The White Feather Murders

by Rachel McMillan

  “I don’t either.” He grimaced. “Merinda…”

  “I told you,” she said snarkily. “I don’t want to hear you mumble an apology.”

  Ray smiled, pressing at the keys with his dark fingers. “I should make you take it back.” He caressed the H key while raising his head so their eyes locked. “But I am far too fond of it.”

  Merinda’s Cheshire grin spread wide.

  Jem arrived not two moments later, her smile radiant as the marquee at the Elgin. “Jasper’s straight behind!” she said, admiring Mrs. Malone’s liberal spread of sandwiches, cheese, and fairy cakes.

  Jasper then appeared, bearing something whose value outshined Merinda’s typewriter. Hamish peeked out from under the large police hat Jasper had placed on his head.

  “He can hardly see!” Ray said with feigned annoyance, scooping up Hamish, removing the hat, and kissing the boy heartily on each cheek. “Where did you come from, Hamish?” he asked, studying his son’s big blue eyes.

  Hamish just smiled and repeated the word “hat” a few times.

  “There’s no sense in living in fear, Ray DeLuca,” Jem said, sidling beside him and running her fingers through Hamish’s curls. “Besides, we both missed him something fierce. Mrs. Malone has offered to help where she can during the remainder of the case, as has Jasper’s mother. Indeed, it was the wonderful Mrs. Forth who arranged to pick up Hamish in London on a return trip from visiting her sister.”

  When the baby had been kissed, cuddled, and hugged by one and all and then tucked into bed in Mrs. Malone’s quarters behind the kitchen, the quartet settled comfortably into chairs. Merinda popped up to retrieve a bottle of champagne from the sideboard in the adjoining dining room and poured it into four flutes.

  Ray watched the bubbles pop and fizz through the amber liquid, while Jem tipped up a sip that tickled her nose.

  “You may think we are here to celebrate DeLuca’s well-deserved transfer to the Globe,” Merinda began. “Or Jasper’s foolish and rash decision to quit the police.”

  Jasper swallowed his champagne too quickly and choked. “A very optimistic way to put it.” He moved to clink glasses, but Merinda stalled him.

  “But we are toasting neither of those things.”

  “The glorious war effort?” Jem asked.

  “Too many auxiliary meetings for Merinda’s taste,” Ray quipped.

  “I had a very enlightened idea, and I wanted to show you the fruits of my labor.”†

  She rose and inclined her champagne glass. “You may notice something amiss in this room.”

  “Your blackboard is gone,” Ray surmised, wondering if he should forgo the toast and just taste the champagne.

  “Indeed, DeLuca, and in its stead is something I believe you and Jem will appreciate.”

  Jem rose slightly in her seat. “You have my interest.”

  “And mine,” Ray agreed.

  Merinda tugged the dust sheet away with the flair of a matador and then awaited the inevitable excitement that would follow the unveiling.

  The inevitable excitement, however, was not to be found on Jem’s and Ray’s stunned expressions.

  “What?” Merinda waved at the newly created sign reading Herringford and DeLuca in an ornamented font. “It’s the same specifications of the previous sign, just a little less weather-beaten and more reflective of our practice.”

  “Merinda…” Jem began. “I don’t know what…” She rose and threw her arms around Merinda’s neck. Merinda returned the embrace by patting her awkwardly on the head.

  “I think you should put the old sign back,” Ray said in a low voice.

  Merinda swerved to face Ray so quickly she sloshed the champagne in her glass. She locked eyes with him. “I will not sit here and let this city continue to praise Jem and me for establishing a symbol of feminine fortitude and resilience while treating others so abominably. Women like Heidi Mueller.” Her eyes drifted to the sign a moment and then went back to Ray. She waved to Jasper. “He helped!”

  Jasper nodded. “Merinda thinks we can all do better. For everyone.” He looked at Jem kindly. “And I agree.”

  “Why aren’t you saying anything, DeLuca?” Merinda chided. “I thought…”

  Ray exchanged a look with Jem and then focused on Merinda. “I always thought she should have one part of her life separate from me.”

