Murder in the Shadows Read online

  Murder in the Shadows

  A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery

  Beth Byers

  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

  Chapter 19

  Preview of Bright Young Witches & The Restless Dead

  Also By Beth Byers

  Summary

  November 1925

  Violet and Victor are called to London by the most unexpected of people--Lady Eleanor. She's in trouble and when the chips are down, she turns for help to the stepdaughter she'd alienated and the stepson she barely tolerates.

  Will they find it within themselves to help her? And if so, what will they do with what they find?

  Chapter 1

  “You have a note from Lady Eleanor,” Victor said as Violet walked into the breakfast room. Violet scowled towards the pile of letters that had been placed next to her seat. The only thing she wanted was a letter from Jack, but Victor would have told her if it were there. “Oh, and hullo.”

  “Hullo,” she said absentmindedly, then paused to stare at her twin as his unexpected presence sank in. Given that he had his own country house a few short kilometers away, she wasn’t quite sure why he was in her breakfast room while she was still crusty-eyed and in a kimono.

  Normally she’d have dressed before coming to the breakfast room, but Jack was gone, she hadn’t slept well, and she was debating returning to her bed after her cup of coffee ended her headache. Her eyes were burning, and she was almost incapable of speaking, let alone the verbal sparring that she and Victor usually embraced.

  They were silent as they assessed each other.

  “I assume she wants something,” Vi mused, her twin’s opening remark finally pushing past the pounding in her head. She ignored the letter to make her way to the sideboard.

  “You couldn’t sleep either?”

  “I’m often sleepless.” Vi shook her head. “Why can’t you?”

  “Kate,” was his only reply, referring to his traveling wife. “I’ve already sent for more coffee.”

  With matching features, matching history, and a near supernatural bond, their sharp eyes glinted at the same moment as they examined one another. They might not live in the same old rooms anymore, they might both be married now and no longer share everything, but they were still able to communicate with a simple look.

  Violet gave her twin a furious look as she poured a scant half-cup of coffee. The nearly-drained carafe made him grimace ruefully, and she staggered back to the breakfast table without enough to counteract her headache.

  “I needed that,” she told him, pressing her fingers against her forehead.

  Victor gave her a woebegone expression that did nothing to soften her.

  “I’m a crippled man.” He leaned back, pushing away his empty plate, bemoaning his own unhappiness. “I thought, ‘I don’t want Kate to go, let alone take the twins, but at least I’ll be able to sleep through the night and get some work done.’ Ridiculous. I’m a mockery of who I used to be.”

  Violet shook her head for both of them. They had probably both been awake and pacing at the same time the previous night. Writing in the middle of the night? More like waking cold because she’d become accustomed to the warmth of someone’s arm over her back, the chill of loneliness invading her bones. No doubt Victor had suffered the same. They’d both have tried to fix it by wrapping themselves tight in the blankets. Only mere covers didn’t warm as well after becoming used to another body, so they’d have lain alone in the darkness, wondering if their spouse was awake. Had Jack slept fine without her? Or was he, too, suffering?

  Violet lifted her cup in salute to her brother and drank a large swallow. She had returned to bed after clawing enough story out of her mind to allow sleep. Then she’d woken to the unfeeling dog, Holmes, who’d wanted to go out.

  “Any word from Jack?” Victor asked.

  Violet shook her head, trying to ignore the nauseous rush of worry that accompanied Victor’s question. She had to admit, if only to herself, that she was worried sick.

  “Still in Leeds?”

  Vi nodded and sipped slowly, savoring the coffee. Leeds. Goodness. Jack was working a case with Hamilton. Something dark was going on, and the higher-ups of Scotland Yard had initially sent another man. That fellow called in a report which caused Ham’s exit to Leeds. A mere day after Ham’s arrival in Leeds, Jack had been called in. Whatever was happening, it was bad. As much as she loved Jack, she was glad to be far away from the crime. She just wanted Jack and Ham far away from it as well.

  She’d been debating, previous to this, wanting Jack to leave his work. She had come to the conclusion that the change needed to be on her part. She’d drawn back from direct control over her business interests. However, her feelings had drastically changed about Jack’s work at the moment. With the constant worry for those she loved. She didn’t just want Jack out of these cases, she wanted Ham out too.

  “How is Kate?” Violet hadn’t bothered with food. All she had needed was coffee and she didn’t have nearly enough. The thumping in her head declared she might need a whole pot.

  “Her mother is still ill and still doesn’t want me around. Kate reports the pack of gremlins disguised as orphans are running amuck while our infant angels continue to do well without me.”

  Victor’s scowl had Violet smirking.

  “She is ill,” Violet told him without sympathy. “Your pain seems to make my head feel better.”

  “It’s my presence, darling. I’m a balm to the soul.” Victor nodded towards the letter from Lady Eleanor with a pointed look.

  Better to get it out of the way on an empty stomach. She opened it slowly, read the note, blinked rather rapidly, and read it again.

  With a deep frown, Violet handed the letter to her twin. He read it as slowly and then said, “I’ll go with you. Shall I meet you back here at noon? We can get the next train to London.”

