He swallowed. This was it.
But the words didn’t come.? Instead, he stuttered, “You should have been a doctor. You would have made an incredible doctor. You would have been top of your class, Merinda, you know that.”
She brushed at her trousers and tugged the rim of her hat over her bobbed blonde curls. “And miss the adventure?”
“You might want to actually make some money someday.”
“You sound like Jemima!” She played with a loose thread at the bottom of her vest, biting her lip. “But everything’s changing, isn’t it?”
“You mean Jem.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to say it. Merinda… ” Jasper caught her hand, white and long-fingered. “Merinda, I won’t change or go away.”
“Of course you won’t, Jasper. You’re like my favorite sweater. It comes out every year just as it gets cold and… ”
“Merinda, I’m serious.”
Merinda blinked a few times and gingerly disengaged herself. “Come on.”
Jasper wished he could recapture the moment, but as they stepped outside, he knew time was shifting. He tried to shrug off the premonition as he tucked his hands deep in his pockets, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his fixed point, his Merinda, was going to be moving, changing—and at such a galloping pace that he’d never catch up.
Back at the station house, his thoughts still spiraled Merinda-ward. What might it be like if he left Tipton and the police behind and joined the ranks of her private investigation firm?
“Forth!” Tipton’s voice echoed through the corridor. The chief crooked his finger in Jasper’s direction.
Jasper took the hall in two strides and closed Tipton’s office door as requested.
“Take a seat.”
Jasper did.
“Drink?”
“Not while on duty, sir.” Jasper tugged at his collar, trying to hide his surprise when the chief poured himself a finger of whiskey.
“Good man.” Tipton inclined his glass. “There’s been another one of those trolley mishaps.”
Jasper’s face whitened, and he instinctively leaped from his chair, almost taking it with him.
“Not so fast, not so fast,” said the chief. “We have men on the scene already. You’ll get there and see that someone’s meddled with the wiring. It doesn’t take a genius to know these ‘accidents’ are premeditated.”
“I guessed as much. I was hoping they would strike again so I could find proof.” Jasper coughed to hide his embarrassment. “What I meant to say is that I would like to catch the culprits. Not for more innocent lives to be lost.”
Tipton smiled. “I know. But no one outside this office must suspect foul play. That muckraker DeLuca from the Hogtown Herald is sniffing about with that cameraman of his. Those two always seem to be two steps ahead of us. I know you are friendly with him. I am asking you to keep our speculations to yourself.”
“But, sir, these are not accidents, and the public has a right to know. To be aware of the danger to their safety. Letting people know will also save the Toronto Rail Commission from embarrassment. They don’t deserve to have the guilt of these blasts on their consciences.”
“I am ordering you to say nothing to the press. This is coming directly from Mayor Montague,” said the chief. “He wants to show that the city will not be prey to these anarchists and their vicious antics. Especially with the arrival of Emma Goldman so imminent. He wants us to stand by and help the public not to panic.”
Jasper sighed. Tipton had been in Montague’s pocket for years. It was one of the reasons Jasper didn’t trust the chief, though he had little choice but to follow his orders. But he had never before been asked to lie. “This is not the first time Montague has steered us in the direction of hiding information, sir. Those Irish girls were swept under the carpet. Two more girls almost died, and a murderer nearly went free! We both know his methods aren’t… ”
Tipton slammed his glass down on his desk. “Forth, I know you’re one of the good ones. I know you’re honest and you believe in the badge you wear. But what good does it do to take the moral high ground when it means negative ramifications in the future? Budget cuts? Divisional downsizing?? That just means more crime in the future. No, we need to toe Montague’s line. Keep his silly morality squad and whatnot. We can play the man’s game, can we not?”
Tipton picked up his glass again and took a long sip. “Montague especially hates that DeLuca fellow and his stupid little paper. The man’s a menace, no matter how pretty his wife is. I know she’s a friend of yours, but you don’t have to be guilted into saying anything when he pesters you like a mosquito.”