As Mrs. McClellan stopped to attend to Phoebe, Ella went into the room where a strange woman had pulled a screaming Hilda Putki out of bed. Dressed in a gaudy plaid with lots of braiding and a hat festooned by feathers, the woman was berating the young Scandinavian girl as she tugged at her arm, saying, “Get dressed, you stupid girl. I’m not here to hurt you. Charlie’s got a nice snug room for you, best doc his money can buy. Treat you like a princess, he promises.”
Ella hurried over to Hilda’s side, where she tried to insert herself between the woman and the young girl, pushing at the woman’s chest. Raising her voice she said, “Let go of her this minute. I don’t know who you are, but you are not permitted to be here. And if you don’t leave this minute, I’ll send for the police.”
The woman sneered. “I’m a friend, making sure you old maids don’t take advantage of young Hildy here. Go ahead, bring in the coppers. I’ll tell them how you kidnapped this girl, probably planning on selling her baby.”
Hilda sobbed, barely getting her words out. “She’s…lying…not a friend of mine. Don’t…don’t…let her take me!”
Nurse Kirk, a large, strong woman, came in and grabbed the stranger by her waist and pulled her back, giving Ella the chance to move in front of Hilda, who cowered behind her back.
Mrs. McClellan said from the doorway, “I’ve sent Megs out to get Officer Blakely. He’s just down the road outside Woodward’s Gardens. He’ll be here any minute.”
The woman must have realized she was outnumbered. She righted her hat, which had slipped over her eyes, and said, “I’ve half a mind to stay and tell that copper about how I was assaulted, just trying to help a friend. But I’ve got better things to do.”
She slipped around Nurse Beck, but right before she got to the door to the hallway, she turned and said, “You can hide behind that woman’s skirts all you want, Hildy girl. But you can’t stay here forever. I promise you, if that sprat inside you is a boy, Charlie’s going to get it, one way or the other.”
The woman pushed past Mrs. McClellan, who followed her to make sure she left the building. Ella turned to a trembling Hilda and said, “It’s over. She’s gone. You must try to calm yourself, get back in bed, let me…”
“Oh miss…what’s to become of me!”
Then the girl doubled over, and Nurse Kirk moved to gather the girl in her arms, saying calmly, “Dr. Blair, I do believe the baby’s coming.”
Ella looked down at the trickle of liquid pooling around Hilda’s feet, and a sense of calm descended.
This crisis, I know how to handle.
Nearly five hours later, Ella walked wearily down the front stairs to the first floor hallway, where Martin Mitchell stood listening to Megs, who was excitedly telling him about her mad dash to get a policeman to throw some “hussy” out of the building.
He looked briefly over at Ella with that irritating grin of his and said, “Good gracious, Megs, what a brave girl you were! But I believe Dr. Blair needs to consult with me. Could you do me a big favor and go down to the kitchen and see if Cook left anything for me to eat? I’m properly famished.”
“Some hussy?” he said to Ella once the young servant had disappeared down the back stairs.
“From what we can piece together from Mrs. Truscott, this woman, dressed sort of flashy like a saloon girl, showed up in their room this evening. Joan had gone down to the kitchen, so she and Hilda were alone. The woman announced that she was a ‘friend’ of Hilda’s and she had come to visit her. Asked if Mrs. Truscott would give them a little privacy.”
“She wanted Mrs. Truscott to leave the room?”
“I guess so, but Mrs. Truscott took one look at Hilda’s face and she knew something was wrong. She said something about being too sick to leave her bed and that maybe the woman should come back during visiting hours tomorrow.”
“This happened after visiting hours? So how did the woman get in?” Mitchell’s grin had disappeared, and Ella winced at his sharp tone.
“We don’t know. The patrolman who Megs got to come, a nice young man, Officer Blakely, checked all the windows from outside, didn’t see anything amiss. Someone must have let her in. I guess we were just fortunate it wasn’t McFadyn himself.”
Ella stopped, hearing how her voice had begun to quaver.
