LITMIR.BIZ

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to get by on their own. Other than that, I can’t say.”

      “There are some things I don’t want to ask my ma about any more.”

      “I can understand. Remember this, when you’re older and you start thinking about women, you don’t want to do anything that’d make your mother ashamed of you, if she hears about it. Not that you have to tell her everything, mind.”

      “Yes, sir.” Angus didn’t really know what Sterling was talking about. But the constable’s cheeks were turning red, and Angus decided it would be best not to ask any more questions.

      No doubt everything would be perfectly clear as soon as he was a man.

      They walked in companionable silence, enjoying the warm air of the strange northern half-night. Past midnight, yet the streets were a jostling mass of men. Most were heading towards the dance halls or staggering away, but there were a good number of men with not enough money left in their pockets for either another drink or a place to spend the night. They wandered through town, waiting for morning to catch the first boat out of town or join the next group of workers heading to the gold fields. A few women dotted the crowd, the majority not at all respectable. Several NWMP officers exchanged greetings with Sterling and Angus.

      “How was the day’s work?” Sterling asked.

      “Awful. Just awful. I’d sooner die than spend my life working in a store like Mr. Mann does.”

      Sterling laughed. “Man’s gotta do what he can to get by.”

      “Well, I won’t!”

      “If you’re lucky, son, you may not have to. But don’t look down on men who…”

      “Sterling. I need to talk to you.” Graham Donohue stepped out from the doorway of a tiny cigar store. A lamp burned inside, and a pretty young woman in a dress cut daringly low came to the door to see what was going on.

      “What are you doing, Donohue, hiding in the shadows?”

      “Keep your voice down. Come over here.” Donohue beckoned.

      Sterling walked over. Angus tagged along behind. “Isn’t this a bit melodramatic, Donohue, even for you?” the Mountie said.

      “I have to talk to you. Is that Angus MacGillivray behind you?”

      “Yes, sir. It’s me.”

      “If you have something to say about Ireland, we’d better find Inspector McKnight,” Sterling said.

      “No! You have to listen to me. Angus, go home. This is men’s business.”

      Angus looked at Sterling. The constable nodded. “Get off home, son. Sounds like this is a police matter.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      The men moved around the side of the building. The woman standing at the entrance to the store shrugged and went inside. Angus had never had reason to go into a cigar store. But now that he was making some money working for Mr. Mann, it would be nice to get a present for Ray or Constable Sterling if he could find out when their birthdays were. He followed the woman.

      She raised one eyebrow. “You’re a young one. Looking for something special?” She ran her tongue across her lips, and Angus felt himself flushing.

      He walked to the side of the store, very uncomfortable but trying to look as if he were cool and casual and looking for something to buy.

      Men’s voices came through the window.

      “What are you up to, Donohue? You put yourself right in the picture. I was surprised the inspector didn’t arrest you on the spot. Can’t remember what you were doing yesterday afternoon!”

      “You have to believe me. She was standing there listening to every word. What could I say?”

      “Who was standing where?”

      Angus started to move away from the window. He didn’t like the way the woman’s cat-like eyes watched him. And from what he could see of her merchandise, there wasn’t anything he’d be interested in buying. Unless the good stuff was kept behind the curtain that blocked off half of the room. But one word caught his attention.

      “Fiona. Why the hell did McKnight let her stay?”

      “It was her office.”

      “Do you let women listen in on all your interrogations? Not much of a police force, if you ask me.”

      “That was hardly an interrogation. More like a friendly chat. If you have something to say, Donohue, say it. Otherwise you’re wasting my time.”

      “I couldn’t tell you where I was yesterday afternoon, not in front of her.”

      “Donohue,” Sterling said in a low, warning voice.

      “I spent Sunday afternoon with Cracking Kate.”

      “What!”

      “You heard me. Cracking Kate. In her place. I got there about eleven. I…uh…fell asleep. Woke up around three. Then I…uh…left around four.”

      Angus didn’t know anyone named Kate. Seemed strange that Mr. Donohue would spend the afternoon sleeping in a woman’s rooms. In Toronto or Vancouver, her reputation would have been ruined permanently. But things were different in Dawson. He leaned closer to the window.

      “You idiot. You’re telling me you frequented Cracking Kate’s crib. She’s one of Joey LeGrand’s whores. Are you a fool?”

      “It’s none of your business what I do, Sterling. I’m telling you now ’cause I could hardly say that in front of Fiona, could I?”

      The cigar-store woman also edged closer to the window. If her ears could have perked up, like a dog’s, they would have. She saw Angus watching her and touched her index finger to her painted lips.

      Sterling’s laugh was mean, ugly, the like of which Angus had never heard from the Mountie before. “You’re right about that. Fiona finds out you’re putting money into Joey LeGrand’s pockets, you’ll be lucky to leave town with your scalp, never mind other more private body parts. You fool.

      I’ve half a mind to tell Fiona myself: Joey’s women have got to be the worst-treated whores in Dawson. If you don’t have the pox, you will soon.”

      “I don’t need your approval, Sterling,” Donohue growled. “I’m telling you where I was on Sunday between the hours of noon and three. Like your inspector asked.”

      “Someone has to talk to Kate.”

      “She’ll remember me. Isn’t every man pays for three hours of sleep time. You won’t tell Fiona? This is police business only?”

      “I won’t tell Fiona. But I have to tell Inspector McKnight. What he does with the information is out of my hands.”

      “Look, Sterling, it was the first time I’d visited her. I had a rough couple of days. Seeing Ireland…”

      “Save it for your priest.”

      The woman had wiggled her slender body beside Angus, so that both of them were pressed up against the wall. She snorted.

      “Shush,” Angus whispered.

      “Angus, where are you?” Sterling yelled. He ran into the cigar store as Angus and the woman stumbled all over themselves to reach the centre of the room. Angus admired the merchandise. The woman wiped a speck of dust off the counter top.

      “What are you doing here?” Sterling shouted.

      “Looking for a gift, sir. For Mr. Walker.”

      Sterling grabbed Angus by the arm and almost jerked him off his feet. “I catch you in a place like this again, I’ll have your hide, boy.”

      He looked at the woman. She placed the countertop between them. Behind the rouged cheeks, her face had faded

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