by Beth Byers
“This is serious.” She wriggled to get away from him, but he didn’t let her go.
“I know,” he told her seriously, but his lips were twitching as he did.
“I could search bushes,” Violet sniffed.
“You’d be writing treatises on it, in no time.”
Violet would have tried to elbow him, but there was a knock on her door and Beatrice called out. “My lady? Kate would like your assistance with some of the paperwork we’re going through.”
“Oh no!” Jack grinned. “The future treatise on searching bushes is lost.”
Violet did elbow him then. She crossed to her armoire and took out a grey jumper to go with her grey dress. The wind had picked up, the skies were darkening with a spring storm, and Violet hoped it wasn’t an indication of things to come.
Before she left her bedroom, Jack took her face between his palms and kissed her into near senselessness. She took every caress willingly and gave him her own. Both of them were too well aware that if all fell apart and their friends weren’t able to help as much as they hoped, Jack might well spend the rest of his days paying for a crime he didn’t commit.
The next two days passed in a blur of reports from private detectives, articles about Jack’s work and the ‘frame-up’ job being cast the honorable former military man. The angel-devil detective learned so much about Theo that Violet felt certain he could strip any person bare of their secrets simply by being in the same room with him. Their list of suspects grew and shrank and with each passing hour, Violet was wound into a tighter and tighter coil until she felt that one stiff breeze might make her collapse into a cross between a tantrum and hysterics.
Chapter Thirteen
“You’re Miss Rita’s friend?” the elevator attendant asked Friday morning. Violet was supposed to be married the next day, and the question jerked Violet out of her thoughts about the likelihood of that event. Given Jack’s tighter and tighter jaw and the way he stared into corners, Violet wasn’t certain he had very much more faith in his ability to remain free than she did.
The elevator attendant nodded politely, but there was a bit of a twinkle in his gaze that distracted Vi. He was wearing a spiffy red uniform with shining shoes and etched name badge that read Cooper. Everything about him was perfectly precise, like all of the staff of Hotel Saffron. Even the maids, coming from the rooms they were just cleaning, seemed pressed and shined.
Vi nodded in answer with a quick wink. “Rita’s rather a good friend.” Violet had only known her for a few months but somehow they’d become nearly as close as Lila and Vi. The three of them were so very different, and yet, they had so very much in common.
In fact, Rita had left Victor’s house and come with Violet and Jack to the hotel. Only, when they’d stepped into the grand lobby, Rita had stepped into the manager’s office with a rather large box of treats.
“Mr. Yardley said to ensure you’d have anything you needed.” The elevator attendant grinned wickedly. “Anything at all.”
Jack cleared his throat. “What can you tell us about the Roches?”
He shifted a little as though speaking about them went against his better judgement. “They’re a difficult crew except for Miss Clara and her English bloke. Mr. Roche the elder is demanding and difficult to please. Mr. Robbie is nice enough, but he disappears when everyone thinks he’s in his room. Tends to step out the back and bribe his way back in.”
“What about Barty and Gertrude?”
“She’s a sour one. He’s easy enough. Keep his bar stocked and lie to his fiancé when she goes looking for him, and he’s well pleased. Tips rather generously, but he charges it to the rooms and Mr. Roche senior is paying for them, I believe.”
The elevator had stopped and the attendant kept the door closed long enough to add, “It isn’t just Mr. Robbie who steps out at night. Mr. Barty and Miss Gertrude do as well.”
“Together?” Violet remembered that sour twist to Gertrude’s mouth and found it hard to believe that she’d do much more than go to dinner in the evening. Perhaps to an upstanding play or symphony.
The attendant shook his head and glanced around even though they were in a confined space. “She leaves a few minutes after Mr. Barty does—sometimes in the breath of him—and after she’s supposedly gone to her rooms. Sometimes she doesn’t come back ‘til the early morning.”
“Does she take a black cab?”
“There’s usually a car waiting for her.”
“Close enough to Barty’s exit that she’s following him?” Jack asked, glancing at Violet.
