Of Dubious and Questionable Memory (2 page)

The dowdy matron jangled her keys impatiently, and we hopped to our feet. A man stood beside her, dark circles rimming his eyes but his face washed with relief.

“She give you any trouble?” he asked the matron while glowering at Merinda.

“No more than to be expected from a girl like her.”

Merinda opened her mouth to defend herself, but I grabbed her wrist to stop her. If she blabbered on we might never get home.

The matron handed over the bag containing our soiled belongings, and I was relieved to find my ring tucked into the pocket of my trousers. We changed back into our men's clothing, the mud from the day before caked and dusty.

Walking across the broad lawn, Jasper inspected both of us. His eyes took in every part of Merinda, from her dirty tweed right down to her scuffed ankle boots. His eyes glimmered. “That was too close, girls.”

“I look this way because I was holed up in St. Jerome's all night. What's your excuse?” Merinda quipped, clearly uncomfortable under his careful eye.

I shot her a look. “You must have been worried sick, Jasper.”

“I just got promoted, Merinda. Chief Tipton! Chief Tipton's
house
! I spent most of the night cutting through bureaucratic tape trying to liberate you. I was able to do so with the strictest of warnings.” He yawned and then apologized. “And my word, Jemima. I've never seen Ray so angry.”

“I burned the jam. Come to think of it, I left the door unlocked too… ”

We were soon seated in the automobile and Jones, a young officer, began steering us toward Merinda's flat on King Street.

“When I heard,” Jasper was saying, “I dashed over to Ray as soon as Tipton let me go. Your husband threw a teacup. Took one of our new bicycles.”

“The new motorized fleet of bicycles!” Merinda positively jumped in her seat. “I've been longing to give them a try.”

I shoved her back onto her seat, Officer Jones coughing uncomfortably at our disheveled appearance and Merinda's improper behavior. We made it to King Street in near silence.

“You're remembering the party tonight,” Merinda said to Jasper as he opened the door of the car for her. “Seven o'clock sharp. It's going to be a wonderful evening. You'll forget this unfortunate business ever happened!”

Jasper's countenance remained stern. “It's a rather hard thing to forget, Merinda. I doubt you'd forget if the Chief said
you
were on a short thread for encouraging reckless lady detectives.”

My stop was next, and I spent the moments of our journey staring out the window. Jones swerved the automobile to the curb of the Cabbagetown townhouse Ray and I had shared for the three short months of our new marriage.

Jasper helped me out of the backseat and looked at me kindly. “Jem, you're the sensible one.”

I chortled. “Not so much.”

“My job is important to me.” He smiled. “You know that. Can you make her see that? She's like a runaway train, barreling through everything in her path.”

“Your job?” I hedged, knowing while his mouth said
job
, his heart said
Merinda.
I blinked into the sun as it settled above us with a cheeriness I didn't feel. “She cares about you, Jasper.”

Jasper gave a curt laugh. “Does she?”

I gave his arm a quick squeeze. “She does. Happy birthday.”

I waved him off and straightened my shoulders. I'd had such high hopes for yesterday, I thought, stepping slowly over the stone walkway. I picked my way between overrun weeds and shrubs I had no intention of taming with a careful manicure. I slowly turned the doorknob, hoping Ray was out on his usual beat.

I wasn't so fortunate. He bounded into the front hall at the turn of the door handle.

I let him get through a string of
Do you have any idea
and
Honestly, Jemima.
His English was always far poorer when he was riled, and his flurry of furious words was knotted by drifts into Italian, his first language. Something seemed to have flustered him quite completely.

Too tired to stand any longer after my sleepless night, I dropped on the sofa in my muddy clothes and sighed. “I knew this would happen. I knew even while I was shivering in that cold jail cell that you would be angry because I left the kitchen in a state and probably left the door open. I told Jasper as much, and he said you were in quite a state. And obviously we can chalk this up to one more disaster in my pursuit of domestic proficiency.”

Ray dug his finger under his collar for a moment. Cocked his head to the side. Blinked a few more times. “The
kitchen
? Are you seriously thinking that—”

“There's no sense in just standing there fuming at me. Go get a drink of water. My goodness, even the tips of your ears are red! I am not going to fight back. I had grand plans for yesterday. I was going to cook something wonderful and of course not leave the kitchen a charred mess—”

“Jem, have you been listening to me at all?”

“Yes. And I am dreadfully sorry. You have every right to expect that the kitchen will be clean and the food will be warm after a long day. I will try harder.” I didn't know how, I thought, but I would.

He just stared at me. Finally, after several ticks of the large, hollow clock in the next room, he turned. “I have to go work.”

“I'll see you at Jasper's party tonight? You can be sore at me, but poor Jasper had nothing to do with it. You have a fresh shirt at the office, I hope?”

My husband didn't answer me before he walked out the door.

I heaved a sigh. My first order of business was to scour the scorched kitchen as best I could. Then a proper bath. A luxurious dose of lavender. And the red dress that was a particular favorite of Ray's. A nice dress, I thought, would go a long way toward showing him I was sorry.

Chapter Two

The King Street townhouse was decorated with bright flowers, and Mrs. Malone kept the punch flowing and the side tables towering with all of Jasper's favorite treats.

Ray and I arrived at nearly the same moment. I smiled, hoping to win one from him in return, but there was no chance to speak privately, and we fell apart, forced into small talk with some of our acquaintances.

Several officers—some on brief relief from duty—stopped by to toast the man of the hour and wring his hand. Jasper's kind parents stood sentry in the corner, excusing themselves early but not before showering their son with an affection that made me swallow a lump in my throat. Reverend Talbot's baritone led us in “For He's a Jolly Good Fellow,” Skip McCoy's camera flashed, and young Jones flushed proudly to be in the company of his superior officer.

