A Singular and Whimsical Problem Read Online Free PDF Page B

hesitant to leave. She kept looking around.
    The chimes jangled and a figure commanded the entire room, smiling broadly and striding across the dining area to the back room. “Now there’s a familiar face,” Jasper said under his breath. “Clinton Walters.”
    I wondered if Merinda was thinking what I was. This was the affluent man whose cat had gone missing. The cat whose picture was in Melanie’s trunk.
    â€œHe isn’t eating up front?” Merinda asked.
    â€œI shouldn’t expect so. Walters owns the place. Bought it three months ago.”
    Merinda’s eyes narrowed. She bid Jasper an abrupt farewell and left him finishing the last sandwich. I scurried to follow her.
    â€œWe’ll get Kat and Mouse to trail him,” Merinda was saying as I caught up with her. “From Jenny’s story this morning, I think it is quite obvious the business he is running at the Yellow Rose is far from ethical.”
    â€œAnd the cat?”
    Merinda shrugged and said no more.
    At the corner of King and Spadina we caught up with a familiar figure approaching our flat. Martha Kingston—rigged out in a black-and-white checked suit and a cunning little cap. She smiled broadly when she saw us, and we ushered her into our sitting room.
    â€œI was hoping you’d be home,” she said as we divested ourselves of our outerwear. “I came across some information that I thought might be of use to you. At least, I hope it’s helpful. I certainly found it interesting.”
    Merinda and I leaned in. Before us on the table she was laying out a series of records from the Women’s Courts.
    â€œHow did you get these?”
    â€œThat bailiff happened to be sitting next to me at a diner. It’s amazing what sources you can unearth when you know the right people to flatter.” She gave a smirk that was not at all professional.
    Merinda was visibly impressed.
    â€œHere, look at these.” Martha pointed a finger first at one page, then another. “Every case here was presided over by Judge Abernathy.”
    Merinda and I looked over the contents together. “And signed off by Chief Inspector Henry Tipton,” I noted.
    â€œHe’s from Station Four, I believe. Jasper has mentioned him,” said Merinda.
    â€œEvery woman tried by Judge Abernathy is sentenced almost exclusively to St. Jerome’s,” said Martha. “They’re quite a pair, that Tipton and Abernathy.”
    â€œLook!” Something else caught my eye. I scooped up a sheet of paper and pointed. “Melanie!”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œMelanie LaCroix,” Merinda explained to Martha. “We met her at the court yesterday. She was sent to St. Jerome’s for stealing from her employer.”
    â€œAllegedly,” I put in.
    â€œAllegedly. But look who her employer was!” Merinda pointed a long finger at the page, and Martha and I both leaned in.
    Martha gave a low whistle.
    â€œJudge Abernathy!” I exclaimed. “Her accuser was the judge ? Why, it can’t be legal.”
    â€œCertainly it’s not legal,” said Martha. “This is a ghastly business.”
    Merinda bit her lip and squinted at the bottom of the page she was examining. Then the telephone in the kitchen clanged and Merinda dashed to get it. It wasn’t long before she returned, pale as a ghost.
    â€œThat was Mabel. The matron called from St. Jerome’s. Jenny’s gone missing.”

Five
    Gone missing. One thing was clear: We had to get to the bottom of this business, and soon.
    Merinda and I were glad of the freedom our disguises gave us—particularly when we were clad in our favorite bowler hats and trousers—while knowing that if the Morality Squad ever got its clutches into us, they would breathe a sigh of relief as they clamped us away. But now we seemed to be sidestepping an even greater danger, one that saw women stolen from their homes.
    The easiest prey