He took her arm and said, “You look all done in. Come into the reception room and sit down.”
She let him guide her to a chair. He put down the satchel he always carried and then took a match from the box on the mantel and lit it so he could get a fire going. She noticed that the servant Megs had already set up the cot they had been putting out for him for the past three days. She had meant to insist that this was the last night he needed to come after his hospital shift, but after what had happened this evening, she didn’t imagine he’d agree. Stubborn man. However, when Dr. Brown got back—in only three more days—then Ella would talk to her about hiring a night guard instead.
Mitchell came over and pulled up a second chair. “Megs said something about Hilda’s labor starting in all the excitement.”
“Yes, the poor girl’s water broke right then. Mrs. McClellan sent out her assistant to notify Dr. Harrison Granger, that’s Dr. Granger’s son. He specializes in obstetrics and was here to see her yesterday. He instructed us to send for him when she went into labor. He was worried that between her extreme youth and the possible damage caused by whatever substance she had taken before she got here that her confinement would be difficult.”
“Is he here now?”
“I thought Megs would have told you. No, he’s been and gone. Hilda’s water broke a little after seven-thirty and within the hour her contractions were strong and coming every three minutes. The baby, a boy, arrived shortly after nine, but Dr. Granger didn’t make it to the dispensary until about a half hour after that.”
“And mother and child?”
“Doing as well as can be expected. The boy is five pounds, eight ounces, definitely underweight. However, so far there doesn’t seem to be any sign of lung or heart problems with the boy, which was the doctor’s main concern.”
“So you delivered the baby all by yourself?” he asked, sounding envious.
“Hardly!” Ella smiled, remembering how frightened she’d been the first time she had been in charge of a birth, without one of the attending physicians. “I had excellent help from both Mrs. McClellan and Nurse Kirk, and I suspect that between them they have delivered hundreds if not thousands of babies.”
“How about the girl, Hilda? How’s she doing?”
Ella shrugged. “She’s exhausted. Thank goodness it was a short labor. However, as you know, there is always the possibility of infection, which wouldn’t necessarily show up immediately. Nurse Kirk will check her and the child’s vital signs every hour, with strict instructions to get me if there is any sign of fever in either of them.”
“Well, I won’t keep you from your well-deserved rest. You do look exhausted,” Mitchell said.
Ella wished he’d stop mentioning how awful she looked, but she was exhausted, and she should go up to bed. Although how she would be able to sleep, she didn’t know. Not when she had no idea how the woman had gotten into the dispensary or what Charlie McFadyn would do if he heard that Hilda’s baby was a boy.
Chapter 39
Wednesday morning, March 8, 1880
O’Farrell Street Boardinghouse
* * *
“Are you planning on going to the dispensary today, ma’am?” Kathleen asked when Annie walked into the kitchen. Kathleen and Tilly were finishing up washing the breakfast dishes, and Beatrice was sitting at the old scarred wooden table, working on the marketing list. Annie suspected they all had been busy discussing Mitchell’s news from this morning.
When Mitchell stopped by the boardinghouse around seven, which had been his habit the past three days, Nate had already gone to work and she was up in the nursery with Abigail. Consequently, after telling everyone in the kitchen about the exciting events at the
dispensary the previous evening, he’d said he had to leave for work and handed over a note for Annie from Dr. Blair.
“No, Kathleen, Dr. Blair didn’t ask me to come, and I expect that the staff is just concentrating on getting everything back to normal. I’m not sure I would have gone, even if she’d asked me to, because I don’t want to leave Abigail right now while she is still teething. I finally got her down for her morning nap, but I have no confidence she will stay asleep for long. I’ll have a cup of tea and go over the menu with you, Beatrice, then go back upstairs.”
“Don’t you worry about the little miss,” Beatrice said. “I warrant those teeth will push through today and she’ll be doing grand by tomorrow.”
