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

we do, do you think?” Rita stared towards the exit, and both of them had been watching other fools come into the restaurant, collapse as dramatically as Vi and Rita, and then laugh to themselves. Was the whole of the world full of fools who left their houses during the heat when they didn’t have to?
Vi sipped her cooled ginger beer and wondered why hadn’t she and Rita decided to take a trip to the seaside instead? “Do you mean should we take a room or shall we carry on?”
Rita snorted. “Can you imagine if we didn’t appear in London and then the boys realized we hadn’t arrived? Heads would roll, and they’d be ours.”
Vi grinned and said, “It’s half-tempting.”
“Jack would lose his mind,” Rita said with a laugh. She sipped her own drink before she added, “As would Ham, of course.” She paused and then added almost wistfully, “I bet they’ve got quite clean sheets here.”
The restaurant had an inn overhead and that was all one could wish. Excellent food, thick walls, so clean it nearly gleamed despite the dimmed lights due to the heat. The desire to stay was compelling, especially because they didn’t have to go to London and they could come or go as they pleased.
“I couldn’t worry Jack. We’d either have to stay here, go home, or go to London, but if we stay here, a telephone call to our lads is a must.”
“I don’t like to admit that this is all a stupid stunt.” Rita’s expression turned sour, and she eyed Violet, silently demanding a confession of her own.
Vi wondered if her feminine stubbornness would agree. It did, immediately, and she had to roll her eyes at herself. Jack, Victor, Ham, and Denny were the best of modern men. They saw the women in their lives as intelligent and capable creatures. The only time they went a little feudal lord-ish was when their loved ones were in danger. It was fair of them, both Vi and Rita knew; they were physically weaker than men. You could be as smart, as capable as anything, but you couldn’t deny that—in most cases—a woman wasn’t as physically strong as a man.
“A stupid stunt?” Vi snorted and then grinned wickedly. “The reality of the matter is that I won’t be returning home without proving the point that has no need of proving. Making both me and you the most ridiculous of women.”
“Ham did laugh at me when I packed my bag in a huff and told him it was his fault for ordering me off of his business.”
“As though they aren’t utterly right in asking us to keep out when we expect the same.”
Rita stared at Vi and then started giggling. “I might not torture Ham this way,” Rita started suddenly, “but I could do it to my father.”
“Your father-the-fertile?” Vi asked with a devilish smirk.
“Papa the great sower of seed.” Rita paused and then gagged. “Not something I want to think about.”
“He’s not going to stop loving you,” Violet told her gently when she looked up and saw that Rita was sad.
“I’m not just jealous of the baby,” Rita told Vi. “I’m jealous of Father’s new wife, his stepdaughter, and the fact that he seems more involved with them than he ever was with me. I am filled with jealousy on all sides. Like a venomous plant bursting with the need to spray my poison.”
Vi choked on a laugh at the look on Rita’s face. Carefully, when Vi had her humor in control, she said, “Maybe he’s realized that the time you have together slips by so quickly. Perhaps he feels as though he’s gotten a second chance with the new women in his life, and he doesn’t want to make the same mistakes.”
“Maybe,” Rita sighed, flinching at the memory, “having two wives murdered has shown him that life is fragile.”
“He dumped all that money on your wedding and your house because he’s trying to show he loves you,” Violet told her friend. She patted her arm. “And a treasure hunt? One doesn’t come up with some ridiculous prize and have a multi-day event as though you were a princess if he didn’t adore you beyond words.”
Rita laughed lightly and muttered mulishly, despite the light of humor in her eyes, “Perhaps.”
Vi’s head tilted and she asked suddenly, “Whatever happened to the prize from the search? Did your father give it to the second-in-place?”
“Indeed not. Those Hollands brothers demanded the prize and Father doesn’t like to be commanded.”
“Demanded?”
“They said they won since Reese Stafford died.”
“Therefore?” Vi asked.
“It’s still in the parlor of our house, a bloody reminder. A dented, bejeweled, gaudy goblet. It’s ridiculous.”
“What did the Hollands brothers do?”
“Objected strenuously and furiously, but you aren’t a businessman like Father was without being rather used to people upset with you. I think he might have laughed and asked the fellow for a copy of his contract.”
“Oh,” Vi winced.
“Ham ensured those who came in second and third place got secondary prizes and Father was furious about that too.”
“Such a wonderful event,” Vi said dryly. She caught the attention of the waitress and begged to get their thermoses refilled with anything that would be cold and see them through to London. At the same time, they refreshed the wet kerchiefs around their necks once again.
The moment they stepped out onto the little country village street, Vi winced. The skies were perfectly blue, without a cloud to provide even a shred of cover. The sun was high and so strong, it seemed angry. There was a sheen of heat in the air around the moving automobiles.
Rita sighed, then went to hook her arm through Vi’s and shook her head. “No, too hot. Well, regardless,” Rita opened the door of the auto and then groaned. “Onward, darling. Onward and forward.”
Vi took the driver’s seat and headed down the road. They both sighed in relief to leave the village with its stifling buildings behind. A copse of woods was just ahead and they considered