Annie looked sharply at Nellie, who, up until now, had seemed so forthright. What was causing her hesitation?
Finally, she said, “Your brother?”
“Well, Harrison became quite belligerent with the sergeant when he asked him to account for his movements that night. I think that he’s feeling guilty because he and Father had been on the outs for the past month or so. Over stupid things like whose name should come first on the title page of the journal they both edit.”
Lydia said quietly, “Nellie doesn’t fully understand. She’s carved out her own area of success, quite distinct from Father. She doesn’t know what it was like to live perpetually in his shadow.”
Nellie looked at her sister with affection and shrugged. “Father was bigger than life. And I don’t know that any of us, his children, his employees, the staff of the dispensary, can be objective. That’s why we’ve come to you, Mrs. Dawson, as someone who can look at his life from the outside. See if there is something we are missing.”
Lydia leaned over to pick up a box that had been sitting at her feet and cradled it in her lap. She said, “This is Father’s memoir. He’s been working on it off and on for the past year. It’s all about his medical career, starting with his days in medical school at the University of Pennsylvania in the 1840s.”
Nellie added, “Lydia and I think that the clues to who wanted him dead might be found somewhere in these volumes. At first, I thought we could simply look at the most recent pages. But Lydia thinks, from something Father said on Monday, that he was upset about something from his past. We just don’t know what part of his past. Besides, neither of us is emotionally ready to read any of what he has written.”
Annie looked over at Laura, who lifted her shoulders slightly as if to indicate she didn’t know this request was coming. She said, “So you would like me to read what he’s written? Looking for what?”
“That’s it, we don’t know,” Nellie said. “I guess we hope that something or some person will jump out at you. Something that would explain why anyone would want to kill him.”
Annie said, “Did you tell Sergeant Thompson about this memoir?”
Nellie shook her head. “No, we didn’t. Frankly, we didn’t like the idea of the police reading it. We worried that they might take something he said out of context.”
Something like the tension between their father and their brother?
She understood their concern, but looking at the size of the box, Annie wondered exactly how many volumes Nellie was talking about. This could be a monumental task. Yet it was something she could do at home, in private. Nate would be pleased. He had already expressed his concern this morning when she mentioned she might try to arrange an interview with Dr. Skerry. He’d said sharply that she should leave the face-to-face investigating to Sergeant Thompson. She knew he was thinking about three of her earlier cases, where she had found herself in physical danger. But he couldn’t complain if she did her sleuthing from home.
Annie said, “All right, I’ll take a look. However, if I find something that I believe the police need to know about, I will have to tell Sergeant Thompson.”
Nellie glanced over at her sister and then nodded her agreement.
Annie added, thinking about her meeting tomorrow, “Would it be all right with you if I spoke to Dr. Brown and Dr. Blair about having this memoir? While I will try to skim through all the volumes, they might be able to suggest particular names to look for or the timing of specific events.”
“Yes, that is actually an excellent idea,” Nellie said.
As Annie took the heavy box from Lydia, she had the sudden thought that Dr. Granger might have mentioned Dr. Skerry in his memoir, elaborating on the reasons he and Dr. Brown had objected to her being accepted by the California Medical Society. Yes, this memoir might be the next best thing to actually talking to suspects.
Chapter 44
Friday afternoon, March 10, 1882
Pacific Dispensary for Women and Children
* * *
When Caro Sutton and arrived at the boardinghouse at three-thirty, Annie handed Abigail over to Tilly, kissed her daughter good-bye, and then she and Kathleen hurried through the gusts of rain to Caro’s carriage.
Friday was Kathleen’s evening out this week, so Annie had told her that she could leave directly from the dispensary to meet up with her beau, Patrick, at Woodward’s Gardens. The young couple had plans for an early dinner before they went out dancing. Annie hoped the weather wouldn’t put too much of a damper on their fun.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Dawson, Miss Hennessey,” Caro said as they settled themselves in the seat across from her. Annie saw Kathleen avidly taking in all the special luxuries of Caro’s carriage.
