Murder On A Girl's Night Out: A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery (The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Book 32) by Beth Byers

Author:Beth Byers [Byers, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2021-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

A group of Bright Young Things milled around the foyer of the police station, with Jeremy Conroy finally giving in to the need to vomit. Thankfully, he’d brought his bucket from the police wagon. Vi heard the first horrifying gag and quickly moved away along with everyone else standing nearby.

She eyed Constable Abbott, the only constable she’d heard named, as he frantically whispered to an older officer. Both of them looked at her, and she waved her fingers, grinning winningly.

“They’re worried about you being an earl’s daughter,” Nora-Nora stage whispered. “They’re debating just how powerful your father is. Like—is he one of the ‘old-school, knows the royal family personally, has dinner with the prime minister’ types?”

“Or, one of those inbred fools who’ve married their first cousins for generations and now they all have a left eye that turns sideways,” Lila completed when Nora-Nora was too kind or too intimidated to finish.

Vi laughed. She called across the foyer while yet another drunk idiot was taken to the back, “I’ve met the Prime Minister myself.” The constables, and several of the offenders, looked at her, startled.

Nora-Nora giggled into her hand as Vi glanced around. “Where is your friend, Etta?”

Nora-Nora shrugged. “She’s sneakier than she looks. She’s bright and happy and loud, but not always.” There was a little something in her gaze. “Sometimes she’s just there, behind you, and you had no idea. She’s scrappy too. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she crawled up a tree to hide.”

“We should have done that,” Lila said.

“You don’t climb trees,” Beatrice reminded her.

“Oh my goodness.” Lila paused. “She’s right. I don’t. This is better.”

Conroy started gagging again, and Vi had to press her lips closed.

“Why aren’t you worried?” One of the men trying to be closer to Nora-Nora demanded of Vi. “Aren’t you worried your husband will be angry?”

Vi tried to imagine Jack appearing furious and frightening. She snorted, shaking her head. More likely he’d appear stoic and cross at the constables and worried for her.

“Not at all?” Nora-Nora asked, sounding jealous. “My father is going to murder me once he finds out.”

“Why would they call him?” Vi asked. “Surely you’re an adult.”

Nora-Nora rolled her eyes. “Most of these magistrates don’t think that the frail and delicate ladies should be out on their own.”

“You say that as though your father has seen the magistrate more than once.”

“My father is the magistrate. Or one of them. Did you know that there are only a half-dozen lady magistrates? Can you even believe that? What’s wrong with the world we live in? We can barely vote. Men still control our lives. My father—” Nora-Nora shrugged off her tirade and grinned. “More gin, huh?”

“More gin,” Lila agreed. “Or you marry a marshmallow. My Denny…” Lila scrunched her nose and smiled. “Pure, sweet marshmallow.”

“More chocolate, I would say,” Beatrice said.

“Pure, sweet chocolate-covered marshmallow.”

“What about you?” Nora-Nora asked Beatrice. “Is your husband a sweetie?”

“He’s like a tiger with a gun,” Beatrice said plainly.

“Don’t use the two of them as an example,” Lila warned.

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