Love & Murder: A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery (The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Book 19) Read online

  “I believe I knew your brother,” Preston said. “Not sure we’ve ever been introduced.” He held out his hand and Violet started to take it, but he had a red iris in his buttonhole. She paused and then fluttered like a silly woman to cover for the hesitation. “Oh! Excuse me. I see my husband waving.”

  Before he could stop her, Violet hurried back towards Jack with Algie at her heels.

  “Vi!” Algie called, but she didn’t stop until she was safely hooked through Jack’s arm.

  “What is wrong?” her husband asked, eyes already narrowing.

  “I’m not going to tell you,” she told him flatly.

  “Why?” His demand was dark and furious.

  “Because,” Violet snapped back. “I already almost lost you to suspicion of murder. I won’t lose you to actual murder.”

  Violet’s cousin caught up with them, and Algie heard Violet. “What? Preston? He’s a harmless old dog.”

  “Algie, you idiot!” Violet hissed.

  Jack was all steel before he heard the name, but his careful gaze was moving about the room, and Violet could tell when it landed on that bedamned red iris. “Is that—”

  But he didn’t need the question answered. They knew all too well what a red iris looked like and what it meant.

  “Is that what?” Algie squeaked. “Why does Jack look like he’s going to murder someone? Is this about the flowers?”

  “Algie,” Violet hissed, “I need you to shut up.”

  Jack muttered, “This is where we should be looking for your flower man. I was thinking it could be anyone. Em’s articles on you could have triggered some mad man to obsess. But these people, they’ve known you tangentially since you were a child. If there is a long-lasting interest, this is where we’ll find it.” Jack’s gaze narrowed again on Preston Bates.

  “Preston is a good chap,” Algie argued. “Maybe don’t kill my friend, please.”

  “You ask him right now," Jack said, “why he’s wearing that flower.”

  “The flower?”

  Jack’s barely controlled rage had Algie holding up his hands in surrender.

  “Of course,” Algie said. “Of course. The flower. Let me talk to Preston. You take your murderous husband that way, Vi.”

  Violet caught sight of Algie’s wife, Clara, and told Jack, “We need to say hello.”

  Jack glanced back, gaze narrowed. “What are the chances?”

  Vi shook her head.

  “Did anyone know we were coming?”

  “Well, Algie,” Violet said. “We can trust him.”

  “He’s an idiot.”

  Violet shook her head and then Clara turned and Vi shifted her expression to one of delight. “Clara! I’m so happy to see you again.”

  “Oh,” Clara grinned. She was a pixie of a woman with blonde hair, delicate features, and an effervescent grin. Her fringed dress spun as she moved, and she moved almost incessantly. “May I introduce you to my friends? This is Barnaby Gallagher, Mylo Hunt, and Roman Johnson. This,” Clara said, gesturing to two women, “is Heather Johnson, Roman’s wife, and my good friend, Winnie Cole.”

  Violet nudged Jack into greeting all of them as Winnie said, “Clara has told me all about you. Algie’s clever cousin. I fear I have been quite shouting you from the roof tops. Detective Violet Wakefield!”

  “Me?” Violet asked. “No, no. There’s no reason for that. Anything that we found, killer or not, was more than just me. Jack, my twin, our friends. We all helped each other.”

  “Sometimes you even hire professionals, don’t you?” That was from Barnaby Gallagher.

  “Jack is a professional,” Clara laughed. “Careful now or you’ll have the Yard man on your trail.”

  “But you aren’t really a Yard man,” Mylo said. “Real Yard men take regular cases. You’re a…rich man pretending at the Yard.”

  Violet gaped, clutching at Jack. His mood had been furious even before Mylo’s rude asides pushed him beyond. Vi shot Clara a look, who winced and then said, “Don’t listen to them, Jack dear. They’re just jealous of men who have wits and skills.”

  “And money,” Winnie shot out with a grin. “Lovely wife. Nice home. Algie looks up to you like an ancient Greek hero. These fools are emasculated around a real man like you, Jack.”

