Chapter Thirty-four
His conversation with Zachary Riggs had left a myriad of questions, and Thomas was irritated with himself for not pursuing answers more forcefully. Still, he found himself drawn close to these people who had welcomed him into their home with such hospitality. Dr. Haines, so close to the Parks family for so many years—now a dignified man facing his own demons. Alvina, a delightful young woman whose presence in the room Thomas had already begun to anticipate. And Zachary Riggs himself—assured, charming, bright, inventive—Thomas had liked him immediately.
Still, although Riggs’ arguments were compelling on the surface, it appeared that the business they were building was based in large part on deception. Little Henry Beautard shared his listless behavior with some of the opium addicts whom Thomas had seen in the slums of Philadelphia. Riggs had sounded knowledgeable enough; could he actually be ignorant of the drug’s effects?
Out in the waiting room, the clock chimed four o’clock, and Thomas heard it against the steady drumming of rain outside. The window near his bed was open only an inch, but he could feel the cool elixir as the storm moved through. At the other end of the small ward, his two patients lay like dead men. As long as they weren’t, Thomas was thankful. He had not the slightest inclination to move an inch.
A small, cool hand rested on his forehead, and Thomas started, sucking in a quick breath that he regretted.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, but you were restless,” the voice said, and for a moment Thomas was so disoriented that he knew neither where he was nor whose shadow bent over his cot. The hand stroked across his forehead and stopped with the back of her fingers resting against his cheek.
“Alvi?”
“It’s Miss Auerbach,” the voice said.
“My word,” he murmured. “It’s that late?”
“Just after six. I gave both Mr. Deaton and Mr. Doyle injections.”
“Thank you. Otherwise, they’re resting easy?”
“As can be expected. I brought some breakfast. You should eat while it’s still hot.” The gas lamp above his cot flamed bright.
“You’re never going to heal without a proper night’s sleep,” Bertha said stiffly. “My word, you didn’t even take off your shoes.”
“I can’t take them off,” Thomas whispered.
She bent down and peered more closely at him. “You’re drenched with perspiration,” she said. “You shouldn’t have this window open. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
Slowly, moving like an old man, Thomas sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. His left hip now allowed him to sit reasonably straight, and he leaned cautiously forward until he could rest his elbows on his knees. “This is progress,” he said.
“The night was quiet after I left? With the other two, I mean?”
“Yes. I heard not a word from them. What I really need is a hot bath.”
“Well, you won’t get it here, Doctor.”
“That’s something else that we need. If we must bathe a patient, how are we to do it?”
“With a sponge and pan, as always,” Bertha replied. Besides, Dr. Haines is adamant about sending patients to St. Mary’s.”
“I know he is…or was. We’re going to have a proper ward here, Bertha. And staff to go with it. I mentioned that to Dr. Riggs last night.”
“Oh. Mr. Riggs paid a visit, did he?”
“I went upstairs.”
Nurse Auerbach stood up straight, tiny hands on her hips, riveting Thomas with the kind of stare that a schoolmistress might use on recalcitrant youths. “However did you manage that?”
“Well, one step at a time is how,” Thomas said. “I was curious.”
“I see. And your curiosity was satisfied?”
“I’m not sure what to think.” He eased forward, and reached out to pull his wheelchair closer. She turned it for him, and braced it as he struggled from the bed. “I have a question or two to ask you, if you don’t mind.”
“I just do my work,” Bertha said, “and that’s that.”
He wheeled after her. Jimmy Doyle was obviously sound asleep. Howard Deaton lay staring at the ceiling, his eyes half-lidded, mouth forming a silent conversation. For a moment, Thomas watched the pulse in Deaton’s temple.
“A slight fever,” Bertha said.
“To be expected. As long as it remains slight.” He lifted the light towel that lay across the fracture box and examined Deaton’s bruised and swollen leg. “I wish I felt more confident about this,” he said. Bertha made no comment, and they left the ward. Both the examination room and the office blazed with light.
