The Bachelor Girl's Guide to Murder (31 page)

He finally threw her from him. She sprawled across the floor of the lobby, very near her walking stick. She grabbed it and lunged at Forbes just as he retrieved his pistol and fired.

Merinda stopped dead in her tracks, the blood draining from her face. But she felt no pain, and now Forbes was lunging at her again.

She reared back with her crowbar and pounded him on the head with it. He collapsed in a heap.

“I should have known you'd be a wretched shot,” said Merinda, and she set off through the side door in pursuit of Jem.

“I heard a gunshot!”

Jem's eyes were wide. “I did too.”

Gavin swung his pistol from Jem's head and in the direction of the sound, which was down the corridor where Forbes had left them a few minutes before.

“Don't shoot!” It was Merinda's voice, echoing down the tunnel.

Gavin shook his pistol down the corridor. “Don't try anything!”

“I won't!” Merinda sounded almost chipper. “I surrender!”

That seemed to give Gavin pause, but he quickly recovered. “Get in here and sit down, then.”

Merinda stepped into the room where Jem and Tippy were tied up. She was dressed in her customary trousers, of course, but she'd lost her bowler. Why had she surrendered? Jem shot her a look, but Merinda only winked.

“Where's Forbes?” Gavin asked, grabbing Merinda and beginning to tie her up.

“No idea. You brought that goon with you, did you?”

Gavin tied Merinda up, feet and hands. It annoyed Jem how cheerful Merinda seemed. Jem's own heart, by this point, was in her throat.

When Gavin had secured Merinda to his satisfaction, he waved the barrel of his pistol. “You three don't go anywhere, you hear?” He headed off down the corridor. “Forbes!”

“He's robbing the bank, Merinda!” Jem said frantically. “With Forbes.”

“That much is evident, Jemima.”

Jem started crying softly, a luxury she had not afforded herself before, when she'd been trying to stay strong for Tippy.

Merinda struggled against her bonds. “These ropes are pretty tight,” she said.

Tippy, still gagged, silently watched Merinda, who was all smiles and sparkly eyes.

“Gavin is going to kill us,” Jem said through chattering teeth. “Why are you so blasted cheerful?”

“Ooh,” Merinda said, “I think my foot fell asleep.”

“Merinda!” Jem said, stomping her bound feet together. “You shouldn't have come here without a plan! Do you have a plan?”

“You're not still crying, are you?”

“Yes. Yes, Merinda, I am crying. Our lives are almost over. And look at poor Tippy.”

Merinda laughed. “It's not nearly as dire as all that. Jasper is here and the police are on their way. And I'll bet a dollar DeLuca's not far behind to get it all down for the
Hog
. He was the one who telegraphed that you'd been taken.”

“I'm a horrible bachelor girl detective,” Jem whimpered, not even brightening at the mention of Ray's name. “I wasn't cut out for this.”

“Then what
were
you cut out for, Jemima?” Merinda
tsked
at her. “You're my adventurous and perfect Watson.”

Jem fought back a sob. “I was cut out to tend house and have babies and marry some man who doesn't mind a girl who”—she hiccupped and gulped a few tears—“sometimes gets in danger and—”

“Nonsense, my darling Jem. Such a man does not exist.”

In all of the romantic novels Jem had ever read, this would be the precise moment when the heroine would feel faint and require smelling salts. Instead, she straightened her shoulders. “I beg to differ.”

“Cracker jacks,” Merinda said. “You are much better off here with me.”

“Better off here! With you? Perhaps the gravity of our situation is not clear to you,” Jem hissed. “Gavin has a gun and he means to kill us, and our poor corpses will be found somewhere just… just like F-Fiona and Grace and… ”

“Shh!” Merinda said, looking down the corridor.

Jem heard heavy footfalls. More than one set. It had to be Gavin. No one else knew they were here, did they? Oh, he would not give Jem a painless death, she knew that now. She said a quick prayer and resigned herself to whatever would come next.

But the man who stepped into the light was not Gavin, not Forbes, but Constable Jasper Forth, leading a detachment of Toronto's finest.

“Jasper!” Merinda said. “Perfect timing!”