“I hope so, for her sake, poor thing. She looks at me with this little frown, like she can’t understand why I don’t do something about her pain. But you’re right, Bea. If the last two teeth are anything to go by, she may be past the worst part soon…until the next teeth come in,” Annie said, smiling.
“There’s still some ice left, ma’am. Shall I chip some off for you?” Tilly asked.
“Thanks, but not now. However, when she wakes up, I’ll ring if I want you to bring me some. That did seem to help yesterday.”
As usual, Annie was comforted by the warmth and goodwill she always felt when she was here in the kitchen, surrounded by the women who were among her closest friends. Friends who had been very kind in not mentioning how grumpy she’d been since the baby was born. Just last month, during the first round of teething, she remembered coming down to the kitchen in self-pitying tears. Her inability to do anything to comfort her child had made her irritable with poor Abigail, resentful of Nate for being able to go off to work, and unmindful of all the hard work these three women did to make her life and this house run smoothly.
This time, when the teething started, she felt as if something had shifted in her. She was tired this morning from getting up with Abigail several times in the night, but she was pleased that nursing had helped soothe her daughter. She’d even been able to send Nate off with a kiss and good wishes for his court appearance today. She was proud that once again he was defending some desperate woman in a divorce case. She’d even remembered to make sure he had his gloves with him.
Instead of feeling resentful about having to stay home, she thought of the careworn faces of the women she’d seen in the dispensary waiting room and felt gratitude that she didn’t have to make a choice between leaving a sick child home under the uncertain care of a sibling or neighbor or losing wages that might mean less food on the table for the entire family.
Kathleen dried her hands, and as she filled the kettle, she asked, “Ma’am there are some biscuits left over from breakfast. Should I toast some for you to have with your tea?”
“That would be lovely.”
Annie sat down in the rocker, looking into the nest of blankets in the low basket sitting next to the stove. Dandy was curled up next to Prince, the young black cat with white markings, who at six months was now almost the terrier’s size, at least in length. Prince’s mother, who’d never become completely tame, was somewhere in the neighborhood, catching rats.
Thinking of mothers and sons, Annie said, “Did Mitchell tell you that Hilda’s baby is a boy? In her note, Dr. Blair said he is underweight, but that Dr. Granger, the younger doctor, said his lungs and heart sounded good.”
“Yes, ma’am, he did, though Dr. Mitchell said the first couple of days are the most chancy for both mother and child.”
Nodding, Annie thought that she could barely remember the first few days after Abigail was born. Mrs. Stein said this was normal, nature’s way of ensuring the continuation of the human race. In Hilda’s case, Annie hoped this would also blunt the poor girl’s memory of the woman trying to drag her out of the dispensary.
She said, “Let’s hope all goes well and that they aren’t faced with any more upsets, by Mr. Truscott or this Charlie McFadyn.”
Beatrice said, “When’s Dr. Brown due back in town? I know you think highly of her, and she did a wonderful job in bringing our sweet Abigail into this world, but seems to me she should be the one worrying about all these goings on, not you and the master.”
“I believe she is due back late Friday. And I know that Dr. Blair will be relieved. All this has been such a burden on the young doctor.”
Annie thought about her decision not to go to the dispensary today. She was telling the truth when she said her decision was based on Abigail. But she confessed to herself she wanted to postpone telling Dr. Blair about what Nate had learned yesterday from his newspaper reporter friend, Tim Newsome. Turned out that a second anonymous letter arrived at the Chronicle yesterday morning, addressed to the reporter who got the first one.
This letter was much more specific, saying the dispensary was in such financial difficulty that its doctors had taken to doing “illegal and unneeded operations.” Newsome said that he warned the reporter and the editor that this was probably part of some sort of campaign against the dispensary on the part of Dr. Skerry. They knew of Skerry’s reputation, so Tim hoped they would sit on the story. But he couldn’t promise that other local papers hadn’t received a similar letter. Annie planned on finding time today to skim through yesterday’s and today’s editions of the other city papers to see if there were any stories directed against the dispensary or its doctors.
