Murder by the Sea Page 11

  Rita surprised him more by saying, “I hoped that you—” She blushed too, and Vi held back her question of what Rita was thinking to bring on a blush like that one.

  Newly-purchased tobacco in hand, the three hurried between the tobacco shop and the pub. Oscar arranged a corner table, and they ordered pints, fish, and chips.

  Vi sipped her ginger beer to Oscar’s amusement. It wouldn’t do to have him amused. “My grandmother loved ginger,” she said, making up both her grandmother and a love of ginger. “I suppose it’s a bit of a comfort thing now. I always—” She shuddered, staring into the light and letting her eyes strain against the glare until they started to tear. “I need it when I’m sad.”

  It worked. “Is it the murder that’s making you sad? You didn’t seem to be a—ah—much of a fan of the missionary.”

  Vi sniffed again, wiping away a tear and saw Oscar hide a scoffing look. “Being murdered by the sea? On holiday? It’s just so sad. Why would anyone kill a missionary? I wasn’t a particular fan of Brother Samuel, but that doesn’t really make it understandable.”

  Oscar shook his head, but he patted Rita’s hand. His thumb lingered a little too long, slowly moving over the back of her hand and wrist. “You know it was Brother Richards who pointed you out to me, Rita,” he said, dismissing Violet. “He told me he’d met you with Miss Lancaster and suggested I might be very daring and introduce myself. You wouldn’t have thought him to be a romantic, would you?”

  Violet didn’t laugh at the idea that Richards was any sort of a romantic, which she felt was one of those things that proclaimed her quite the actress. She really should win an award for not smacking his hand away and telling him money-grubbing bastards weren’t going to end up with Rita. Whoever she did love—darn it—was going to be a man who, despite her wealth, loved her for herself alone.

  “How did you meet Brother Samuel?” Rita asked, shooting Vi a dark look.

  “Working, actually. I had taken this new position to allow me to stay in the islands, and I was traveling for my most recent position when I came across Samuel. I didn’t care for him, really, so we rarely spoke.”

  “Didn’t you?” Vi asked dryly. “Yet you spent time with him?”

  There was an utter ring of truth to his statement about Brother Samuel but then Oscar shrugged and added, “When there are only so many Englishmen in a place, it’s just natural to stick together. I couldn’t help but know him and associate with him. Sometimes you just need to talk to someone who understands fish and chips—” He gestured to his plate and added, “Or a good cricket game.”

  Rita sipped from her pint, and Violet knew she was covering her need to learn more. She’d ordered a dark beer and she sighed as she set it down.

  “Did you know his parishioners?” she asked. “Will his missionary work fall to pieces now? Does someone step in and shepherd those sheep instead?”

  “Oh, I think so,” Oscar said. “I didn’t know them. Just heard stories.”

  Violet bit into her fish and chips to hide her own urge to demand answers. There was just something about chips. She really thought she could survive on ginger wine, chips, and the occasional roast chicken. Violet bit into the crispy potato and then glanced at Rita.

  “Why did he come to Felixstowe? Was he from here?” Rita asked as she played with her own basket of fish and chips.

  “I don’t think so,” Oscar said. “You know, your husband should really look at Bidlake. If that man is a lord, I’m St. Nicholas.”

  “But didn’t we see you with Bidlake and Brother Samuel before he died?” Violet asked. “We were in the bar at The Cliff House, you know? I swear I saw you.”

  “Didn’t your husband tell you?”

  “Oh he doesn’t tell me things,” Violet said merrily. “Jack won’t turn murder into a good gossip, and he does know me so well—I do love a good gossip, don’t you?”

  Oscar grinned and adjusted his spectacles. “I left Bidlake and Richards. To be honest,” he said to Rita, “I was quite distracted by seeing you dance with that other detective. The older, fatter one.”

  Violet sipped her ginger beer to keep from pointing out Oscar’s clear knowledge of Rita’s famous father banker, her wealth, and his desire not for Rita, but for her money. He hadn’t checked on her, but he’d intended on sending her flowers? Please, Vi thought, it’s a day late.

  If it had been Vi and Jack or Ham and Rita, there was no question that things would have gone very differently.

