A Lesson in Love and Murder (31 page)

“We do what we can, Jasper.” Merinda exhaled, spread her arms. “And how wonderful that we are on the same side.”

For Toronto was not far from them. Even now. All that they had seen in this strange new city still took them back home. Merinda knew that the greatest fight of her life would see her pitted against the very infrastructure of the city she loved. Her home. It made her tick. It made her strong. How could it feed such dissension with tentacles that stretched beyond the boundaries of its own corruption?

Jasper was thoughtfully nodding and smiling and then nodding again. This time with a dash more exuberance. “And there are others who want to protect this. That want to see our city as an open door for everyone. Every life as something special and to be treasured.”

“You're on the brink of something aren't you?” Merinda gave a slow, Cheshire cat grin.

Amid the half-packed suitcases and in the middle of the grandest hotel room Jasper Forth would ever set foot in, he had an epiphany that was destined to change the course of their lives forever.
*
“Of a discovery. Like a great old explorer you read about in history books. Like, like Cartier!”

Merinda chuckled. “Well aye, aye then, Cartier!” She looped her arm with his and they stared at a horizon that was not sea melded with sky, rather ornate wallpaper and polished gold wall sconces. “Let's change our world!”

Jem begged to go with him, but Ray told her she had been through enough for one day and he didn't want her upset. He took the last of the money Hedgehog had given him and used it to put Jemima in a cab back to the Palmer House. His conscience nicked at him. Dirty money from a dirty cause and even dirtier greed. Greed that saw two men dead. Dead for no reason.

Ray knew Viola would be waiting. Waiting for word. That she'd keep checking the clock and chewing her fingernails and hoping. That she'd wring her lovely hands and take a moment to ensure that Luca hadn't roused in his sleep.

She'd rub each bead on her rosary again and again. Maybe look to an old photograph of their mother with a rueful smile. Say several prayers.

Ray couldn't keep his hand from shaking. He shoved it deep in his pocket to no avail. Then he clenched it and unclenched it. The first streaks of sunset ribboned the sky as he slowly took the last weighty steps to Viola's door.

He knew he looked terrible: ashen face, bloodstained trousers, matted hair, bleary eyes. But he was tired. And numb somehow. He walked through to her small kitchen table.

“Is he in jail then? Is he? How long, Ray, how long?” Viola's hands were clenched so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Sit down, Vi,” he said softly.

She shook her head, paced some more. “No. I can't. Not until I know.” She looked him over, and then she knelt in front of him. “You're hurt. Ray, what is this?” She felt at a stain on his shirt he hadn't noticed. “Is this blood?”

Ray nodded. He couldn't meet her eyes. Tears pricked at them, and the room, already stifling and small, smothered him even more.

“I was too late. When I got there, Tony had already murdered a man, Viola.”

Viola shook her head. “N-no. It can't be. Tony doesn't kill. Tony… ”

“But he did, Viola. He killed a man. For money. Then… ”

“You come here to tell me that they will hang him!” She went from kneeling to sitting on the floor. “Ray, you… ”

“No. It's too late for that.” Ray's voice was dead as he watched her heart break in her eyes.

“Y-you mean… ”

Ray couldn't look directly at her, so he focused on a crack in the wall just above her shoulder. Focused, even though his eyes kept
drifting back to the ribbon at the end of her carefully tied braid. Yet one more token of home. A gift from Nona.

His first instinct was to lie. For her. He could still protect her then. Still be the person she turned to. He could coax her back to Toronto and take care of Luca and provide for her. The moment the truth slipped out, she would build a wall he might never be able to break. He would do it for her. Just one lie. One she might easily believe. Or he could change the story. Make it about Jem.
Tony was going to kill Jem and
… She would understand then. She often chided him on how he did not know what it was like to love. He could explain it to her. Easily. Instead…

“Tony had a knife to Jasper Forth's neck, and I shot him.” He startled the tears from her and she sat stagnant, unmoving. “I killed him, Viola. It was me.” He slowly took his hand out of his pocket. It didn't tremble anymore. It fell onto his lap limply, Tony's blood still on it. “I pulled the trigger of his gun and fired.”

Viola fell back, horrified. “I don't believe you.”

“It's true, Viola.”

“Get out of my house.”

“And leave you here? With Luca? You have no one to support you, Viola. I hate that I… what happened, but you have to let me make this right for you.”

“You will never see me again. Or Luca.”

Ray reached into his pocket. “I will send you money, Vi. You're hurt. You have every right. But you'll see that… ”

She shoved the handful of bills away. “I would rather starve than take money from you. Be turned on the street. I will take nothing from you. You murdered my husband. You murdered your friend. You're a murderer.”

Ray flinched. The words came slowly. “Viola, I know it's hard for you to forgive what I… ”

“Forgive? I will never forgive you. Never. Nothing Tony ever did or could have done to me could ever hurt me as much as you have now. You will never see me or Luca again.” She slowly rose. “Please leave my home.”

