Free A Lesson in Love and Murder by Rachel McMillan

settee in her little mismatched parlor, her head throbbing something fierce, her heart clutched in a tight bind she couldn’t name. Finally, she rose and went up the stairs.
    She opened a trunk and began folding in corsets and stockings, dresses and stays, shoes and trousers over the lavender scented paper, tucking clothes carefully, at once prim and lace, coarse and tweed.
    She inspected her dressing table and found that Ray’s pocket watch, a memento as valuable to her as her wedding ring, did not occupy its usual space.
    An hour later, Mrs. Malone was helping her settle into her old room. Little familiarities surrounded her—lavender in a vase, a cameo, a few dress patterns, a favorite quilt, a forgotten notebook and pen.
    Still tired from the ordeal of the evening before and her head throbbing worse than before, she enjoyed a nap in her old, comfortable bed. Upon rising, she noticed that the sun was slanting more brightly through the window, marking midday. Voices rose from the front room. She checked her hair in the mirror and readjusted the small bandage.
    In the sitting room, she found Merinda and Skip.
    â€œJem! I didn’t know you were back,” Merinda cried. Skip stood and gave her a quick nod as she lowered herself to the settee. “Skip was just doing a first-rate job of an interview.”
    Jem looked between them. “I got the oddest note from Ray. He’s gone.”
    â€œGone where?” Merinda asked.
    â€œTo Chicago. Something about Viola and Tony.”
    â€œChicago!” Skip repeated.
    â€œHe’s going to find Tony. He doesn’t know when he’ll be back.”
    â€œSkip here will be perfecting more than his interviewing skills. Why, he’ll have several more jobs at the paper,” Merinda said lightly, even while her face shaded with concern.
    â€œI have to go.” Skip suddenly slapped his hands on his knees.
    â€œBut we weren’t finished,” Merinda protested.
    â€œI have more than enough. Remember that it’s not just your perspective I was assigned to get. McCormick is out interviewing a few of Goldman’s followers, and I am charged with seeing Mrs. Goldman herself.”
    â€œHow exciting,” Merinda said without even the slightest attempt to hide her disappointment.
    Jem was too deflated to even force a smile.
    â€œIt will be in the Hog tomorrow,” Skip said, rising and tucking his notebook in his pocket. “If there is a Hog .” He shrugged into the coat Mrs. Malone provided at Merinda’s bidding. “Funny, you never really realize how much Mr. DeLuca does until you think of how you’ll need to do it in his absence.” He tipped his hat at Jem. “I’m sure he’ll find his way back soon.”
    Jem muttered something that almost sounded like an affirmative.
    When Skip was gone, Jem moved to the seat adjacent Merinda. “He just left a note,” she told Merinda with a sigh. “It was the sort of note he would have left for Skip or McCormick. It was so cold.”
    Merinda chewed her lip. “That isn’t like him.”
    â€œI know. And he never wanted me to go to the Goldman rally. He’s not vindictive enough to hold a grudge for that, though.”
    Merinda put up a restraining hand. “That’s not why he left, Jem. And it’s not why he didn’t put more in the note. He was in a hurry.” She rose, crossed to the bureau, and returned with the slip of paper she found at the Hog . “I went to his office after the rally. I wanted to see if there was anything about the trolley explosions that DeLuca hadn’t told us about. I knew something was wrong because his desk was all upturned. I think he must have received a call from his sister, jotted all of this down”—she pointed to the middle of the paper—“and dashed straight home to leave you a note and catch the first train.”
    â€œTony infuriates me,” Jem said,