by Beth Byers
“Do you remember when he came back from that case with the orphans on his mind? The children whose father had killed the mother?”
Denny nodded. “Who can forget? We had little ones in the house.”
“Jack doing the right thing and being honorable is why they’re Kate’s adopted siblings now.”
Denny nodded. “It’s a compromise, really. When you go for the good man, you get the good with the good.”
“What does that even mean, laddie?” Lila demanded.
“It means,” Denny said as if it were obvious, “that you get the good deeds like finding homes for the orphans and the good deeds like being honest to the constabulary.”
Vi groaned. “I do love that I can trust him. Damn it!”
“It’s why we’re so great,” Denny told Violet. “You and me, Vi. We’ll do the—ah—more questionable things for him. We’ll figure out who the killer is. We’ll track them down like a dog in the nighttime, and we’ll tell lies to trap them if we have to. Pretend we witnessed what they did. Whatever it takes. Torture even.”
Violet nodded and walked into the room. “We have all this transcribed?”
Beatrice nodded. “I kept notes the whole way through, my lady. I have every layer of it written down and much of that typed up, but I did start with what seemed most relevant.”
“Clean the boards,” Violet told Beatrice. “Please.”
“Hargreaves,” Isolde said, “go and get Violet some sandwiches or something. She won’t be able to be the witty, clever version of herself if she doesn’t fuel her brain.”
“I’m not hungry,” Violet told Isolde.
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Isolde told Violet. “You’ll eat if I have to sit on you and force feed you.”
“Why aren’t you sicking up into a pot and bemoaning the idiocy that led you to create life? Why aren’t you terrified of Father finding out that after threatening your beloved, he still took you to bed before you were wed?”
“Vi,” Denny groaned. “Don’t rhyme. It makes me laugh and then I feel like a right wart.”
Isolde just lifted a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you want to see if you can win a wrestling match against me? I’m quite a bit larger than you. You’ll eat,” she threatened, “or I’ll force feed you.”
“She’s been training in jiu jitsu, and she’s meaner,” Denny told Isolde. “You’ll definitely lose, dear one. But please, duel it out, and I’ll be happy to take notes.”
“Enough,” Violet said, taking the chalk from Beatrice as the woman wheeled a clean chalkboard to the center of the working space. “I’ll eat if you’ll leave me be.”
Slowly, Violet drew a grid on the chalkboard with a list of names down the side and a list of motives across the top. The names read:
ROBERT ROCHE
ROBBIE ROCHE
BARTY ROCHE
GERTRUDE CAMPBELL
LYLE LONGFELLOW
HENRIETTA MOORE
EMILY ALLEN
Violet glanced at Beatrice. “Repeat these names on that board with what you’ve learned about each of them so far.”
While Beatrice started working on the next chalkboard, Violet wrote the list of motives.
GREED
LOVE
JEALOUSY
HATRED
MERCY
SELF DEFENSE
ANGER
POWER
As Beatrice cleaned and then wrote down notes about each of the suspects, Violet flipped through the pages of notes that Beatrice was condensing. Vi didn’t want to miss any details, even though when Beatrice was done, Violet felt as though her new assistant had done a good job of pulling out the most telling details.
The sandwiches arrived and Isolde made a plate for Vi while she read through the transcribed notes. There were details Violet would never have suspected, things like where and how Robert Roche made his money along with Barty’s favorite gambling establishments.
Violet was shocked her private investigators had found this much out so quickly. She had hardly been present while they’d been bringing in reports. Violet read while Isolde forced Vi through two cups of coffee and a full sandwich, and Lila and Kate went to take yet another report in one of the smaller parlors.
“Are the local bobbies still here?”
Denny sniffed, glancing at Vi before he answered. “The one in the kitchens is still interviewing servants and taking notes about whatever nonsense he deems interesting. The one on the front steps left when they took Jack in, but I think we’re being watched across the way.”
