A Singular and Whimsical Problem (8 page)

A bevy of girls spilled out of the ship, their ivory hands blocking their eyes from the sun as they stretched toward their freedom. The empty vessel was being deprived of its secrets. I recognized Jenny—so she, too, had been lured into this dastardly trap. I started to make my way over to her, but was beaten there by a familiar figure: Martha Kingston. I watched as she and Jenny embraced.

“What… how… ” spluttered Merinda.

“I haven't been exactly truthful with either of you,” Martha said, her voice contrite. “I am not just floating around Toronto rallying suffragette meetings. I work for the
Montreal Gazette
.”

“Brilliant,” Merinda breathed.

“I'm like you. I slip in and out of disguises and play the best Nellie Bly I can.” She smiled. “I have been watching with interest as you two have funneled your way into Toronto news. Jeannette here was carefully positioned to see if she could find out more about what I believe to be a certain case of white slavery. I just needed names. And she got them for me!”

Jeannette. Jenny. “You might have told us!” I cried. How could we not have recognized the connection earlier?

“I'm sorry,” she said. “But you of all people know what it is to go undercover! I had to play the part in order to get the facts straight.”

“Why didn't
you
tell us right away?” Merinda asked Martha.

“Would you believe me if I told you it's because I was spooked seeing Mrs. Walters leave your house that day? That even intrepid reporters get a case of the shakes?”

Merinda and I exchanged a look.

“It doesn't matter now,” she continued, reaching into her smart suit jacket and extracting a pad and pencil. “The
Gazette
wants to know about both of you. A quote.”

Her green eyes moved from Merinda to me and back again.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Merinda was already shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“No? But think of the cases! Think of your names in Canada's most prestigious paper. You'll be famous.”

“
The Hogtown Herald
has exclusive rights to all of our cases.” Merinda was adamant. She spun on her heel and made in the direction of Front Street. Then she stopped and turned her angular profile over her shoulder. “But cracker jacks, you're brilliant!”

Hogtown Herald
photographer Skip McCoy's bulb flashed and Merinda struck another pose. “The snake's off to prison,” she was saying. “Wagon just left. Jasper was fit to be tied he was so angry. Rougher than usual when he shoved the lout in the back carriage.”

Ray, who had been interviewing Merinda for his article while Skip took photos, tossed his notebook and pencil aside.

“Where are you going, DeLuca?” asked Merinda. “Jem may have refused to be questioned on account of her shivering like an agitated bunny, but I'm good for an interview.”

“I'm going to slaughter him.”

“We'll have to start taking numbers. Jem, there's a queue for men who want to defend your honor!”

Merinda continued describing the charges certain to trail Mr.
Walters, but her voice became distant as she followed Skip into better light.

“Sorry,” I murmured to Ray. “I'm a bit jumpy.”

Ray stepped back a bit. He started to speak and then closed his mouth.

“I wish I had something to say,” he said. I self-consciously tugged at my ripped collar, pulling torn fabric over my shoulder.

“It's a horrible business,” I said. “And there isn't anything nice to say at all.”

“You're very brave.”

“I like to think so. There's a lot Merinda and I can do, you know? Like sneak around and solve mysteries and disguise ourselves at St. Jerome's. But men have power. They have physical power and force and no matter how… no matter what… ” I swallowed. I could feel him watching me but I kept my eyes on my lap. “Please don't write this in your piece, Ray.”

“I wouldn't. I swear.”

“So now you know the truth. I'm not that brave after all.”

“Oh, you're brave. But you're also human. And you have a special gift.”

“Pardon?”

“You now know—even more than Merinda—how those girls felt when Walters was treating them so horribly.”

“That's a gift?”

“Empathy is the greatest gift, I think. There's no gender or language barrier. Only shared experience. A communion of sorts.”

I sniffed. “You're very philosophical.”

“I'm trying to control my temper.”

“Pardon?”

He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. He began a sentence and stopped. Started it again and stopped again.

“You're quite a force, Ray,” I said. “A man who is willing to fight with his words instead of just his fists.”

“Only when there is something worth fighting for.”

I didn't look away under his gaze.

“Come on, Skip!” he called, still watching me. “Enough of that. Let's get the girls a taxi.” He turned to me and moved in slightly. I didn't flinch this time.

He was going to kiss me. I knew he was going to kiss me. But instead, his posture straightened. He lifted my hand, turned it palm up, and brushed his lips over my wrist. “Be well, Jemima.”

I was speechless all the way home.

“Mrs. Walters.” I ushered the dear lady in. She was wearing black from veiled hat to toe, in mourning for her life lost, and holding a familiar black cat with a torn ear.

“I thought you might like to know Melanie has come to live with me again.”

