Half A Mind TO Murder (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Mysteries Book 3)

by Paula Paul

  Before she finished the examination, a small crowd gathered, and in spite of Snow’s stern commands that everyone stay back, the group moved closer and closer as if it were one body.

  A faceless voice cried out from somewhere. “’Tis that idjet Lucas again. See what ’e done. None ’o us is safe.”

  “Yer the idjet,” a deep, resounding voice shouted. “The boy’s in gaol. Even a sane man couldn’t do this from inside a lockup.”

  “The bastard’s mum’s the one what done it, I say,” someone else said, a woman this time. “She’s not right in the ’ead either, you know. The boy inherited it from her, if you ask me.”

  “Who says she ain’t right in the ’ead?” The deep voice said again.

  If there was an answer to that question, it was impossible to tell, because the crowd grew too noisy to distinguish one voice from another. Alexandra knew, though, that the old argument of Gweneth Pendennis’s sexual indiscretion being linked to insanity was in full swing, along with a dangerous level of fear mixed with anger.

  Constable Snow had little patience for the rabble’s noise or judgments, however. He raised his voice, which was remarkably strong for one so thin, and ordered the crowd dispersed. They obeyed, but reluctantly. Alexandra could feel the fear emanating from the many-headed beast as it moved away. There were threatening shouts thrown at Snow for not having already captured the mad killer and put him or her in jail. It also occurred to Alexandra that it was likely a female would not have been considered at all, had it not been for the fact that Gweneth Pendennis had two strikes against her. She’d borne an idiot son and she’d borne him out of wedlock.

  When the crowd was dispersed, or more accurately, reassembled in another place, Snow had the body transported to Percy Gibbs’s funeral parlor for Alexandra to examine further. He ordered Polly to accompany him back to his office so he could question her.

  “Perhaps the questioning could wait,” Alexandra said, seeing that Polly’s face had grown even paler and that she had become more agitated. The crowd had undoubtedly upset her. Alexandra thought she might faint or burst into tears.

  She did neither, however. Instead, she spoke quietly but in a voice that still trembled. “No, no, we mustn’t wait. I don’t want them to blame that poor woman. How could they think she could—?”

  “I shan’t keep Miss Cobbe long, but it is imperative that I get an official statement as to how she came to find the body.” Snow’s voice was cold, as if he resented having to justify his actions.

  “Are you quite certain you’ll be all right, Miss Cobbe?” Alexandra said. “Perhaps I could send Nancy over to stay with—?”

  “Please, don’t trouble her. I’ll be quite all right.” Her bravery and confidence seemed forced.

  “Very well,” Alexandra said, deciding not to pressure her but resolving to stop by the tavern later to check on her.

  When she reached the funeral parlor and began to examine the body, she confirmed the conclusion she’d reached earlier. He had apparently been attacked from behind, and his two carotid arteries severed with a very sharp knife. Then his chest was cut open to reveal the ribcage. The ribs, as before, were snipped on each side and pulled away so the heart could be surgically removed, this time with less care and precision. She had just completed her examination when she heard the muffled sound of the crowd again.

  She ran through the work room to the parlor at the front of the building, still wearing her blood-stained apron, to peer out the window. She was met there by Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs, who had heard the noise, too.

  “What is it?” Mrs. Gibbs asked.

  The voice of the crowd had intensified and was even more angry and fear-crazed. Then, a single scream full of terror resonated over all the other voices, giving Mrs. Gibbs her answer. Alexandra leaned forward to peer through the window into the street. What she saw sickened her. Gweneth Pendennis was being dragged by her arms, face down, along the street.

  Chapter Five

  As soon as Alexandra could rid herself of her apron and gloves, she rushed into the street, calling to the crowd to let the woman go. With Zack running beside her, barking feverishly, she rushed to Gweneth’s aid but was rudely pushed aside. She landed on her backside in the dust of the street. Had she not been quickly pulled to her feet and moved, somewhat roughly, out of the way, she might have been trampled by the crowd. It took her a moment to realize it was Polly who had rescued her. Zack stood by encouraging her with his bark.

