A Friendly Little Murder

by Beth Byers

  She hurried to the bath and drew herself a hot bath with lavender oil and Epsom salts. She soaked in the water for a long time trying to not think of the murder. It didn’t work, so she lathered her skin with soap, scrubbed her hair, and trimmed her nails. She was procrastinating, she knew. She was procrastinating because she didn’t want to delve into the why of someone killing their friend.

  Violet slowly rose from the bath. Her robe was still wet from the swim, so she wrapped herself in a large towel, wrapped another around her hair, and rubbed her skin with cream.

  “Why,” she asked herself aloud, “would lifelong friends turn on each other?”

  She didn’t have an answer. Her siblings were near strangers to her from a lifetime of boarding schools and being sent away to her aunt’s, so her friends had become her family. It had to be the same for them, didn’t it? Lyle and Michael, Pamela, Jovie, and Fanny, Gervais and Ricky. Probably sharing the same sports, the same lectures, helping each other on assignments, and arranging to see each other over the holidays.

  When Violet asked herself why she might be driven to killing Lila or Denny, her whole body rejected the idea.

  “Why?” she asked herself again. “Why?”

  Then she remembered the broken sound of Fanny and Michael whispering to each other. Would Jack kill—say Denny—if he hurt Violet terribly? Perhaps not, but Jack would have to fight himself not to. Her husband was, however, an extraordinary example of honor and fortitude. Very few could say the same.

  Violet sighed as she chose herself a dress. She would be sleuthing with Jovie, holding hands and listening to weeping and mourning. She’d need to keep those things in mind, but she also glanced outside. The weather was very hot for England. The skies were clear, the sun already bright, the breeze non-existent. She glanced again through her dresses before choosing a light tan with a sailor’s collar and a pleated skirt.

  Violet added sturdy, brown shoes and a black headband to hold back her hair. She left off all jewelry except her wedding ring. Filling her satchel with her journal, a pen, and her pocketbook, Violet considered the day ahead again.

  She paused and then listed the thoughts that had been striking her throughout the morning. “Lyle could have been murdered by Michael if whatever had Fanny crying was bad enough.” Violet held up a single finger. “Lyle could have been killed by whoever was going to be ruined.” Being financially ruined had been the motive for more than one death, if that was the type of ruin being argued in the forest.

  Her head tilted as she paced. “What if Lyle discovered that Pamela had tricked him into marriage? Could he have turned on Pamela? Maybe he did and she killed him in self-defense?”

  What a terrible thought. A woman murdering her husband while massively pregnant. Vi shuddered. She couldn’t help, of course, thinking of the recently pregnant Kate. What if Kate had gone mad and murdered Victor? Violet shook it off immediately. There was simply no way that Kate would ever hurt Victor. Or be successful in hurting him for that matter. Victor was no mountain of a man like Jack, but her brother could overpower Kate without an issue.

  Vi sighed as she paced. She didn’t want to be here or a part of these things. Maybe it was time to start embracing that her life was cursed with dead bodies and people who murdered each other. Maybe it was time to start taking back control. Perhaps if she stopped dreaming of the people she loved as victims and began dreaming of ways to stop people from getting away with these crimes, she’d be less haunted.

  She glanced towards the door where Jovie was probably dressed and waiting. If Vi took too long, Jovie would go on her own. Vi had little doubt that Jovie was no cipher. She might be reeling, but who wouldn’t be after being touched by murder?

  Violet took a deep breath in. Don’t leave Jovie alone. Don’t be alone. Find some happiness. And maybe a killer.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Jovie was nibbling on her bottom lip, her gaze wide as she considered. “I’m sorry? That seems entirely insufficient.”

  Violet shook her head.

  “You lost family to murder, right? Your aunt?”

  Vi nodded, the pain of it striking her once again. Vi closed her eyes and told Jovie, “There’s nothing you can say. Just tell her that you’re sorry and mean it. Tell her you’re worried about her and mean it. Be there for her while she suffers.”

  “There isn’t some bit of wisdom that helped?”

