Free The Bachelor Girl's Guide to Murder by Rachel McMillan

what was happening on the periphery. Montague’s band was cracking down harder than ever on enforcing laws curtailing women’s freedoms. Women were warned not to set foot alone on the city streets as the sun ducked away and autumn drew colder.
    Merinda was particularly keen on observing the bylines of one Gavin Crawley, star reporter at the Globe and one of the Morality Squad’s most vocal advocates. Crawley was a striking contrast to DeLuca. His paper was conservative, well-respected, and, to many Torontonians, the only one worth consulting. But it turned Merinda’s stomach to read his diatribes on “female incorrigibility” and hisongoing belief that unmarried women were filtering into the city to entice respectable men.
    Merinda and Jem knew from their investigations in the Ward that these sentiments were making conditions difficult on honest workingwomen. How could they stay indoors after dark when night fell before they were released from their shifts? How could they get home without a cloud of suspicion falling on them for being out at night? Many walked together in huddled groups, looking around like agitated bunnies as they skittered to streetcars or dashed across streets to reach their homes.
    Such were Jem’s musings as she walked home from Spenser’s one evening. The days were growing colder, and it was with a sense of relief that she found herself back at King Street. She hung up her coat and scarf and retreated to the sitting room, where Merinda sat with a fresh pot of tea—and Tippy.
    â€œTippy?” said Jem, brushing the snowflakes out of her hair. “I didn’t know you were coming for dinner tonight. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have walked together.”
    Merinda was all business. “Jem, Tippy tells me that her sister, Brigid, might know something about the Corktown Murders.”
    Jem stared. That someone she’d worked beside for so long might have a connection with those murders was upsetting. “Tippy? Is this true?”
    Tippy shrugged shyly. “Brigid’s been getting strange notes from an anonymous source. And I… well, I worry that she might be the next target.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me at work?” Jem asked, sharing a look with Merinda.
    â€œI was scared. I didn’t know what to do. But when I saw your ad… ” Tippy trembled. “Well, I thought maybe you could help.”
    Merinda stood and paced in front of the fire. “You knew Fiona and Grace,” Merinda murmured thoughtfully.
    â€œWe all lived in the same boardinghouse. And Grace worked with my sister. With Brigid.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œThe King Edward hotel. In the laundry.” Tippy reached into her handbag and extracted a sheet of paper. Upon it were several threats, formed in cut-and-paste fashion from what appeared to be an assortment of periodicals.
    â€œHow curious!” Merinda exclaimed.
    â€œI want them to stop,” Tippy said. “Brigid’s scared. I’m scared. Whoever is sending these knows where we work and where we live.” A tear pricked her green eye and started a slow descent down her pale, freckled cheek.
    Jem offered Tippy a handkerchief. “Now, now, you’ve come to the right place. We’ll get this all sorted.”
    Merinda growled. “Stop your sniveling, Tippy. And Jem, stop encouraging her! Take your handkerchief back! Now, Tippy, how many letters has your sister received?”
    â€œA dozen,” Tippy said. “This is the most recent one, but here: I’ve brought them all.” She extracted a small stack of letters from her bag.
    Merinda’s nose scrunched up as she read. The notes spoke to Brigid’s close relationship with Fiona and Grace and warned her to keep her mouth shut, not to ask any questions.
    â€œShe always receives them at work?” Merinda asked.
    â€œJust before the end of the day.”
    Merinda smiled. “I know