The Nurse Novel

by Alice Brennan

  She came out into the hall just as Dr. Corbett came down the stairs, and she waited for him at the foot.

  “You can relax,” he said grimly. “He’s tough. He’s going to be all right as soon as his back heals, and that shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks. I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that.”

  Lindsay said quietly, “Of course. I’m always glad to hear good news about a patient I’ve been caring for.”

  “A patient, eh? And that’s all Mayhew is to you?” There was something very like a sneer in his voice, and Lindsay stared at him, frowning.

  “What else could he be?” she asked wonderingly.

  “Considering the way you rushed off into the jungle with a man you’d never seen before in your life, to rescue Mayhew, I naturally felt he must be somebody pretty special to you. I think it’s the logical conclusion that would occur to anybody.”

  “But I’ve tried and tried to tell you, Doctor, that when that man came to the house last night, I had no idea who the patient was,” Lindsay protested, her voice not quite steady.

  Dr. Corbett studied her for a long moment, his eyes bleak and chill. Then he said, “So you have.” His tone plainly said that he did not believe her now and had not believed any of the other protests she had made.

  Anger vanquished the hurt in Lindsay’s heart, and she lifted her head proudly.

  “Think whatever you like, Doctor.” Her tone was as cool as his had been. “I don’t intend to keep on pleading with you to accept my word for anything. Have you any instructions for the patient’s care?”

  “At present, I think I can safely leave that to your own interest in him.” Dr. Corbett’s tone bit the words off and threw them at her like small, sharp ice-cubes. “I’ve left the medication and the notations on the chart. I’ll be back in the morning, unless you need me before then.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” said Lindsay quietly, and stood back as he came on down the last two steps and walked past her and out of the door.

  After the car had gone, she drew a long breath and then went on up the stairs to Alden’s room.

  He lay on his stomach, his pitifully lacerated back exposed. Medication had been generously applied and glistened in the sunlight. His face was propped on his two hands, and as she came in, he grinned at her happily.

  “So there you are!” he said. “Of course you know that if I were up and on my feet, I’d give you a walloping?”

  “Oh, would you now? And am I allowed to ask what I’ve done to deserve walloping?” She was studying the chart, and Alden watched her.

  “Any gal that would rush out into a wilderness just because some stranger told her a man was hurt and needed first aid deserves the great-grand-daddy of all lickings!” he told her.

  She turned sharply. Color was high in her cheeks, and her eyes flashed sparks.

  “Now, don’t you start that!” she snapped.

  Alden’s sandy eyebrows went up, and his grin faded slightly.

  “Meaning that the good doc has also given you a tongue lashing?”

  “Meaning just that!”

  Alden thought about that for a moment, and then he nodded.

  “Well, of course,” he observed thoughtfully. “The poor guy’s jealous.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous.”

  “And don’t you be, gal!” Alden’s voice cut across hers with such vigor that her eyes widened. “You aren’t going to stand there with your bare face hanging out and tell me you don’t know the good doc is madly in love with you? What’s more, he’s pretty sure I am, too, and he doesn’t like my being here as your patient one single darned bit.”

  “You’re being silly!” Lindsay flamed, but could not quite meet his eyes.

  “I’m not, but you are,” he told her gently, and added in a changed tone that was edged with resentment, “What’s become of all this famous woman’s intuition we poor dopes of men have heard about all our lives? If you can’t even tell when a man’s in love with you, then you need to invest in a crystal ball or a package of gypsy fortune-telling cards.”

  Lindsay was devoutly grateful for the interruption that came with a knock at the door and turned in sharp relief to open it.

  A well-tailored man, of middle-age, his plump face wearing a worried frown, stood there. As Lindsay looked at him inquiringly, he said anxiously, “They told me downstairs that my boy was here.”

  “Oh, are you Alden’s father! Come in, Mr. Mayhew,” Lindsay invited him.

  Before the man could protest that he was not Alden’s father, Alden’s voice cried out eagerly, “Hey, Jim, you old buzzard! Come on in.”

  The anxiety left the man’s face as he hurried into the room and grasped the hand Alden extended.

