on boots and started lacing them, “people ended in the lost tunnels of the underground. I don’t think that pretty, grey dress will be sufficient, Vi.”

  He wore a tan sporting suit with black pinstripe lines on the trousers and vest that crossed into squares. The jacket was the same tan without pinstripes. He wore a blue shirt under his vest with a darker blue tie. With his sporting boots, he looked like the most attractive man on the sporting range she could imagine.

  Violet grinned wickedly. She had been saving a joke for him for a while, but now it was both practical and funny. She went to her dressing room and dug to the back of the closet. Vi had joined Victor the last time he’d gone shopping and ordered a sporting suit for herself that matched her twin’s. Hers wasn’t as simple as Jack’s. Instead, she had gotten a flashy plaid suit. It was tan, deep brown, and a deep red, but the tan was the overwhelming color, so she wouldn’t clash with Jack too much.

  Violet put it on, with the brown dress shirt and the red tie. She’d bought boots that matched Victor’s, just as the suit did. She pulled the wool socks up to the knees, added the boots she’d been breaking in secretly and then adjusted a matching cap over her hair. When she was finished, she leaned against the doorway of their bedroom from the dressing room with her hands in the vest pockets.

  Jack glanced her way and his shout of laughter made the secret all worthwhile. She walked across their room as though she were walking a catwalk and then spun as she reached the bedroom door. She fluffed the ends of her hair. “I think this outfit needs my spider ring.”

  “And,” Jack said, casually handing her a black velvet box, “perhaps a little something more.”

  Violet lifted a brow in question.

  It took him a moment to answer the unspoken inquiry that hung between them. “I did nothing wrong. I thought I’d follow your father’s advice. Throw a little jewelry your way and brighten your day.”

  Vi snorted and he admitted, “When I went out today, you were on my mind and I saw those and imagined them on you. I have to admit, I was thinking more of one of your slinky evening dresses.”

  Violet slowly opened the box and found diamond and pearl chandelier earbobs. The pearls were unique brown pearls and the rose gold would go well with her suit. She put them on with a smile and then crossed to Jack’s dresser and took out one of the tie pins to add to her tie.

  She examined herself in the mirror. “I am a pretty boy.”

  Jack’s laugh was followed by a dry comment. “We already knew that. Stretch you out a bit and subtract some of my favorite attributes, and you’re the image of Victor.”

  Vi adjusted her vest over her chest. “These attributes and my fabulous suit are going to be victorious in this scavenger hunt.”

  Vi put a spiral broach on her jacket lapel, added a thick layer of brick red lipstick that matched her suit and thickened the rouge on her cheeks. She had no intention of appearing as anything other than a woman who just happened to be wearing a suit.

  “Are you ready?” Violet asked Jack, who put on his overcoat.

  “You need a coat as well, darling. It hasn’t stopped being January, and it’s cold and wet outside.”

  “Yes, of course,” Violet agreed. She looked through her coats before choosing a red wool coat. It reached her knees and accented her suit. “I love you even when you mother-hen me. But I might deserve it for hopping in puddles while wearing a dress the other day.”

  “Do you think so?” Jack asked idly, but his eyes were grinning at her, and she grinned back at him.

  “Possibly. Of course, what you deserve for getting injured is a whole list unto itself, so be careful how you use your digs.”

  Jack wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her to press a kiss against her temple.

  “Careful, darling,” she warned. “I have man boots now. So much easier to do damage with.”

  Jack’s huff of laughter made her grin into his neck before he slid her down his body and suggested, “We could stay home.”

  “We’re going to win this thing.”

  “You don’t care about winning.”

  “We’re going to join a bunch of spoiled acquaintances and have delightful food and drinks and then wander London throughout the night and go to an Indian restaurant at 5:00 am where we’ll have paneer tikka masala and naan before we collapse into bed like the spoiled, useless, bright young things we are.”

  Jack pressed another kiss into her temple. “Smith is going to drive us.”

  “Smith? Shady private detective Smith? The one that has weaseled his life into my Beatrice’s heart?”

  Jack shook his head. “I think he’s using us as cover for another of his cases.”

  “Or preparing to rob everyone we know there.”

  “That too,” Jack agreed.

  Chapter 7

  Violet and Jack approached the statue of Peter Pan with a mass of others. Some were in cocktail dresses and fine suits, others were dressed like Jack and had sporty-looking women on their arms who weren’t dressed nearly as enthusiastically sporty or masculine as Violet was in her suit. Then there was the trio of women wearing thick mink coats and dripping in jewels.