  Jem shook her head, laughing softly. “Really? Ray, I can cite plenty of arguments we have had that contradict that statement.” She gave him a knowing wink. “That’s not how marriage works.”

  “I’m not finished, Jemima.” He cleared his throat. “I always thought it would protect you. That my name might hinder where you could go or what you could do.”

  “I won’t give into them, DeLuca.” Merinda stood her ground. “And neither should you. Your name and your voice recently found you a promotion you had dreamed about. Jem, you need to stop being something you are not.”

  Jem nodded. “I know.”

  “So a toast, finally?” Jasper rose extending his arm.

  “There is one thing I appreciate about the war,” Jasper said before biting into a lemon sandwich. “It’s been rather romantic to watch.”

  Merinda answered with a combination of vowels that failed to make up a proper word.

  “I am serious, Merinda. The ladies who see their young men off put in all the effort in the world. These young men are stepping into some brave frontier, and we cannot comprehend what awaits them, and they are rewarded by women who give them a picture to come home for.”

  “A picture to come home for,” Jem repeated softly. “I like that.”

  “The ladies do their hair and put on their Sunday best and wear flowers and…” Jasper sighed. “I just think it’s wonderful for those young men to know it’s worth it and they have that memory to carry. And all of our strict rules about propriety? Well, the Morality Squad can go hang the moment those young uniformed men take their best girl in their arms and give her a kiss…”

  Ray laughed.

  Merinda cocked her head to one side. “You’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about the war, Jasper Forth.”

  He shrugged. “It’s of interest to all of us these days.”

  “Indeed,” Merinda said evasively, setting down her half-finished champagne and watching Jasper with renewed interest.

  Jasper finished his sandwich.

  “I never want this to change.” Jem’s eyes glistened. “Us. Sitting here. Toasting. That gorgeous new sign. There is nothing better in all the world.”

  “Everything changes, Jemima,” Ray said quietly.

  “But I want to bottle this moment, Ray. Merinda giving Jasper a hard time! You admiring your new typewriter. When we are safe and we are here. And I worry that tomorrow or next week or next month I will be angry with myself for not holding on as tightly as I should have. For not clinging to and savoring every solitary second!”

  The mood decidedly changed. Jasper silently nibbled at another sandwich, while Ray inspected first his new Underwood and then the new sign. Jem dabbed at her eyes.

  “This is unbearable!” Merinda pierced the silence after a moment. “There have been so few opportunities for fun lately. Come, Jasper.” She took a sip of her champagne with gusto. “Let’s go into the sitting room, where I’ll beat you at checkers.”

  Merinda cheated her way through a round and then contentedly sighed. “I challenge you to another! Best two out of three.”

  “You’ll win three out of three if you keep cheating like that,” Jasper teased.

  Merinda didn’t hear him and concentrated on setting up the board for another match.

  “I passed my medical exam, Merinda.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Early this afternoon when you were finalizing things for our little soiree. I passed.”

  Merinda stared at him a moment, and then realization came over her face. Just as quickly she moved her eyes back to the checkerboard. “I don’t know why you’re telling me thi
s. Surely you don’t mean to enlist.”

  “I already have,” he said gravely.

  Merinda shook her head. Slowly at first, and then faster. “No. No, you didn’t. You didn’t consult with me.”

  “I’m no longer on the police force. I need to do something.”

  She shook her head a few more times, her curls bouncing in the firelight. “You said our world needed changing first. You said…”

  Jasper smiled ruefully, touched by her strong reaction. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “It’s not! I need someone to rely on… I need…”

  “You have Jem,” he reminded her gently.

  “I don’t have Jem for chemical experiments on Saturday afternoons. I don’t have her when she needs to go running after DeLuca and Hamish. You are my unconditional, Jasper.”