  “They’re mad. All of them.” Polly cried. “We’ve got to stop them from harming that woman.”

  Alexandra forgot about Zack as she rushed ahead with Polly, both of them trying to reach Gweneth. They made little headway through the mob that moved as slow as clotted blood, carrying its hate like a disease into the heart of the town. Then suddenly the crowd stopped its forward movement, pooling in confused eddies and washing back on itself. Constable Snow, mounted on his horse, was in front of the rabble shouting for order.

  It was impossible to hear his words, but the sound carried authority, enough to turn the tide. Up ahead she saw Gweneth struggle to her feet, and someone, a man, hoisted her onto the back of Snow’s horse where she leaned against him like a lifeless rag doll. By this time the noise of the horde lessened enough to hear Snow’s angry threats.

  “…or all of you will face the gallows. Remember you are British citizens, not barbarians. And everyone, this woman included, is innocent until proven guilty. Go, I said. All of you.”

  Alexandra had never seen him so angry. There was another angry, frightened shout from the crowd. “They’s a killer amongst us and yer doin’ nothin’ about it.” That brought a rumble of fear and anger that surged dangerously toward Snow, but he pulled something from inside his coat, and there was a loud explosion. Alexandra had never known Snow to carry a gun, and it appeared the one he had pulled from his coat was an old-fashioned dueling pistol.

  “Get back, damn you. All of you.” he shouted, with his now impotent pistol no longer aimed upward, but pointed at the simmering mass. There was a moment of stunned stillness. Snow shouted again, and the crowd stirred, stumbling over itself as each individual tried to turn or back away. Snow waited, his pistol still aimed and with a pale and frightened Gweneth clinging to him, until he was certain the angry confluence had evaporated into homes and alleyways and shops. Only Alexandra and Polly remained, along with Zack. Alexandra felt herself trembling and sensed that Polly was trembling as well.

  “Go home, both of you,” Snow said, returning his pistol to an inside pocket of his coat. “And don’t worry, I’ll see that Miss Pendennis and her son are not harmed.”

  Constable Snow started to turn his horse, but something caught his eye and caused him to hesitate at the same time Zack barked twice and tensed his body. When Alexandra turned her gaze in the direction of Snow’s, she saw someone, a male of slight build who seemed to be lurking in the shadow of a building. He apparently realized he’d attracted attention, however, and disappeared in the narrow space between two shops. Snow, satisfied that there would be no more trouble, turned and rode away with Gweneth, who was still too frightened to speak.

  “That was…” Polly spoke in a whisper, and when Alexandra turned toward her, she saw a troubled frown on the woman’s face as she stared at the space between the two buildings where the mysterious figure had disappeared. “That was Clyde,” she said, still whispering.

  “Clyde Wright?” Alexandra asked. “The apprentice?”

  Polly shook her head. “I can’t be certain, but it looked rather like him.”

  “Do you suppose he’s returned, thinking he’ll get his old position back?”

  “Well,” Polly said, wearing a troubled expression, “even if Mr. Neill was still alive, he wouldn’t take on young Clyde as an apprentice again. That young man ruined his chances, running off as he did, without so much as a by your leave at the same time the money disappeared.” She shook her head. “One can never really know what another person will do.”
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  “I suppose not,” Alexandra said, glancing around uneasily. There was an odd taint of danger still in the air.

  “I must go,” Polly said, moving away.

  “Wait!” Alexandra called to her. “Zack and I will accompany you to the tavern.”

  Polly turned her eyes toward Alexandra, but kept walking. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. It’s only a short walk. I’ll be quite safe.” Before Alexandra could protest again, Polly crossed the street, hurrying toward the Blue Ram.

  There was nothing for Alexandra to do but go home to write a short report for the constable regarding the autopsy on the stranger. She finished it quickly, detailing the blow to the head and the apparent haste of the butchery that followed. She would take the report to Snow later, after she had finished her morning house calls and her surgery hours.

  In Nancy’s absence surgery hours did not go as smoothly as usual, but it was important that she stay with the Hastings baby. Alexandra was not surprised to see two more cases of whooping cough, but she was thankful that the patients were older children, who stood a much better chance of survival than did little Alice. By the time she had seen the last patient for the day, there was no more time left to take her autopsy report to Constable Snow. It was time to relieve Nancy at the Hastings’s.