Annie replied, “Thank you for offering to take us with you; this is certainly not the kind of weather that favors walking or taking one of the horse cars. I understand from your telegram that you have arranged with Dr. Blair to observe Dr. Powers do one of his eye operations this afternoon?”
“Yes. Given my own need for corrective lenses, I’ve always been interested in diseases of the eye,” Caro said, the light from the carriage lamp glinting off her spectacles. “I understood from Dr. Mitchell, who I saw before class yesterday, that you were scheduled to come to the dispensary for a meeting with Dr. Brown.”
“She just got into town late yesterday evening, and I have a good deal to go over with her, including the fact that, much as I had feared, there was a small article in the Evening Bulletin along the lines of the one in the Chronicle last week. This one explicitly connected Dr. Granger’s death with ‘suspicious goings on at a ladies’ medical facility.’”
“Oh, dear. Dr. Mitchell told me about Dr. Granger’s death as well as the attempt to kidnap the young girl, Hilda. He seemed to suggest that there could be some connection between the two.”
“That’s just speculation. However, Kathleen hopes that Hilda might be willing to tell her more about McFadyn. No one wanted to push the girl to reveal more about what happened to her when her condition was so delicate. But, for her own safety, we now need to learn all we can about McFadyn.”
Caro said, “I certainly hope that the threat that McFadyn poses to the dispensary is dealt with sooner rather than later. Dr. Mitchell, who I believe is still staying there each night, is beginning to look a trifle rough around the edges from lack of sleep.”
Miss Keene, the volunteer Annie had met before, welcomed the three of them at the dispensary door. They stood for a moment to shake off the rain that had spattered the bottoms of their skirts where the valiant attempts of Robertson, the carriage driver, to shield them with the large umbrella had failed. It really was a miserable day. Miss Keene helped them take off their wraps, told Annie that Dr. Brown was waiting for her in the office and Kathleen was expected upstairs. She then offered to take Caro Sutton downstairs to the operating room.
When Annie entered the office, she saw Dr. Brown sitting at the desk, poring over a pile of correspondence. The doctor got up hurriedly when she saw Annie, giving her a warm hug before leading her over to the two chairs set in front of the fireplace. Annie smiled at her internal twinge of discomfort with suddenly being the guest in the office she had begun to see as her own.
As she watched Dr. Brown pour out tea and make light conversation about the inclement weather, Annie thought the good doctor was looking tired. In addition, her eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed, no doubt from weeping. She lightly touched Dr. Brown’s arm and said, “I am so very sorry for your loss. Hearing about Dr. Granger’s death must be hitting you hard. Dr. Bucknell and Mrs. Stone were able to meet you at the train last night?”
“Yes. Lucy and I could scarcely take it in when they told us. When we got their telegram that they would meet us at the Oakland station, we had steeled ourselves to hear that you had discovered some additional problems confronting the dispensary. We never expected to learn of Harry’s death, much less that he’d been murdered. I’ve been reading through the mass of
condolence letters that have been coming to the dispensary…he touched so many people’s lives.”
Annie sat for a moment as Dr. Brown composed herself. She then said, “Dr. Brown, if this is too soon, we can meet Monday.”
“No, no, we can’t delay. As you know, the board meeting is next week, and Mrs. Stone feels that Mrs. Branting is still determined to cause difficulties.”
“I believe she may be right. Although, if Mrs. Branting intends to base her complaints on the financial status of the dispensary, she will have difficulty. My auditor’s report will show that, as of the first of March, thanks to Mrs. Stone’s donation, the books are balanced. The main problem going forward is that there is no prudent reserve.”
