A Lesson in Love and Murder (8 page)

Goldman's words were shooting fast and true, championing the workers who were forced to slave under employers who failed to provide fair conditions or compensation. A few men with tongues lubricated by whiskey were loudly declaring their support.

Merinda finally recognized Benny, far in the opposite corner. She made eye contact and waved, knowing he would signal if he had seen Jonathan, but he shook his head. Goldman kept on, voice strong and movements clipped and emphatic. The gathering may have gone on as such for quite a bit longer had the Morality Squad so central to her convictive oration not shoved their way into the throng. Adamant of their commissioned presence, acting on behalf of the mayor himself, they parted the crowd.

Fistfights erupted with a wave of dust and cries as they moved forward. “Mr. Montague does not have the jurisdiction to interrupt a peaceful assembly,” Merinda overheard.

“How often are these assemblies peaceful?” a brawny man said ironically as Merinda held to Jem's elbow and watched the commotion erupt around her. The floor rumbled with heavy footfalls and her ears rang. Merinda tried to stabilize herself, shielded her face with her arm. The air, the commotion—it was suffocating.

The same brawny man's face lit in recognition when he saw her,
^†
and he sidled his way through the crowd in her direction. Merinda looked beside her to warn Jem, realizing that the silence that had filled Jem's spot had been on account of Jem's not being there at all.

Merinda's voice was raspy as she mouthed Jem's name. A panicked sweat flushed her face and her hands shook. “Jemima!”

But there were too many people.

“Jemima!” Merinda shouted angrily. Jem had been right beside her, and now? Now? Where was she? Merinda shoved her way through the frightened mass of people. “Jem!”

“Merinda!”

Merinda looked up, startled. “Jasper!”

Jasper clutched her arms and looked her over, from tousled hair to torn vest and trousers. “Are you all right?” he said hoarsely.

“I can't find Jem.” Merinda's voice cracked.

A flash of fear lit Jasper's eyes. “Get out of here, please, Merinda. It's chaos in here. And it will get even worse when our mounted police arrive.”

“I won't leave without Jem!” Merinda yelled over the din.

“I promise you I will find Jem. I just need you to be out of here.” He gripped her tightly and started forcefully pulling her in the direction of the side doorway where a blast of fresh night air could dispel some of the heat and chaos.

“Let me go!” Merinda cried for what seemed the hundredth time as Jasper deposited her at the edge of the commotion. Outside, noise seemed to come from every crevice of the warehouse, blemishing the clear night.

Jasper held a stern finger to her nose. “
You—stay—here.
Don't you dare move! I'll get Jem.”

Merinda was in the midst of an angry spew of a sentence, but Jasper was long gone. She looked furiously about her as the crowd fled the warehouse. One man tripped outside, hand pressed to bloodied face. It seemed hours since Jasper had left. When all of her pent-up energy seemed to have nowhere to channel, she furiously tapped her heel.

She squeezed her eyes shut a moment and only opened them at a man's voice. Not Jasper but… but…

“I have something of yours.” Merinda opened her eyes and saw Benny.

Carrying Jem.

What air she was choking through the smoky haze left her.

“Is she dead?” Merinda cried. For, indeed, Jem looked very dead, her hairline clotted with blood.

“She's just unconscious,” Benny said. “Look, there are footmarks—she narrowly avoided being trampled on. I thought it safer to get her out by whatever means possible rather than waiting for the medics to arrive. Come.”

He led her away from the warehouse and to a quieter side of the alleyway. He tipped over a crate with his toe and set Jem gently on it, still keeping hold of her lest she topple over.

Merinda squatted down beside her and looped her arm around Jem's shoulders. Jem mumbled something incomprehensible before her head fell on Merinda's shoulder.

“My friend's almost crushed, and we never did find your wretched cousin!” Merinda hissed.

“He's not here. I arrived an hour before the rally, and I investigated.”

“Did you think he would just saunter in with everyone?” Merinda spat incredulously.

“Yes,” Benny said assuredly. “I did. Because he's too smart to skulk around at the back in the shadows where the police will be. I also checked the basement and the attic. I did a thorough search. He knows it's better to hide in plain sight.”

Jem stirred and slowly opened her eyes. She blinked up at Benny and then Merinda. “W-what happened?”

“All Hades broke loose, Jemima,” Merinda said.

Jem tried to sit up straighter and couldn't do so without a wince.

“Easy,” Benny said. He took a clean handkerchief from his vest pocket and pressed it against her forehead.

“Merinda!” Jasper's voice cut through the noise of horse hooves and police whistles.

“Over here!” Merinda yelled, her voice scratchy from the smoke.

Panting and soot-faced, Jasper jogged over. “I c-couldn't find… I… Jem!”

Jem gave him a bleary nod.

Jasper exhaled. “I looked everywhere. You're hurt!” He dropped in front of her. “How bad is it?”

“Superficial,” Benny said as Jasper rose. Benny extended his hand. “Benfield Citrone.”

“Jasper Forth.”

They shook hands.

“I found the young lady almost trampled by the crowd. I was able to return her in one piece to her friend, thank God. I closely inspected the wound and found it to be just a scratch, a result of some sort of blow that knocked her unconscious. I doubt she'll even require stitches. She'll be just fine.”