The delightful aroma emanated from the office, and Thomas found a towel-covered plate with biscuits, ham, and a mound of scrambled eggs. Bertha appeared with an old steel coffeepot that looked as if it had spent a lifetime in a prospector’s camp. “The sterilizer serves admirably,” she said, and poured a cup for Thomas. “You could have fallen, you know.”
“I suppose. In point of fact, I almost did. As I was leaving, and on the very top step.” He savored one of the buttered biscuits. “Zachary caught me.”
“You just keep it up,” Bertha admonished, and nodded toward the ward. “You’ll be number three in there.”
“I can’t lie about useless anymore,” Thomas said. “Yesterday was exhilarating, Bertha. I finally felt as if I was earning my keep.”
“Patience is not your strongest virtue.”
“True enough. But last night I decided to see for myself what it is that keeps Miss Haines and Dr. Riggs so busy.”
“And what did you see?”
“You’re aware of their enterprise?”
“Only in the most general way. I keep my nose out of other people’s business.”
“Do you know Dr. Tessier?”
“Only by name.”
“You’ve never met the gentleman?”
“Hardly.”
He slipped the small brown bottle from his pocket and held it out to her. “And Dr. Sorrel?”
She slipped her hands into her apron pockets as if she might be tainted by touching the bottle. “That is a common treatment,” she said. “And you saw the infant yesterday. So you know.”
“Am I correct to suspect opium poisoning?”
“Of course you are, Doctor.” She took a deep breath and her black eyebrows nearly touched in the middle. “I have to say that I was most adamant with Dr. Haines some months ago about Dr. Sorrel’s.” She emphasized the name with contempt. “I was surprised yesterday to see that Mrs. Beautard had obtained a bottle.”
“She said that she obtained it from Dr. Riggs, if you recall.”
“Indeed she did.”
“Well, he says not.” Thomas watched her face and saw the tension there. “You don’t care for him, do you?”
“What Mr. Riggs does is none of my business,” she said.
“Mister Riggs.”
“Yes. Mister Riggs. I have worked for Doctor Haines for eight years. In that time, I have never seen Mr. Riggs treat a patient…other than handing them the odd bottle of the nostrums that he peddles through the mails.”
“Ah. So you know what the business upstairs is all about.”
“How could one not?” Bertha said. “This is a small town, but the fame of the Haines Clinic has spread far and wide.”
“I want to send a bottle of this to the university, along with a sample of Universal Tonic. For analysis.”
“And then?”
“Well, and then…” He stopped as he heard footsteps on the stairway. In a moment Zachary Riggs strode into the office looking fresh and energetic, stylish in a brown tweed suit and bowler hat.
“Morning, all. You’re up and about. No ill effects from your journey last night?”
“Just aches and pains,” Thomas said. He slipped the empty bottle of Sorrel’s into his poc
ket. “It probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve done lately.”
“Well, we all make mistakes,” Riggs said. He nodded at Bertha. “I was on my way down to the hotel for breakfast,” he said. “When you’re on your feet, you’ll have to join me in that ritual. Although”—he peered at the plate—“it appears that you’ve done well for yourself.” He consulted his gold watch. “Well, cheers. I must be about,” he said. “A busy day ahead.” He held up a finger. “Ah, I remember our discussion from last night. Be sure to discuss with Alvi about the nursing staff you anticipate hiring. We’ll want to act on that sooner, rather than later. Miss Auerbach, how’s that brother of yours?”
“Well, thank you.”
“Good, good.” He adjusted his bowler carefully as he regarded Thomas. “We expect great things from you, Thomas. May I make a suggestion?”
“Certainly.”
“I hope you’ll join us at one-oh-one this evening. I see that we have a number of things to discuss. And doing so over a nice brandy is so much the better, you agree?”
“We’ll see what develops today,” Thomas said. “At the moment, we have no one to stay with the patients.”