  Violet sighed deeply when she spotted the pregnant Phoebe on the arm of a man with a somewhat familiar face. Delilah Rees and another man that Vi assumed was Delilah’s husband was with them. There was another fellow, of the same age, and who looked so much like Phoebe and Delilah’s husba
nds that Violet felt certain this was Delilah’s brother-in-law. What had Phoebe called him? Alan? No, Violet thought, Alexander. It was noteworthy, really, how much those three Rees men looked alike. Violet wasn’t an identical twin, obviously, but her twin looked like the masculine version of her. These three looked only slightly less alike than Violet and Victor.

  “Don’t look now,” Violet told Jack though he knew none of them, “but it’s the Rees cousins and their wives.”

  Jack’s eyes closed in frustration. “This was supposed to be fun and entirely uninvolved in murder.”

  “It will be,” Violet said, consolingly. “Don’t make eye contact.”

  “Violet, my beautiful darling, you’re dressed like a man and gathering attention in that dashing suit. There’s no way that you will avoid their attention.”

  Vi pressed up on her toes and kissed his chin. “Then, we’ll be discovered, but we can still have fun. I apologize for being so flashy.”

  Jack glanced at Violet and then at the statue where a man wearing what looked like a circus ringmaster outfit was handing out envelopes. “We could go do something just as foolish without all of these hangers on. We don’t need them to…to…”

  “Engage in hijinks?” Violet asked, running her finger along his jawline.

  “Exactly. Let’s go explore the Underground ourselves. We can find the lost tunnels.”

  “Or play a series of guess-where for our own private scavenger hunt.”

  Jack guessed, “Wellington Arch.”

  She groaned since it was what she’d been thinking of. She shot back, “Big Ben.”

  He took the envelope from the ringmaster and a moment later a finger tapped Jack’s back near Violet’s hand. He stiffened under her fingers and turned, keeping Violet behind him protectively as usual. She peeked around his shoulder to find a laughing Phoebe holding a bottle of wine. She was half-drunk and her husband was mostly holding her up while she laughed into his neck.

  “Violet! Violet, my favorite chum! Meet Harold again! He’s so fat!”

  Violet curtsied in her suit. “So nice to meet you.”

  He frowned at her. “Phoebe said you were elegant.”

  “Sometimes,” Violet said lightly.

  “Violet,” Phoebe laughed and then staggered into Jack, who caught her and nudged her towards her husband, “thinks Grandfather Olly was murdered.”

  Her husband froze, as did the other members of her party, while Phoebe giggled into her hand.

  Jack cleared his throat and tugged Violet under his arm as the two cousins focused furious gazes on her.

  “Why would you think that?” demanded Delilah’s husband while Harold pulled Phoebe back up. The brother, Alexander, looked between both couples and then raised his hand to a few fellows who called his name, leaving behind his brother, his cousin, and both of their wives and not even looking back. He had no reaction to the claim of murder. His disgust was mainly for Harold and Phoebe.

  “We received an anonymous letter that claimed so,” Jack told them flatly. “For the love of heaven man, pick up your wife and carry her. She’s going to break an ankle.”

  Violet let Jack tuck her closer, knowing the anger of the other gents was setting off all his protective instincts. Phoebe was still giggling drunkenly, but Delilah looked disgusted and self-righteous at the same time, given she too was carrying a bottle of wine.

  “Why does your Aunt Stevens suspect her brother was murdered?” Violet asked them.

  “She doesn’t!” Delilah gasped. She glanced down at her bottle of wine and then shot Violet another dark look without taking a sip. And there, Violet thought, was the difference between Delilah and Phoebe.

  “She’s an old woman who has nothing,” Harold shot back cruelly. “She’s bored and alone and only important to herself.”

  Violet winced and glanced at Jack, who couldn’t pull Violet any closer, so instead he just spread his hand wider over her side as though one of these spoiled idiots were about to pull a knife and lunge at them.

  “Losing Grandfather was bad enough,” Delilah’s husband, Joseph, said. “Why do we have to relive it again because of the fantasies of some idle, bored old woman?”

  “It wasn’t her who left the note at our house. Many of your grandfather’s friends think the same. It is very likely that one of you knows Olly Rees was murdered and you’re trying to bully everyone else into thinking otherwise.”

  Delilah’s husband took her by the arm and pulled her back. “Let’s get out of here, Dee. I’m not surprised some old friend of Phoebe’s is crazy.” His expression was exasperated both with Violet and Phoebe, and Violet was tempted to take him by the ear, force him to read the anonymous letter, and then point out that she—at least—wasn’t stumbling drunk.

  Violet snorted as Jack stiffened.