  He snapped at the opportunity and took her hand across the board. “Merinda, I will always be your unconditional.” He tightened his grip, and his eyes bored into hers. “I will always be there for you. You will always be the first thing in my life. What I am fighting for.” He smiled, the words he’d longed to say finally unfettered. “You know I love you. I have always loved you, and I always will. And I believe in you. As my equal. I believe in you because we are the same. We share a passion for truth and an innate sense of justice. When I am over there in those European fields, I will be willing to die daily if it means that your world will be a better place. A place where you can pursue anything you wish and be respected for the remarkable woman you are.”

  She shook her head. “No.” Her eyes glistened. “No, you can’t go. Jasper, I don’t want you to go.”

  “I can’t stay, but I will be yours. Forever, Merinda. It would take so little on your part. Everything on my own. I would tilt the world over if it meant you would be mine. I will come back. The slightest word will make me face anything with a strength only you can give me.” He tightened his hold. While her knuckles were white, she didn’t pull away.

  “Jasper, if only…”

  “You hang the moon for me. But what’s more, you’re my dearest, dearest friend. There is no one I can talk or laugh with the way I can with you.” He leaned forward, and though his breath on the tendrils of her bobbed hair made them move in a whisper across her cheek, she didn’t pull away. “Merinda, I have saved money. For you… for a life… when I get back.”

  “I have my father’s money,” she said weakly.

  “But you don’t need it. Do you see how happy Jem and Ray make each other?”

  Merinda couldn’t say anything without stepping on dynamite. “Jasper, I just can’t be the woman you need. And I never, ever will be. Never be one of those girls you talked about that you can use to paint a picture in your mind.” She rose, almost tipping the board with the sudden movement. “But that doesn’t mean I will let you go.”

  “You say that now—”

  “No more!”

  “I’m persistent, Merinda.”

  “I know. It’s one of the many things I admire about you.” She slumped in the direction of the dining room, where she could hear Jem and Ray’s quiet laughter rippling in the low light.

  * Ray DeLuca.

  † Read: Merinda picked up the telephone and dialed a carpenter.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Cases are meant to confound us. If they were tied into neat, predictable bows, the clever detective would have nothing on which to cut his deductive teeth. In order to better learn about the world around us and to better understand the hidden depths of ourselves, we have to be foiled, to come to a fork in the road, to be muddled. It is only as we work through the tenets of uncertainty that we are able to truly understand the experience gained from moments of confusion.

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

  Merinda shot and reloaded and shot and reloaded, and at the swooshing of each bullet, a piece of her was reconciled. She imagined him: the faceless person, the white feather murderer who had preyed on her friends, and she imagined hitting him on impact. The sour-faced overseer was visibly impressed by Merinda’s efforts but kindly chided her to take the rest of the morning off to save powder for the other participants and for the greater war at large. Merinda saw the first crack of a smile on the coarse woman’s pasty face.

  “It’s not just your accuracy,” the overseer said. “It’s the confidence in your bearing. If the enemy saw you, they might take one look at the steel glint in your eyes and run for cover!”

  The rifle fell to Merinda’s side. She stared after the overseer a moment and then turned to Jem. “ ‘What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence,’” Merinda said, quoting Holmes. “ ‘The question is what you can make people believe you have done.’”

  “I’m working to be proficient enough to blast the initials V.R. into our sitting room, much as Sherlock Holmes did at Baker Street,” Jem said proudly, raising the rifle to her shoulder.

  “You’re improving,” the overseer said.

  Once they finished at the range, Jem stretched. “Rib is getting better every day!” she announced. “And there’s something about this—about our practice here, hoisting a rifle over my shoulder that makes me believe I can do anything.”

  Merinda chewed on this a moment. “And what is ‘anything’?”

  Jem shrugged easily. “Finish settling. Invite my parents to tea. Make them see how my life really is and how I have made a home for myself, albeit a nontraditional one. Maybe I could tuck all my insecurities behind the door when they arrived, just like I do with the gun! Maybe I could straighten my shoulders and make them believe, as Holmes says, that I am something that…”

  Merinda grabbed Jem’s arm so tightly that her friend’s sentence cut off. “And it will be more than a question of what you can make them believe you have done,” Merinda paraphrased. “Jem, that’s it!”