“Alvi will find you someone,” Riggs said. “Be assured of that.” He pulled out his watch. “She’ll be here momentarily. And I must be off.”
He tipped his hat at Bertha and nodded at Thomas, then was gone, leaving behind a vapor of cologne.
“An accomplished liar,” Bertha Auerbach said, and Thomas was surprised at the venom in her voice.
Chapter Thirty-five
“Helen Whitman will attend the ward at night for us,” Alvi Haines said without preamble. Thomas looked up from the nasty abscess that he was lancing deep in the crevasse between the cheeks of Pastor Roland Patterson’s emaciated buttocks. Patterson didn’t complain. A flow of nitrous oxide kept him blissfully unconscious.
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Thomas said. “And good morning to you.”
Alvi took a couple of steps into the examining room so that she could close the door, tilted her head, and looked critically at the mess on the preacher’s posterior. “I’ve known Helen for years,” Alvi said. “She was employed at St. Mary’s, and welcomes the opportunity to return.”
“You must have spoken with Zachary already this morning,” Thomas said.
“Yes.”
“When will Miss Whitman start with us? Yesterday is good as far as I’m concerned.”
“As early as next week.”
“No sooner?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Thomas glanced around at Alvi again, sensing that her tone was a bit more clipped than usual. But she was watching the surgery with interest. “You’ll return to one-oh-one for dinner tonight?”
“Yes,” Thomas said. “But I plan to return here afterward.” He leaned forward and squinted at the wound. “This is a bandaging challenge,” he said to himself, and he looked up at Bertha, who so deftly managed the cylinder of nitrous oxide. “It would be advantageous if Pastor Patterson can remain with us for the rest of the day. We need to keep this wound open and dry.”
“His wife is adept,” Bertha said quickly. “She has served as midwife any number of times in the parish.”
“She’d be willing, you think? This must be kept absolutely clean and dry. The opportunities for infection are legion with a surgical site such as this.”
“Of course she would be willing,” Bertha replied. “Shall I fetch her? They live just down the hill. Right beside the church.”
“She’s not waiting outside?”
“No.”
“Does she know that her husband is here?”
“I suppose not.”
“Good heavens, how odd. Then of course we’ll need to fetch her promptly. I want to talk to him when he’s sensible. It would be helpful to talk with her at the same time.”
He pushed himself away, wheeled to the water cart, and washed his hands.
“Why did you risk the stairs?” Alvi said. She remained by the door, watching.
“Why? Well, I awoke at midnight after sleeping like the dead, and was so hungry that I thought about gnawing at the wainscoting. Who should come to my aid but nurse Auerbach, carrying with her the most wonderful meat pie you ever tasted. After eating like a glutton, I was so energized that I felt in the mood for an adventure.” He turned and grinned at Alvi. “I discovered that I could manage one stair at a time, the whole sixteen.”
“I hadn’t counted them.”
“Well, I did, believe me. Anyway, call it curiosity. And I was amazed by what I saw. However”—he dried his hands thoughtfully—“that’s a voyage I don’t plan to make again any time soon, I can tell you.” He hung the towel on the cart’s rail. “I have a number of questions, Alvi. They all can wait for this evening, at our leisure. You’ll be there, surely?”
“For dinner, yes. For brandy and cigars in the library afterward, no. That time belongs to my father and Zachary.” She nodded curtly. “I can see from the waiting room that it’s going to be a busy day.” She stopped at the door, hand on the knob. “Father probably won’t be in this morning at all. Maybe after lunch. He was called out sometime after ten last night.”
“Ah. I’m sorry. What was the nature—”
“Robina Cleary. Father said it was a stroke. There was nothing he could do except try to keep her comfortable. A very sad time.”
“Mrs. Cleary?”
Alvi nodded.
“She passed away?”