  Since she was accustomed to an early supper, she took a small portion of the roast leg of lamb, which she had removed from the oven earlier as Nancy had instructed. The tender, moist texture of the meat and the delicate hint of herbs surprised her, and she found herself taking a second helping. Artie and Rob, her two stable boys whom she often invited to eat with her, were less pleased with the delicacy, however.

  “’Tain’t Nancy’s cooking,” Rob said, wrinkling his nose at the pink slice of lamb in his plate. It was rimmed with a rich and succulent brown edge.

  “Look at it.” Artie said, pointing to an almost identical slice on his own plate. “Why, ’tisn’t even cooked. Ye can see the blood in it, ye can. Needs a good boilin’ like Nancy gives it, I say.”

  “You’re absolutely correct,” Alexandra said, touching her napkin to her mouth. “It doesn’t taste at all like Nancy’s cooking. Doesn’t even taste English, I would say.”

  “Bloody shame, ’tis, too,” Artie said, prompting a quick bop on the head from Rob.

  “Watch yer language around the doctor,” Rob said. At sixteen, he was the older of the two boys. Artie was no more than ten. He gave Rob an angry look and seemed about to start a row.

  “I shall tell Nancy how much the two of you missed her culinary skills,” Alexandra said before anything could develop further between the two. She put her napkin aside and stood. “Perhaps you can take some of this bread,” she said, pushing what was left of the loaf toward them. “Perhaps it will sustain you until Nancy returns.”

  “Yer goin’ to relieve her soon, ain’t ye, Doc?” Rob said, pushing his own chair back with such eagerness it tipped over when he stood. “I can ’ave Lucy saddled for ye in ’alf a second if yer ready to go.”

  “And I’ll ’elp, too.” Artie sounded equally eager.

  “Your enthusiasm is admirable, boys, but I won’t be needing Lucy for the short walk to Earl’s Row.” Alexandra spoke as she covered what remained of the leg of lamb with a cloth to return it to the larder.

  “Ye’ll take the beast with ye, will ye not?” Rob said. “There’s danger about, ye know. What with people getting their hearts cut out.”

  “I’ll take Zack with me for the walk to the Hastings’s,” Alexandra said, emerging from the larder. “But I’ll send him back with Nancy. I shall be spending the night watching over the baby, and it will be bright morning daylight when I return, so there’ll be no need of Zack’s services.”

  “I think ’tis best we goes with ye. For protection, don’t you know.” Artie’s statement might have been amusing, since he was a slightly built ten-year-old, except that the expression in his eyes was one of concern and fear far too heavy for one of his age.

  “The chap’s right,” Rob said. “Zack’s not enough. We’ll walk ye over and walk back with Nance, then we’ll come for ye on the morrow. Ye won’t be walkin’ the roads alone these days.”

  Alexandra started to protest but hesitated. Along with the genuine concern in the voices and faces of the boys, she had developed her own uneasiness about the senseless, random murders. “And what of your own safety,” she said at length. “Who will be watching out for the two of you as you walk the roads?”

  “We’ll have ol’ Zack now, won’t we? Not a thing to worry about, Miss,” Rob said.

  Alexandra thought of pointing out the inconsistent logic, but she had no time. She had to hurry upstairs to freshen herself before she went to relieve Nancy. The boys were waiting for her when she came downstairs with Zack sauntering along behind her.

  “’Tis a good thing ye got us to look after ye, I says.” Artie’s voice was bumpy as wadded cotton, because his short legs had forced him into a trot in order to keep up with everyone else.

  When they arrived at the Hastings’s, Nancy was busy re-inserting the tube in the throat of little Alice. She had shown Kate how to hold the baby wrapped and tight against her body and shown Jim how to hold her head. Alexandra, who saw her through the open doorway, didn’t interfere and waited until the task was done before she entered the house.

  “The babe has been able to suckle twice,” Nancy said as soon as she saw Alexandra, “but the night air has brought on the cough and the swelling again and robbed her of her breath. I thought it best to reinsert the tube, but we can’t keep doing this.”