  “I was worried stiff about you, boy,” the man said.

  “And you should have been. It served you darned well right, thrusting a guy into a lion’s den without even a whip or a chair.” Alden turned to Lindsay. “Could you possibly say ‘Hi’ to my boss? Jim Henderson, my nurse and friend, Miss Mallory.”

  Lindsay said, startled, even as she put her hand in the plump, well-cared for one the man extended, “But I thought you were his father.”

  “Because he called me ‘my boy’? Pay him no mind, Lindsay. That’s his way of salving his conscience after he sends one of us out somewhere to get our heads blown off to get him a story for that rag he publishes!”

  “Are you the editor who demanded that he revise his article?” asked Lindsay.

  The man shot a puzzled glance at Alden, who was grinning.

  “Revise an article? Alden? Miss Mallory, you flatter me! I wouldn’t dare!” he protested.

  Alden grinned at Lindsay and said, “Like I said, pay him no mind. Just leave us alone together until I ring. Did you bring the tape recorder, Jim?”

  “It’s outside the door,” said Jim Henderson, and went swiftly to get it as Lindsay left the room.

  As she went down the stairs she heard the sound of a car in the drive, and as she reached the foot of the stairs two men came up the front steps to the verandah. In deep conversation, they were not aware of her until they stepped into the hall. Then she recognized them. The burly, middle-aged man in khaki shirt and trousers, a gleaming star pinned above his heart, a wide-brimmed Stetson hat on the back of his head, was Sheriff Grimes. And the tall, well-built young man in a neat blue-gray uniform was one of the two troopers who had burst into the hut the night before.

  Sheriff Grimes swept off his hat.

  “Well, well, Miss Mallory, I’m happy to see you’re up and around after a very unpleasant evening,” he greeted her. “This is Trooper Jenkins. Doubt if you remember him from last night, what with things happening as fast as they did.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t have much time to recognize anybody last night, Sheriff,” Lindsay admitted, smiling at the two men. “But let me say you two could not have been more welcome anywhere in the world than you were last night.”

  “Mighty glad we could get there in time, Miss Mallory,” said Sheriff Grimes, while Trooper Jenkins eyed her with the lively appreciation any normal young man shows for a pretty girl. “Guess we better let Miss Jennifer in on what happened. Good thing you are here, Miss Lindsay. Guess she’ll just about hit the roof when she knows what’s been going on here at the Bayou.”

  The door of Miss Jennifer’s room opened, and Clara stood there. But before she could speak, Miss Jennifer called out sharply, “If that’s you, Ben Grimes, get yourself in here and tell me what in blue blazes has been going on.”

  “Yessum, Miss Jennifer,” said Sheriff Grimes meekly. He winked at Lindsay and Clara as he walked past them into the room, followed by the tall, good-looking young trooper. “This is Bill Jenkins, Miss Jennifer.”

  The sharp old eyes beneath the ruffled cap peered at Bill, and she growled, “Well, of course it is. Thought you’d left t
he Bayou for good, Bill. Seemed like it wasn’t good enough for you.”

  “That’s right, Miss Jennifer,” said Bill pleasantly. “I was ambitious for something more than the Bayou offered in the way of a good living for my family.”

  “Oh,” said Miss Jennifer, “so you’ve got a family, have you? Marry a Bayou girl?”

  “Well, no,” Bill admitted. “A girl I met while I was in training at the barracks.”

  “Bayou girls not good enough for you?” snorted Miss Jennifer.

  “No, it wasn’t that, Miss Jennifer. But I waited until I’d been accepted for training as a trooper before I thought of getting married.”

  “Any children?” demanded Miss Jennifer.

  “A boy,” beamed Bill. “Eight months old, and fine as you’d even want to see.”

  Miss Jennifer sniffed and turned to Sheriff Grimes.

  “Well, now what’s all this whoopin’ and carryin’ on that’s been taking place here in the Bayou?” she demanded.

  “You’re not going to like it, Miss Jennifer,” said Sheriff Grimes cautiously.

  Miss Jennifer glared at him.

