A Treasured Little Murder: A Violet Carlyle Cozy Historical Mystery (The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Bo

swimming pool, and I am furious it’s hours away with Jack, who is probably swimming right now, happy as a…a…I don’t know. It’s too hot to be clever. He’s happy as a happy man.”
“Ah,” Rita teased, “she’s missing her husband.”
“She didn’t sleep last night,” Beatrice told Rita, daring to tease for one of the first times since transitioning from servant to beloved friend. “She never does when Jack isn’t there. Did you write?”
“She did,” Rita groaned. “I didn’t sleep well either and then that tap, tap, tap. It was maddening.”
Beatrice leaned forward to whisper, “Then it stops just long enough for you to start to sleep—”
“Only the typing starts again the very moment you start to slip into sleep.”
“Leave me alone,” Vi said lamely and then they left for the black cab.

Chapter 6
“We’re weak women these days,” Rita announced as she caught Vi yawning in the black cab, “unable to sleep without our loves.”
Vi didn’t see any reason to argue. Jack had become as integral to her as breathing, and she didn’t think it was weak to admit she was in love. She was in love and was grateful to be so. Rita was desperately gone for Ham. Even when Rita had half-hated Ham, she’d loved him. Beatrice was also just as in love, if Vi read the signs right.
In fact—Vi’s head tilted. Wasn’t that interesting? Beatrice was blushing deeply and staring out the window of the auto.
Vi couldn’t help herself or the smirk that spread across her face as she leaned towards Beatrice. “Not sleeping well, Beatrice?”
The blush deepened as Rita burst into laughter. “Our Beatrice has succumbed.”
“And joined us on the not sleeping side.” Vi’s eyes moved over Beatrice’s blushing face. “Ahhhh, you’re in love, Beatrice. With Smith.”
“Is that so hard to believe?” Beatrice asked defensively. Her gaze moved anywhere but meeting Vi and Rita’s eyes. Beatrice ran her finger under the edge of her neckline as if it were too tight. “I—”
Before she could complete her thought, Vi and Rita—in unison—answered Beatrice’s question. “Yes.”
“But—” Beatrice met their eyes with surprise. “He’s—”
“Admit it,” Rita added. “Admit that Smith is a difficult man to fall in love with. I can’t imagine how you did it.”
Beatrice licked her lips and then said slowly, “No, not really. I slid right into it.”
Vi and Rita glanced at each other and then looked their question.
Beatrice shifted slightly and said, “He’s a bit overwhelming for a lot of people.”
Vi nodded. Her eyes were fixed on Beatrice even as the fan fluttered hard and the darkness of the evening was punctuated by occasional flashes of lights from the street lamps.
“So—” Beatrice cleared her throat and shifted again, “when he focuses all of that wit and deviousness and—”
Rita upped the speed of her fanning and Vi glanced and then nodded. “It’s—” Vi struggled for the word, but Beatrice knew what it was.
“It’s intoxicating. Like the finest wine and the strongest cocktail and an excellent dessert and a sunny day after a streak of grey days. A late Christmas morning, lingering in bed. When he turns all of that on you, it’s all the things that you savor.”
Vi considered, shivered, and then said, “I could imagine giving in to such a thing.”
“It wasn’t so much giving in as trusting him,” Beatrice admitted. “He’s hard to trust. He’s so veiled and so willing to set aside all the things that the rest of the world cares about, but when he turns all that focus on you?” She shivered. “Eventually, he made me realize that I could trust him.” She lifted her brows and tilted her head, adding with stark honesty, “Even if everyone else should think twice.”
“Color me smitten,” Rita said with a low laugh.
“If anyone understands, it’s us,” Vi told Beatrice gently. “Smith is more overtly intense but Jack and Ham are cut from a similar cloth, I think.” Vi paused for a long moment and then asked curiously, “So, is Smith his real name?”
Beatrice coughed on a laugh and then her face smoothed into relief when the black cab stopped outside of the restaurant.
“Oh look,” Beatrice said, “we’re here.” And she hopped out of the automobile before the others could press her.
Rita paused long enough to ask, “Should we let her get away with that?”
“Would you share Ham’s secrets if you knew them?”
Rita stilled long enough that Vi guessed Rita possessed Ham’s just as Vi was aware of Jack’s and Beatrice had been entrusted with Smith’s.
“Fine,” Rita muttered. “But I’m having two rounds of oysters and I don’t want to hear anything about it.”
“I wouldn’t have cared regardless,” Vi said as she followed Rita out of the auto.
The restaurant was well-lit with jazz music pouring from the open windows and doors. The wail of the trumpet filled the air and there was a breeze caused by passing traffic that seemed nearly arctic after the last few hours of stifling heat.
Beatrice had thought to make a reservation, so they were greeted by a waiter within a moment. They could follow only a few steps before a man stepped forward and said, “Rita! Finally!”
He reached out and took hold of Rita’s arm, and Vi noticed those grasping fingers before she moved to the man’s face.
“Is everything all right, ma’am?” the maitre’d asked.
Rita twisted her arm away and smiled cheerily. “All is well. Hullo, Hollands. We’ve just got our table now. Perhaps I can find you after?”
“No, please. I just—”
Rita lifted a brow and the man cleared his throat and stepped back. “Sorry, sorry. Of course. Maybe you’d like to meet for drinks after dinner? My treat?”
Rita hesitated.
“Rita, we’re longtime friends.” Hollands put on a smile. “Come now. Give me a few minutes.”
“Ma’am?” the maitre’d asked again, looking over his shoulder towards the table they’d reserved.
“Yes, yes,” Beatrice said, “I’ll follow you while my friend says hello.” Beatrice escaped with the air of someone who was relieved to go. “I’ll order drinks.”
Vi glanced after Beatrice and then at Rita, who had apparently decided to confront the issue