Author's Note: What would happen if each character, William, Julia, George and Thomas made just one significant choice that altered the stream of their life?—But Fate would still inevitably, inexorably bring them together anyway? How would they be different and how would they still be the same? How would Toronto police work be different without the influence of William Murdoch and Inspector Brackenreid?
What if: William attends Seminary after all but still leaves before his final vows. What if: Julia drops out of medical school and marries the man who impregnates her (and loses the baby); What if: Thomas is persuaded to join Margaret's father's plumbing business? What if: George follows one of his aunties to Toronto and opens an Inn?
Set in the same turn of the century Toronto, but a slightly different timeline/universe…. How will our heroes fare? Enjoy the mystery and the twist.
Anything in the story that flows well or is grammatically/historically correct is due to my wonderful beta reader on this one— Thank you to I'd BeDelighted for your insight and red pencil! Any errors I claim as mine alone. Thank you also "Dutch" & "46-Her."
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Mystery at Flower Inn
Prologue
It was young Mr. 'Red' who ultimately picked 'Daisy' up after getting her coat around her shoulders, and hustled her towards the hallway exit, away from the damp and stuffy chamber where their ceremony had been conducted. Her retching made the boys nervous as well as nauseous, and one or the other of them kept hushing her distress—to no avail. Above their heads, organ music thundered in the lower register for the closing "amen" to the school hymn, followed by a brief pause before Alexander Muir's anthem began.
"In days of yore, from Britain's shore, Wolfe, the dauntless hero came…"
Fortunately Muir's tune and accompanying voices covered up the clattering noise of the students' progress through the warren of basement archways, but also signaled the ending of Chapel and dismissal of school for Christmas break. This made the quartet of boys even more anxious to flee before anyone discovered what they had been doing.
"Shut her up!" 'Terrie', dark and small, hissed to 'Red' and then appealed to 'Daisy's' brother. "DO something or we will be caught," he whined. "What if Mr. Murdoch …"
'Fish' pushed the last hallway door open and held it for the others, catching a worried glance from 'Bean's' face. "No one will miss us. They are all absorbed in getting ready to go home, even the Masters are wool-gathering. No one will care. Sommerbank Academy of Toronto has a proud tradition of secrets—secret clubs, secret deals, and the hazing of one day-student will not register to anyone," 'Fish' assured his companions. "Besides, we agreed, even 'Daisy'."
"Why is she so sick?" 'Red' asked angrily, his face flushing red. "We did not agree to that!"
"Relax, relax. We will get her home, make some excuse. She won't say anything about this or anything else now."
They exited the building next to the Chapel's colourful windows depicting St. George's exploits. "God save the Queen and Heaven bless, the Maple Leaf forever!" vibrated through the glass into the cold air. Snow was fluttering down from a steel-grey sky, accumulating on the grass. 'Daisy' gasped and begged 'Red' to put her down, fighting his arms around her.
"I feel awful. None of you are sick…" She swayed on her feet and clutched at her brother.
'Red' held up her other side. "You wanted in—now you are in. You swore the oath like we did. Now shut it and we'll take you home." 'Fish' and 'Bean' shared a look of satisfaction. The other two boys, so proud of themselves an hour ago at the prank they were pulling off, wavered in enthusiasm a bit.
'Fish' studied his peers and made a calculated adjustment. "We are in this together, gentlemen. All equally "in" so to speak. Our only loyalty is to each other now. Let's get you two home," he said pointing to brother and sister, "and have a nice holiday, shall we?"
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Chapter 1
Johnny Brackenreid opened the door of the Flower Inn as a courtesy for his tutor, having learned that he must defer to his elders and betters. William Murdoch thanked the youngster and preceded him through a tiled foyer into the warm common room of the Inn, the both of them stamping accumulated snow from their feet.
"Mr. Murdoch!" the proprietor called out pleasantly from behind a polished serving bar. "How goes it out there? Starting to remind me of Newfoundland, I reckon!" He was unpacking a carton of glassware from its sawdust, admiring the glistening pint, tankard and shot sizes that were being set up on the bar.
"Mr. Crabtree! I think if you check the barometer I installed, it is falling, and fast." He took off his homburg and slapped it against his leg to divest it of more snow and turned to his young companion after surveying the high-ceilinged room. "Master Brackenreid, since I do not see your father yet, perhaps you would like to warm up by the fire with some cider?" He paused. "My treat."
