Once Tilly left, she turned to her guests and said, “While we wait for Tilly to bring me the two bottles, I need to provide you with some background.”
She told them about what she had learned about Dr. Skerry from reading copies of her medical journal. She also reported on her husband’s dinner with Richard Truscott, which confirmed that Skerry was responsible for convincing him, and probably his aunt, that the dispensary was somehow to blame for Mrs. Truscott’s illness. She also told them about the oblique mention in the Chronicle and that Nate was going to try and see if anyone at the newspaper was working on a longer story about the dispensary.
She then said, “All of this is disturbing enough, but Joan Carpenter, Phoebe Truscott’s long-time maid, believes that her mistress is ill because someone has been poisoning her.”
“On purpose?” Caro asked.
“She believes so.”
Caro cocked her head and said, “Do you find this maid at all credible?”
“Enough so that I want to see if we can determine what is in the bottles she brought with her. Dr. Blair said the woman had been with her mistress daily during Phoebe Truscott’s convalescence at the dispensary, so the staff got to know her well. No one noticed any signs of irrationality, and she was calm and helpful during the anxious time when her mistress did show signs of infection.”
Mitchell frowned and said, “That’s interesting. If this servant was with Mrs. Truscott after the operation, she would have some idea of what the symptoms of fever would look like. Has her mistress exhibited any of them? Fever, racing pulse, abdominal pain?”
“Those are all the questions Dr. Blair asked Joan, who said there has been no fever, but that there have been several spells of vomiting, followed by weakness and tingling in the extremities. In addition, more recently she’s had some vision problems. Phoebe Truscott does have periodic cramping, but her maid insists that while there has been some bloating, there is no sign of the distended stomach that accompanied the build-up of fluid from the cysts.”
Caro looked at Mitchell and said, “I haven’t had the course in women’s diseases, but it sounds more like a gastric rather than a gynecological problem. What do you think, Dr. Mitchell?”
“I think that some of those symptoms could be found in anything from bad oysters to a diseased stomach…although the tingling in the extremities and the vision difficulties are odd. However, all these symptoms could also be caused by ingesting poison,” Mitchell said.
Tilly entered the dining room at that point, and Annie took the two clear glass bottles and thanked her. She handed the bottles to Mitchell, who examined what appeared to be clear liquid in both of them. He shook the bottles then examined them again.
“Well, that doesn’t tell me much of anything, except to rule out a couple of possibilities that would preclude the liquid being clear, with no discernible precipitate. But I have a couple of ideas about what substances to test.”
Kathleen and Tilly appeared and began to serve lunch, so Annie turned the conversation to subjects that would be less likely to dampen anyone’s appetite, since it would be a shame to ruin Beatrice’s fried chicken and potato dumplings.
Caro Sutton was glad to talk about the house she had bought up on Powell near the university’s medical school and the difficulties she was having finding a well-trained cook.
Mitchell, who had been concentrating on eating, put his head up and said in his joshing manner, “I would be glad to recommend Mrs. Randall, my boardinghouse cook. You would be doing me and everyone a great service if you lured her away with a splendid salary.”
Annie laughed, but she did tell Caro she would be glad to ask Mrs. O’Rourke if she had any recommendations. Annie knew that Beatrice often acted as an informal employment agent when she heard about an opening for a servant.
She then asked Caro about her courses and was amused to listen to Caro and Mitchell debate the relative merits of two of the professors who ran the clinical courses on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Finally, as Tilly cleared away the empty plates and brought a fresh pot of coffee to the table, Annie turned the conversation back to the subject at hand by asking Mitchell what he thought the chances were of finding poison in the two bottles.
“I would be surprised if I found anything definitive,” he replied. “I assume that if Mrs. Truscott is currently under the care of this homeopathic doctor, Skerry, that she is being given drops from a good number of different bottles, because that is a homeopath’s stock in trade. But usually homeopathic practitioners are very careful to label the medicines they prescribe, name of substance, amount of dilution, and instructions for use. Conversely, if the medicine was bought at a homeopathic pharmacy, you would also see the name of the pharmacy.”