But the easy joy of the night was undercut by the tension prickling between Jasper, Merinda, Ray, and me. Merinda sang a few bars of a popular ballad along with the crackling gramophone, and Ray tucked into a plateful of lemon sandwiches Mrs. Malone set beside him with a matronly wink. But between the four of us, smiles were subdued.

One of Jasper's colleagues slapped him on the arm. “Quite bold to be in league with ladies who would want to see poor Chief Tipton locked up for a stolen rooster,” he jabbed.

“I never accused or encountered him,” Merinda said.

“The fellow from the Morality Squad found the note used to trap you. You're such an easy target, Miss Herringford.”

Jasper swallowed and continued avoiding eye contact with Merinda.
Ray overheard and made to interject and defend his friend, but Jasper smiled and shook his head.

Meanwhile, Skip McCoy, Ray's colleague at the
Hogtown Herald,
was failing at his own joke. “What headline will you use, Mr. DeLuca? None so drastic as the
Globe
! Shame I didn't snap a picture of your wife face-first in a mud puddle.”

I flushed, but Ray waved it off. “Ah, but Skip, you forget as far as my readership is considered, she is just one half of Herringford and Watts. If she wants to run recklessly off and get tossed into a reformatory, it can do little but help us sell more papers.”

The air in the room was stifling. I might have ducked outside to breathe more freely, but just then Merinda
tinged
her punch glass with a spoon with a force that resounded more like a dissonant bell than a celebratory chime.

“Excuse me!” she said.

Eyes drifted upward.

“As hostess, it is my duty to give a speech.” She swallowed. “Detective Constable Jasper Forth is a longtime friend of mine. I first met him in university when he almost knocked me backward down the stairs balancing a tray of test tubes. From there, I couldn't go two steps without his pestering me to join him in the chemistry labs as he pursued his love of forensic science.”

I coughed and motioned for Merinda to say something—anything—nice.

“We all know that Jasper is rather a human golden retriever of a sorts. Always smiling and willing to do anything for you. It's a surprise a man of his disposition has done so well on the police force. Nonetheless, despite numerous demotions, he has persevered and even enjoyed a recent promotion.”

I looked at Ray, who was apparently very interested in his shoes, and then Jasper, whose face was a strange hybrid of horror and hurt.

“Merinda!” I whispered. “Please say something nice about Jasper for his birthday.”

I was louder than I thought. The collective gazes swiftly moved from Merinda to myself.

“I
am
saying something nice, Jem.”

I side-eyed her and said from the corner of my mouth, “You called him a dog.”

“I meant the dog bit as a compliment,” Merinda said innocently, taking in the coughs and silence in confident stride. “Jasper?” She raised her glass in his mortified direction. “You're a real swell egg, and I'm chuffed you're my friend. Happy birthday.”

Thankfully, a chorus of
Happy birthday!
and
Many happy returns!
erupted, and Jasper's ashen face stretched into a smile.

The guests meandered out shortly thereafter, and Mrs. Malone set to clearing the plates.

“Part of me hoped the Chief might attend,” Jasper said ruefully as he sank into an armchair and loosened his bow tie. “As a gesture of goodwill toward my new promotion.”

“He's recovering from a wrongful accusation.” Ray smirked at me.

“I repeat: No one actually accused him!” Merinda snapped. “We received a note we thought was from a legitimate client. It was his fault for entrapping us!”

“He wouldn't need to entrap you,” Jasper said exasperatedly, “if you showed a little more decorum!”

Merinda stiffened her spine and stood at attention. “I clearly thought the note came from a real client! Why else would I risk a night in a cell?”

“And you didn't ever consider”—Ray's voice was sharp as a knife—“that your
client
might be the Morality Squad?”

I laughed awkwardly, looking around me, hoping our tension would be diffused. It wasn't. “It's rather funny when you think about it,” I said. “A missing rooster. Our face-first collision with a mud puddle!” I looked to Merinda for encouragement. She rolled her eyes.

Jasper picked up Ray's theme. “No, you don't think at all, Merinda. Of anything but yourself—and sometimes Jem if you're in an amicable mood. And that's why I had eight people's work to do smoothing things over at St. Jerome's. Not to mention my own men undermining me with cheap jokes about our association. I am trying to assert my new authority!”

Merinda switched off the gramophone, whose happy tunes seemed to undercut our argument, and planted her fists on her hips. “And that's the thanks I get for throwing you a lovely birthday party, Jasper Forth!”

“Stick to the point,” Ray said. “Neither Jasper nor I have any idea what led you to be as foolish as you have ever been. Jem nearly burned down my house. You, Merinda, got my wife locked up in a reformatory. I wouldn't have blamed them for throwing away the key!”

“That's a horrible joke,” Merinda said

“Stop sniffling, Jem,” Ray admonished. “I can hear you from over here! You cry at the drop of a hat.”

“I'm not crying,” I cried. The sleeplessness and tension of the day still ebbed over me. “And it's Jasper's birthday.”

“Ray makes a good point,” Jasper blurted. “A few more nights in St. Jerome's might blast some sense into you two.”

“
Et tu,
Jasper?” I said sulkily.

“It's bad enough we're at a constant war with the rest of Toronto,” Merinda said levelly “You two are supposed to be our allies.”

“Not when you behave this recklessly,” Jasper said. “Is it your mission in life to keep seeing me demoted, Merinda? I worked years for this promotion, and I will keep it. I refuse to let you ruin it for me. If that means not involving you in the police business… ” He stopped at Merinda's dagger glare. He had reached the intended effect if he wanted her to stumble and falter under his threat. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again it was in a lower register: “I am not saying it has to come to that… ” he began, not knowing how to finish.