  “I didn’t expect to,” she snapped. “When my niece gets dragged out into the swamp and comes back looking like she’d been rolling on the floor in the dirt, and my boarder is brought back in practically a dying condition—he is in a dying condition, isn’t he?”—she broke off to demand of Lindsay.

  “No, Aunt Jennifer. Dr. Corbett says he’ll be quite all right in a few weeks,” Lindsay answered.

  “And he’s going to stay here until he’s well?”

  “I’m not sure about that, Aunt Jennifer. His boss is upstairs with him now.”

  Sheriff Grimes asked, “Miss Jennifer, do you want to know what happened?”

  She glared at him and settled herself more comfortably.

  “Well, of course I want to know what happened. I’m just lying here waiting for you to tell me, if you can get around to it,” she snapped.

  “We finally rounded up the Judge and his crowd,” said Sheriff Grimes.

  For a moment the words did not seem to make much sense to Miss Jennifer, and then she cried out, “The Judge? Who is he?”

  “Walter Norman,” answered Sheriff Grimes, and sat back, waiting for the name to register with her.

  When it did, she jerked herself bolt upright and stared at him, dumbfounded.

  “Walter Norman?” she repeated incredulously. “The man that owns the County Bank?”

  Sheriff Grimes nodded, so satisfied and pleased with the news that he practically purred.

  “That’s him.” He beamed. “Of course we’ve been suspicious of him for quite a spell. But it just seemed so crazy, him being one of the most prominent men in the county, with a lot of political power, deacon in the church and all that. But we just kept on and on, digging up a little piece of evidence here, another little piece there—”

  Bill drawled, “Until at last the Feds came in, and then we knew we had him.”

  Sheriff Grimes scowled at him and resumed the story.

  “The Feds came in when there seemed some connection between Norman and a bank robbery. What better place could a bank robber find to stash his loot than in a friendly bank? But we still couldn’t get any actual proof of his skullduggery. He was ridin’ high, wide and handsome and sort of thumbing his nose at us—until last night!”

  Bill nodded. “Of course, the charge against him now is for the attack on the fellow upstairs. But we’ll hold him until we can build up a good airtight case, and this time he won’t get away. You can help us, Miss Jennifer.”

  Miss Jennifer stared at him.

  “I can? How?” she demanded.

  “By being willing to appear against him when he goes to trial.”

  Miss Jennifer blinked and looked more puzzled than ever.

  “Why, I don’t know anything about him. That is, I’ve never dealt with his bank,” she began. “Oh, I’ve heard a lot, of course—”

  “Miss Jennifer, he’s been collecting protection money from your people in the Village,” said Sheriff Grimes, his tone so quietly controlled that it was a full moment before Miss Jennifer grasped the full extent of what he was saying.

  “He’s been doing what?” she exploded with fury when the full meaning of his statement had penetrated.

  Sheriff Grimes nodded soberly. “That’s right, Miss Jennifer. Jay Hutchens spilled everything and asked for protection from us. Seems that one of Norman’s plug-uglies, fellow called Bo, the one that beat up the fellow upstairs, did the collecting. Anybody didn’t pay off had an accident; not too bad at first. Then if the fellow didn’t scare easily, the next one was worse, and the third was—well, that was the final curtain.”

  Miss Jennifer was staring at him with wide, incredulous eyes. Suddenly she gasped, “Then that’s why Pete and the others in the Village have been telling me business was bad! That Norman was making them pay off to him! Why, that—that—” She choked on the words.

  “Then you will appear against him, Miss Jennifer?” Sheriff Grimes urged.

  “You bet I will,” Miss Jennifer snapped. “Lindsay, see about that wheel chair for me. This is something I wouldn’t miss for any amount of money!”

  “Yes, Aunt Jennifer,” said Lindsay, and exchanged an amused, understanding glance with Clara.

  “When’s the trial, Ben?” demanded Miss Jennifer.

  “First week in September,” Sheriff Grimes answered. When she looked outraged, he grinned and added, “Sure, I know that’s several months off, but we have to have time to develop an airtight case against him and his gang. And I think your boarder must have some pretty good evidence, or he wouldn’t have made ’em so mad they turned Bo loose on him.”