  “Oh it’s a love story!” Roman said. “I’ve a beautiful wife.” He tugged his Heather closer to him and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ve money. We’re not all jealous of Algie’s hero.”

  Violet tossed them all a daggered look before searching for an escape. Algie was approaching with Preston, who glanced at Jack like he was a madman with a gun. She gave Jack a gentle tug, gave the others a quick nod, and retreated.

  Approaching carefully, Preston spoke quietly so only Violet and Jack could hear. “The flower arrived just before I left with a note.”

  “What did it say?” Jack asked, but Preston pulled the note out of his pocket.

  “With utter admiration.”

  Preston blushed, looking abashed. “My mum was a woman who knew about what flowers meant. I thought I might have an admirer.” His tone read possible lover, but Violet and Jack let the man have his pride. “I had no idea I was going to be someone’s chump.”

  Jack shook hands with Preston in a show of peace. “I wonder if you might let me take you out for lunch tomorrow.”

  Preston nodded, his gaze settling on Violet and then back to Jack. “Happy to, my friend.”

  Jack nodded and then pulled Violet with him onto the floor. He held her tightly as they danced, and Violet didn’t need him to explain that any chance of having a light evening had fled, if there had been a chance to begin with. They didn’t need to speak to know each was calculating how the spook knew they’d come to this party. Violet and Jack didn’t come to all of Algie’s parties. Was it just happenstance? Was the fellow prepared for every party? What was the point here? Why did he send that flower to Preston if not to manipulate them?

  Jack spoke first. “Why would this fellow want to disguise himself if he’s not of ill-intent?”

  Vi shook her head. She had been bothered before. The flowers, the ring. But this…she’d have nibbled on her bottom lip or paced if they were at home. She didn’t like any part of this. Not any of it. Jack had already been on edge, but she suspected that he’d be attached to her side until this was over. She pressed up and kissed his chin, little caring they were on the dance floor.

  “Let’s go home.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  Vi shook her head. Not with Jack there. She wasn’t afraid in the least. Disturbed yes, but entirely unafraid.

  Chapter 3

  “Let’s get our coats,” Jack said, his hand on Violet’s arm as though he were going to haul her around like a recalcitrant child. She didn’t take it amiss, however, given that he had the tight jaw, the alert gaze, and the careful maneuvering of a man who was moving through enemy lines.

  Violet smiled at him as he pulled her gently after him, keeping her in the shadow of his body. If they were facing some sort of sniper situation, she’d be very safe indeed. He sent a servant to tell Hargreaves to pull their auto forward as Algie moved after them.

  “Leaving so soon?” Algie’s clear disappointment had Violet patting his arm with her free hand.

  “I’m afraid that flower fiend has struck again and Jack is feeling a bit protective.”

  “Again?” Algie turned and scowled at the roomful of his friends and then looked back at Violet. “Shall we lock the doors and call the coppers?”

  “And tell them what?” Jack snapped. “That some rogue is sending my wife flowers and I find it disturbing in the extreme? We’ll be laughed out of London.”

  Algie cleared his throat and looked to the ground, blushing deeply.

  “Jack has been through a rather large number of precarious situations,” Violet told Algie flatly. “Where his instincts have kept him alive.”

  “I see, I see,” Algie said amiably. “His instincts are screaming,
are they? Like the soprano at the opera sort of situation. I understand. Have to admit I wouldn’t love it if some blackguard were sending Clara flowers. Might set me to a bit of a rage.” He giggled and then laughed harder at the look on their faces. “Don’t believe me, do you? I might have a rage in me.”

  The servant who had gone for Hargreaves had appeared and was waiting silently to open the door. Jack noticed and nodded at Algie before pulling Violet under his arm.

  “Jack,” Violet said mildly. “I should like to keep my furs. I do so love them.”

