by Helen Wells
“Could he,”—Cherry’s thoughts clamored—“could he be the thief?”
CHERRY AMES, THE MYSTERY IN THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE
TITLES BY HELEN WELLS
Cherry Ames, Student Nurse
Cherry Ames, Senior Nurse
Cherry Ames, Army Nurse
Cherry Ames, Chief Nurse
Cherry Ames, Flight Nurse
Cherry Ames, Veterans’ Nurse
Cherry Ames, Private Duty Nurse
Cherry Ames, Visiting Nurse
Cherry Ames, Cruise Nurse
Cherry Ames, Boarding School Nurse
Cherry Ames, Department Store Nurse
Cherry Ames, Camp Nurse
Cherry Ames at Hilton Hospital
Cherry Ames, Island Nurse
Cherry Ames, Rural Nurse
Cherry Ames, Staff Nurse
Cherry Ames, Companion Nurse
Cherry Ames, Jungle Nurse
Cherry Ames, The Mystery in the Doctor’s Office
Cherry Ames, Ski Nurse Mystery
CHERRY AMES NURSE STORIES
CHERRY AMES THE MYSTERY IN THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE
By
HELEN WELLS
Copyright © 1966 by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
Copyright © renewed 2008 by Harriet Schulman Forman
Springer Publishing Company, LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Springer Publishing Company, LLC.
Springer Publishing Company, LLC
11 West 42nd Street
New York, NY 10036-8002
www.springerpub.com
Acquisitions Editor: Sally J. Barhydt
Series Editor: Harriet S. Forman
Production Editor: Carol Cain
Cover design: Mimi Flow
Composition: Apex Publishing, LLC
08 09 10 11/ 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wells, Helen, 1910-
[Mystery in the doctor’s office]
Cherry Ames, the mystery in the doctor’s office / by Helen Wells.
p. cm.
Summary: Cherry enjoys being the office nurse for a medical practice in New York City’s theater district, although the medical secretary is behaving suspiciously, and spends her weekends helping to fix up a country house belonging to her roommate’s family.
ISBN-13: 978-0-8261-0435-9 (alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0-8261-0435-5 (alk. paper)
[1. Nurses—Fiction. 2. Medical care—Fiction. 3. Dwellings—Maintenance and repair—Fiction. 4. Embezzlement—Fiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)—History—1951—Fiction. 6. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Title.
PZ7.W4644Cjd 2007
[Fic]—dc22
2007035812
Printed in the United States of America by Bang Printing
Contents
FOREWORD
I
TO DR. FAIRALL’S
II
GETTING ACQUAINTED
III
PARADE OF PATIENTS
IV
A YOUNG BALLET DANCER
V
A DATE AT THE STAGE DOOR
VI
STRANGE HAPPENINGS
VII
SAUSAGES AND ROSES
VIII
GROUNDS FOR SUSPICION
IX
DINOSAUR THREE
X
A LETTER OF REFERENCE
XI
GREENHILL
XII
A TERRIBLE MISTAKE
XIII
THE RED PURSE
XIV
LADY IN A TRAP
Foreword
Helen Wells, the author of the Cherry Ames stories, said, “I’ve always thought of nursing, and perhaps you have, too, as just about the most exciting, important, and rewarding profession there is. Can you think of any other skill that is always needed by everybody, everywhere?”
I was and still am a fan of Cherry Ames. Her courageous dedication to her patients; her exciting escapades; her thirst for knowledge; her intelligent application of her nursing skills; and the respect she achieved as a registered nurse (RN) all made it clear to me that I was going to follow in her footsteps and become a nurse—nothing else would do.
Thousands of other young readers were motivated by Cherry Ames to become RNs as well. Through her thought-provoking stories, Cherry Ames led a steady stream of students into schools of nursing across the country well into the 1960s and 1970s when the series ended.
Readers who remember enjoying these books in the past will take pleasure in reading them again now—whether or not they chose nursing as their life’s work. Perhaps they will share them with others and even motivate a person or two to choose nursing as their career.