  Miss Jennifer lay back against her pillows, her eyes thoughtful, her mouth a thin, hard line. Then she looked up at Lindsay and spoke.

  “If Alden Mayhew has helped get this Walter Norman by the heels, then Mayhew is my personal house guest for as long as he wants to stay,” she said firmly. “I might even refund the boarder money he’s already paid.”

  “Careful, Aunt Jennifer!” warned Lindsay demurely, but a dimple tugged at the corner of her mouth. “He’s been here two weeks already.”

  “Two weeks and two days,” Miss Jennifer corrected her. “But I’ll not charge him for the two days or for the rest of the time he needs to stay. That is, if the doctor is right and it won’t be more than another week or two at most.”

  “That’s my Aunt Jennifer,” Lindsay dared to mock her.

  Miss Jennifer glared at her.

  “You keep a civil tongue in your head, miss,” she snapped, and turned once more to Sheriff Grimes, who was on his feet, preparing to leave. “Where’s Jay Hutchens now?”

  “Oh, we’ve got him tucked away for safekeeping, out of reach of the Judge and his bully-boys!” Sheriff Grimes replied.

  “Well, from what I’ve heard about this mysterious Judge,” Miss Jennifer said slowly, and broke off to say, “And all the time it was Walter Norman! I just can’t believe it!”

  “It’s quite true, Miss Jennifer,” said Bill, and grinned happily. “We caught him red-handed last night, thanks to Hutchens, Miss Lindsay here and that poor devil upstairs. This time we’ve really got him where we want him.”

  “Well, see you hold onto him and don’t let him out on bail, or he’ll skip out on you!” Miss Jennifer warned him.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, Miss Jennifer,” Sheriff Grimes assured her. “Now that folks know he’s in jail where he can’t get at ’em, they’re practically standing in line to testify against him. First one to report was your Pete, from the Tavern. Jay’s quite a hero, by the way.”

  “Jay Hutchens? That scalawag ’gator-runner?” Miss Jennifer sniffed disdainfully.

  “Well, when the Judge got scared that Mayhew
was going to die, and was afraid he might have to face a murder rap on top of all his other skullduggery, he decided to take a chance on Jay being so scared of him and his pals that he wouldn’t dare squeal on them and sent him for a doctor. Jay was smart enough to decide he’d better get on the right side of the law, even if it did mean he’d be heading for a prison sentence, too. Guess he’d had about as much of the Judge and his gang as he could stomach, so he went straight to Doc Corbett and spilled his insides. Doc Corbett telephoned me, I got in touch with the troopers, and that was that.”

  “I hope you’re taking good care of Jay, if he was the one that broke the case for you,” Lindsay said quickly.

  “Don’t you worry none about that, Miss Lindsay. Folks in the Village and all over the county are so grateful to Jay for what he’s done they’d just about mob the Judge and his gang if they lifted a finger against Jay.”

  Miss Jennifer sniffed. “Jay Hutchens always did have a mighty high opinion of himself. Guess now folks won’t even be able to live in the same neighborhood with him, he’ll be so arrogant.”

  “Well, the folks in the Village would elect him mayor and town council combined,” Sheriff Grimes said, and added hastily as Miss Jennifer’s old face darkened, “That is, of course, if the Village was an incorporated area and had a mayor.”

  “Which it would have if one was needed. I don’t hold with these incorporated areas that don’t accomplish a thing except to run up taxes and create corruption in voting and such,” Miss Jennifer told him curtly.

  “One of these days, Miss Jennifer, you’ll have to incorporate,” Sheriff Grimes told her quietly.

  Miss Jennifer snorted. “When that day comes, I’ll worry about it, but not until it does.”

  Sheriff Grimes grinned and nodded.

  “Well, when that day comes, Miss Jennifer, and it will as sure as the good Lord made little apples, you can rest assured that the Judge won’t be digging his dirty fingers into the ballot boxes and stirring up a lot of skullduggery,” he assured her firmly.