“Mrs. Easton, the previous treasurer, specifically brought this up before she stepped down. The cost of moving to this new building had depleted the reserve we had maintained for the prior couple of years. The first year the dispensary was in operation, we had a bit of a crisis. Dr. Ellen Sargent, one of our supporters who was just graduating from the university medical school, actually gave up having a new black silk dress made for her graduation so she could donate the money to pay the rent for the dispensary for a month. We didn’t want to get ourselves in that position again, and Mrs. Branting lobbied for the job of treasurer by saying she would be able to bring in enough new members to help build up that reserve. As far as I can tell, she didn’t carry through on this pledge.”
“Hence the difficulty when Mr. Truscott refused to pay his bill,” Annie said. “Can you think of any reason why Mrs. Branting would purposely try to sabotage the reputation and standing of the dispensary?”
Dr. Brown looked startled. “Good heavens, no. I’ve just assumed all the financial problems were due to her incompetence. What makes you ask that?”
Annie told her about the anonymous letters and showed her the clipping she had made of the article in the Chronicle and yesterday’s Evening Bulletin.
When Dr. Brown had finished reading the articles, Annie said, “I had assumed that these letters were the work of Richard Truscott or Dr. Skerry, given the way they echoed the language about illegal procedures that I found in his letter to the dispensary. Then it occurred to me the other day that the letters started to appear after Mrs. Branting received Truscott’s letter. What if his letter actually gave her the idea to send the anonymous accusations to the newspapers?”
“But to what purpose?” Brown asked.
“Mrs. Stone believes that Mrs. Branting’s intent all along has been to overthrow the current leadership and undermine the position of you and the other attending physicians. Unfavorable stories in the press would give her something to use against you all at the board meeting. I gather that one of the areas she has complained about is the decision to start doing surgeries like the ovariotomy that you did on Mrs. Truscott.”
“Yes, she’s questioned that decision, just like she’s questioned the nursing program.”
Annie said, “Do you know why she is against you doing this sort of surgery? Did she have some sort of personal reason? From my understanding, the divisions over the risks involved with abdominal or reproductive organ surgery are generally limited to discussions within the medical establishment. So where did Mrs. Branting come up with her objections?”
Dr. Brown thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it, her arguments against this sort of operation seemed more sophisticated than I would expect from her. You think she’s been coached? And if so, by whom?”
“My best guess would be Dr. Skerry,” Annie said. “What if Dr. Skerry hasn’t just been working with Richard Truscott and his aunt to undermine you and the other dispensary doctors? What if somehow she got the ear of Mrs. Branting? Dr. Skerry’s brother is active in the Democratic Party, as is Mrs. Branting’s husband. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that Mrs. Branting and Dr. Skerry know each other.”
Dr. Brown sighed deeply. “I wouldn’t put it past Imogene Skerry to try to turn someone like Argenta Branting against me. She does hold a grudge. I can also imagine Argenta being manipulated by Imogene. She might not even understand that in playing Dr. Skerry’s game she was possibly destroying the institution she wants to lead.”
Annie nodded. “Precisely my thoughts. Skerry’s goal may be simple revenge, but Mrs. Branting might not understand that.”
Dr. Brown said, “Be that as it may, that doesn’t solve the problem of what to do at the board meeting this Wednesday, especially if Argenta brings up the articles you showed me as proof that the attending physicians are responsible for opening up the dispensary to these sorts of rumors.”
“I’ve been thinking about this,” Annie said. “First of all, I would suggest that Mrs. Stone confront the problems that the dispensary is facing head on, including the steps that she and you are taking to solve them. Don’t let Mrs. Branting be the one to bring them up. That would make you and your supporters appear on the defensive.”
“That makes sense. I know that Mrs. Stone has already had a chance to talk about Argenta to a couple of the members who have been with us from the beginning. But besides bringing up your audit, what do you advise we say we are doing?”
“I would have Mrs. Stone report that she has taken steps to bring in new members, which should ensure that the dispensary would be going into the next year with a reserve. That is the truth, since I gave her the names of several women who I believe would be interested in the work of the dispensary.”