Violet crossed to the window and lifted a brow when she saw a fellow sitting in an auto. He wasn’t even trying to hide. The servant who had taken Jack’s auto to the garage was walking down the street with a rather large box in his hands. He entered the gate and went around to the back entrance while Violet paused.
The bloke in the auto noted the servant, even writing something down in a notebook, but he didn’t get out of the auto or approach the servant.
“Beatrice, go get the package from Lenny. He just came back from picking it up. Make a big deal about it being unmentionables for my honeymoon and make sure the bobby doesn’t get too many answers.”
The woman nodded and hurried out of the room while Violet stared again at the chalkboards. Her mind was still scattered, but it was in better shape than her heart. She felt as though that thing that should be keeping her alive had abandoned its duty to curl up in the corner of her soul. Any moment now, she’d drop and Jack would be left to his fate—whatever that might be.
Chapter Seventeen
Violet had crossed back to the chalkboard. She looked up to see Ham come in. She shot him a withering glare, but he didn’t wince. He watched her as though he were protecting her for Jack. Violet had little doubt that Ham would probably return to Jack that night and report on her state of being. She ignored Ham for the moment. She knew Jack’s presence at Scotland Yard wasn’t Ham’s fault, but she very much wanted to blame him. Rather than destroying their friendship, she screwed her mouth shut and turned back to the notes she was reading.
Eventually she looked up again and found Rita sitting next to Ham, whispering to him. There was a box in the corner of the room where Beatrice was reading through the things Violet had stolen from the hotel with Rita and Ham helping. Vi hadn’t noticed their arrival but she was happy to see Rita there. No doubt she could convey all she’d learned from the hotel to Beatrice while Violet attempted to think.
Violet paced, staring at the three names and Beatrice’s notes.
BARTY ROCHE—not in Mr. Robert Roche’s will. Barty had already lost one fortune and was living off the charity of relatives who let him pretend to a level of income he no longer could claim. He wasn’t entirely without funds as he still owned half the company Mr. Roche still ran, but the company had taken a turn for the worse and the income wasn’t enough to pay Barty’s gambling debts.
Barty was seen leaving the hotel often and was usually going to gamble or clubs with gamblers that often ended in private card games with high stakes. He’s certainly in rather a lot of debt.
Violet looked up from her pacing and called, “Does Barty keep records of his debts?” Had Violet stolen those when she took his papers?
“These are mostly letters from his daughter. There’s scraps of what must be copies of IOUs or notes to himself, but he’s as careless with those as he is with his daughter.” Beatrice disgust warmed Violet’s heart.
“There are, however,” Ham stated, “check stubs for rather extravagant amounts from Robbie Roche’s account. They’re all written to Theodophilus Smythe-Hill.”
“Robbie?” Violet’s mouth dropped, then she wondered aloud. “What brought about that generosity?”
“I wonder if Robbie found it worth killing over,” Ham added. “If he realized—”
“Did anyone send for Clara and Algie?” Violet asked, tired of asking questions they couldn’t answer. “Did they charge Jack?”<
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Ham shook his head and said low, “It’s not looking good right now, Vi. But we aren’t done trying yet.”
Violet didn’t want to think about that. She needed the answer, but she turned back to the chalkboard with a roiling stomach as she faced the notes about Robert Roche.
ROBERT ROCHE raised Barty Roche and watched his nephew reach his majority and throw away the entire fortune that his father and uncle had created for him. He refuses to pay Barty any money, but he was actively working to help Barty marry Gertrude Campbell, even telling the lie that they were in love.
Mr. Roche was the one who invited Theo to the party, but any of his party might have known of his actions. He was the one who tried to get Violet and Jack involved.
Violet sighed as she read. It was all damning but without a shred of evidence to believe that Mr. Roche had been the one who followed Jack and Theo to the garden and waited until Jack had walked away with his cigar.
“Bloody hell!” Violet hissed. “The cigar.”