“That’s why Joan brought these bottles, because they were so different from the others she had seen in both Phoebe’s and the aunt’s rooms.”
Mitchell said, “Did this Joan try to find out where the bottles came from?”
“No, by the time she noticed them, she was afraid to let anyone know of her suspicions, so she just took them. The first one she took last week. No one remarked on its disappearance, which seemed rather strange. Then, yesterday morning, the second bottle appeared, just like the first, with no markings. That was when she decided to take it and bring it to Dr. Blair at the dispensary. She’s been afraid to leave her mistress alone, but she is also afraid that her mistress is getting weaker and weaker with each bout of vomiting and might not make it through another episode.”
“Besides these bottles appearing out of the blue, did the maid see any other pattern of behavior that was suspicious?” Caro asked.
“Joan said the first thing that bothered her was the fact that the day after the very first spell, instead of contacting Dr. Granger or someone from the dispensary, they sent for Dr. Skerry.”
Mitchell said, “Didn’t you say earlier that Ella…Dr. Blair…said she was told when she tried to visit Mrs. Truscott that Dr. Granger had been notified but never showed up?”
“Yes, and my husband said that Richard Truscott mentioned this specifically as one of the reasons they turned to Skerry. But Dr. Granger told Ella that he never got a note from the Truscotts, and I see no reason for Dr. Granger to lie about this. Joan says that her mistress asked several times for them to contact Dr. Granger, but she believes that the husband pretended to send a note but instead sent for Dr. Skerry, his aunt’s doctor. At the time, Joan said she didn’t mention her suspicion that they hadn’t done as her mistress requested because at first Phoebe did seem to get better under Dr. Skerry’s care.”
Mitchell shrugged. “Of course Dr. Skerry would say it was because of the medicine she had been giving Mrs. Truscott that she improved, even though everything I have read about homeopathic medicine is that the substances are so diluted that you are essentially being dosed with water.”
Annie saw Caro nod in agreement, and she said, “Joan wondered if somehow Skerry had convinced the aunt to give her mistress something that made her ill, just so Skerry could then be called in and act the savior. She said Richard Truscott’s aunt is always pushing one tonic or other on her nephew.”
“But Mrs. Truscott didn’t stay better, did she?” Mitchell said. “You mentioned several spells. Did the maid notice any particular pattern in terms of what medicine or food she was taking before each spell?”
“For example, if she got worse after a visit with Skerry? I asked her about that. She said that one evening after Dr. Skerry had been by to check on her mistress, Joan came into the room and found Mr. Truscott giving his wife a cup of tea. He said Dr. Skerry had recommended his wife take the tea with her evening drops. And that was when she discovered the strange bottle on the chest of drawers the next morning. That night her mistress had a particularly bad spell of vomiting.”
Mitchell said, “So she thought that the husband dosed the tea with something?” He looked at the bottles again and said, “The thing is, even if something from one of these bottles
is what made the woman sick, it still could be an accident. The husband may have misunderstood the instructions, given her too many drops, and that is what made her sick.”
Caro, who had taken off her glasses and polished them thoughtfully while Mitchell and Annie talked, put the glasses back on and said, “The problem is that, even if it is accidental, or the goal was to make Mrs. Truscott ill enough to justify some campaign against the Pacific Dispensary, if the maid is correct, the young woman’s health appears to be deteriorating rapidly.”
“Exactly my thought,” Annie said. “Then there is the even more frightening possibility…that someone is actually trying to kill her.”
Chapter 25
Friday evening, March 3, 1882
O’Farrell Street Boardinghouse
* * *
As Nate came into the house, the alluring smell of baked ham enveloped him, and he congratulated himself for making it home in time to eat dinner with his wife. He didn’t know when the last time was that he didn’t end up eating a sandwich at eight or nine o’clock at night. Not that Mrs. O’Rourke’s sandwiches weren’t a delight, but he did love ham, hot from the oven, crisp with a brown sugar glaze, and served with a potato casserole with bacon, and pickled beets.
