A Lesson in Love and Murder (6 page)

“Herringford and Watts. Detectives. But you're women!” he said again.

“Perceptive. We're also detectives.” She narrowed her eyes. “Come, have a seat and tell us what brought you so far from the Force.”

Benny gaped. “How did you know?”

“Your hair. It's cut with military precision, but there's a decided line running at the back of it, embedded just behind the ear line. Clearly not from one of the berets worn by soldiers. Rather, a Stetson. Of course, you could be a cowboy, but then you wouldn't stand with your feet just slightly apart and your hands behind your back.”

“A Mountie!” breathed Mrs. DeLuca, blue eyes aglow.

Benny was visibly impressed. Perhaps this lady detective would be the solution he was looking for. “Benfield Citrone, Royal Northwest Mounted Police, late of Fort Glenbow. I'm here because my cousin knows how to blow things up.”

Merinda clapped, while Jemima's jaw dropped.

Benny backtracked. “Er… perhaps that wasn't the best way to begin.”

“That was the perfect way to begin! You have our full attention! A Mountie with a cousin adept in explosives! How exciting!”

Benny cleared his throat. “Well, Miss Herringford… ”

She cut him off with a restraining hand. “No. None of that. I am Merinda. My friend is Jem, and since I cannot possibly say the name Benfield without snickering, we will need a solution for you.”

Benny was ruffled. “Now, see here. I am named for the greatest Mountie who ever lived.
*
I am named for… ” But he was never given the chance to explain further as Merinda did indeed snicker. So he said, “My friends always called me Benny.”

“Mrs. Malone!” Merinda said to the housekeeper, who had just come in with the tray. “This is our new client, Benny Citrone. Can you bring some Turkish coffee?”

Mrs. Malone set down the tea and shortbread and returned to the kitchen at Merinda's bidding.

Benny used this interruption to clear his throat. “Ever since we were children, my cousin Jonathan Arnasson and I were going to be Mounties. Our grandfather fought with Sam Steele in the Boer conflict. But it started long before that.

“We were as close as brothers, and every summer Jonathan and his family would come stay across the river at the neighboring homestead. I lived for those summers. We'd sleep outside with bedrolls under the stars, and when Grandfather came to put out the campfire, he told us the legend of Samuel Steele, who never once fired a gun, who rather was able to intimidate settlers with the mention of his name and ironclad reputation.

“We were always taking turns as Steele or the bad guy or the Indians on the prairies—everything was straight out of a Robert Service poem: a man finding his fortune and running into the law. Whiskey runners! Murderous men set on revenge. The brave Metis warriors.

“We blood-swore down by the creek that we would join the Force when we were grown and be dispatched together. Hopefully North, where the wolves and the moose roamed and the northern lights made the night bright as day. Everything was going to be an adventure!

“Jonathan was especially adept at everything Grandfather taught him about polishing his boots and laying out his kit. Grandfather told us all about his tales of survival out when there was nothing on the land but himself and the buffalo and the wind squalls on the prairies. Jonathan picked up anything he was taught: from tying an unwieldy horse to using a flint to strike a spark and make a fire. He took it further and became skilled at chemistry and playing with wires. He used to make firecrackers in the backyard on Queen Victoria's birthday. All the kids would come from Riverton to see.”

Benny stopped and watched the girls: Jem's chin was in her cupped palm as she listened intently. Merinda's head was cocked to the side, those cat eyes of hers staring at him straight on. He took a sip of tea. Was the room suddenly warm?

Then he continued: “I should have been jealous of him, but I didn't know how to be. I was in awe of him. When he started formal
training in Regina, he was always getting in trouble. But he was charming and so gifted, I could tell even the staff sergeant hated punishing him. He was never discharged, just sent to clean the stables or scrub at the lavatories with a toothbrush.

“Jonathan was always the top student in class, but he'd sneak out of the barracks at night and find some local amusement, usually involving cards and liquor. He was an ace at gambling.

“Grandfather died right before Christmas, and Jonathan was devastated. I had never seen him so unlike himself. He canceled his trip and failed to show for the funeral. It broke my aunt's heart. At this point, he made little more than seventy-five cents a day on top of his room and board. We always sent as much as we could home, saving a bit for a lark on the weekends and a trip to the nickelodeon. But soon Grandmother was receiving paychecks that didn't quite add up. She was buying new dresses and choicer cuts of meat. Jonathan had found a way to make a little extra on the side.

“Of course, at home they just thought he was promoted. I knew better, and I confronted him on it. By now he was spending too many nights away, barely staying awake at reveille, and I knew they were going to sack him if he didn't get his act together. I begged him. I entreated him. This was what we always wanted, and he was so naturally gifted at it! He would make inspector someday. But he didn't listen to me, and we had a loud row about it. He said he had found something else. Something more important than just riding around the prairies. He told me that those glory days were over and the real law now was made of everyday men. No ranks! Just equals. He handed me a pamphlet from an anarchist group holding a rally in Saskatoon and recruiting in Regina. He found a few of them and told them he could make things blow up. It was how they were making a statement. If no one is going to listen to your words, he told me, he would have to make a louder noise.”