“Yes. You’ll need a hand with Mr. Patterson?” Alvi asked.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Stunned by the news of the woman’s death, Thomas could only watch as Alvi and Bertha made short work of the transfer to the wheeled cot. As they maneuvered the cot out of the room, she added, “Constable Eastman would like a word with you, if you’ll take the time.”
“Of course. And that’s another thing,” he said. “I don’t like taking patients, especially the indisposed ones, through the waiting room. What’s everybody’s business is really nobody’s business, if you know what I mean.”
“Certainly,” Alvi said. “We’ll talk about that.” Thomas rolled his chair to the door, nodding at the collection of strange faces. Every seat in the waiting room was taken, and a woman had taken to the floor in one corner, playing with two small toddlers.
“We’ll be with you all in a moment,” he said cheerfully. “Constable Eastman, if you please?”
Eastman, who had been standing by the door talking to someone outside, ducked his head and plodded across the room, ignoring the seated patients.
“I won’t be but a minute,” he said, and made sure that the examining room door was closed behind him. “Ward Kittrick got away from us early this morning,” he said, his voice not much more than a whisper. “Before dawn.”
“I confess that I don’t recall—”
“Kittrick. The man who killed Charlie Grimes.”
“My God. He escaped, you say?”
“He did. My jailer has a sore neck and a lump over his left ear the size of a goose egg. Damn lucky not to be dead, or stretched out on your operating table.”
“However—”
“I’m still workin’ on that. I wasn’t there, nor Aldrich. Jailer was by himself. Could have happened any number of ways, not that it matters now.”
“Where did Kittrick go?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here, Doctor. I just wanted you to know. You’d best keep a sharp eye peeled.”
“Why would he come here?” Thomas asked. “Is he hurt?”
“Wish to God that he was. But I did a stupid thing.”
“How so?”
“I’ve known the Kittricks for years. Hardworking boys. Tend to enjoy the bottle, but I can’t hold that against ’em. Like to fight, but there again. Anyways, I was talking to Kittric
k last night after I arrested him. He didn’t fight me, and I appreciated that. I told him so. But I told him that it was a stupid thing he did to kill the Grimes boy, and then to go and boast about it to some of his drinking buddies.”
“I still don’t see.”
“He said I wasn’t about to prove anything against him, and I says just wait. We can prove that it was his knife did the cutting. See,” and he looked apologetically at Thomas, “I figured maybe he’d see the way of things, and say why he done it. Go easier for him.”
“Ah.”
“So now he knows you’re the one that can put the rope around his neck, Doc. I knew the minute the words came out that I shouldn’t have let it slip. But I did, so there we are.”
“Surely, you don’t think he’d come here.”
“I don’t know what he’ll do. I don’t know where he’ll go, except he’s got kin down in Tacoma. Or maybe north. On into Canada. He knows I can’t comb the timber for him.” Eastman heaved a sigh. “But he’ll show his face sooner or later. I just wanted you to know.”
“Well, thank you, Constable. If he walks into this room ten minutes after you leave, I don’t know what I propose to do about it.”
Eastman grunted a laugh. “Nope, you sure as hell ain’t runnin’, and I doubt there’s much fight in you at the moment. A good poke in the ribs would do you in.” Thomas winced at the thought. “You own a gun?” Eastman asked.
“Well, I did,” Thomas said. “I had one in my shipping chest. That and everything else is being enjoyed by someone else at the moment.”
“Then stop by Lindeman’s and buy you another,” Eastman said. “Couldn’t hurt.”
“I’ll think about that,” Thomas said. “Of course, he’s not going to try anything while I have a waiting room full of patients as witnesses.”
“There’s times when the waiting room is empty,” Eastman said. “You plan to go to one-oh-one this evening?”
“I had planned so.”
“Then fetch me or Aldrich. We’ll make sure you get there.”
“That’s hardly necessary.”
“Well, you can’t be too careful with a man like Kittrick, desperate as he is now. And I’ve heard stories about you already, Doctor. We’d kind of like to keep you around for a while, now that you’re here and getting on.”
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