Jasper gave a half smile. “You must have medical training.”

Benny shrugged. “It's required in my field.”

“And what field is that?”

“Jasper, Benny here should be under no scrutiny from you. Come, I know that tone.”

“You know each other?” Jasper looked between them, startled.

“I had the recent privilege of making Merinda and Jem's acquaintance when… ”

“Benny's a client,” Merinda said.

“Who calls you by your given names?”

“I am looking for my cousin,” said Benny. “I trailed him as far as Toronto and reached a dead end.”

“And you were here tonight because…?” Jasper asked, narrowing his eyes.

“We thought his cousin might be here,” Merinda said quickly, answering for Benny. “But he wasn't.” She sighed. “Can this wait? I must get Jem home before she starts drooling on my shoulder.”

“Merinda, I would not drool on… on… ”

“Hush, Jemima. You sound woozy. Jasper, is that fellow Jones around here? Your new officer?”

“He is. But he is required at the scene.”

“I can find us a taxi.” Benny stood at attention and looked about.

“I doubt you'll be able to find one amidst this chaos,” Jasper said. “And anyway, cabs rarely just swing by this part of town.”

Benny's face lit up. “Might one of your mounted officers permit me the temporary use of a horse? Only to see the young lady to safety. That way Merinda can stay here and investigate.”

Jasper was not amused. “Pardon me?”

“Oh, Jasper, give the man a horse. I have it on good authority he is an expert rider.” Merinda had no such authority, and Jasper's raised eyebrows told her he knew as much.

“This is absurd,” Jasper said. “No. No. Step back, Mr. Citrone. This is a respectable married woman who will not just be passed into the arms of a stranger. Merinda, I thought better of you.”

“Benny is completely trustworthy,” Merinda said. Had she not been propping up Jem, her hands would have been planted firmly on her hips.

“Pardon me, Mr. Citrone, but these women are particular friends of mine, and I have never once heard either mention your existence.”

Benny looked up from repositioning Jem into a more comfortable position in the crook of his arm. “Well, we only met this morning.” He stood, slowly, and gathered Jem up completely. “Now, about that horse.”

*
Readers familiar with the adventure titled
The Bachelor Girl's Guide to Murder
will of course recall that this stick doubled as a crowbar when needed.

†
A reader familiar with the escapades of the intrepid girl detectives will be aware that this was not their first run-in with the Morality Squad.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

An officer of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police must treat his horse as he would any other comrade—with sensitivity for its needs. Do not start off on any trip, large or small, at a frantic pace, tiring the horse. Do not forget to groom and care for your horse. In the northern posts, far from human contact, he will become your dearest friend, your family, and your closest ally.

Benfield Citrone and Jonathan Arnasson,
Guide to the Canadian Wilderness

H
e's a Mountie!” Merinda said, matching Jasper's vehement stride across the alley and toward the crime scene. “If you can't trust a Mountie, who can you trust?”

“He could be a number of things, Merinda. You just let him take Jem off like that?” He shook his head. Merinda had given him a quick summation of the case, detailing Benny's accomplishments and Jonathan's failings, but Jasper had not been put at ease. “Just because someone parades around telling you he's a Mountie… ”

“But he is. I telephoned Regina.”

“Well, of course his name is listed. But who's to say he hasn't traded places with this mythical cousin Jonathan of his and is prancing around setting the explosives himself, and oh, good grief, there they go. He has Jem on a horse! And they're galloping who knows where! Ray will have my neck.” He rubbed his face with his hand.

“Would you desist with the melodrama? There's a delicious crime scene, the Morality Squad scattered, and you're here prattling like a child!
Benny will come right back with the horse. He will know better than you or I if Jonathan has been here. We just need to work together.”

“Forth! Forth, you'd better get over here!” They turned at a stern, deep bellow belonging to Chief Tipton.

“They've called in the cavalry,” Merinda said with a low whistle.

Jasper gave one last chastising look at Merinda before running toward the warehouse.

Merinda looked about her, watching people—some injured, most just terrified—moving over the pavement. Some went in the direction of the alley; others moved around the mounted policemen in the direction of Trinity Street.

Merinda inched her way through the throng and in the direction of the
Hogtown Herald
offices. She hadn't had a chance to learn what Ray really thought about the trolley explosions, but perhaps there was information to be found at the office—notes and observations that hadn't made their way into Ray's articles.

Merinda employed her walking stick to hoist open the primitive lock to the newspaper office. She removed her torch from the waist of her pants, and with a click mellow light cut through the darkness. She thought of turning the overhead lights on but didn't want to draw attention from the dispersing throng outside. She started with Skip's desk, hoping there might be a few photographs of the streetcar scene. Not much to be had there. A few pictures of the wrecked streetcars. A requisition order for maple syrup from Spenser's.

Finding nothing more of interest, she crossed to Ray's desk. It was behind a sort of lean-to, and he kept the space as tidy as possible considering the sawdust that floated down anytime someone walked over the creaky slats in the attic overhead. Ray was perfunctory in his profession, and she knew that despite his meager salary and the paper's wretched reputation, he took his job seriously. It was one of the things she admired about him. Though she would never tell him so.