  “Careful now,” Jack said. Joseph looked Jack over, noting his mountainous shoulder, thick biceps, and furious gaze and held up his hands in surrender.

  Phoebe gasped long after everyone else had winced over the insult. “Are you insulting her by using me? Joseph, you are just mean.” To her husband she slurred, “I never liked Joseph. He’s always so nasty. Delilah should have done better. Maybe if she’d shaken Joseph off instead of marrying him, she’d have a baby and stop being so jealous about ours.”

  Her husband set her down and snapped, “Phoebe. Be quiet! That’s enough.”

  Vi lifted a brow at the dressing down worthy of a school girl.

  “No!” Phoebe cried, shaking off his arm and stumbling away. She nearly fell before she caught herself. Stopping to sway until she gathered her balance and then lean carefully down. She put her arms out in an obvious attempt to keep herself on her feet while she pulled off her shoes, throwing them at her husband. “You always take her side! Delilah’s mean to me and you take her side and you never appreciate what I do. You…you…snake in the grass!”

  “Oh, there she goes again,” Delilah said. The coldness of her words had Violet wincing because Delilah disguised it as gentle empathy to Phoebe’s husband. Violet knew women like Delilah far too well. The overt attempt to show the difference between them was just a nasty way to draw attention to Delilah’s positives and elucidate Phoebe’s negatives.

  The precision of the meanness was worse, in Violet’s opinion. She’d rather have an out-and-out nasty woman face off with her than someone who pretended to be your friend until you were looking the other way.

  Phoebe staggered away and then she turned back. “I never should have married you, Harold Rees. My mama was so right.”

  Phoebe’s husband threw his hands in the air and walked off in the other direction. He was chased by Delilah while her husband looked at the stumbling Phoebe and then at his wife and Harold heading the other way. There was a momentary glance towards his brother, Alexander, but he was already gone with his group of friends.

  “Harold, you can’t let Phoebe go that way,” Joseph called. “It’s not safe. She’s far too into her cups.”

  Harold didn’t turn and neither did Delilah. Joseph groaned and then chased after Phoebe.

  “They’re delightful,” Jack said dryly. “We should certainly accept any house party invitations their bored and unimportant aunt sends. That wouldn’t be a terrible idea at all.”

  “Let’s follow them,” Violet suggested.

  Jack stared at her.

  “Follow Delilah and Harold,” she clarified. “Phoebe is about ten minutes from crying into hands and then falling asleep on the couch.”

  “Why them?” Jack asked as Violet started towards the path where the other two had disappeared into the darkness.

  “Delilah and Harold aren’t drunk. Joseph is only going to be persuading Phoebe into an auto and home. He’ll be carrying her snoring self into her bedroom and dumping her on the bed with her shoes still on before he goes home since he won’t know where Harold and Delilah went off to.”

  Jack shrugged and followed Violet, hurrying enough to take her hand while they disa
ppeared down the paths of the park. Jack suddenly tugged her into a stand of trees, placing a hand over her mouth as he pulled her deeper into the darkness.

  She jerked her mouth free and then whispered low, “What do you see with those eyes of yours?”

  “Delilah and Harold are fighting. Passionately.”

  “Fighting?” Violet pressed up on her toes, but she just didn’t have the height Jack did. “Why?” Violet muffled her irritation into his chest. A moment later, she said, “He really is a snake in the grass. That Delilah is too. Why are they fighting? Did they kill the grandfather? Is that why they’re fighting?”

  “They could be fighting about anything, Vi. About having killed the grandfather. About the fact that Harold let Phoebe get drunk and storm off. About some long term issue we know nothing about.”

  Violet shook her head in frustration. “Let’s leave it, why don’t we? Let’s leave the madness and do the scavenger hunt. Open the hint. It’s Big Ben, isn’t it?”

  Jack didn’t open the hint. “Cocktails and paneer,” he suggested instead.

  “Yes,” Violet agreed immediately. “Absolutely. I’m in. That’s a much better idea. Then let’s do something adventurous, because I’m dressed for hijinks not dancing.”

  Jack laughed and pulled her close to him. “I’m glad you don’t think I’m a snake in the grass.”

  “I’m glad you would take better care of me when I’m zozzled than Harold does of Phoebe.”

  Jack tilted her face to him and gently placed a kiss on each eye before he added, “There’s nothing like being around people who are horrible to make us grateful for what we have, is there?”

  Violet nodded and followed him back to where Smith had left the auto. He wasn’t there.

  “Shall we leave him?” Violet asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Jack laughed. “Smith is more resourceful than the two of us put together. I never expected him to do anything other than drive us here and disappear at some point during this scavenger hunt.”