Kathleen came out of the dining room, and when she saw him, she came quickly to help him off with his coat, saying, “Tell the mistress I will bring up your dinner in fifteen minutes.”
Three-quarters of an hour later, Nate put his napkin down on his now-empty plate and sighed with contentment. “That was a truly splendid meal. Here, hand Abigail over to me while you finish.”
“I’m not sure I can eat much more,” Annie said as she gave their daughter a little bounce on her knee before handing the wiggling child over to him. “I can always tell when the Steins dine at home. Beatrice makes a special effort when she knows Herman is going to be judging the meal. She says she feels the need to compete with the ‘hoity-toity’ French chefs in the restaurants they go to.”
“What, that meal wasn’t done especially for me?”
Annie laughed. “I suspect she gave up long ago planning any meal around you. I will say this for Herman Stein: when he is in town, he is punctual about making it home for dinner.”
Nate was glad she was able to laugh about the matter tonight. And he really did intend on doing better, at least about making it home when he said he would. Although he couldn’t promise not to work a couple of more hours after dinner when he was due in court the next day.
He played a bit of “little piggy” with his daughter as Annie finished up the last bit of her potato casserole. She then got up and pulled the cord by the fireplace that would tell Kathleen or Tilly they could come up from the kitchen to remove the dishes and bring the dessert and the hot water for tea.
Coming back to the table, Annie said, “Now, tell me exactly what Tim said when you asked him about whether anyone at the Chronicle was doing a story on the Pacific Dispensary.”
Nate had sent his friend Tim Newsome a note in the early post this morning, asking if he could stop by the law firm today or tomorrow. Tim had shown up around three, said he could just stay a few minutes because he had a lead he had to track down on a rumor that one of the larger wholesalers was going to declare bankruptcy. Tim had started out on the newspaper’s farm beat, reporting on the price of wheat and rainfall amounts. In the past few years, his responsibilities had expanded to include all the major business reporting for the Chronicle. Not surprisingly, this meant that when Annie and Nate got together with Tim and his wife, Tim and Annie would spend a good deal of the evening trading rumors about this and that company.
Annie said, “Come, Nate, don’t tease me. I know he said something, because you look like a cat who got into the cream.”
“He said that the editor, who has a real hatred of the Dr. Allen you read about in Skerry’s journal, had assigned a reporter to look into local charities, the Pacific Dispensary among them.”
“Oh, Nate, that fits. Ella Blair said that the boy, Jocko, the one I told you about who is a former newsboy, said that years ago the Chronicle did a big exposé on this Dr. Allen. All about how he used money from the Benevolent Association to keep this young girl as his mistress.”
“The very one. Tim says the police even brought the man in for questioning, but he was able to escape charges, too well connected,” said Nate. “And he’s still in charge of the society, which upsets the Chronicle editor to no end. Consequently, about once a year, he tells a reporter to see if he can’t find some new scandal connected with him.”
“But was I right, the little snippet in the Chronicle was referencing the Pacific Dispensary?”
“Yes, you were.”
Just then, a knock came on the door, and Kathleen entered. She brought them slices of pumpkin pie and a pot of hot water then put their dinner dishes on her tray and left. While Annie fixed the tea, Nate stood up and started walking around the room with his daughter, who was getting restive. He’d found that she seemed to find staring at things—a picture on the wall, the clock on the mantel, the carved wood on the wardrobe—fascinating. He would tell her the name of what she was staring at, and she would coo and blow bubbles as her part of the conversation.
“Here, Nate, I think if we put her on the floor on this blanket between us, with this rattle, she will entertain herself for awhile. The rattle’s a new present from Esther, perfect for chewing on.”
Nate did as instructed and was delighted when Abigail grabbed the rattle and immediately bonked him on the shin with it before putting it in her mouth.