The attendant shrugged. “It would be very possible certainly.”
“Why wouldn’t she hire someone to follow him rather than doing it herself? She’s not from London. It would be easy to lose someone not knowing the city, and she has more than enough money for that if the rumors are true.”
“Maybe she didn’t want anyone to know what she was finding out,” the attendant suggested. “I followed my girl once when she was stepping out on me. I needed to know who it was before I decided what to do.”
“Who was it?” Violet asked, temporarily distracted.
“My brother,” the attendant replied, glancing at his feet.
“What did you do?”
“Broke things off. A few months later they were engaged. They have a few little ones now.”
“Does your brother know you know?” Violet asked him.
He shook his head, eyes crinkling for a moment. “Family isn’t so easily disposable—I was choosing my brother when I broke things off with her.”
“And you don’t hate him?” Violet asked, searching his face.
“After they announced their engagement, he told me. Told me he fell for her when she was with me, and he’d hated himself ever since. He asked me to forgive him, and I did. Not too long later, I met my wife. I thank God every day I followed her that day. If I’d gotten one of my friends to do it, maybe my pride would have played a bigger part than I wanted.”
Violet reached out her hand and shook his. “You’re a good man. It’s an honor to meet you.”
They left the elevator and made their way to the Roche suite where Mr. Roche senior and Clara were staying. Algie had rooms in the city, but Violet had heard he basically was living at the hotel as well. Jack knocked on the door while Violet fiddled with her engagement ring.
She wasn’t sure what to do with the information they’d received, and Jack had said nothing either. Were they going to confront everyone who snuck out or have someone follow them and see what they were up to? What if they discovered Barty simply going to jazz clubs or parties? That was hardly useful information.
The door to the suite was opened by Algie, who met their gazes and whispered, “Pretend I had nothing to do with you being here.”
“You do have nothing to do with us being here,” Violet told Algie. “You are one of the few of this lot who has an alibi anyone believes.”
Algie laughed nervously. “I suppose it helps that Clara and I were with Isolde and Tomas. You wouldn’t believe me otherwise.”
“I would,” Violet told him in a low voice, while someone from inside the suite asked who was at the door. It wasn’t even a lie. Algie wasn’t conniving enough to see Jack drag Theo out into the night and think, ‘Now’s the time to murder the lad.’
“Really, Algie darling, who is it?” Clara peeked over Algie’s shoulder and her gaze widened. “Father said they’d come now that a body was tossed into their laps.”
“Does he still want our help?” Jack asked, squeezing Violet’s fingers.
So they were going to ask their questions that way.
“Why would I need it?” Roche demanded loudly. “The fiend is dead.”
“So,” Violet said lightly, “you’ve recovered the blackmail proof?”
Roche harrumphed. “Let them in, lad. Clara duckling, you really could do so much better than this fool.”
Algie’s ears turned red, but he just smiled jovially.
&
nbsp; “Papa,” Clara shot a daggered glare at her father. “If I wanted to marry someone like you, perhaps. That’s not what I want.”
Roche just shook his head as though it wasn’t insulting and muttered, “You’ll learn eventually, girl. Algie will get you in trouble, and you’ll have to call on your old father. Maybe I won’t rescue you. You know I believe in reaping what you sow.”
“We’ll help though,” Violet told him. “You might be all that Clara has, but Algie is rather rich in family.”
Roche harrumphed again and crossed his arms over his chest. “I bet you wish you’d helped us before Smythe-Hill died. I admit I’m surprised you’re not behind a barred door, Wakefield.”
Jack didn’t take up the gauntlet that Roche was throwing down. Violet found she wasn’t all that surprised that Roche was petty. She’d love to see him taken down a peg or two. Instead, she glanced around the suite. Only Roche, Algie, and Clara were present.
“Looking for the others?” Roche laughed sarcastically, completely unfeeling to their plight. “Gertrude dragged them off to the museum. She said Barty needed a little polish and Robbie could stand some as well. Not sure how she convinced Robbie to go, but go he did.”