My nursing path has been rich and satisfying. I have delivered babies, cared for people in hospitals and in their homes, and saved lives. I have worked at the bedside and served as an administrator, I have published journals, written articles, taught students, consulted, and given expert testimony. Never once did I regret my decision to become a nurse.
During the time I was publishing a nursing journal, I became acquainted with Robert Wells, brother of Helen Wells. In the course of conversation I learned that Ms. Wells had passed on and left the Cherry Ames copyright to Mr. Wells. Because there is a shortage of nurses here in the US today, I thought, “Why not bring Cherry back to motivate a whole new generation of young people? Why not ask Mr. Wells for the copyright to Cherry Ames?” Mr. Wells agreed, and the republished series is dedicated both to Helen Wells, the original author, and to her brother, Robert Wells, who transferred the rights to me. I am proud to ensure the continuation of Cherry Ames into the twenty-first century.
The final dedication is to you, both new and former readers of Cherry Ames: It is my dream that you enjoy Cherry’s nursing skills as well as her escapades. I hope that young readers will feel motivated to choose nursing as their life’s work. Remember, as Helen Wells herself said: there’s no other skill that’s “always needed by everybody, everywhere.”
Harriet Schulman Forman, RN, EdD
Series Editor
CHERRY AMES, THE MYSTERY IN THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE
CHAPTER I
To Dr. Fairall’s
“SPECIAL-DELIVERY LETTER!” THE MAILMAN CALLED. HE rang the Spencer Club’s doorbell, loud and long.
It was seven o’clock Monday morning. Inside the little Greenwich Village apartment, one and then another alarm clock shrilled. Four young nurses in the closet-size bedrooms squirmed and struggled to wake up. Cherry groped for her robe, stepped over Gwen’s pillow on the floor, and staggered to the front door.
As she opened it, the mailman sang out, “’Morning! Lovely warm day.”
Cherry noticed the mailman was looking at her feet, so she looked down, too. She discovered she was barefoot. She tossed back her dark hair and said with dignity:
“Good morning. I’ll accept the letter. Thank you. OK, it’s for Miss Gwen Jones.”
She felt relieved that the letter was not for her. Not a summons to come home to Hilton, Illinois, just when she was about to start on a challenging new job as office nurse for Dr. Fairall.
“You’re welcome,” said the mailman. “It’s from Canton, Ohio. Fat letter, something’s enclosed. Hope I didn’t disturb anybody this early.”
Cherry smiled. “Who wakes you, Mr. Mailman?”
“My wife. And the cat wakes her, because the cat wants its breakfast. Well, so long, now.”
The mailman left. Cherry closed the door.
Josie Franklin, in her rather squeaky voice, said, “So, indirectly, we’ve been awakened by a cat. That’s all right. I like cats.”
“Where’s my letter?” asked Gwen. She was in pajamas, her freckled face dripping water. “Didn’t the ma
ilman or somebody say Jones?”
Cherry put the special-delivery letter in Gwen’s wet hand, and as she turned to go to her bedroom, collided with Bertha Larsen who was just coming into the living room. Bertha was a big, fair, hearty girl from Minnesota farm country. Her patients often said they felt better just looking at her.
“Good morning to all!” said Bertha. “Cherry has a fine day to start at Dr. Fairall’s.” Over her robe Bertha tied an apron around her ample figure. “It’s my turn to get the first shower after breakfast this morning.”
“Aren’t you going to open that letter and tell us what’s in it?” Josie asked Gwen.
“Feels as if there are snapshots in it,” Gwen mumbled. “Where’s a letter opener—or a knife—? Gosh, I’d better get dressed first, or I’ll be late reporting for duty.”
Cherry was halfway down the hall, heading for the shower, but she had heard Bertha, and called, “I’ll fix breakfast and shower last, Bertha. It’s only fair—since I just swelled the ranks from three to four.”
“You go get ready for your new job,” Bertha answered affectionately, and edged sideways into the tiny kitchenette. “Whew, it’s a hot morning. Even so early.”
