A Jolly Little Murder Read online

  A Jolly Little Murder

  A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery

  Beth Byers

  For my Family

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Sneak Peek of Bright Young Witches & the Restless Dead

  Also By Beth Byers

  Also By Amanda A. Allen

  Summary

  December 1925

  Violet Wakefield is determined to dive into the holiday and enjoy every occasion. She's going to see the live nativity, listen to Handel's Messiah, and attend the Nutcracker ballet. She'll cover her house in all the holly and lights. In fact, Vi wants nothing more than to put up the largest Christmas tree she can locate and stuff it with gifts.

  She little expects, however, to stumble across a crime in action. When she gets pulled into the madness, her biggest concern isn't the crime, it's keeping Jack from committing a holiday homicide.

  Chapter 1

  Violet leaned against Jack’s bad arm. It was past the point of hurting him when she leaned in, and she wasn’t sure she felt more grateful about anything. The scar was ugly, but he was going to be fine. Though perhaps not as fine as the dancers kicking their way through the Russian dance of the ballet. She tangled their fingers together. She needed to remember to tell Jack she wanted a record of the Nutcracker Ballet if he could find one. She had forgotten how very much she loved the music. It would be delightful to put on a record in her office and listen while she wrote.

  During the standing ovation, she leaned towards Jack again, pushing up on her toes to say, “I’d like a gramophone for my office and the ballet recording.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Does that mean I don’t have to buy rubies?”

  Violet grinned wickedly. “The rubies are for getting shot.”

  “You know you want to leave early for the country house. When am I supposed to go last minute shopping for you?”

  “Send a man. Make a telephone call.” Violet’s wicked smirk was a dare to make it happen.

  Jack pressed a kiss on her forehead and then glanced at Victor and Kate who were on the other side of Vi in the box. “Shall we go?”

  “Go get drinks?” Kate demanded, glancing between them. “Because I need some after all those weeks with my mother.”

  “I need some,” Victor agreed, “after all those weeks without you.”

  “You mean,” Kate shot back, “when you drove off to London with Violet and got into trouble?”

  “Trouble?” Victor gasped. He put his hand over his chest and staggered before grinning at Kate and holding out his arm. “Shall we see if the bar here is still serving or shall we go find a gin joint with a band?”

  “The latter,” Violet declared. “I’m in full Christmas mode and want eggnog.”

  “Eggnog, a Tom and Jerry, or something with coffee, cream, anything to get me right zozzled,” Victor agreed.

  Jack shook his head and then said, “The Messiah yesterday, the ballet today, the train tomorrow. We’re supposed to be on the early one.”

  “So, we’ll go on the late one,” Victor shot back. “We promised Vi and Kate full-Christmas with all the trimmings.”

  “The children,” Kate said, raising an imaginary glass. “It’ll be so fun with them.”

  “Father Christmas,” Violet added, “with sleigh, stockings, and gifts. I can’t wait to start.”

  “Rum cocktails,” Victor said, saluting with his own imaginary glass. “Eggnog, mulled wine.”

  “Mmm,” Jack agreed. He didn’t sound excited, but Violet knew he was. They both loved the holidays and a holiday in the country with the large tree and all the trimmings? It was just what they needed after a hard year. Especially given how clingy Violet had been after Jack was shot.

  Jack used his bulk to lead the way through the remainder of the crowd, Violet’s hand in his own. Kate followed in the wake they left and Victor brought up the rear. It was Victor’s auto they looked for with his driver at the ready and Violet wasn’t listening when they named a club. She didn’t care where they went so long as she got to dance with Jack, have a drink or two, and then head home only to pack up the dogs, the trunks, the book she and Victor were writing, and escape London.

  They hadn’t been back to the country house since she and Victor were called to London by their stepmother. Violet didn’t think they even needed to stay in the country. She’d bought tickets for them all for their presents. The only person she’d given a heads-up to was Ham who needed to schedule time off of work.

  They were going back to the Amalfi Coast, to the villa Violet inherited. They were going to bake in what sun they could find, sail the seas, drink the cocktails, sleep more than usual, and only come home when everyone had lost the bags under their eyes and remembered how to laugh.

  “Gerald!” Violet called before he could escape her. “Wait!”

  “Violet,” her older brother snapped. “I swear if you don’t let me leave, I’m going to lose my mind.”

  “Your mind?” she gasped mockingly. “However will we notice?”

  Gerald’s betrothed, Lottie, laughed. “Oh Gerald, it’s like you ask for her to tease you.”

  “Tease me?” Gerald groaned. “Violet,” he said with exaggerated patience, “I will get your ward, I will tell Geoffrey you wish he could come for Christmas, I will make sure he understands that you love him, I will give him your gift, I will make sure that Ginny is warm and doesn’t need anything for a few hours on a train where she has her own pin money and can look after herself. Especially since I have never met a more capable or independent young woman. Truth be told, I should ask her to look after me for the journey. Surely, I will lose my hat, scarf, or pocketbook.”

