A Singular and Whimsical Problem Read Online Free PDF

the way we found it.
    â€œWhat are we looking for, exactly?” I asked Merinda.
    â€œWe’ll know it when we see it,” she said.
    But all we found were keepsakes and knickknacks. A few pairs of silk stockings as well as an old pink garter. Nothing out of the ordinary.
    I had let Merinda get a few trunks ahead of me, and something had evidently caught her eye. She motioned me over in dramatic whisper.
    â€œJemima!”
    I shuffled over and leaned down.
    â€œLook. Melanie’s effects.”
    A few letters in French, smelling of rose and soft with wear at the edges. A cameo of a brother or beau. Her initials embroidered on the lid of a jar of potpourri and a sketch of a black cat. A cat with a missing ear.
    â€œPepper.”

Four
    Constable Jasper Forth was stationed at King and Yonge, his regular beat. The wind was whistling sharply but he seemed warm enough in his regulation overcoat, kid leather gloves, and bright blue constabulary hat. We watched from the corner as he flipped his traffic sign back and forth, signaling to the jingling horse-drawn carts and Model Ts as they jostled for road space on Yonge.
    â€œWell, well.” He smiled and saluted us when we finally had an opportunity to dash across the street.
    â€œHello, Jasper!”
    He continued waving and leading traffic, holding out his Stop and Yield sign to prevent clash and chaos. It seemed the entire town was out in a hubbub of Christmas shopping and seasonal spirit. From Spenser’s we could hear a brass band playing old favorites.
    â€œWhat can I do for you ladies?”
    â€œWhat can you tell us about the Yellow Rose?” asked Merinda. “It’s a café on… ”
    â€œOn Queen East,” said Jasper. “I can tell you plenty. Better, I can show you. My relief is here in about ten minutes.” He glanced at the pocket watch chained to the breast of his uniform. “Can you wait?”
    We peeked in and around the large Spenser’s window displays and took in the laughing children and passing pedestrians. Soon enough, Jasper joined us and we headed west.
    It didn’t take us long to arrive. The street was respectable but not affluent. We passed a number of small restaurants and tearooms on the way to the Yellow Rose.
    â€œMost of these”—Jasper inclined his head toward one—“are justtearooms. Pastries and the sort. A nice place for respectable young women to lunch. And by respectable young women I am not looking at you, Merinda.” Merinda harrumphed . “But some of them are a front. Opium, liquor joints, and—ahem—congregations for particular services that employ women in the world’s oldest profession.”
    â€œYou couldn’t fit more euphemisms into that sentence if you tried.” Merinda, intrigued, was looking through the bright, clear window to the checkered tablecloths and pert iron chairs inside.
    â€œAnd over here’s the Yellow Rose,” said Jasper. “It may have cleaned up its act. But a year ago August, we had it shut down for over a month. I didn’t see the end of the investigation, but Jones told me that there wasn’t enough to go on. That usually means someone was rich enough to purchase a loophole.” He shrugged. “Why don’t we go in for a bite of lunch? I’m freezing and I could use a hot cup of tea.”
    Settled, Jasper used an empty chair to position his discarded police hat and ran his fingers through his thick hair. I ordered cream teas for all of us with a plate of extra sandwiches for Jasper. While we sipped, Merinda’s cat eyes patrolled the tearoom.
    It seemed much smaller on the inside than it had appeared from the street, Merinda was quick to observe. Jasper and I figured a kitchen and perhaps laundry and storage compensated for this strange illusion. Still, I could see Merinda itching to discover the hidden world of the Yellow Rose.
    We finished our lunch, but Merinda seemed