Ray stirred his straw around his glass. His eyes drifted from her to the cold drink to an open newspaper at the next table with a picture of Theodore Roosevelt’s sunny face and portly form. Ray glanced at it quickly while Viola bit into her pastry. It summarized what was to happen at the convention. Roosevelt was not to step into it like a prelude but rather give a speech on the second day of the proceedings.
He looked at Viola again, and with her face a trunk of memories was unlocked. “We tried to make lemonade—do you remember?”
Viola laughed. Like a slight trill of unexpected music. Ray was so unused to this laugh. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
“We should have taken the seeds out first,” Ray said with a deciding nod.
“I like this much better.”
“And I like seeing you smile.” He reached out and took her hand.
“There hasn’t been a lot to smile about. I pawned the pocket watch—a place on Michigan Avenue. And I feel like I am being dishonest with Tony by even talking to you.” Her face darkened. “But there is something that is unsettling. Tony is determined to do whatever they want him to do. He won’t tell me who ‘they’ are, but he tells me it will make things better. This… Ray, Tony thinks that all of our problems will be over. Once and for all. If he only goes through with this one last job. He calls it a score.”
“You remember Jasper Forth from the police? He is here, and we can stop him.”
“I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“I don’t either.”
“And I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.” Viola reached into her ratty handbag and extracted a piece of paper and pencil. Her handwriting was poor. Their father had found little need for an educated female in the house when there were chores to be done on the farm and in the kitchen, but Ray made out a time and an address, not letting Vi know both were familiar to him already. Tony was to meet Hedgehog for the same shipment to which Ray and Jasper were assigned.
They finished their lemonade, and Ray pressed a few bills he had earned from Hedgehog into her palm. “I’ll get more.”
“You found work here?” Viola’s eyes widened.
Ray nodded. “Lifting things for this fellow down at the docks. It’s some kind of criminal activity though, Viola, so it pains me that all I have to give you is what I have made from dishonest work.”
“But look, you’re smiling.”
Ray nodded, and as he spoke his hands picked up movement and his words came out faster before she asked him to slow down. “I know that what this man is doing is connected to Toronto. It’s going to make a wonderful story, Vi.” He reached out and squeezed her arm. “I have you to thank for it!”
Viola leaned across the table and kissed him on the cheek. “You make me so proud, you know. With your stories! Your name in print. You’ll be at the Globe and Mail someday.” She nodded. “I am sure of it.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Everything can be perceived as a trail of bread crumbs. Sometimes you would be surprised what you found at the end. Sometimes you waded into a mystery half solved, sometimes into the middle of a problem you didn’t know was in need of a solution.
Benfield Citrone and Jonathan Arnasson, Guide to the Canadian Wilderness
We’re playing with gunpowder and bombs.” Merinda tried to keep a warning and chastising tone in her voice, but it was all excitement instead. Ross wanted Benny and Merinda to meet and go over preliminary instruction for Tuesday.
“You sound indecently excited,” Jem said, wiggling into black pants in preparation for Silent Jim’s meeting with Ray and Jasper. “I wonder if that has something to do with Benny.”
Merinda huffed and flounced her curls. “Bombs, Jemima.”
“Humph. Besides, I forgot, I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
“Don’t be so childish.”
“You can’t just go to blows with my husband, Merinda.”
“I didn’t plan on it!” Merinda whined. “I just saw him and I… Well, I felt bad that he left you that note and that he was off running into danger when you are… well… in your condition.”
Jem rolled her eyes. “What would Sherlock Holmes say to this? Letting something—someone—other than the facts of the case cram into your little mind-attic!”
“Clearly a romantic rendezvous has muddled your brain, Jemima.”
“You think you’re something special, guarding your heart, Merinda. Stop tugging that poor man along.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, you silly girl.”
She walked to her case, picked up Merinda’s best bowler before she could plop it on her head for the day’s adventures, and then calmly walked in the direction of the open window, which she creaked open wide. “How many stories down, do you think? Quite a breeze. Nice hat. Someone could easily swoop it up off the street.”
Merinda dashed at her, but Jem held her back. “You can’t wrestle a woman in my condition,” she said.