A sudden knock on the back kitchen door set Dandy to barking, while the kitten puffed up and hissed, which made Annie chuckle.
Tilly went to the door, and when she opened it, she said, “Ma’am, it’s a telegram.”
Annie got up and fetched a coin from her pocket, glad she’d brought down money to the kitchen to give to Kathleen for the marketing. Giving the freckle-faced boy his tip, she opened up the envelope, rather expecting it to be from Nate, telling her once again that he’d be home late tonight.
Surprised when she saw the name at the bottom, she hurriedly read the message, hardly believing what she was seeing. She must have made some sound, because Beatrice O’Rourke got up hurriedly from the table and came over to Annie, putting her arm around her and saying, “What’s wrong, dearie?”
“It’s a telegram from Sergeant Thompson. The dispensary’s consulting doctor I told you about, Dr. Granger, the father, not the son, has been found dead this morning, and it looks like murder.”
Chapter 40
Wednesday evening, March 8, 1882
O’Farrell Street Boardinghouse
* * *
Kathleen came into the nursery, where Annie sat rocking Abigail, and said, “Mr. Nate’s home. I’ve told him you will come down to your office and join him there. Tilly’s gone to fetch him something to eat, and she’ll keep an ear out for when that Sergeant Thompson comes. Mrs. O’Rourke said there’s enough left-overs to offer him some as well. Says the poor man might not have had a chance to eat today. Told me that in the first days of a murder investigation, her husband, rest his soul, would come home near faint with hunger.”
“That’s very thoughtful, Kathleen. Here, you take Abigail, she’s almost asleep, and I bet if you sit and rock her for a few more minutes, you’ll be able to put her down. But don’t hesitate to come get me if she starts to cry.”
Annie handed her daughter over and then hurried down to the study, noticing that the door to the formal parlor was open and Mrs. Hewitt and the three children were still there. They all must have finished their homework. Mrs. Hewitt was reading out loud to the children from a magazine called Young Folks. They had been avidly following along in a serialized story called Treasure Island, and she believed that this was the issue that held the concluding segment. She waved and then went in to see Nate, who was standing by the fire, warming his hands.
He turned and said, “Kathleen says Thompson’s coming by. Do you know why?”
Annie came over and kissed him on the cheek and took his hands and rubbed them. “Did you forget to wear your gloves coming home?”
Nate laughed and sai
d, “How well you know me. I didn’t even remember I had them in my pocket until I was nearly to our doorstep. So, what is going on? You didn’t answer my question.”
Annie sighed, went over to the chair facing the fireplace, and said, “I don’t know specifically why he is coming, except that his telegram said he wanted to ask us some questions. But I can only assume he thinks we might have some insight into why someone might have wanted to kill Dr. Harry Granger.”
“Dr. Granger, the doctor who consults with the dispensary? The one who brought Mrs. Truscott there? Someone tried to kill him?”
“Someone succeeded in killing him. Thompson’s telegram used the word murder. And that’s all I know, beyond a very small mention in the evening Bulletin that a respected doctor had been found dead in his office early this morning.”
Nate rubbed his hands through his hair distractedly and sat down heavily in the other chair. “And Thompson wants to talk to us? That doesn’t sound good. You’re sure the paper didn’t say the doctor was found at the Pacific Dispensary?”
“No, the Bulletin gave the address as 101 Dupont, which is where Dr. Granger’s medical offices are…were…located, only two blocks east of Dr. Brown’s office on Geary. But I can’t help worrying that his death has something to do with the dispensary. Otherwise, why would Thompson want to speak to us?”
“Exactly, and if so, what does this mean for our attempts to keep the dispensary out of the press?”
This had been the thought swirling in Annie’s head all day. She said, “I sent off a telegram to Dr. Blair. Just seemed the right thing to do. Didn’t want her to hear from some stranger or get confronted by a reporter and not be prepared. And what terrible news for Dr. Brown and Dr. Wanzer to face when they arrive home.”
Lethal Remedies Page 26