  “Tell me,” Violet said to Oscar, grinning charmingly and ignoring how he’d sidestepped that last conversation between himself and the dead man, “what is it that you do for your company?”

  “Mostly I reach out and try to develop relationships. There’s a fair amount of travel in it. I’m not sure I could explain without diagrams and whatnot.”

  Violet “ahhhed” instead of scoffing. “I bet you miss English food when you’re traveling.”

  “Oh, I do,” Oscar agreed. “I have been gone from England for such a long time. I confess this is my fourth time having fish and chips since we’ve come home. I’ll miss it when I’m gone again, but don’t you love eating food from other countries?” The question was directed at Rita and intended to bond them and leave Vi out.

  Rita allowed him to play his little game. “I do love a good curry. They don’t make them the same here even when you’re at a restaurant owned by someone from India.”

  “Or perhaps a goulash?”

  “Oh yes, it’s been quite a while since I’ve been back to Prague, but I do love getting it there.”

  Violet watched as they tossed the names of dishes back and forth and came to the conclusion that Oscar Watts had never once, in his life, had a truly spicy curry. She wasn’t all that convinced that he’d been to Budapest. It was easy enough to look at the spoiled Vi and think she hadn’t been to those places, but though she’d never been to Siam as Rita had or to Africa for a safari, Vi was hardly a London and Paris only girl. It just so happened she had eaten goulash in Prague, walked Charles Bridge, and sketched the statues there.

  Vi felt like she could have picked out the dishes Oscar named from travel books more than anything else. Was he just throwing ideas out? She hadn’t missed how he’d referred to his new “position” instead of his work for a bank.

  Vi waited until Oscar and Rita were laughing together before she asked, “Who do you think killed Brother Samuel?”

  Oscar shrugged. “I have no idea. Honestly, I don’t care that much. I know that makes me seem cold, but he was hardly my dearest friend, and someone else will come along to talk cricket with me.” His gaze lingered on Rita long enough to know who he hoped would take up that position.

  Vi kept herself from rolling her eyes, scoffing, or snorting, which certainly meant that she deserved one of those chocolate cocktails that Victor made.

  “You know what I want to know,” Rita said. “Why anyone would kill a missionary? Even one as irritating as Samuel Richards. If they’ll strike down a man of God, why not us? It’s a question that demands to be answered.”

  Oscar looked between them. “I don’t think you should worry about it.” There was an order in that tone. A mild one, but an order all the same. Vi shuddered. She could just see falling for Oscar’s lies and then ending up under his tyrannical thumb.

  “But,” Rita said softly, “I don’t think Brother Samuel worried about being stabbed until he was dying.”

  That softness had to be something Rita was choking on. Vi was ready to choke on it just listening to it coming from Rita.

  Oscar shrugged, entirely heartlessly, and then looked beyond Rita. Violet followed his gaze and noticed the two big men she’d seen with Samuel Richards at the carnival. There was no sign of his knowing them other than the way his eyes landed on them, paused, and moved beyond.

  “So you don’t know anything about Brother Samuel?” Violet asked.

  “I don’t think you should worry about it,” Oscar told them, smiling, and then reac
hed out to take Rita’s hand. “There are so many other things to garner our attentions and concerns.”

  Oh, Violet thought, oh no. She kept her gaze on her hand long enough to hide her disgust. “But Oscar,” Rita said with a feigned fearfulness, “what if I cross someone in the street? Should I fear them all?”

  “Why would you? Rita darling, whoever killed that missionary isn’t going to bother you.”

  “Why would anyone kill a missionary and not me?” she shot back. “Surely a missionary would be even safer than I.”

  “He was probably murdered by someone who…who…”

  Violet lifted her eyebrows and tried to look anxious about his answer.

  “Well, maybe he wasn’t only a missionary.”

  Oh ho, Vi thought sarcastically, but she gasped dramatically, fluttering her lashes and staring at Rita as though she was terrified. When Oscar looked away from Vi’s dramatics, Vi shifted swiftly to a pointed look and lifted brow.

  “What else was he? You know, don’t you? A man of the world like yourself. Who knew him in those islands? Who else would know, but you?” Rita’s eyes were wide and pleading as though his answer would deliver her from her fears.