  “In the moment, I was angry. I was determined to find the killer and make them pay. Now? It still hurts. She was a mother to me, and I lost her, and every time I realize there is something else that won’t be the same without her, it hurts. I’m an aunt now. I look at my nieces and realize Aunt Agatha isn’t here to hold them and she won’t be there for my children either.”

  Jovie winced as Vi wiped away a tear. With a deep breath in, Violet tried for a smile.

  “But you have your stepmother, right?” Jovie asked.

  Vi laughed and shook her head. “No. Indeed not. What about your parents?”

  “They’re gone. I was raised mostly by my aunt and uncle. I’m not their favorite, but it’s not so bad. I have Fanny and Michael and—” Jovie stopped as she realized what she was saying. She did have her cousin and his wife. Assuming they weren’t the killers.

  Vi squeezed Jovie’s hand as they went down the grand staircase to the large foyer below. “We’ll be your friends.”

  “You don’t really know me,” Jovie said low. “You might not like me once you do.”

  Vi grinned. “We aren’t that picky. Don’t be a cheating liar and don’t be a killer. We can deal with a fair amount of personality quirks after that. I mean…have you met Denny?”

  “I like Denny,” Jovie said with the edge of a sniffle.

  “Which is why you fit us so well. Let’s stop borrowing trouble, shall we?”

  Violet glanced towards the front desk and an idea occurred to her. If not for today, then for tomorrow. She followed Jovie to a separate wing of the hunting lodge and to a series of doors where there was a police constable watching everything. Before they could knock on Pamela Craft’s door, Hamilton stepped into the hall.

  Ham shook his head. “Not now. The doctor is in there. She’s hysterical. He’s worried for the baby.”

  “Oh no,” Jovie said. “The baby?”

  “She’s saying that she’s feeling contractions. It’s too early.”

  “Even if the baby isn’t Lyle’s it would still be too early,” Jovie muttered.

  “Not Lyle’s?” Ham turned on Jovie just as the door to the room across the hall opened.

  “What’s not Lyle’s?” Michael Browne asked.

  Jovie snapped her mouth closed.

  “Jovie,” Ham said as gently as possible. “The time for keeping secrets is past.”

  “But—”

  “What’s not Lyle’s?” Michael demanded. “What are you talking about, Jovie?”

  “The baby,” Fanny said from behind Michael. “Jovie doesn’t think the baby is Lyle’s.”

  Michael turned to his wife and demanded, “What? How do you know?”

  Fanny hesitated. She was pale with dark circles under her eyes and the look of a woman who had been crying. If Vi didn’t know Lyle had just died, she’d guess Fanny had been crying for days, but it hadn’t even been a full day yet.

  “I never thought the baby was Lyle’s either.”

  “Because he was chasing you? Shadowing you? Wanting you?”

  Fanny looked away, mouth downturned. She didn’t answer, but who needed her to?

  “Who do you think the baby belonged to?” Hamilton asked Jovie gently, ignoring the fraught emotions between Michael and Fanny.

  Jovie hesitated when her cousin turned on her, eyes blazing.

  “Did you know?” he demanded. “Did you know what he was doing to Fanny?”

  Jovie shook her head, but there was just enough hesitation in it that Michael spun fully on Jovie, grabbing her arms and pushing her against the wall. “Did you know he was s
hadowing her? That he was…was…touching her when I wasn’t around? Did you know that—”

  “Let her go,” Hamilton commanded, grabbing Michael’s arm. Vi didn’t wait. She kicked Michael in the back of the knees and grabbed him by his ear, pulling him off of his cousin.

  “Yes, obviously,” Violet answered for Jovie. “She knew that Fanny was uncomfortable around Lyle. Did she know how bad it was? Obviously not. She would have told you. My goodness, man, I would have told you. But even I could see that Lyle was obsessed with Fanny and I’ve only spent a few hours with you in total. Why are you blaming Fanny and Jovie? Look in the mirror.”

  Michael cursed at Violet and shoved her off of him. He stepped closer but Hamilton growled. “Careful.”

