“You’re just going to leave us here?” Merinda’s voice was frantic. Angry.

  “You’re not my responsibility, lady. I was just supposed to shut you up.”

  I could feel Merinda’s shoulder brush mine and I thanked God for small mercies. If I had been here on my own I would have passed out from fear already.

  “D-do you think we’re in over our heads?” I shuddered.

  “You always ask that.”

  “I can’t see where we are. We could be out in the middle of some terrible barge.”

  “Cracker jacks. We may be on a boat, but it hasn’t started moving yet.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Instinct. We’re obviously at the harbor. And I think the same fate that awaited those girls awaits us.”

  “We’re being shipped away!” I squeaked.

  “Nonsense.”

  “How can you stay so rational and calm, Merinda? This is not a Sherlock Holmes story. This is not something logical. We are being sold into some salacious enterprise.”

  “You know something will turn in our favor at the last minute.”

  I exhaled. “What would Sherlock Holmes say to this?”

  “Ah, he would’ve been too smart. They never would’ve caught him.”

  I could feel her wiggle. “My nose is itchy but my hands are tied,” I complained.

  We sat silently for a moment. “You know why people love Sherlock Holmes, Jem?” said Merinda. “You just say his name and everyone shivers with the anticipation of some unstoppable genius. You know it’s all going to end well. Everything will make sense; it will all be explained. It’s not like our world with all these made-up rules and reformatories for incorrigible women. Where you and I have to hide our identities in order to find some semblance of reason.”

  “I suppose this is what we wanted.” My voice cracked a little.

  “It is. Because now we’re in the belly of the beast, Jem! This is how it happens! Abernathy and Tipton and Walters all survey the girls, concoct a useless reason for them to be thrown away, and then transport them for their venture over in Chicago or New York or heaven knows where.” I could almost hear Merinda’s brain whirring in an attempt to think of a next step. “They all must get a cut of the profit, hence why Walters was so deeply involved and why Abernathy was so eager to get rid of Melanie.”

  “And why Tipton was so eager to get rid of us.”

  “Well, there we were, talking to Melanie. He must have put two and two together.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to leave this ship. We don’t fit the profile they’re looking for.” Not in our men’s clothes, at least. My wrists were chafing. The kaleidoscope of colors whirling behind my blindfold did little to take the attention away from a sudden movement at my thigh. “Merinda!” I gulped.

  “What?”

  “A big rat just brushed my leg.”

  Meeoow.

  “That’s not a rat, Jem.”

  Meooowww.

  The cat crawled into my lap and then reached his claws up to my shoulders. He nuzzled his nose in the nape of my neck and inched his way up to my chin. His whiskers and little ear tickled my cheek. I smiled for the first time in what felt like days. Then he turned, meowed, and rubbed against my cheek again. But this time I felt something different… something about the ear that…

  “Merinda! I think this is Pepper!”

  “Pepper!”

  The cat meowed, perhaps affirmatively.

  “The sneezing!” we observed at the same time.

  Pepper was here when the girls were toted away. Melanie couldn’t be far. Jeannette?

  The slat of a door slipped open. Even behind the blindfold I could sense sunshine coming through in bright slants.

  Soon our hands were untied and our blindfolds removed. Merinda’s eyes were scanning my face frantically.

  Mr. Walters picked up Pepper and stroked his head. “This cat loves to follow me around town.”

  “The cat also knows you’re a scoundrel,” Merinda hissed.

  His look was one of dismissal “Not many tea shops in New York would take a second look at you.” He ran his eyes over her. “You’re all angles and lines.” His gaze swerved over to me, and I shuddered. “But you… you are exactly what I’m looking for.” My misshapen male garb obviously wasn’t as good a disguise as I’d intended. He hoisted me to my feet and Merinda jumped up after.

  Merinda whispered tremulously in my ear: “You must play his game, Jem. So he won’t hurt you.”

  I sniffled a reply.

  “Jemima Watts, promise me you’ll play the game.” Her eyes took on a bright sheen. A rare thing: Merinda close to tears. I gave a quick nod.

  I remembered what Merinda had told me and played docile. I had no idea how she would come up with a plan or when or where. But I was sure she would think of something. It is remarkable how unwavering your faith in someone becomes the moment you realize they are your only creak of hope in a rapidly shutting door.

  Walters took my tweed coat, folding it and placing it on a nearby ottoman. “You are a picture. Like one of Mr. Gibson’s ladies. Even in those trousers. You were made for New York.”

  I looked to the cabin roof. How long was I to sit here?

  I took as deep a breath as my chest would allow. “I know what you’re doing. I will make sure the Hogtown Herald knows about you, and soon all the papers will plaster your name across the headlines for the reptile you are! You and Abernathy and Tipton!”

  He slapped me. My face froze a moment more with surprise than pain, then tingled back to life.

  I screamed as loud as my lungs would allow, hoping the sound would reverberate upstairs. That Merinda had found a plan. He placed his gigantic palm over my mouth and I saw the glint of a knife. I squirmed and kicked, but the more I fought, the greater his force. He was much bigger than I, and had a brutish strength exacerbated by his anger.

  Just as I was becoming certain that my eyes were about to be closed forever, footsteps echoed on the stairs nearby and voices forced my eyes open. Blurrily, I made out Merinda. She retrieved the pistol from her waistband and, rather than threatening and pointing as we had practiced in our defense class with Jasper, she smacked him over the head with it.

  Out cold, he slid off the couch and to the cold floor before. Merinda dropped in front of me, her face so concerned I nearly forgot myself and my predicament and even, pathetically, attempted to straighten up and paste on a smile. To no avail. “Where’s Melanie?” My voice and hands were shaken.

  “We got them all! Did he hurt you?”

  Her eyes flickered over my face and body, taking in the hair spilling over my shoulders and the havoc wreaked on my poor torn blouse.

  I shook my tear-splotched face. “Not really… no… ” I would have bruises on my arms and my neck, but I hadn’t been injured. “How did you get here?”

  “Kat and Mouse have been spending a lot of time watching these carriages and barges. They knew exactly how to winnow their way in. Remind me to give them a raise.”

  I could tell she expected a smile. But instead I leaned forward and threw my arms around her neck, slobbering into her shoulder with hiccups and sobs.

  And even though she extended her arms around my back and held tightly, her voice was snide when she said, “And we don’t even have Mrs. Malone to do the mending. Your second-best shirt!”

  Seven

  I blinked hard in the sudden sunlight and tried to straighten my blouse under the coat Merinda had flung around me. My hair was ghastly, I was sure. Journalists milled about and photographers assembled their equipment as Mr. Walters, with a bloody handkerchief bearing evidence of Merinda’s blow, was escorted to a police carriage. Judge Abernathy would be next.

  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.”

 

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