“Yes, Mrs. Stone did mention that to me, a Mrs. Stein and her daughters, among others. But what about the rumors in the press or the unfortunate incident with that man who tried to snatch away one of our patients, Mr. McFadyn? If Mrs. Branting’s gotten wind of that, I would certainly expect her to bring it up. Hilda is precisely the kind of patient she believes we shouldn’t be serving in the hospital wards, which she feels should be reserved for paying patients.”
“Wouldn’t that be a complete reversal of your mission?”
“Yes, it would. But it would also solve some of the financial problems, so I am afraid that some of the membership will be tempted to support her in this.”
Annie thought for a moment. Dr. Brown was right. Mrs. Branting would certainly use Hilda, as well as the whole imbroglio between Phoebe and her husband, against Dr. Brown if she could. And the stories about Dr. Granger’s death in the newspapers had already mentioned that he had been a consulting physician for the Pacific Dispensary. That was not the kind of press attention they needed right now. Suddenly she had an idea.
“What if we actually can use the negative press that is happening against Mrs. Branting? Mrs. Stone could report that the rumors in the press appear to be the result of a series of anonymous letters sent to the newspapers, and she believes the police are currently investigating the letters as part of a possible defamation charge.”
“Oh, Mrs. Dawson, how clever! If Mrs. Branting is at all involved with sending those letters, that should keep her quiet.”
“And, if Mrs. Branting or any other board member asks about Hilda, or the Truscotts, I would recommend that Mrs. Stone say that she can’t discuss anything further, because the police have asked her not to discuss any patients who had been referred to the dispensary by Dr. Granger while they are investigating his unfortunate death.”
“Oh my, that wouldn’t make Mrs. Branting feel very comfortable, either,” Dr. Brown said.
The doctor paused, then she said, “You know, I think Mrs. Stone and I should tell the board that, in light of Dr. Granger’s tragic death, we are asking the members to demonstrate their appreciation for him by increasing their financial and moral support for the institution he helped build. We could even start a special memorial fund in his name. Dedicate it to the ideals he championed—to provide good medical care by well-trained women to all women, no matter their income. Let Mrs. Branting try to combat that!”
Dr. Brown sat up straighter, her tiredness banished and the light of battle in her eyes.
Chapter 45
O’Farrell Street Boardinghouse
* * *
Nate looked up at the mantel clock one more time. Only fifteen minutes had passed since the last time he looked.
“Abbie, my sweet, please, please cheer up. Do you need to be changed again? Shall we try the crust of bread Tilly brought you? Your stuffed doggie? Just tell me what you want!”
As if a ten-month-old baby can understand what I say, much less talk. How is it that Annie and Kathleen, even young Tilly, seem to know in an instant what my daughter wants?
Nate took Abigail, who had been crying off and on for what seemed like hours, to the bedroom’s bay window to look down at the street, hoping to see Caro Sutton’s carriage sweep up to deposit his wife at the front door.
He pointed. “Look, Mama’s going to be coming home any minute. See the woman walking up the street with the big umbrella. Aren’t you glad you’re in here, nice and warm?”
Abigail evidently found the woman and her umbrella an affront, and her whimper shifted into a wail, again…
He’d come home a little past three, as he’d promised Annie he would. She’d reminded him as he left this morning that Abigail went down for her nap a little before three, often slept for an hour, but that there was no consistent pattern to when she woke up. His plan had been to get in an hour’s work while Abigail finished napping, since he had a number of documents to review in preparation for another divorce hearing next week. Then he’d be ready to play with his daughter, feed her, and then change her. At which point his wife would be home.
What he hadn’t expected when he arrived at the boardinghouse was for Tilly to meet him at the front door with the announcement that Abigail had only slept for fifteen minutes and was currently down in the kitchen being entertained by the young boarder, Emmaline.
Lethal Remedies Page 30