“Viola… ”

“Get out!” she screamed, flinging her hand in the direction of the door.

At her raised voice, a rustle could be heard beyond the flimsy partition separating the living spaces. Viola didn't seem to care.

“I will not just leave you, Viola.” He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to him and finally was able to look into her sorrowful eyes through the tears in his own. “I am all you have. You are my family. Be angry with me! But let me help you. I will not be able to live with myself if you are here starving. If Luca is here starving… ”

“And yet you can live with the fact that you killed a man?”

“Viola, we need each other. Please.”

“No. I don't need you. I needed him. I needed a husband. Luca needed a father. You have taken away everything I needed. And nothing you can offer me will ever replace that.”

“We are family, Vi… ”

“I have a family. I have Luca.” She pointed toward the door again. “I have no brother. Leave my house.”

*
About which much more anon, in another story.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

The law is our central force. But it does not account for men acting upon their conscience. In these instances, empathy and the promise of a fair trial are as integral to your duty as the capture and imprisonment of a suspect.

Benfield Citrone and Jonathan Arnasson,
Guide to the Canadian Wilderness

A
s they screeched into Toronto, Jasper wondered if the events of the last few days had all been something he dreamed. Things had happened so quickly. Reporters had found him out, and he answered them in perfunctory sentences and gave Merinda credit. She'd be the talk of Toronto, he was sure. Stopping an assassination attempt on the president, with a Mountie at that. That should help her detective business greatly. Ray had his own stories too. He hadn't said two words to anyone on the journey home. Instead, he sat with knees folded to his chest scribbling in his notebook. He didn't even look up at Jem, who spent the whole of the trip staring out the window, absentmindedly fingering the bandage at the back of her head.

Benny and Merinda spoke in whispered tones on a seat across the aisle. Sharing something Jasper would never be a part of. An experience he would never hope to understand.

Finally, after a painfully long night, the conductor called Toronto and they screeched into Union Station. Jasper watched Benny Citrone hoist his pack up on his shoulder and ask an attendant for the telephone.

“Citrone, come with me. Don't pay those exorbitant fees. I'll let
you use the one at the station. I have paperwork to do anyway.” He smiled. “And a lot of explaining to do to Chief Tipton.”

Benny followed him with a grin.

“I am terribly sorry about Jonathan,” Jasper said as the taxi swerved in front of the station house. “This entire adventure hit too close to home for everyone.”

“I know Jonathan was sad about the death of that young Officer Jones,” Benny said in return as Jasper led him up the stairs to the station house. They stalled a moment. “You know that Jones died in the line of duty.”

“I do know that.” Jasper cleared his throat.

“And we are men of the law. An honor of and commitment to our duty is the grandest thing we have.”

Jasper smiled sadly, turning the doorknob and leading Benny past quizzical eyes and the commotion of the day to his corner office. Once they were inside, he motioned for Benny to sit and asked if he should have a young officer bring tea. Benny shook his head.

“Two men have died because of me,” Jasper said. “First Jones and then Tony Valari.” Jasper ran a hand over his tired, ashen face. “I am not sure how to live with that kind of choice on my behalf.”

“In that much we are the same, Jasper Forth.”

Jasper rose, smiled at Benny, and extended his hand. “It was a sincere pleasure, Citrone.”

“And you as well, Detective Constable Forth.”

Jasper turned once more, with two fingers to his forehead in a slight salute, before leaving the office in pursuit of Chief Tipton.

The first voice Benny heard after he dialed the Regina detachment's exchange number was his superior's secretary. A moment later and he was speaking to the staff sergeant himself.

“Citrone!” the man's voice was gruff but kind, Benny thought. “Rotten business about your cousin.”

“He saved my life, sir. He was still the Jonathan we knew; he just chose a different path, and… ”

“Enough. It does not do to dwell on his weakness. Rather, we
should remember his strength. He was a singular person, Citrone. He did a great deed by ensuring you were able to come back to us.”

Benny felt an anvil lift from his chest.

“How's your kit looking?” The staff sergeant had a one-track mind.

“I will be presentable,” Benny said, not knowing quite how he would be, but determined nonetheless. “I'm looking forward to seeing you, sir.”

“Fort Glenbow eagerly awaits your return. But perhaps you would do us the kindness of traversing there via Regina? You can see to the rest of your cousin's effects, and I can commend you for upholding our good name even as you pursued American anarchists without jurisdiction.”

Benny couldn't hide the smile in his voice. “Yes, sir. But, sir… ”

“Yes?”

Benny envisioned the farm. His mother. His aunt. A chance at reconciliation and to tell them about Jonathan. To let them know the truth beyond any press or stories. Jonathan: a hero. “First, I want to go home.”