In the nurses’ scramble to get to their four jobs on time, Josie offered plaintively, “I could read the letter aloud to you, Gwen, while you dress. Or at breakfast.”
“How do you know it isn’t a love letter?” Gwen teased.
“Any letter from your aunt in Canton, Ohio, can’t be that private. Oh, dear!” Josie wailed from her closet. “Where’s my clean slip?”
Cherry smiled to herself at the familiar bedlam. During the week Gwen rushed off to her private duty case, Josie Franklin reported for general duty nursing at a small hospital, and Bertha to a clinic. Cherry could remember times when the other four members of the Spencer Club had been here, too—Why, today’s confusion was nothing!
Yesterday and the day before—Memorial Day week-end—the Spencer Club had indulged in late, leisurely breakfasts. Then they had caught up with news of one another’s jobs, beaux, families, clothes. This weekend they had concentrated on Cherry Ames, who had arrived earlier in the week—either as a temporary guest, or as a fairly permanent resident. That is, Cherry had come to New York for a job interview.
She had come feeling uncertain whether she was ready for another job right away, after her strenuous nursing work in Africa, in a jungle hospital. Although she had rested at home in Illinois and visited with her family, her mother wanted her to rest still longer. Her father frankly didn’t want her to go away—“Can’t you go back to your staff nurse job at Hilton Hospital, Cherry?” But by now her old job was filled. Cherry’s twin brother, Charlie, had mediated.
“I know how Cherry feels—it’s no good having nothing to do.” He was an aviation engineer, now home on vacation from his job in Southern California. Charlie suggested Cherry might find some nursing work that was not too taxing—“Since she isn’t happy unless she is nursing.”
When the Spencer Club phoned Cherry about Dr. Fairall and his two associate doctors needing an office nurse, that position sounded just right. Last week Cherry had had an interview with Dr. William Fairall. By Friday she was able to tell the Spencer Club: “You’re going to be stuck with me for a while. Dr. Fairall has hired me.”
The only drawback, Cherry thought, was having to spend the summer in the city. She loved New York, but she would miss her small town’s trees, gardens, and her father’s backyard barbecues.
Gwen said, as they finished dressing, “You know, Cherry, I hear that that young Dr. Grey Russell in Dr. Fairall’s office is terribly attractive.”
Cherry’s dark eyes sparkled. “It’s the third or fourth time you’ve told me that valuable piece of information. Have you met him?”
“Once or twice,” Gwen replied. “I hope you’ll like working with him and the others.”
“I expect to like everybody at my new job,” Cherry said. “Or at least I’ll try to get along amiably.”
“Breakfast!” Bertha called. “Ready or not, come!”
Breakfast was hasty. In self-defense, or so she said, Gwen opened the letter at the table and scanned it.
“Very bad manners to read letters at the table,” said Josie.
“Just for that I won’t tell you what’s in it—until we all come home tonight,” Gwen said. She read on. “Say! This is wonderful! In case any of us wants a summer house on Long Island, we may borrow my aunt’s.”
“Well! Very nice! Near enough to commute?” Bertha asked.
“Has it a garden?” Cherry asked. “Or is it near a beach, by any good luck?”
“Yes, to all those things. Sort of yes. Oh—oh—” Gwen turned a handwritten page and frowned as she read. “Aunt Bess says there’s a catch to her offer. Nothing we couldn’t cope with—if we—hmm—” Gwen stared into space. “Think of the swimming parties we could have—lots of guests—picnics afterward at our very own house!”
Cherry gently tapped Gwen’s freckled hand. “Come down off that cloud. Look at the time!”
Bertha looked at the clock. “I’ll never get a shower! Josie, your turn to be the dishwasher. Excuse me.” Bertha ran.
“I’ll help you,” Cherry offered.
Josie nodded her thanks, then asked Gwen, “What’s the catch in your Aunt Bess’s offer? Aren’t you going to show us the snapshots she sent of the place?”
“This evening,” Gwen said firmly. “And it’s a good, solid cloud.” She went to the grocery store, then to the garage to get her car.