  “Surely,” Violet immediately agreed, “you’re right. Give Ginny all those messages and ask her to look after you for me.”

  Gerald groaned, Violet patted his cheek condescendingly, kissed Lottie on the cheek, and then wickedly handed over a wriggling basket with two puppies inside. Her own pups were claimed by others before Lottie came into the picture, so Violet had tracked down the pug that Lottie coveted and got her two. The wicked grin and evil wink were for her brother who’d be looking after the pups, taking them to potty off the train, and dealing with the worst of traveling with two pups.

  “Happy Christmas, Lottie,” Violet said, “from Jack, Victor, Kate and I.”

  She squealed as she saw the puppies and Gerald shot Violet a horrified look. Her evil grinned morphed into a glee-filled mocking expression that Lottie didn’t notice. His expression promised revenge. Hers dared him to try.

  Gerald sighed as he glanced down at the kneeling Lottie accepting kisses from the two dogs.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Lottie cried.

  Gerald couldn’t help but smile at the look of his beloved being kissed sideways by the two little wriggling pug puppies.

  “You’re welcome,” Victor said from the stairs, “you’re welcome, you’re welcome.” To Gerald, Victor held out his hand and said, “You’re especially welcome.”

  Lottie didn’t realize the headache ahead yet, so she glanced up in surprise. Both men grinned at her, though perhaps Gerald’s was a bit anemic, and then Lottie was distracted by another wriggled kiss.

  “There’s a lad there,” Victor
told Lottie, “and a lady. Different lines to keep any results healthy enough.”

  Lottie nodded, eyes shining. “My sisters will be so excited when their turn for a pup comes. Though perhaps Father would wish otherwise.”

  “I’m a believer in springing them on a fellow,” Violet said innocently. Her wide bright eyes sold the innocent tone, and she handed Gerald the rest of the present of two collars, two leashes, a blanket for the dogs to sleep in, and some extra cleaning cloths. She saw him dig through, note the cloths, and shoot her another daggered glance. She was, however, impervious to such assaults.

  “I can’t believe you got me puppies!” Lottie was still beside herself with joy.

  “They’re good for the soul,” Violet told her. “And my Rouge’s pups have homes. Besides, we can’t be tripping over only spaniels. I love the squished little faces of these folks.” She scooped up the lad, nuzzled his nose, accepted kisses on her chin, and handed him to Gerald.

  Her brother fumbled a bit with the pup. “I’ve always liked bigger dogs,” Gerald said. “But I suppose his face is charming.”

  “They’re not for you, silly,” Violet told him mockingly. “They’re companions for your soon-to-be wife. They’ll follow her around, worship her presence, and bring her endless joy.”

  “Oh!” Lottie said, suddenly blushing deeply. “Violet, I was wondering if I might speak to you alone for a few minutes before Gerald and I go.”

  Gerald bit back another long-suffering sigh that he would certainly let out the second Violet and Lottie were out of the way. With another mischievous grin, Violet handed the second pup to Gerald.

  “I suspect,” Violet told Victor, “that Gerald needs a drink before the train.”

  “Maybe two,” Gerald agreed, shooting Violet another look of frustration. “I’m not sure why we even have to go get Geoffrey and Ginny. They’ve come home on the train by themselves before.”

  “Because,” Violet shot back, knowing she’d partially pushed for it because of the puppies, “we’re wrapping Geoffrey up in love until he’s secure in our affections again. What a wonderful surprise to have his favorite brother escort him home and then take Ginny to us. Make sure he knows we wanted him with us, but Lady Eleanor refused.”

  Gerald had realized Violet’s other intentions already and objecting just made him look like a beast in front of Lottie, so he let them disappear up the stairs to Violet’s boudoir. It was a dragon-themed room in deep purple that housed her desk, her typewriter, the bulk of her wardrobe and a never used bed, since she slept on Jack’s chest every night or tended to not sleep at all.

  Lottie continued to blush until Violet found herself blushing along with the girl. “Is this about the bedroom?”

  The red on Lottie’s face intensified to a point that was uncomfortable to witness.

  Violet knew she was blushing alongside, but she dared to grind out. “The act or…”

  “The ahh…”

  Violet nodded and crossed to her window seat, opening the compartment and pulling out a book. She handed over Wise Parenthood and said, “I hate that I blush when talking about this. We should be able to address it without feeling dirty, but here we are. I’ll get myself another copy. You can have this one. It’s a manual on birth control. If you and Gerald want to wait a bit—well, so do Jack and I.”

  Lottie didn’t answer verbally. Her blush was so intense that Violet suspected she’d have trouble forming words. Violet took Lottie’s face between her hands, kissed each cheek, and said, “I’m so glad we’re going to be sisters.”

  Violet crossed to the mini-bar that Victor set up after one of their late night writing sessions went poorly. There wasn’t any ice or any of the things that Violet preferred, but there was a good ginger wine which was her favorite for times like these. Violet struggled to open the bottle and then poured them both a glass.