  “Pardon?”

  “What you can make people believe you have done.”

  “You’re speaking in riddles, Merinda. Otherwise it’s your golden moment. Either way, they are interchangeable and—”

  “When is our meeting with Lady Adelaide?” Merinda consulted the timepiece attached to her shirtwaist.

  “Not for another hour.”

  “We don’t have an hour to lose!” Merinda announced, returning their rifles to storage and dragging Jemima through the range and out to the street. A short taxi ride later, they arrived at Sir Henry and Lady Adelaide’s grand estate.

  Pelham Park courted the sunny day well. Bright rays shone over the manicured lawn, and the many gleaming windows in the mansion’s turrets beautifully mirrored the cloudless sky’s reflection.

  Merinda and Jem crossed over the tiles as they followed the maid into the library. Jem gasped at volumes and volumes settled cozily on dark mahogany shelves, while Merinda’s eyes drank in the gleaming rifles and swords ornamenting the library, her gaze ever upward even as women lowered themselves into red-leather chairs.

  “So pleased you could come early.” Lady Adelaide smiled kindly at them. “I would have received you in the conservatory, but we have a fellow working on the indoor swimming pool. Some form of water sanitization, and the smell is something pungent. Here we have dark coolness. The perfect place to conspire.” She gave them a friendly wink. “And fear not, Miss Herringford. I have been assured that our illustrious peacock is restrained.”

  Jem made a noise between a cough and a snort.

  Lady Pelham pretended not to hear her. “When our construction is finished, I will ensure you have a tour. My husband has hired Canada’s most prominent architects from Montreal to oversee the completion of a second building of sorts. You see, underneath Pelham Park is a tunnel that leads through the coal stores, but then further still to a staircase that leads up to a grand structure and garages the distance of a few city blocks away.”

  Jem emitted an interested “ahh…”

  Merinda didn’t seem to hear at all. “And what are we conspiring about today?” she asked, eyeing
the many-tiered tray displaying numerous delicacies a maid carried in, while another with pristine gloves poured strong-looking coffee into their cups.

  “Miss Herringford, I hear you are quite fond of Turkish coffee.”

  “I am!” Merinda said, her eyes as round as saucers, greedily watching her china cup filled with dark liquid.

  “I wondered if you had ever tried Viennese coffee. My husband special orders it.” Lady Pelham waved an inviting hand, and Merinda raised the cup to her lips.

  She closed her eyes as the strong, bitter tang washed over her taste buds and lingered on her tongue. There was an almost burnt aftertaste, reminiscent of the Turkish coffee she was so fond of, but with a slightly different note.

  “That is delicious!” she exclaimed.

  “I am having Cook package some of it for you to take home. As a little thank-you for all of your assistance.”

  “We feel we could do more,” Jem said. “We have been canvassing with the other women, and we think we have been able to raise as much as anyone for the hospital ship, but with more and more men shipping out every day…” Jem didn’t need to finish her sentence. All three knew the ramifications of a city drained of able young men. Sons, husbands, fathers. Would their city become a tap of men that drained away to the faraway fields of Europe, never to return?

  Lady Adelaide sighed in acknowledgment and then began to list several of the ideas she had. Everything from tearing bandages to knitting socks.

  “Lady Adelaide,” Merinda said, interrupting her.

  “Hmm?” Lady Adelaide’s attention was still on Jem, her fingers still splayed, counting off some of the budgetary results of the last auxiliary meeting.

  “Might I freshen up?”

  “Of course, my dear. You will find the facilities at the end of the hall.”

  Merinda gave Jem a quick nod, and Jem continued holding Lady Adelaide’s attention with questions about the war effort. Like an overturned vessel, Lady Adelaide’s desire to speak of all of her grand ideas would likely spill for several minutes, especially when prompted by Jemima’s interest and enthusiasm.