By the time Gwen returned, everyone was ready to go. They put away the groceries and propped the letter on the mantel. Then they piled into Gwen’s car—a middle-aged car, but it ran.
Cherry was the first to be let out, when they reached the Broadway theater district. Her friends wished her good luck.
Gwen said, “You’ll have a lively time, what with Dr. Fairall’s show-business patients! ’Bye!”
Cherry left Broadway and walked west on one of the side streets in the Fifties. She passed theater after theater, television studios, casting offices, costumers’ shops, wigmakers, hotels, window displays of musical instruments, pawnshops, restaurants, rehearsal lofts. In broad daylight the district and its people looked hard working and rather shabby. Where was the magic and beauty of the theater at eight-thirty A.M.?
When she walked past the famous old hospital that served this area, Cherry came back with a start from make-believe to the real world. Dr. Fairall was affiliated with this hospital. There he had treated actors, singers, dancers, and stagehands who became part of his practice. He had other, less colorful patients, too.
Or so Gwen had said. She had obtained her information from her own employer, Dr. Merriam, who was an old friend of Bill Fairall’s. In fact, Dr. Merriam had recommended Cherry, knowing her work from the time she had been a companion nurse to one of his patients. It was in Dr. Merriam’s office that Cherry’s interview with Dr. Fairall had taken place last week. They had met there since Dr. Fairall was pressed for time, and was on his way to a medical consultation.
Cherry had had an impression of a vigorous, hardworking, zestful man. His warm concern for his patients came first. He worked at medical research, enjoyed the theater, tennis, hunting, fishing, and found time for family and friends and even some community work. No wonder this busy man had said to Cherry:
“I rely on my staff, Miss Ames, to do what needs doing—apart from purely medical matters. I don’t have time to spell out instructions for every administrative or business detail. So, you see, running that office would be largely up to you! And to my excellent medical secretary and my laboratory technician—you’d work with them as a team. We have a part-time R.N. who comes in occasionally for a few hours, but the main responsibility would be yours. Think you can do it?”
Cherry thought she could. She’d certainly try to do her very best.
Ahead, a few blocks away, Cherry could see the broad, blue Hudson River. Dr. Fairall’s
house must be right here, in this residential block. There it was—a Victorian brownstone—with a scrubbed flagstone entrance yard, freshly painted white shutters and Venetian blinds, the doctors’ nameplates on the door.
Cherry knew that the brownstone’s first two floors had been converted into medical offices. The two top floors, Cherry understood, each held an apartment that Dr. Fairall rented to private tenants. The top-floor apartment looked vacant. At least, the windows up there were bare.
Cherry rang the doctors’ doorbell, then walked in. Though it was early, two men and a woman with a small boy waited in the reception room. Cherry’s practiced eye noticed the child’s pallor and crankiness—convalescing, probably. The two men, reading newspapers, looked well and well taken care of, though one man looked awfully cross.
“How much longer to wait? I’m due at my office,” he complained to the woman in white uniform.
She sat behind a desk, sorting mail. The woman was dignified, with sharp features and fastidious movements. Her graying blond hair gleamed with cleanliness and was combed smooth as a cap. Her hands were beautifully kept, as a lady’s hands should be. She held herself erect, head high, as if she thought of herself as someone rather special.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Babcock.” The woman’s voice was soothingly low-pitched. “Dr. Fairall sometimes gets delayed in traffic. He should be here any minute now. And you are his first patient this morning.”
The patient was placated, and reopened his newspaper. The woman looked at Cherry, smiled, and her agreeable, rather reserved glance took in every last detail about Cherry.
“You must be our new nurse?” she said in a lowered voice. “Dr. Fairall has told me about you, Miss Ames. Hello and welcome. I’m Irene Wick, the doctor’s medical secretary.”
“How do you do, Miss Wick?” said Cherry, and smiled back. “It’s nice to meet you.” She kept her voice low, too, in the patients’ presence. “I hope I’m not late.”