  “It’s hard to live without regular work.” Oscar patted Rita’s hand again, never quite letting his thumb leave her wrist, stealing those unwelcome caresses. “A man such as him might make unexpected random decisions to survive that he wouldn’t suspect.”

  Now that, Violet thought, was true. A shocking thing coming from a man she was pretty sure had been lying from the first moment he’d met Rita.

  “Did you see him spend more time with one person than another?” Vi asked, trying for wide eyes and avid attention. She wasn’t sure she could pull off hanging on his every word. “That’s who we’ll watch out for, Rita.”

  “Just stay home until this case is wrapped up. Supposedly, Scotland Yard is one of the most effective police forces in the world. Let them do their work.”

  Chapter 16

  “Let them do their work!” Violet growled to Rita as Vi stormed down the sidewalk. “Did you hear that snide tone?”

  “I did,” Rita said calmly. She was checking her marcelled blonde waves in her compact.

  Violet groaned. “He thinks he has you in the bag. He went straight from charming to smarmy without nary a second glance.”

  “He did.”

  Rita’s calm voice was making Violet nearly as furious as that condescending man.

  “He did,” she snapped sarcastically. “Did you notice how referred to the ‘company’ he worked for? He’s not entirely stupid given your father is something of a famous banker. Your Oscar deliberately avoided the word ‘banker.’”

  “I remembered he asked me my father’s name. On the steamship.” Rita’s calm broke with disgust. “He knew the second I told him Father’s name, with the rumors of my heiresshood, he knew exactly who I was! The fiend!”

  “He knew who you were from the beginning.” Vi turned to Rita and hissed, “He knew who you were and he said that Samuel Richards told him to look to you. His lies changed, you know. At first he didn’t know Richards. Then he knew him to speak to. Englishmen sticking together. Then he’s getting advice from the man? Then it was that he was involved in something off? I doubt he’d know that if he didn’t also know exactly what it was, or maybe was even a partner.”

  “Yes,” Rita said. “Oh! I’m going to the shipping place.”

  Vi paused and glanced towards Rita. “Isn’t it at a warehouse?”

  “So? I’m their customer, aren’t I? Maybe I’ll hire them to get me a custom piece of something out of Siam. A wardrobe? A low table? I don’t know. Something. Anything. Did you see how quickly he just assumed I’d jump into his arms? The cheek!”

  Violet nodded and hurried after Rita, whose ability to rush ahead outpaced Vi’s. Really, Vi thought, she needed to do more than swim and take the dogs for walks. Perhaps she could find another jiu jitsu teacher who would come with her to the country house. Spoiled beyond measure, she thought, but she was still determined to look for someone who would teach her.

  Rita reached the warehouse offices, and as they rounded the side of the building, Smith stepped out from behind an auto, grabbed Rita’s arm, and then jerked his head at Vi who had just caught up. They stepped into the shadows and he demanded, “What are you doing here?”

  “Meddling,” Vi said calmly. “I thought you were following Bidlake.”

  “I am. Do Wakefield and Barnes know what you two are up to?”

  “We don’t need keepers!”

  Smith’s laugh had Violet scowling and Rita smacking his arm.

  “Don’t forget who you work for, my lad.”

  “Wakefield and Barnes.”

  Vi lifted her brow and Smith shifted, trying for one of his pretty smiles, dimples and all.

  “Mrs. Wakefield, of course,” he tried.

  “They’re too straight for you,” Rita reminded him. “Without Vi’s meddling ways, you’d be left to confirming that a husband is, in fact, being cuckolded and that employees are, in fact, stealing from their employers.”

  “True enough,” Smith agreed. “Plus Mrs. Wakefield pays better and asks more interesting questions.”

  “So you followed Bidlake here?” Vi demanded, bored of Smith’s employment concerns.

  “I did indeed. What’s interesting is that he broke in through the back—”

  “Let’s do the same,” Vi told Smith. “Rita, go cause a ruckus and get us some time.”

  Rita scowled but relented under Vi’s look. “I suppose I am the one who hired them.”

  “You are indeed.”