Algie winced at Violet’s glance, but she said nothing. She was sure that he loved Clara, and Violet wouldn’t have minded her if she came without her father. Instead she laughed merrily and mocked, “Scotland Yard doesn’t arrest the first person who comes along. They’re looking for evidence. Since Jack didn’t kill Theo, there isn’t any.”
“Is that what your lover and your affable dragon told you? They’re just trying to avoid your hysterics, m’dear.”
Violet’s gaze narrowed. “Careful now. We know the secret you’re so careful to keep from Gertrude, and I don’t care if your nephew successfully sucks her into his marriage trap. How long do you think it will take before he’s stepping out on her and not even trying to hide it? Whatever will she do then?”
“Violet,” Jack said, placing a hand on her arm. He smiled a snake’s smile at Roche that Violet had never seen before. “Settle down, love.”
Algie’s gaze widened, almost panicked as he stared at Violet, waiting for her to explode. Instead she fluttered her lashes and glanced to the side to hide the ire that Jack would have deserved if he wasn’t playing Roche.
“We both want the same thing,” Jack told Roche. “We want to find out who killed Theo and why. Me because I don’t want the crime pinned on me. You because you need whatever evidence Theo had on your nephew that might still be out there. He must have had something, right?”
Roche stared at Jack for a moment and then nodded very slightly. “Some letters. Between him and me and Barty and that girl he married.”
“It’s both of our interest,” Jack told Roche, glancing at Clara and Algie, “to have this wrapped up quickly. Algie is connected enough to Vi that the rumors will extend to him and your daughter. Gertrude is clearly suspicious. I was able to bribe one of the servants into admitting that she follows Barty sometimes when he leaves. He thinks she’s secure in her room, and instead, she’s keeping an eye on him. I wonder if he’s already pushed her too far.”
Violet gasped, eyes wide as if she didn’t know. “I’d throw you over if you were stepping out on me,” Violet told Jack. She glanced meaningfully to Roche. “As would any modern woman. We don’t have to put up with the old ways. Especially when all the money is hers.”
Roche was flummoxed, but Clara was staring at her feet.
“Did you know?” Violet asked Clara. Algie’s brilliant blush told Violet what she needed to know.
“I didn’t know where she was going,” Clara finally said. “I thought I saw her one night, so I knocked on her door to check. She never answered. I stayed up and watched the front of the hotel, but I never saw her come in. She was, however, at breakfast, so I assume she slept through my knocking or she decided not to answer.”
Clara was staring at her shoes again, and her pretty cheeks were blushing. Violet wasn’t going to let her get away with a half a truth. “You don’t think that’s the case, though, do you?”
Clara didn’t answer. Algie whispered something to her. Violet saw his mouth form the word, ‘Please.’ Roche didn’t notice as he was too busy staring out the window, but his cheeks were flushed too.
Clara finally confessed. “We shared a cabin on the crossing. I don’t think she could have possibly slept through me. She woke with every little sound. When she’s tired, she’s vicious.”
“Was she vicious the next day?”
Clara met Violet’s gaze and shook her head just the slightest.
“Did you know she was wandering around London on her own?” Jack asked Roche. “Surely her parents entrusted her safety to you.”
“Of course I didn’t!” Roche thundered. “I’m not convinced she was. She’s a good girl. Maybe she didn’t answer Clara’s knocking because she didn’t want to. It’s not like she’s obligated to run to the door every time someone knocks. I certainly don’t. Clara even watched for Gertrude to come in and didn’t see her. Yet she was at breakfast the next day.”
Violet didn’t see the point in arguing, so she glanced to Jack. Roche preferred the questions coming from him anyway.
“Where was Barty going?” Jack asked Roche.
He showed a flash of distinct anger. “He got sucked into some gambling. He’s drawn to it like some are drawn to opium dens. No matter how many times I shout at him.”
“Who pays his bills when he bets more than he has?”
“I don’t,” Roche thundered.