Going back to Annie’s earlier question, Nate said, “Tim asked the reporter working on the story why he had targeted the dispensary, and the man said that his first step was to go around and interview people who serve on the board of various charitable entities. His cover story was that he was going to do a general puff piece about how the San Francisco elite support good works. His hope was that one of the people he interviewed would say something bad about Dr. Allen. A few days after he did his first round of interviews with various board members, he got an anonymous letter suggesting he look into the Pacific Dispensary.”
“Oh, Nate, another poison pen case! Did he have any idea who might have sent the note? You don’t think it could have been Argenta Branting, do you? Surely she wouldn’t do something like that.”
Nate noticed that Abigail had stopped banging on the floor with the rattle and was looking up at Annie, whose voice had risen. He said quickly, “I doubt it was this treasurer, because the reporter hadn’t even interviewed anyone from the Pacific Dispensary yet.”
Annie said more quietly, “Then I think it must have been Dr. Skerry. She strikes me as someone who is very well-connected, the kind who hears things. I can just imagine if she heard about him making the rounds of charitable boards, she would use this to send the letter. Then she could point to a negative story in the press to Richard Truscott, which would reinforce the poison she’d been pouring into his ears.”
“You could be right.”
“Did you ask Tim what the reporter looks like?” Annie asked.
“You mean, did he fit the description of the man who was loitering outside the dispensary, asking questions?”
Annie swooped Abigail up and set her on her knees and said, “Of course. Did he?”
“Tim said he is tall, dark hair, wears a derby, so it could be him. But he said the reporter swears he hasn’t been by the dispensary. However, Tim said he’s not sure the fellow would tell him the truth about that. Turns out that while the sub-editor approved putting the piece in Jottings About Town, the news editor was furious when he read it because he quite admires the good Dr. Brown and the work she’s done at the Pacific Dispensary. As a result, Tim thinks the reporter might not want it to be known he’d actually been snooping around, asking questions.”
“Oh, that is good news,” Annie said, clapping Abigail’s hands between her own, making the baby giggle. “This should mean the Chronicle wo
n’t be writing any more negative pieces on the dispensary.” Then she frowned.
Nate knew that look. No doubt his extremely bright wife would have come to the same conclusion he had. If there was someone who had a vendetta against the dispensary or the doctors associated with it, there were plenty of other papers in town they could use to further that vendetta. Before he could say anything to that effect, however, there was a swift rat-a-tat on the door, and his sister barreled into the room.
“Oh, look, the master is at home,” she cried, crossing the room and crouching down at Annie’s feet so she could look Abigail in the eye. “And how’s my niece doing? Learn any new funny faces today?”
Laura then proceeded to stick out her tongue and cross her eyes, making his daughter widen her own eyes with astonishment.
Annie said, “You are in a good mood. I assume that you made it home in time for dinner as well.”
“Yes, and Mrs. O’Rourke outdid herself. Oh, you haven’t eaten your pie yet? Can I have your piece, Nate?”
Nate took his fork and waved it at her. “Don’t you dare.”
As he started eating the pie, Laura pulled out the third chair in the room and listened as Annie told her about what Nate had found out from Tim.
When Laura asked if Caro Sutton had come by as requested, Annie responded that she had come to lunch…with Martin Mitchell. For some reason Laura found this piece of information amusing, saying, “Caro brought Mitchell? Well, that is unexpected.”
Annie said, “As you know, he works part time at Toland Hall, and they ran into each other on Friday. She thought he might be able to give her some idea if there was any way that they could use the laboratory he works in to test the liquids in the two bottles I told you about. He persuaded her to bring him along to see me. Did either of you know that Mitchell also works part time with an uncle who runs a pharmacy? His uncle keeps some chemicals on hand that would let Mitchell run a few simple tests. Then, depending on what they find out, they will go tomorrow morning to Toland Hall to run further tests.”
Lethal Remedies Page 17