“The cigar?” Ham asked suddenly.
“How could they know that Jack wouldn’t come back in right away? You might have known he’d walk off his anger with a cigar and some cooler air, but who else could know that except Miss Allen?”
“Does that mean she’s our main suspect? Please say she is,” Denny crowed, a little too happily for Violet’s taste.
She shook her head, remembering all too well another scene.
“Don’t you see? The first party, at Hotel Saffron, Jack dragged Theo out and had a cigar before he returned to the ballroom, having to hunt us down in the suite. Everyone in that suite would know that including all of the Roche party.”
“Then,” Ham added, “one of them made sure Theo would be at the second party. How quickly did you invite Algie?”
“The moment we decided to have it,” Violet said. “A cousin we like—he was on the list right below all of you.”
“So,” Kate said, taking in a breath, “one of them decided to use the chance to get rid of Theo. We need Clara. We need to know if the invite to Theo was from her father or if he was manipulated to do it.”
Violet stared at the last name.
GERTRUDE CAMPBELL. She didn’t have nearly as much to lose. A fiancé who had already lost a fortune. To anyone else’s account, she’d come out ahead if Barty had to be left behind.
Violet turned back to pacing between the chalkboard and the room. With enough time maybe she’d be struck by lightning and shocked into a revelation. Seven private investigators, Ham directing the case at Scotland Yard, an earl, Jack’s powerful father, all of their friends, and still her fiancé wasn’t going to make it to their wedding.
Chapter Eighteen
Violet was still staring at her blank board while Beatrice finished transcribing her notes. Violet glanced at what Beatrice had done, but she was back to feeling scattered again. Victor arrived as Violet finally stood and crossed out the section that transected the motive self-defense and each of the killer names.
If there was a thing that Theo’s murder was not, it was self-defense. A knife in the back? Violet thought back and then asked, “There were no signs of a struggle, am I right?”
“You’re right,” Victor answered. Violet spun and their gazes met. She knew immediately he’d received the news of Jack’s location. “He wasn’t killed out of mercy either.”
There was so much going unsaid between the twins that it seemed they were speaking more with their eyes and their expression than would have ever been possible with their words.
Vi waited, staring at her brother, seeing his heart breaking for her, his worry, his dreadful concern at her wooden state. She was barely functioning, and she was too well aware of it, but he might be even more aware of it.
“I was with Algie and the Roches at the club,” Victor said, “when I got word. They didn’t hear, but they will. I abandoned them and found Father.”
“Father?” Vi asked in surprise. She hadn’t even considered what her father might have been able to do.
Victor squeezed her hand, carefully not hugging her so she wouldn’t fall apart. “He went down with a whole gaggle of powerful men. If it is possible to avoid charging Jack with a crime, they will. If they can’t, they’ll delay as long as possible.”
Violet nodded, her mouth dry.
Victor looked beyond Violet to the chalkboard. “How long has she been staring at it?”
“Too long,” Denny answered. “I’m tempted to fill it in myself.”
Violet shot Denny a nasty glance and he held up surrendering hands. “I know I wouldn’t be as helpful as you, Vi. I just want to help.”
Violet’s gaze teared up at that and Denny winced. “Please don’t.”
She tried for a smile and failed, but at least the tears dried up.
“Thank god,” Denny muttered as Violet rubbed her hand over her face.
“The wedding is supposed to be tomorrow,” Violet said. “We won’t make it.”
They were all silent staring at her. Probably imagining what she was feeling. She wasn’t feeling much—would any of them guess that? That her mind and heart had shut down.
Finally Isolde said, “There are other days.”
Kate nodded, crying for Violet once again as she added, “You won’t care what day it is when you get married.”
Violet nodded, smiling one of those lying smiles. “If we don’t get to go on our honeymoon, do you think Jack will tell me where we would have gone?”
Victor pressed a hand against his chest as if he felt what she was supposed to be feeling and then glanced at the board again.