Benny stopped and gripped his knees with his hands. “And he left, asking me to come with him. But I had a future in the Force, and everything he did was at such odds with what we had always
wanted. I thought we were the same! How could I break the law and run against the law when our childhood dreams were to be the law? We fought and screamed at each other until our throats were sore.” Benny blinked away the prick of a tear that started in his right eye. “And I knew it was over then, those stories and the days by the creek. It brought Grandfather's death back again, and I was stabbed with hurt all over. Jonathan said good-bye, giving me a punch in the arm as he had done when we were little. And he turned and our paths were no longer the same.”

The sound of screeching tires outside the front window startled him from his reverie, and he used the moment to refill his teacup. The girls said nothing, hanging on his story. Jem's own eyes, round and blue as a china saucer, were moistened. Merinda just watched him.

“A few weeks ago, Divisional Headquarters put out a warrant for Jonathan's arrest. I was stationed up near Yellowknife for a spell and rarely made it into town. When I went in for supplies, there was a cable for me telling me about the warrant. So I made my way to Prince Albert, where they were starting to sniff around. The commissioner said I was better off going back north, but I volunteered to track Jonathan down.” Benny shrugged. “So here I am in civilian clothes, navigating a city I know nothing about, because this was as far as I could trace him. The trail's gone cold, and I thought I might as well use whatever help I can find. So I looked for private investigators, and here I am.”

Merinda choked down the cup of Turkish coffee too quickly. She collected herself and exchanged a look with Jem before settling her eyes back on Benny. She was used to Jasper's open-book face across from her. But a man as tall and broad-shouldered as Benny surprised her. He sat in day clothes with the same rigid formality that must have seen him well situated atop a ceremonial horse. She deduced Benny wasn't a man who knew how to be comfortable.

“How did you know he had come so far as Toronto?” Merinda asked, surprised when her voice croaked slightly.

“It was always easy to tell where he had been. Mysterious explosions. They always look accidental. Jonathan is so careful. In every instance, the police thought it was just faulty wiring. I was two steps behind him in Winnipeg and then again in Detroit. I followed him here when I heard about the trolley. And I saw the papers—another one yesterday.”

“So your cousin is very dangerous,” Jem said.

Benny nodded. “More than anyone realizes.”

“So why do you want to find him?” Merinda queried. “You'll probably catch him just in time to bring him back for a hanging, if all is as you say.”

Benny swallowed. “If that is to be so, then I will see he has a fair trial. There are ways that… Sometimes skill sets can be used. Sometimes they use incarcerated men to help them track and trail other killers. There's still hope that Jonathan can be of use to the Force. I would rather take him back to Regina properly than have him blown up in the middle of some strange city.”

Merinda wanted to throw the man a rope and drag him out of the mire of disillusion. Instead, she clamped her mouth shut before the sardonic words forming in her brain could funnel their way out and hurt Benny.

“What movement is he with?” Jem asked.

“The PLM—People's Labor Movement. They're based in the States but have started coming over to Canada. Some of them banded after the strike in Lawrence, Massachusetts. Perhaps you heard of it?”

Merinda and Jem nodded in unison. “You think that Jonathan was involved with the trolley explosions?”

Benny nodded. “I do.”

“How can we possibly predict their next move?” Jem wondered aloud.

“Emma Goldman is speaking tonight, is she not?” said Benny.

“She certainly is. Everyone from seamstresses to striking rail
workers will be there. Bills are posted all over the city!” Merinda said excitedly.

“Jonathan's actions are deplorable and reckless, but underneath it I know he really believes in something,” said Benny. “For all of our disagreements, he must think his philosophy is sound.”

“And you think he might attend the rally?”

“I have to believe it is an opportunity to find him.”

Silence fell between them, and Merinda and Jem watched Benny work the puzzle over in his mind. While he was thinking, Merinda studied him beyond the little nuances and clues of detection. The slightly off-center slant of his nose—it must have been broken and reset—was the only flaw in a face Merinda would describe as handsome. Close-cropped dark blond hair that probably shone in the prairie sun, eyes that were kind and hopeful but seemed to take in everything at once with an alertness Merinda envied.

“So you'll take my case? You'll help me find my cousin?”

“Oh, yes indeed,” Jem said.

“We'll start with the Goldman rally,” Merinda announced, and Jem nodded.

Benny rose and the girls followed suit. “I am staying at the Empire Hotel at Yonge and Gerrard should you need to contact me.”

“Mrs. Malone, would you please show Constable Citrone out?”

“Wait!” A smile flickered over Benny's lips. “I never told you my rank.”

“Process of elimination! You mentioned being admitted to formal training and that you were stationed up north. If you were a corporal, which I believe is the next rank you can aspire to, you would have the jurisdiction to pursue your cousin without consulting your commissioner.”

“You really are bright.” He looked impressed.

“For a woman?” Merinda scoffed, waving Mrs. Malone away and seeing Benny to the door herself.

“No. Just bright.”

Merinda extended her hand and Benny gripped it. As before, it
was several seconds—a moment maybe—before he released it. “I look forward to finding your cousin, Benny Citrone. I just hope you are prepared for the ramifications of his discovery.”

Benny nodded gravely. “I am.”

Merinda returned to the sitting room and Jem.

“I hope Citrone's sad story put your own whining into perspective,” Merinda reprimanded her.

“I haven't been sleeping well,” Jem murmured.