  He paused and then let go of her while she gathered her coat from the girl. As Jack slid the coat up her arms, Violet tucked herself into the furs, letting the weight of the furs and Jack’s ready arm warm her. She tucked her hands into the pockets against the chill and then frowned, slowly pulling out a rolled piece of paper.

  Jack groaned as she unrolled it until her horrified gasp had him pulling it from her hand. It was a quick line sketch. The type of thing someone who had been educated by drawing masters could whip up. The lines formed Vi’s face. If it were just her face, she wouldn’t be bothered at all. Instead, it was her entire body. In the drawing, she was sitting on a stool, twisted back to look over her shoulder. The artist had enough talent to put an expression of desire on her face. She was entirely starkers. Although the focus of the drawing was on her expression, it showed her spine, her bottom, the barest side curve of her breast.

  Jack didn’t react at all when he saw the drawing. She knew he didn’t suspect her of cheating on him. There was no jealousy in his face. It was more an utter lack of response. She thought he might be having some sort of episode given that he only stared.

  “What is it?” Algie asked, looking between them as if watching a tennis match.

  Slowly—so very slowly—the tops of Jack’s cheeks turned red. His gaze was fixed on the drawing, but when he turned to her, it was like he didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s not me,” she whispered.

  “You?” Algie demanded. “I say now, let me see.”

  “I know, Vi.” Jack’s tone was a gentle though hoarse whisper.

  “It isn’t really my body.” To her surprise, as violated as she felt, her need was to comfort him rather than herself. “This is just…fairy nonsense.”

  Jack turned so that Violet was blocked by everyone, including Algie, and then said low and even, “Violet darling, I have no concerns over where your heart is aimed. This—” He seemed to just keep himself from crumpling the drawing, and she was guessing it was some investigative rationale. “Even if you were clothed, Vi.”

  “Say what now?” Algie gasped.

  Jack and Violet ignored Algie as Jack continued. “The fellow knew which coat was yours, he knew your face well enough to draw it without you posing for him, he found a way to know we would be here and also to draw suspicions from himself with that trick with the flowers, assuming that Preston fellow can be believed. And all of that was before we saw the way—” Jack’s anger was evident in the hoarse growl in his voice, “—he drew you.”

  Violet stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his body.

  “How did he draw her? Is she…she’s not…no one would draw another man’s—my goodness.” Algie muttered low and furious. “I say now.”

  The problem was when you laid it all out, nothing that had been done was something that Scotland Yard would be able to do anything about. There were no laws about drawing a picture of Violet. Not even if she was naked. Not even if she hadn’t posed for it and didn’t want it. There was no way to find this fellow and do anything other than scare him. Given the deadly fury that had covered Jack, however, Violet wasn’t so sure that he would stop at only terrifying the man.

  “Let’s go home,” Violet suggested.

  “What are you going to do?” Algie demanded.

  Jack’s only response was to pull Violet down the steps to the house and into their auto.

  Jack lay next to Violet, but instead of the usual comforting presence, she felt a little like she was snuggling a statue. She would have been tossing and turning if she could sleep, but sleep was impossible knowing that Jack was awake and seething. The problem was…what were they supposed to do? Vi didn’t want to feel like she couldn’t walk her dogs to the park and be uncertain of whether someone was using that as a chance to draw pictures of her.

  It didn’t help that in all of the cases they’d come across, they’d experienced something like this before and of the man’s victims, one hadn’t survived. They couldn’t help but think of Lila’s cousin, Harriet, with her beautiful voice now lying in her grave.

  Violet waited until Jack finally relaxed into sleep and then tiptoed from the room to pace in the hallway. She’d have taken a bath if it wouldn’t wake him. At a moment like this, Epson salts and lavender oil were just what she needed. A long lingering bath, possibly a glass of ginger wine while she soaked.

  As Violet paced, she thought over the fellows that she’d seen at Algie’s party. Her cousin’s friends were all fellows she had probably known since she was young, even when they didn’t linger in her mind as fellows that she knew. She considered back. Preston had taken her a long minute to remember, but she did know him. Barnaby, Mylo, and Roman, Violet might have met them a time or two over the years and the same could be said of the rest of that crowd at Algie’s penthouse.