This won an easy smile from Merinda and me. “And Pepper?”

“That fellow from the
Hog
will be taking him. For his sister and nephew.”

Merinda and I exchanged a whimsical look. “Ray is taking Pepper?”

“You didn't hire us to find Pepper at all, did you?” Merinda crossed her legs, leaning forward with a keen eye.

“No. I didn't. I knew that if you found Pepper you might find everything else. My husband keeps—
kept
—a close watch on me. I couldn't very well hire a pair of lady investigators to look into the business I knew he was pursuing. But I could ask them to trail the cat of which I was so fond.” She paused.

“And Melanie helped you?”

“I confided in her. I knew Mr. Walters was involved in more than shipping. When the Abernathy position became available it was a seamless transition for Melanie. She did it happily.”

“But Judge Abernathy knew that she knew too much.”

“And he was in my husband's pocket.”

“You're a brave woman, Mrs. Walters,” I said. “You and Melanie both. Brave, brave women.”

“A brave woman would have seen her husband of forty years for the man he truly was.”

“You did,” said Merinda. “I could see that from the start. You were never truly at ease around him. I could see that from the start.”

Mrs. Walters stared at Merinda, flabbergasted.

“The locket,” Merinda said impatiently. “A woman in a happy marriage would have her husband's picture tucked in there. That you kept a picture of your cat was… telling.”

“Extraordinary, Miss Herringford. I knew I needed to find the right people—people who would find my cat and uncover a much larger problem. Thank heaven I found you.”

Try as she might to subdue it, Merinda was powerless over the smile that tickled the corner of her lips. “You believe in us.”

“I follow your adventures in the
Hog
. Most women do, Miss Herringford. You would be surprised. You are on the tips of everyone's tongues. Our husbands don't take you seriously. But I know all of the ladies of my acquaintance want to see you succeed. A woman has a special glimpse into the human heart. That discretion could never be secured in exactly the same way by a man in your profession.”

Merinda and I exchanged a smile. I brought Pepper's tiny, fluffy head to my lips and kissed it. “Goodbye, Pepper. You hero of a cat.”

“Don't get too sniffy, Jem. If Ray DeLuca is taking him we'll certainly see him again! Such a smart fellow. I might even use him in a case!”

Epilogue

Mrs. Malone returned in time to click her tongue and set to making our bower festive. She hung holly, ivy, and sprigs of cranberry across our mantel. Merinda and I coaxed Jasper into helping us find a tree and carry it across the city and into our sitting room. Merinda rang the
Hog
just as I was beginning to loop popcorn onto string for the fresh branches.

Jasper and I listened from the kitchen. “DeLuca! Finish up over there and come straight over. No… no, it's not an emergency. We're decorating our Christmas tree. DeLuca, I don't care if the
Hog
is burning down around you. There is nothing more important than… ”

I grinned at Jasper as Merinda's voice rose. He chuckled.

Merinda returned and draped a sparkly garland over the boughs of the tree as Jasper used his height to plop the star atop with ease. Just as Mrs. Malone was bringing in gingerbread and spice cookies, we heard a knock on the door. Ray appeared, bundled up warmly against the cold.

“Is this a party?” he said.

“Don't you think Jem and I know how to throw a party?” said Merinda, hands on hips.

“Dorothea Fairfax says that a party is only as… ”

“Oh shush, Jemima. Jasper, get Ray a glass of cider.”

Once settled, we partook of our regular tradition, a reading of
The Blue Carbuncle.
In the story, Holmes and Watson are commissioned to solve the disappearance of a priceless jewel and discover it in the crop of a Christmas goose. Jasper had the perfect voice and presence for it and Ray, the only one of us unfamiliar with the ending, was visibly impressed with the great detective's technique.

Jasper snapped the well-thumbed volume shut. The clock tolled midnight and Mrs. Malone retired. The waning candles cast shadows over our faces as the fire crackled and popped. The chimes commemorated the hallowed day even as the shadows of our story and the evening spun.

“Look!”

Snow was falling swiftly, silently outside the window.

“I can never get used to this white stuff falling from the sky,” Ray told us. “Five years in Canada and every time I see it is like I am seeing it for the first time.”

“I want to go taste it!” Merinda bounced up and, without putting on her coat or boots, rushed out the front door. Of course, we all followed her.

The night was hushed, the streetlights extinguished. But there is a sound to snow, and its soft sweep whooshed and tickled the air and spun around our cheeks. We stood outside, our funny quartet, noses reddened by the chill. The night had fallen dark, but the stars pricked all the more brightly.

Merinda grabbed Jasper's hand and propelled it toward the constellations. “That's Polaris, the North Star!” she pointed proudly.

“No, it's not,” said Jasper.