“Merinda!” Jasper went straight to her and began working on the ropes binding her. Then he seemed to remember himself and noticed the others. “And Jem, and Tippy! What luck! Come on, gents. Hop to. Untie these ladies and let's get them out of here.”

The policemen got them all untied quickly.

Jem stood, rubbing her wrists. “What happened to Gavin?”

“In custody,” Jasper said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the corridor. “Forbes too. Waiting for the paddywagon.”

“Good,” Jem said, and promptly fainted.

Merinda adjusted her bowler and happily watched two constables trundle Forbes and Gavin out to the police automobile. A small crowd had gathered outside Dominion Bank to watch the spectacle.

Ray appeared at Merinda's shoulder.

“I suppose I should thank you,” she said before he could speak. “If I hadn't read about the tunnels in your journal… ”

Ray stomped on her sentence. “Wait! You read my journal too?”

“Just the interesting stuff. The Don Jail stuff. Not the boring poetry and romance stuff. You may have a knack for excavating the mire of the city in the
Hog
, DeLuca, but you really are an abysmal writer.”

“And yet I saved your life.” He smiled.

“I didn't know it needed saving.” Merinda retorted.

“But I did!” Ray persisted. “And Jem's and Tippy's.”

“How, DeLuca?”

“You know.”

“Oh, your journal.” Merinda shrugged. “Yes, well, perhaps you did give me a bit of a hint, mentioning the tunnel under the bank. But it was quite obvious. I would've deduced it on my own eventually.”

“Ah, but in time?”

“All right,
Hogwash Herald
,” Merinda said with a reluctant grin, “get out that famous journal of yours and get ready to write. Have I got a tale for you.” She began extolling her brilliant plan and its brilliant execution, but she noticed that Ray was not writing anything down. “What's the matter—going too fast for you?”

“Where's Jemima?” Ray asked.

“Jasper's taking Jem to the hospital.”

“
What?
”

“Would you look at that?”

“What?”

“Your face, DeLuca. And she thinks
she's
the obvious one. They're stitching her head up. Just a little bump from her heroic detective work. She'll be home in time for tea.”

“I… I… that's wonderful to hear.”

Merinda clutched his arm. “Now, about that front page headline… ”

Jem woke up in motion. She found herself on a stretcher being
loaded into what looked an awful lot like an ambulance. “What's happening?” She tried to sit up, but her head hurt, and she lay back down.

“You're going to be fine, Jem.”

She blinked up at the man and tried to recall his name. “Jasper?”

Jasper's face showed relief. “Hello, Jem. You fell and hit your head. Nasty little gash there. They're taking you to the hospital for stitches.”

Jem noticed red rope burns on her wrists, and she remembered she'd been tied up. She remembered it all. “Jasper, what happened? Where's Merinda?”

“Merinda's fine.” Jasper kept his voice low. “One of the officers is just asking her questions. She's not hurt at all.”

“Gavin Crawley!” she cried. “That cad. You got him?”

“Yes, Jem. And Forbes.”

Jem let the tension flow out of her like air from a balloon. She closed her eyes and rested on the stretcher. She wouldn't think anymore. Not for a while. She wouldn't remember being scared or worried or brave and resourceful. She didn't have to be strong anymore. Someone was looking out for her, and so she let herself drift to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Every good mystery has a denouement. It pulls back the cloak and the magic trick is revealed. You make at last the realization your muddled brain had previously failed to see. You can finally reflect on all that your limited deductive powers had missed when someone with more astute mental faculties is there to explain in full.

Guide to the Criminal and Commonplace, M.C. Wheaton

M
cCormick read over Ray's early version of the evening edition, and his face brightened. “We'll sell out of these.” Something almost approaching pride flashed behind the editor's eyes.

Ray pushed his bowler back and reveled in his favorite sounds: the thrum of the machines, the feeding of the pulp and fiber into the jaws of the press. They had sold a lot of papers lately, thanks to Merinda and her golden moments. He stretched his legs out onto his desk and folded his hands behind his head. He felt a little more secure now, what with his slightly raised salary. He had even bought a new Underwood.