  Violet nodded and then rose, ringing the bell for Hargreaves, and then returning to her seat. “We can just open my house,” Violet told her brother. “No sense in opening up both houses for the two of us, Hargreaves, and a few servants.”

  “It’ll be odd, won’t it? To be in London without Kate, Jack, Lila, and Denny. Whatever will we do with ourselves?”

  “It’ll be like the old days,” Violet told him with a wicked grin. “But with better smelling rooms. We might be able to write four books.”

  “It won’t matter if we’re in London or here,” Victor replied. “There’s no sleeping if Kate and Jack are elsewhere. We’re going to continue to be useless ninnies who are weak and broken without their partners. We were stronger when we were younger. Now? Vi darling, we’re useless.”

  “Surely we can beat this,” Violet suggested. “I used to sleep—” She paused long enough to consider and then admitted, “Maybe I’ve always been weak.”

  His scoff matched her internal one. Sleep for her had always been a hit or miss prospect.

  “Well,” Violet told him flatly. “We can be grumpy and sleepless together. Cup upon cup of Turkish coffee in the morning, an afternoon dealing with our stepmother, and then cocktails to get the flavor of her out of our mouths. Like the old days, only now we know what we’re missing.”

  “Drinks are going to be required if we hav
e to deal with Stepmother. I suppose I can play with making a new cocktail to give me something to look forward to. I’ll call it Insomnia.”

  “Sounds bitter and dark,” Violet told him.

  “It’ll be bright. Oh! I have an idea.”

  “About ‘Insomnia?’”

  “Indeed. Insomnia—an antidote to internal foulness. It should be something sweet.”

  “I would drink it.”

  “You’d drink anything I handed you.”

  “It’s true love,” she told him. “A soul bond between womb mates.”

  He rolled his eyes at her. “I bought a divine blackberry cordial made by a little woman with the deepest wrinkles I’ve ever seen.”

  “Bring it,” she immediately ordered.

  “Yes, obviously.” Victor shot her a quiet look and then added, “My wrinkled angel and her grandchildren hunt blackberries together. They make the wine using a recipe from her grandmother. Can you imagine? She gave me the recipe and had the wicked gall to charge me a hundred pounds for it.”

  “She’s your angel?”

  He grinned, but didn’t expand.

  Vi shook her head. “You gave her the money because you liked her.” Violet knew him too well to need the particulars. “She might make the most divine cordial you’ve ever had, but you could have gotten a dozen local recipes—nearly as good—for less than a fiver.”

  “I was buying their love. Especially my angel’s love,” he told her unrepentantly. “They said I could join the blackberry hunt and make the wine with them for a price. That hundred pounds was, I fear, the down payment. I’m thinking I might need to create my own business. Vi, can you see it? Carlyle Fine Wines & Spirits?”

  “Save your pin money if you’re basing it off of this blackberry cordial,” Violet advised her twin. “You’ve fallen in with sharks. And yes, I can see it. I love the idea.”

  “Good,” Victor told her with a grin. “You’ll be investing of course. Also, I told my ancient cordial-making love that we’re dedicating the next book to her.”

  Violet laughed. “Shall we poison someone with wine? What do you think she wants?” she added without amusement, knowing they were procrastinating.

  “Poison by a sweet cordial is perfect,” he answered, but he didn’t need the explanation that Violet’s mind had returned to their stepmother. He shrugged and then moaned in joy when the coffee arrived. He rose, taking Vi’s cup, and refilled both of their glasses only to return to the buffet and make a piece of toast for Violet.

  “Eat, darling. You’ll need your strength for our stepmother.”

  “Maybe while we’re in London, we can pop over and see Ginny at her new school.” Another procrastination technique to delay facing their stepmother, though a pleasant and necessary one.

  “Ah, something to look forward to.” Victor nodded, a worried look crossing his face. “Even as a father myself, Ginny leaves me helpless. You’d think having her first would make me more confident in Vivi and Agatha, but instead—I’m just afraid of facing the twins when they’re older.”

  Violet had little doubt that he was wondering if they’d allowed Ginny too much freedom in a school that didn’t require attendance and allowed the students to select their own courses of study. Ginny was their ward, and they were responsible for her. As adults who weren’t prepared for someone as clever and rambunctious as Ginny, they were blind and stupid.

  “I want to catch her unawares and see if she’s studying to be a doctor or the finer aspects of napping under a tree like you and I would have.” Violet wished that Ginny had decided to stay with them instead. Private study, an excellent tutor, their love, support—and most importantly, their ready gazes.

  “Can we hold her to task if she is doing what we would have?”

  Victor winced. “I think we have to admit to ourselves that we were terrible creatures and want something better for our Ginny. We have to lie to her, Vi. I bet you Father stepped out on his classes more often than we did and for less wholesome reasons. Then he lied to us about it later.”

  Violet shot her twin a look that ordered him to not speak of Father. It wasn’t as if Father had been involved in their education anyway. Not really. Victor’s replying glance told Violet she’d have to get over her squabble with Father sooner or later.