  “It would be off for you to throw the ruckus.”

  “Mmm,” Vi agreed.

  “You didn’t let me finish, ladies,” Smith interrupted. “What’s interesting is that he broke in through the back and someone else went running out.”

  “What did he look like?” Rita demanded.

  “Gent, hat pulled low. That’s all I know. I had to choose between following him and seeing what Bidlake was up to.”

  “Oscar Watts was with us,” Rita said, considering. “Perhaps it was Vernon or Ian. I wonder if Ham had them all followed.”

  “I’d guess so,” Vi said. “So who slipped his leash?”

  Rita shrugged and stomped towards the shipping offices.

  “I wonder what she’s going to say,” Vi mused, and then followed Smith through a locked door that he opened in a breath with the twist of his wrist and the slipping away of a tool that was out, used, and gone before she could even see it. “What would you charge to teach me that?”

  “Lady Vi,” Smith answered, “I prefer to continue living, and I’m just not sure your husband would allow me to do so if I were to help you be more of a meddlesome danger to humanity.”

  “So you won’t teach me?”

  “So, it’ll cost you more.”

  Vi grinned at Smith’s back and then sidled along the side of the shadowed warehouse with him. Crates were put in surprisingly straight rows with precision on each label. “I say,” Vi whispered, “I’d hire these blokes. Look at this place.”

  “Lady Vi,” Smith murmured, “with all due respect”—his tone made it clear he intended very little respect—"shut your mouth and keep it closed.”

  Vi shrugged and nodded, following him as quietly as possible. His grey suit with pinstripes allowed him to slide easily between shadows. Vi, on the other hand, in her white and blue navy dress, t-strap shoes with heels, and navy cloche was likely easily observable despite the shadows.

  Vi noticed how silently Smith moved and added that to her list of things to pay him to teach her. She stepped into a deeper shadow and determined to sidle into the deeper darkness behind one of the large crates when a large hand wrapped around her mouth and pulled her against his body. She’d have screamed if she didn’t recognize it was Jack immediately.

  Smith, however, turned in alarm. He must have only seen the hand on her mout
h and her disappearance, and to Vi’s delight Smith rushed after.

  “It’s Wakefield,” Ham said low and a moment later, Smith seemed to melt into nothing. “Vernon escaped the fellow following him. When we realized, we decided to come here and see if he appeared. Vernon, however, was spooked by Bidlake.”

  Jack pulled Vi more firmly against his body and started back towards the exit. Vi caught a glimpse of Smith’s grin and a low chuckle from Ham. In spite, she whispered, “Rita’s in the office distracting them.”

  Jack was the one who laughed then, though it was a low, huffed thing. They slipped out through the rear door and Jack kept her hidden in the shadows with him. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

  “Frankly,” Vi told him, shifting around so she could cup his chin. “Henry felt a bit like a dare.”

  Jack’s only reaction was the slight tightening of his jaw. “And what did you do with all this freedom?”

  “Led Oscar on. I believe Rita will be receiving a proposal and a ring at any moment.”

  Jack relaxed, probably thinking she’d at least had a constable’s eyes on her, keeping her safe. Vi hated to disabuse him, but it had to be done.

  “There’s a constable out there who is not looking forward to speaking with you.”

  There was that tell-tale clenching of his jaw. Vi tucked her arm around his elbow.

  “You’d be so sad if I were boring like Martha.”

  That didn’t amuse him either.

  Vi grinned which seemed to further set him on edge. “Vi—”

  She winked.

  “My goodness woman, you’re gonna drive me to my grave. Why did you insist on meddling?”

  “For fun,” Vi admitted then shook her head. That wasn’t true at all. “It was curiosity that drove me. Rita, I think, was just angry and hurt. I couldn’t let her go alone, though—we didn’t really discuss it.”

  Jack shook his head and then sighed as he pulled her close. “Vi, we have no idea what is happening here. That puts us all at risk. I can handle just about anything, I think, as long as I have you.”

  Vi pressed her face into his chest. “The greyness stays away when I’m proactive, Jack. I can’t just be a flower who stays home and grows in my conservatory, coddled and spoiled. That isn’t who I am.”