  Michael cursed again and then punched the wall, breaking through the plaster before he spun and left.

  Chapter 11

  “Temper, temper,” Violet murmured low, but Hamilton heard her.

  “Foolishly so,” he murmured back.

  Fanny was gasping, crying into Jovie’s arms. The constable had followed after Michael at Hamilton’s nod. A door down the hall opened and Ricky stepped out. He took in the scene and said nothing, but he didn’t leave either.

  One of these men or women killed their friend. She shuddered as she took a terrible breath in and told herself they weren’t going to be victims of this. They were going to win. Her eyes closed and she tried to ignore Fanny’s sobs.

  Motive, Violet thought. Fanny’s motive was to make it all stop with Lyle. To free herself of his endless pursuit. For Michael, the motive was sheer, unadulterated fury for whatever Lyle had been doing to Fanny. Perhaps Ricky or Gervais had fathered Pamela’s baby? If one of them knew it could be his and Lyle found out? Could he have been murdered while confronting whichever it might be?

  What about that argument in the woods where someone was going to be ruined? Surely it was all wrapped up together.

  Violet paused as another door opened and Gervais stepped into the hall.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Bit of a ruckus,” Ricky said.

  “Didn’t think little Fanny would mourn Lyle like this.”

  Jovie snapped, “She isn’t, you fool.”

  Fanny pushed away from Jovie and rushed into her room, slamming the door behind her.

  “Dramatic.” Gervais sounded almost amused.

  Violet hadn’t liked him before, but at that moment? She’d have happily kneed him in the delicate area and shoved him down a short flight of stairs. Not enough to do anything more than bruise him, but she wanted him to be bruised enough for it to ache for days.

  “I suggest that you close your mouth and think.” Violet snapped her mouth closed as well. They needed the dramatic revelations to trap the killer sooner, but she was just so angry.

  “Think about what, my lady?” Gervais demanded. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You were in the process of being ruined. Isn’t that what I heard?” She was nearly certain that Gervais had been there. She had seen him furiously storming off afterwards. “Maybe that’s why you killed Lyle?”

  “Me?” Gervais laughed. “I would have been fine eventually. A bit of setback. Nothing more.”

  “Is that why you’ve been haunting my steps more than normal this time?” Jovie asked. “Michael told you of the money from my parents, didn’t he? My aunt and uncle won’t let me have it until I marry. You thought you could marry me and have it? No.”

  “No? You think you haven’t been mine for the taking this whole time?”

  Jovie’s gaze narrowed. She took a deep breath in as she bit back what had to be a rabid diatribe. She cursed and then spun, running down the stairs. Vi glanced at Ham and whispered, “Gervais and Ricky are the likeliest to have fathered Pamela’s baby. Did you hear of the argument in the wood?”

  He nodded. “Do you think Lyle was forcing himself on Fanny?”

  Vi winced, but she shook her head. “I don’t think she’d have been able to be around him. Not if he was hurting her like that regularly. They were telling jokes on the train. Fanny wasn’t even uncomfortable.”

  “Vi,” Hamilton said just as softly, giving Gervais a commanding look when he seemed to lean in. Gervais backed up. “Women endure such horrible things and somehow seem to keep on acting as though nothing is wrong.”

  Vi shook her head all the same. “I just don’t think so.”

  Hamilton paused and then nodded. “I trust your instincts, Vi. Michael, however, is killing mad.”

  “You don’t have to be angry to murder.”

  “Get Jovie. Stay with her.”

  Chapter 12

  Jovie hadn’t been stupid enough to go off alone. She was pacing the large hunting lodge’s foyer, bypassing the lush oversized seats. And, Vi hoped, avoiding the gazes of the many dead animals lining the walls.

  Vi was tempted to applaud Jovie for not rushing off too far. Instead, she walked up to the front desk and requested an automobile and information. The man raised his brows and said, “It’ll take a few minutes.”

  “Of course it will,” Vi answered. “Take your time.” She requested a pen and paper and left a note for Jack while they waited for the auto to arrive.