Johnny was not about to argue, especially if Mr. Murdoch was paying, a rare occurrence indeed. Even more especially if there were going to be no more math lessons accompanying the warm drink; his twelve-year-old head was stuffed full of numbers as it was, the bane of his existence. His blonde head bobbed eagerly. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!" Johnny shook out his own coat and hung it on a wall peg, before gratefully accepting a mug of cider from Mr. Crabtree and settling into his usual spot near the fire to wait. He retrieved a book from his satchel to pass the time until he was collected for their trip to his aunt's house. Intrigued by people, as always, he also watched the comings and goings of lodgers and wayfarers from his anonymous bench tucked in close by the hearth, next to a pair of sleeping dogs.
William removed his own coat and scarf, approaching his landlord at the bar. "What have you, George?" he asked as he accepted his mail. He was pleased to see another patent royalty cheque peeking out among the offerings.
The landlord's gentle face split into a huge grin, as he selected from his own stack of envelopes and raised one. "Well, right here I have a letter from my editor telling me my newest story is going to be serialized in some magazine out of Chicago. Imagine that, all the way in Chicago!"
"Quite excellent, George. Perhaps one day you can make your entire living from your writing." He smiled back and dropped his voice further. "Although I admit I still wish you would pay more attention to the details for accuracy's sake….?"
Familiar with the complaint, George paid it no never-mind. "That's why I have you to keep me honest, no? Besides a good story needs, shall we say, creative fancy more than anything else."
William kept his disagreement to himself as he did not wish to argue the point, again. Truth be told he was not fond of fiction of any kind, but admitted his landlord had an overly abundant supply of imagination. He finished glancing at his post and asked, "Have you seen Jack or his sister? I lost track of them at Chapel. By the time I collected my belongings and closed my office after tutoring, they were nowhere to be found." His voice showed exasperation. "He was supposed to bring her home."
"As a matter of fact, I have." George Crabtree pointed towards the dining room, where four teen-aged students, clad in school uniforms, were hunched over a table. "They brought her here about twenty minutes ago. Jack took her up to her room. Brother and sister were arguing, again."
William sighed and his brown gaze narrowed. These were exactly the four students missing from Chapel along with Marguerite Brown. He strode over to confront them. "Mr. Gillies, Mr. York, Mr. Auburn and Mr. Brown," he called out, and was gratified that at least three of them jumped a little in nervousness, before scraping back their chairs to stand and greet him in return.
"Mr. Murdoch, good afternoon. We were just commenting on the weather," James Gillies offered. "Won't you join us, sir?" His smooth, dark blonde hair fell over his forehead, and his baby-face smiled as he gestured to an available seat, much to the horror of Misters Auburn and York, William noted.
"No thank you, gentlemen, I am more interested in why you were not at Chapel. An explanation, please if you will?" William waited expectantly, observing their hesitation in answering.
"Marguerite became sick, Mr. Murdoch. The boys helped me bring my sister home, that is all," Jack said. "She was embarrassed and did not want to interrupt the programme. I think she is sleeping now."
"I see. In that case, thank you for your chivalry. Mr. York, Mr. Auburn, do your parents know of your whereabouts? And Mr. Gillies, your house-master?" William inquired, not completely satisfied by the youngsters' alleged altruism.
Joseph Auburn cleared his throat and answered. "It is not even quarter to five, sir. We have until half past six before we are picked up at school, and James has special permission." He looked his teacher in the eye, hoping, it seemed, to escape being dismissed.
William wondered if Joseph was developing an interest in Marguerite, and wanted to linger a while in case he could talk with her. As protective as William was of Marguerite, age 16, and Jack age 18, since he had been loco parentis for them these past three years, he was aware they were growing up and would soon be on their own and he felt ill-prepared for either of them engaging in the business of courting. He harrumphed in his own head: If I can't figure it out for myself, how can I possibly guide them?
"Indeed. Gentlemen, if you will excuse me?" William said and crossed to the adjacent staircase to walk upstairs to his rooms on the second floor.
As soon as their teacher was out of earshot, all four students let out long breaths, and two started to snicker in relief. "I want to go back, now," said Francis. "Joseph, come with me, the weather is getting bad and I still have things to pack." No sooner did he put his coat on to leave, when the boys heard raised voices from over their heads—what sounded to them like Marguerite Brown and Mr. Murdoch having a row. It was loud enough that other patrons of the Inn glanced briefly at the ceiling before resuming their own conversations.
George could not help but listen in to the upstairs ruckus, and supposed Mr. Murdoch would be quite embarrassed that anyone overheard the uncharacteristic shouting. He heard Marguerite protesting and Murdoch ordering Marguerite back up to bed, and shortly after the man himself descended the stairs, outwardly calm but George could see his face was still flushed. Without preamble, and in full classroom-authority, he marched up to the four students and asked them, in no uncertain terms, to sit back down. Murdoch was so distracted he did not even see Thomas Brackenreid come in from the cold and greet his son with a huge hug and start the dogs barking excitedly. George could not hear the exchange between teacher and students but suspected it was not going to be pretty.
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