Vi noticed the flush on both Algie and Clara. Both of them carefully avoided Roche’s gaze, and Vi did nothing more than nudge Jack’s foot to ensure he saw what she saw.
“I wonder if he was gambling with Theo,” Violet said. “Theo was good at getting you to play his games when you knew better, Algie.”
“I stopped that a long time ago,” Algie said. “Wouldn’t know, but maybe I could find out.”
“Do,” Jack ordered. “In fact, take Denny with you. Denny and a friend of his. A John Smith. We’ll send them over.”
“Algie is dining with us at the Savoy,” Roche said, shooting them a glance that dared them to counter his statement.
“Father,” Clara snapped, “Algie is helping his family.”
“Were you really in the library?” Violet asked Roche.
“I wouldn’t have murdered that slug,” Roche said. “I wasn’t gonna pay his blackmail, I wasn’t gonna put up with this attempt to romance my Clara, and I wasn’t gonna go to jail for the blighter either.”
Clara rose suddenly. “I need some air. Father, you know this is going over my and Violet’s heads. We’ll take a turn in the garden. Algie and Jack can come fetch us when you’re done here.”
Violet stood at Clara’s declaration and put on her hat and coat. The two of them rode down in the elevator with the attendant carefully avoiding both of their gazes.
Chapter Fourteen
Violet lifted her brows the moment they were alone in the gardens. There were lovely roses just starting to bloom, a gazebo, and even a pond with a few ducks. Violet wanted to visit when there were ducklings since she counted two mated pairs, but she did nothing more than wait for Clara to speak.
“Gertrude knew about the child,” Clara said. “I told her. I told her that Barty had married once in the height of passion, lost his wife to childbirth, and had a little girl. I didn’t tell her the rest. About the baby being Cuban or the gambling or the lost fortune. I think Barty told her that his own father lost the money in a series of bad investments before he died. Barty makes it all sound very tragic.”
Violet paused. “Gertrude knew of the child and said nothing?”
“We were rather friendly until then. I talked about how sweet Maria is, how she’s a little angel with a pretty voice, how much we loved her. How she needed a mama. Someone like Gertrude to love her and see to her. Gertrude told me she didn’t want to raise some ot
her woman’s child, but she supposed a school could be arranged.”
Clara nibbled on her thumbnail and then apologized for it. “Terrible habit, I know. I asked Algie if we could raise her.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He didn’t even think twice. He just said, of course, and ordered her the most elaborate dollhouse known to mankind. Then he sent for her himself, inviting her nanny, so she wouldn’t be scared.”
“Algie’s a bit of a dimwit,” Violet told Clara, who flashed a furious gaze towards Violet. “I’d rather have a man with his good heart, however, than Theo’s wits. He’ll make your happiness his goal for the rest of his days, and he’ll love that little girl as though you placed her in his arms on the day of her birth.”
“I haven’t told Father I am not going to go back to America,” Clara admitted after a moment. “I love my father, and I hate him at the same time. He’s a good man and a terrible man. He loves me, and he’s good to me, but he’ll needle Algie until the day he dies and probably from the grave.”
Violet didn’t make a comment.
“I’m not giving him up,” Clara said to the question Violet didn’t ask. “We’ll visit often. I just won’t afflict Algie with Papa if I can help it.”
“Does Barty mind you adopting his daughter?”
Clara’s expression soured. “He should have cared more. He looked—” Clara grunted a little as if the answer pained her and then said, “relieved. He said he knew I’d take good care of her and he’d sign whatever I needed him to sign. We’re waiting until after the wedding, but he won’t change his mind.”
“She’s lucky to have you,” Violet told her, “and Algie.”
“She deserves more from her father,” Clara snapped.
Violet rubbed her brow, thinking of her morning with her father. “My father let my aunt raise me and my twin. He said it was painful. That he loved us too much to keep us when we thrived with her. Tell her that. Tell her he wanted her happiness more than his own. Make sure she knows even if it’s all lies.” Violet paused. “Is Gertrude really not here?” she asked.