  Alexandra nodded. She and Nancy both knew the tube could irritate the passageway if they continued to remove and reinsert it. “Perhaps if we can get through this one night we’ll see improvement tomorrow. Have you used any of the red clover infusion?”

  Nancy told her that she had administered it regularly and gave her a full report of the color, amount, and frequency of the baby’s urine. “Did you have your dinner?”

  “I did, indeed. I’ve never tasted lamb as succulent. I must remember to compliment Polly.”

  Nancy’s reply was a long stretch of silence as she changed the baby one last time. Finally, she spoke. “I see you brought the boys with you.” She glanced at Rob and Artie who waited just outside the door.

  “Yes, and we’re ’ere to see you gets home safe,” Rob called to her through the open door before Alexandra could respond. “We wouldn’t want any danger comin’ to you.”

  “Is that so?” Nancy’s hands were on her hips as she gave the boys a suspicious frown. “And what mischief is it you’ve been into now that you think you have to get on the good side of me, pretending so much interest in my well-being?”

  Rob stepped closer to the open door and shook his head slowly. “Ah, Nance, ain’t you the suspicious one. ’Tis nothing but yer safety we’re thinkin’ of, and there’s no mischief we’ve been at.”

  “’Tis best ye go with the boys, Nancy,” Kate said, coming out of her fear and worry enough to speak for the first time. “There’s that madman what walks about, ye know.”

  Nancy’s hard suspicious expression weakened a little as she was reminded of the truth, and she glanced quickly in Alexandra’s direction.

  “I’ll send Zack along with you as well,” Alexandra said, trying to sound reassuring. “Run along now, all of you, before darkness sets in.”

  “Have ye ’ad yer supper yet, Nance?” Artie asked as Nancy moved toward the door. “If ye’ve not et yet, it may be ye could find a bit o’ boiled mutton in yer kitchen, and me and Rob could keep ye company whilst ye eats.”

  Nancy, stepping out the door, gave a little cynical laugh. “Boiled mutton, is it? I should have known there was a motive for your good deeds. And why would I be serving you mutton now, anyway? There was the roasted shank Polly cooked for all of us.”

  Alexandra could hear the boys’ eager flattery as they exclaimed their hunger and extolled Nancy’s cooking skills, their voice
s growing fainter as they moved away. She turned her attention to little Alice and her parents. Alice was restless, trying to pull at the tube in her mouth, and the parents were still worried and hovering. When the baby finally fell asleep from exhaustion, Alexandra was able to persuade the parents to go to bed as well. Another paroxysm of coughing awakened the baby after a little while, and Alexandra was forced to remove the tube once more. She tried the infusion of clover again, but it did little good. If Alice had been at least two years old, she could have given her belladonna. The narcotic would have helped relax the reflexes that caused the cough, but she dared not risk the dangerous side-effects in one so young. The baby’s condition was extremely serious because of her age. Alexandra would not allow herself to think about how slim the baby’s chances of survival were. As the night wore on, she found that the most she could do was hold the baby against her shoulder and either walk with her or rock her, humming a low, soothing, tuneless melody. The monotonous sound and the repeated movement seemed to mesmerize the baby so that she slept a little longer between paroxysms. She vomited after a particularly long period of coughing, and Alexandra had to awaken Kate to put her to breast in order to replenish the baby’s strength. She would take very little of her mother’s milk, however, and Alexandra soon had her back in her own arms again, pacing in front of an open window, since it was widely accepted that fresh air was an important element in the cure for whooping cough.

  As she paced, Alexandra felt the darkness of the night seeping into her soul, staining her thoughts with its blackness until she felt trapped in a web of gloom. It robbed her of hope, so that she could think of nothing except Alice’s slim chance of survival and of her own impotency in affecting a cure. She lacked the skills to overcome the laws of nature. She had exhibited that lack all too recently when she witnessed the death of the apothecary, Harry Neill, and his brother Winslow, who had come to her with ailments that defied everything she tried. Besides the troublesome rash, Winslow had also developed respiratory difficulties as well.