  “What’s all this?” Jovie asked when Violet approached with a, “Shall we?”

  “Your friends aren’t ready for our interfering, so we’re off to cause the good kind of trouble.”

  “Is there a good kind?”

  Vi didn’t answer, and they waited quietly for the auto.

  “Tell me about Fanny before Lyle and Michael,” Violet said as they took the backseat of the auto. She handed the driver the card with the address. “What was she like when you were little?”

  “Quiet. Pamela was always the star among us. The bright one.”

  “Yet everyone loves Fanny now.”

  “Well, we grew up, didn’t we?” Jovie gestured with her hands to her chest. “She didn’t just end up with the better figure, she was nicer. I always thought Lyle wanted the one who was hardest to get. Fanny didn’t give her heart easily.”

  “So if she’d just given into him once, he’d have let her go?”

  “He’d probably have told Michael and ruined Fanny’s life.”

  “Oh, he was a peach. What do you know about their investments together?”

  “They all invested in a brewery.”

  “A brewery?” Violet laughed. It wasn’t a terrible plan. People would drink alcohol when there wasn’t money for anything else. A good pint, fish and chips, it was the English way. If the beer were decent enough, they might make good money.

  “All of them?”

  “I think so,” Jovie said. “They were all sort of excited for a while. When things get rough, they all stress.”

  “They are making some poor talented brew…” Vi’s head tilted as considered. “What do you call a brew person? Brew bloke? Brewer? I—”

  Jovie shrugged.

  “Whatever you call the person. The one with the real skills. They’re making the poor man crazy, I bet. I can just imagine the fellow going home and telling his wife all about those rich blokes who think they know so much.”

  Jovie laughed. “Lyle is”—she paused and her eyes filled with tears again—“was. He was controlling. I never thought about the poor man whose business was invested in. He probably does hate them.”

  “Not as much as he will when they all pull their funds out of his business and ruin everything he worked for.” Violet reminded herself to look into who the poor man was and see what could be done.

  “Why do you think about the man on the other end of the business?”

  “I’ve invested in a few businesses,” Violet said. The auto turned up a curving road and Violet hopped out before the driver could open her door. “I’m excited! I’ve never got to do this end of things.”

  Jovie ran her hand through her hair. “What are we doing? Why are there children playing outside? I—”

  “Mischief! The go
od kind. Come on!”

  “Mrs. Wakefield?” one of the children called. “Mama said to bring you inside. Are you gonna be nice to them?”

  “Yes!” Violet crossed her finger over her chest. “The snuggles will be endless.”

  “Snuggles?”

  Violet glanced back at Jovie and grinned. She winked and then the boy opened the door to the yips of puppies. “Puppies!”

  “Puppies?” Jovie gasped. “Puppies!”

  There was a box in the corner, and Violet knelt next to it. “Oh my goodness! Look at all the sweet little slobber. They’re going to get dog spit over everything Ham owns.”

  Jovie laughed and Violet glanced up at her. “Dogs make everything better. You should get one. They look at you with those pretty, large eyes and think you’re the best thing they’ve ever seen or known.”

  Violet lifted one of the bulldog puppies and pressed its cheeks together. “Look at these eyes!”

  “He’s pretty cute.”

  “He?” Violet asked, frowning. “I need both a Watson and a Mary.”

  “Both? What if he doesn’t want two?”

  Vi grinned. “Then Jack and I will have four dogs instead of two. Are they ready to go?”

  The woman who was watching them from the doorway nodded. “If you’re going to get two, you should get ones from different litters that aren’t related.”

  Vi’s mouth twisted. “I really wanted to torment my friend with two dogs today.”

  “He’s not far.”

  Vi grinned evilly. “Perfect!”

  Violet walked back up the hotel steps only to see Jack and Hamilton step onto the large wrap around porch when she did. She had a puppy in her arms and Jovie was a step behind with the second.

  “I guess they were safe,” Ham told Jack, whose jaw was clenching.

  “I left a note, and I stayed with Jovie like you asked.” Violet eyed him, taking in the look of relief combined with furious anger.