  Violet’s response was to ask, “Have you heard from Isolde or Tomas?”

  “Our dear little sister and Tomas have moved from Belgium to Yugoslavia. He says they took some lovely rooms and that the baby is fat and brilliant.”

  Violet frowned and swirled her coffee. She hadn’t gotten to meet Isolde’s baby yet as Tomas had whisked her out of the country before the babe had made an entrance.

  Vi’s mind returned to and escaped from Lady Eleanor with predictable regularity, especially lately. Violet had made a promise to help Lady Eleanor at a future date, but Vi hadn’t expected to be called back to London with a note that felt like a cross between an anxious plea for help and a summons from the queen.

  Violet finished her coffee, ate the toast under Victor’s steely eye, and went to pack her trunks. She had yet to replace her personal maid and was too particular to let any random housemaid rummage through her things. She had one of the housemaids bring a trunk to her room and packed her books first. Once her reading was covered, Violet put her typewriter in its travel case, added plenty of paper, typing ribbon, and the small tool case that went along with the typewriter.

  Vi followed the most important things with cosmetics and then faced her closet. Pajamas were obvious. A few kimonos. Her underthings. A snuggly robe. Shoes. Violet considered her closet, starting with day dresses appropriate for winter, evening gowns for when she and Victor inevitably went for cocktails and dancing. Vi added her mink coat and then put together several cloches.

  She moved from packing to writing a long letter to Jack before they left, sealed it, and then looked up at the sound of Victor clearing his throat. He was leaning against her bedroom door, watching her as though he knew exactly what she was doing--delaying the journey to London. Violet let him wait, taking the brown leather bag from Jack’s closet to put her current book in it, her current manuscript, a fountain pen, her journal, and a small box of chocolates.

  “The dogs?” Victor asked. He was in no hurry either, considering he would have to return to his house to pack.

  Violet looked at his feet where his dog, Gin, was leaning against his leg.

  “Yes, of course.” Violet tossed her brother two leashes and he let out a piercing whistle. Violet shot him a dark look and glanced towards the fireplace where her two dogs, Holmes and Rouge, and their progeny were snuggled on a pillow. The puppies would need to be placed in a basket.

  “Maybe we should motor up,” Violet said, trying to imagine handling them on the train without a servant. A basketful of puppies on a long train ride up to London sounded disgusting.

  “We could,” Victor said. “Did Jack leave the feces auto?”

  “Jack sold the feces auto and ordered another one. He made it a different color, but the rest is the same. The new auto, however, has yet to arrive. He drove his old one to Leeds.”

  “We’ll take mine then,” Victor said. “I just wanted to say feces auto.”

  “Save it for when Jack is here,” Violet told him. “The brat who destroyed his auto is lucky that he didn’t strangle her. Her father is lucky that we only billed him for the difference after we sold the first auto, and for the repairs of course.”

  She and Jack had been the victims of dark pranks. It had ended when Violet realized the perpetrator and cornered the girl’s parents with the help of Lady Eleanor. The price for Lady Eleanor’s help was a favor that was now being called in.

  Chapter 2

  “Mrs. Vi?” Hargreaves asked two days later. London was drizzly and grey with clouds that carpeted the sky and a chill that reached into Vi’s bones. It was cold at the country house too, but somehow it seemed cozier.

  Violet looked up from her manuscript and
the notes Victor had left. She was sitting on the olive green Chesterfield, her feet propped in front of her on the sofa. Next to her, a tray held a cup of Turkish coffee, an ignored scone, and the remnants of a raspberry and chocolate tart. Vi’s feet were warmed by her dog, Holmes. Rouge and the puppies were in the kitchen being spoiled by Hargreaves and the rest of the servants, but Violet had sought and received a good snuggle earlier that day.

  “Lady Eleanor has arrived.”

  Violet didn’t even try to hide her sigh as she ordered tea, more coffee and her twin to the parlor. She slowly sat up, setting aside her manuscript, rubbed Holmes’s belly, and waited for Victor. It was a well-established practice to face their stepmother united.

  Violet took a seat near the fire and pointed her toes towards the flames. Breathe, she told herself. Breathe and think terrible thoughts. Auto accidents. Bad fish. A trip down the stairs. A wrenched knee. None of it would be enough, Violet thought, for the endless sourness to come.

  Victor silently took the seat next to Violet just ahead of Lady Eleanor’s arrival. The twins turned, as one, towards their stepmother. Violet took in Lady Eleanor’s expensive day dress, perfectly matching shoes and clutch, a cameo broach on her chest, and expensive earbobs on her ears. She was wearing a small hat on the back of her head and had a strand of pearls around her neck.

  It wasn’t the richness of Lady Eleanor’s attire that caught Violet’s attention but the low-level flush that didn’t fade despite settling herself comfortably. Vi considered her stepmother’s blush as she watched the woman uncompromisingly. Lady Eleanor had tried to rule over the twins for the entirety of their lives. Seeing Lady Eleanor discombobulated in their presence was a huge insight into the nature of what was happening with her. She didn’t quite meet the twins’ eyes. Another huge sign that the situation truly was terribly wrong.