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

house, pretending she hadn’t dumped half of her list on Smythe. She was going to keep that bit to herself. She didn’t think either of her friends had returned yet, but victory needed to be announced even to an empty house.
The afternoon had given her an idea of what it might be like to be a pie in the oven. There seemed to be no breeze at all in the whole of London, and with the feel of bodies pressing in on each other, the sun burning down upon them, and the stifling exhaust of vehicles, it was just all the worse. As a people, they radiated more and more heat.
She frowned as she entered the slightly cooler library to find both of her friends fanning themselves with new fans, each holding a chilled drink, and each without shoes.
“So you’ve finished?” Rita asked idly. “We can leave? I’m more than ready.”
Vi’s gaze narrowed and she muttered, “The earliest that some things can be delivered is tomorrow morning. We’re stuck until at least noon.” If it didn’t involve her also being stuck in London, she would have grinned at Rita’s long, suffering sigh.
“We’ll have another long hot drive,” Rita replied. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks were flushed, and glistening would be the kind description. The reality was both Rita and Beatrice looked as if they’d been dunked in a tank, and Vi was sure she wasn’t much better. “I want to go home as soon as possible. I might have cried this morning when I woke up and Ham’s side of the bed was smooth and perfect.”
“You cried,” Vi told Rita, “because you are with child and a little mad.”
“A little might be too generous,” Beatrice said with a wink at Vi, who had kicked off her shoes and was making herself a drink. The ice bucket was mostly full of melted water with a few chunks, but she fished out what she could, filling her glass and then using a small chunk on her arms and neck.
She crossed to her friends and laughed at the look on Rita’s face. Her expression said she both knew she’d gone mad and hated the fact. The moment Vi was seated, Rita threw a fan her way.
“Let’s have dinner out,” Vi suggested, unfolding the fan. “We’ll go to the Savoy or somewhere else delicious and have drinks and food placed in front of us and perhaps even run into people we know. It’ll be the best way to spend an evening that is this hot.” She waved the fan back and forth and closed her eyes with the slight breeze. “If this heat wave isn’t over by the time our party is finished and we all survive to that date,” Vi said, “we’ll have to go to the villa and wait until someone writes to us that we’re back to regular temperatures in England. Gerald is planning the same, but I have little compunction about ruining a romantic trip for him. You won’t believe what he’s done.”
Vi told Beatrice and Rita about the Hollands brothers, her brother’s interference, and the idea of some sort of historic mystery.
“How ridiculous,” Beatrice said over the sound of three frantically moving fans.
Rita’s eyes brightened and she said, “How…fun.”
Vi lifted a brow.
“It feels a bit like there’s a division between us and the boys.” Rita’s tone was innocent but her gaze was not.
“Because they asked us to stay out of their work?”
Beatrice snorted and both Rita and Vi looked her way. Beatrice tried for an innocent look of her own and when it didn’t work, she said, “I wish Smith would leave me out of his cases.”
Rita and Vi stared at each other and then slowly turned to stare at Beatrice. She went from a puppy-like innocence to a blushing guilt.
“What does he want you to do?”
The blush deepened.
With a slow and dramatic question, Vi asked, “Exactly what have you done?”
Beatrice leapt to her feet. “If we want to eat at one of the nicer places, we’ll need to make a reservation.”
She left the library for the office phone and Rita’s laughter chased Beatrice from the room.
“What do you think she’s done?” Rita asked Vi.
“With Smith—” Vi paused as she considered an array of possibilities. “Anything.”
Vi left the library herself and headed for her bathroom. It was hotter up the stairs, but her bath would let her chill in the water and that value couldn’t be overestimated. She left the bath only when her fingers had wrinkled and her body temperature had dropped to the point where she had chills.
She pulled herself from the water and the heat hit her immediately. Vi examined her closet with a scowl on her face. Every article of clothing looked too hot. She didn’t want to wear any of it. She flipped through her dresses with a speed that rejected anything with sleeves or length. She finally settled on a wine-red dress that had only straps on the shoulders, a deep dip near her chest, and a skirt made mostly of fringe. She stared at her stockings for a long time before she gave them her darkest look and put them on. She chose a pair of shoes and then rushed down the stairs where it was mildly cooler.
“They had better serve something amazing at the restaurant,” Vi said, using her new fan so quickly she was surprised it hadn’t fallen to pieces. “I am so hot and these stockings are…just…”
“It’s as if Satan designed them,” Beatrice muttered. “As if he rose up from the depths and thought, what can I do to make women miserable? Stockings and a heat wave.”
“Oh,” Rita said, “I’ll never think of them anyway else now. Underthings created by the torturer of mankind. However, Vi, they have shrimp cocktails, oysters, salmon mousse, and a divine lemon cake.”
“As long as it’s chilled,” Vi said, knowing she was being grumpy. “I’m sorry I’m a beast. I am so hot. I have never been happier that we put in that