“Jealousy is a good motive for Miss Allen. She does hate you.”
Violet followed his gaze and then walked over to the board, marking that spot with a large X, taking the chance to put slashes through the mercy box for every name on the list. It was hardly merciful to murder some man in the garden and frame Violet’s betrothed.
“She might not have killed for money,” Lila added, sniffing away a sympathetic tear. “But love, hatred, and anger all fit for her.”
Violet woodenly placed large X’s in each of those boxes for Miss Allen, putting a solitary slash through each of the remaining options.
She glanced at Mr. Roche and then placed X-marks in the hatred, anger, and power boxes with slashes through each of the remaining boxes.
Then in a fury of emotion, Violet crossed out the entire rows of Henrietta Moore and Lyle Longfellow. Maybe they had killed Theo, but Violet didn’t think they’d prove such a thing before her wedding. She’d throw those names to Scotland Yard or the private detectives. There was little chance she’d be able to do anything about them regardless.
She focused on the next name. Robbie Roche was, she thought, the least likely Roche to kill Theo unless Theo knew something specific about Robbie that no one else was aware of. Violet didn’t bother focusing on him. Instead, she also crossed him out entirely. If something came up, she’d put him back on the list.
That left Violet with Barty Roche and Gertrude Campbell. Violet focused on Barty first. She could see someone like him knifing a man in the back far easier than she could see Gertrude. The spoiled American heiress who should have chosen better versus the man who actually had something to lose.
For Barty, Violet put X-marks in the greed, hatred, anger, and power boxes. She put question marks behind the love and jealousy boxes. Violet suspected that the only thing Barty loved about Gertrude was the size of her inheritance, but they were engaged. Perhaps it wasn’t just about the money.
Violet scoffed at the idea and then stared at Gertrude’s name. Greed? No. Love? Maybe. Jealousy? Of Theo? No. Of what he knew about Barty? Possibly. Violet left that box blank. Hatred, anger, power, all of those were possible if Gertrude knew that Theo was attempting to blackmail Barty and risking the ruin of her marriage.
“Why didn’t she just throw him over?” Violet asked. “She doesn’t strike me as dim.”
“What do you mean?”
Lila asked.
“She has to know he isn’t really a teetotaler. She has to know they don’t have all that much in common in those moral areas. She isn’t getting anything out of it but marriage, and it’s not like Barty Roche, the gambler who can’t stop betting, isn’t irreplaceable. There’s no love lost between them. We need Clara,” Violet finished.
Vi heard her friends as they talked among themselves while she circled three names. Robert Roche, Barty Roche, and Gertrude Roche. After a moment, Vi added Emily Allen. They were the only possibilities that Violet could follow through the thought line and see it happening that way.
Emily Allen might have killed Theo if he was threatening her. If there was a motive beyond Jack, as much as Violet would like to demonize the woman, she didn’t think that Miss Allen would have murdered Theo just to torment Jack.
“I’ll be wanting Miss Allen as well.”
She knew that some of them left, but Violet paid little attention to anything beyond the chalkboards in front of her and the report that Beatrice had made.
She moved to another chalkboard and cleaned it while everyone walked on ice around her. They’d discovered that Theo had paid more than half his bills with income that came from blackmail. He blackmailed everyone he could, from a professor at his college to one of his cousins who probably paid him with pin money.
He really had been a snake. Violet wouldn’t have been surprised if he forced himself on some girl and then blackmailed her to keep quiet about it. She gritted her teeth, wishing it had been her hand that had wielded the knife.
“He really did deserve to be removed from existence.” Violet flipped back to the early pages about him.
“He wasn’t so bad,” a familiar voice said, and Violet glanced up to meet the very beautiful gaze of a very beautiful woman.
“He blackmailed his own family, Miss Allen. Doesn’t that offend your sense of honor?”
“I’ve met that cousin,” Miss Allen replied. “She is rather awful.”