  Vi fiddled with her wedding ring and glanced down when she heard a quiet whine. Her dog, Rouge, reliable angel that she was, followed Violet as she paced. It was comforting to not be alone, even at home.

  Violet rubbed the back of her neck. Did she need to be afraid? It felt like she was one of the gazelles Rita talked about, being stalked by lions. Vi nibbled her lip and considered. Rita hadn’t returned to London yet, but she wasn’t trapped by a sick wife like her twin. It felt as though Victor and Kate, along with Lila and Denny, were out of commission. Rita, however—Violet would beg her to return to London in the morning.

  Vi finally abandoned the hall for the room Lila used when she was in the house. Lila would have salts and oils and her room was far enough from Jack to let him sleep. After a long soak, Rouge lying nearby, watching her with worried, dark eyes, Violet crossed to the table in Lila’s room and made a list of suspects:

  Preston Bates - Just because he said he had received the flower with a note didn’t mean that it wasn’t all a sham.

  Barnaby Gallagher —

  Roman Johnson — Declared he was married and happy. Is it true? His wife was lovely, but men have been known to step out on those they love.

  Mylo Hunt— Oddly abrasive to Jack.

  Any of the other gents there — Who’s to say the fellow, whoever he is, wasn’t just lurking in a corner like a spider? The note-writer wants to send the message of love, devotion, and passion and has the wherewithal to do so, but surely he knows that his actions are unacceptable? Why try to so hard to hide his identity if she didn’t know him?

  Vi would have given a lot to talk to her twin about these names. No one else on the planet would be better able to tell her if she knew these men. What about Tomas? But no, Violet shook her head. Her brother-in-law might have been close to them long ago, but after the war, he was in his own head too much to be aware of acquaintances that Violet couldn’t remember either.

  Did she dare to telephone her brother and ask him? Violet wanted nothing more than to walk down to the library where the telephone was housed and do so, but she couldn’t do that to him. She’d never, ever make him choose between herself and Kate. Perhaps Vi should track down wherever Tomas and Isolde were? Vi was sure her stepmother was in London which meant that Isolde had taken her husband and child and fled as soon as humanly possible.

  Vi read the list over again. There was something about the name Mylo Hunt. Why was it triggering a smidgeon of a memory? Or was it bothering her simply because she hadn’t liked him all that well?

  Vi had no idea if any of the gents on the list were the fellow who seemed determined to
drive her stark raving mad, but they were a place for Smith to start. Along with a guest list, if Algie had one. Time to start narrowing down who this fiend was before she found herself being yanked into a dark corner by a noose.

  Vi rubbed the back of her neck again and then started when the clock gonged. It was 4:00 am, and she needed to return to bed and pretend to sleep before Jack rose. When she crawled back into the sheets, she prayed not to wake him, but the moment she curled onto her side, Jack pulled her close.

  Neither of them spoke, even though they had both spent the night worrying separately. Instead, Violet turned to face him, tucking herself close to hear her favorite lullaby, his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing. As she relaxed into his warmth, she slipped into an unexpected peacefulness and then into sleep.

  Chapter 4

  When Violet woke, she was no longer curled into Jack. On her side of the bed, however, was another presence. She turned slowly over with a sly smile, expecting Jack had gotten up and then returned to find her monopolizing his usual side of the bed.

  The face that met hers had the same dark eyes, the same sharp features, and the same exhausted look of a night of little sleep.

  “Victor!”

  She tackled him and found that he clutched her almost as desperately as she clutched him.

  “What are you doing here?” Her gasp had his gaze narrowing.

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I—” She bit down on her bottom lip. “Kate—”

  “Violet Carlyle Wakefield,” her twin shouted, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her lightly before he hugged her tightly again. “You drive me to drink.”