  Lottie took it with shaking hands and Violet shook her head internally. Externally, Violet smiled softly. She’d been older than Lottie when she’d married and had many a frank conversation with both Kate and Lila. She hadn’t blushed nearly so deeply with either. But of course, Aunt Agatha had taken Violet for a drive in the auto and explained the works when she’d been far younger. The later conversations had been easier. It was possible, in fact, that Lottie’s own embarrassment was making Violet remember that first discussion with Aunt Agatha rather than the later ones with her friends.

  She realized that a similar conversation needed to happen with Ginny. Heavens, Violet thought, feeling her stomach turn. Heavens above. How did you go about having that conversation with someone you protected and loved?

  How did you tell them that you would suggest that they wait until marriage to make love when everyone knew that Victor and Kate hadn’t? Let alone Lila and Denny. Or Isolde and Tomas. Perhaps Violet was terribly old-fashioned? If so, what she somehow had to find the words to say was that it should happen with someone who loved and adored you. Especially that first time.

  In saying that, however, knowing that Geoffrey and Ginny might well be in love—was she giving her schoolgirl ward vague permission to have sex? Violet took a large swallow of her wine and realized she’d already drained her glass. She poured herself another, eyeing Lottie. If Lottie and Gerald ended ‘in trouble’ it would be fine. They’d marry earlier or have an early baby and then be all right.

  But what about Geoffrey and Ginny? Oh bloody, bloody, hell, Violet thought. She hadn’t realized how hard raising Ginny would be when Ginny’s grandmother asked Violet to take the child on and see her safe and healthy.

  Violet pressed her hands to her own heated face and wondered if Aunt Agatha had explained nature, the results of certain acts, and her own advice half-zozzled? Because Violet suspected she might be drowning in her cups by the time she had the courage to speak. It was either zozzled or stuttering. Giving advice she had no idea was the right advice. She sighed deeply and then shooed Lottie down to Gerald before Violet went into a full-panic mode.

  Chapter 2

  Violet tucked her head against Jack’s arm and asked, “Do you love this auto more than the other?”

  “The other is dead to me,” Jack told her dryly as he stopped the machine just outside the pub. Their country house was near a village, but it was a good fifteen minutes by auto away from the house. They’d been discussing a good bowl of stew for the last hour of the journey and had decided to stop for food before they bothered with the house.

  “What do you believe the villagers will think when we arrive?” Violet asked idly. “Do they look forward to your father arriving?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone cares what we do,” Jack said seriously. His expression was surprised and he looked at her sideways as if trying to hold back a harsher reaction. “Did you think they did? Perhaps my father. He has friends here and keeps in contact. He even came down early to hunt with one of his local cronies.”

  Violet shook her head, scoffing. “I was just thinking about the differences between the people we know when they arrive into the home village and when we do. Like when we arrived in Denny’s hometown. He knew everyone. I don’t know everyone. What about you?”

  Jack lifted his brows and admitted, “Maybe a few? I haven’t been back for very long since I left for the war, at least not until we married. Father and I tended to avoid the country house since Mother died.”

  “If Lady Eleanor were to arrive home, what would it be like for her to go into the village? I suspect she wouldn’t.” It was difficult to imagine her stepmother living anywhere except London. “For me, it was never at Father’s house that felt like…Christmas in the air. That was with Aunt Agatha.”

  “She was an extraordinary woman. For me, the holidays always required my mother to be there to feel like anything. Otherwise, Father and I just had mulled wine with our roast dinner instead of bourbon. Or perhaps both.”

  Violet asked, “What did your mother do to make it special?”

  “One of those Christmas puddings. The flamed one
s. Father and I haven’t had one since Mother died.”

  Violet laid her head on his shoulder, the glass in the auto fogging as they chatted instead of going inside.

  “Aunt Agatha made a big deal of the stockings,” Violet said. “They were filled with the most magical things. Not just fruit, nuts, and sweets, but a letter from her and then little treasures. She had specially made stockings for us, so they were huge, Jack.” Violet could feel her eyes shining at the memory. As a child and a girl—digging into the stocking was a glistening memory.

  “What about the food?”

  “You food-obsessed man,” Violet laughed. “We had it all. Beef Wellington and roasted turkey. Roasted potatoes, carrots, parsnips. Aunt Agatha would order a feast fit for a king from Cook and then fill the table with guests. I always was allowed a glass of wine and sherry with Aunt Agatha after dinner. I’m craving it now, I think.”

  Jack kissed the back of her hand and then opened his auto door, rounding to hand her out. She adjusted the simple twill dress she’d worn. It was a dark brown with a tie at the neck that was a pretty yellow. With the brown stockings, the brown sturdy shoes, and the brown cloche, she was a bit like a slender tree trunk. There was, however, a red feather on her cloche along with quite a lovely pearl broach.

  She wore a simple pearl choker about her neck, her wedding ring, and another pearl broach on her brown wool coat. She stretched while Jack took the dogs over to the green and then followed him while he threw a stick for them until they were ready to go back into the basket in the auto. As soon as the auto door closed on the dogs, Jack and Violet headed into the pub.