Medicine and Manners #2 (4 page)

“Of course I can.” Alexandra was remembering how desperately she'd wanted to please her own father. “But that still doesn't explain why you think he is a murderer.”

“Both Jeremy Fitzsimmons and Saul Mayhew were courting me, you see, and I have to confess that I was pleased by their attention. But Papa couldn't afford for this attraction to go any further. He said as much. He said he'd kill anyone who ruined his chance of financial redemption. It was an opportunity for both of us, he said.” Judith's voice quaked as she spoke. “You can't imagine how difficult this is for me,” she added, breaking into sobs.

Alexandra went to her and took her hand. “You must try not to let it overcome you. After all, there's no proof, not even any suspects at this point. Calm yourself and let the investigation take its course.”

“I…I can't in good conscience stay silent about this,” Judith said. “I had to speak to someone, and I thought you'd understand. I admire you so much—the way you've stood up against criticism about your right to practice medicine, the fact that you refuse to admit that women are unfit for any career they might choose.”

“Judith,” Alexandra said with some reluctance, “I appreciate your confidence in me, but if you are convinced that what you told me about your father is true, you should tell Constable Snow.”

“You're right, of course, but I can't risk anyone knowing about it if I do.”

“And why is this?”

“Word could get back to my father. It could be dangerous for me.”

“Surely your father wouldn't harm you. And how would it benefit him if something happened to you?”

“I used to think he wouldn't harm me, but he did strike my mother, as I told you, and now that he has resorted to murder…Please,” Judith said. “This is why I asked you here today. You must help me find a way to speak with the constable without anyone knowing it.”

Alexandra was about to attempt to explain to her that her reasoning was flawed, but she was once again swayed by Judith's agitation. “Very well,” she said. “I'll go for the constable now and send him to your house.”

Judith accompanied her to the door, where Zack and Lucy were waiting near the front. It was obvious Zack hadn't rested there the entire time, however. Alexandra saw chewed blossoms along the walkway.

“I'm afraid Zack has been destroying your garden,” she said, embarrassed.

“Please don't concern yourself,” Judith said. “Just help me.”

“I'll do my best,” Alexandra said. She left, riding Lucy and with Zack following along. She scolded Zack as they continued toward the constable's office in the center of the village. Zack ducked his head briefly, but he apparently thought that was sufficient apology and galumphed ahead of Alexandra and Lucy, enjoying the spring air.

She could see, as she approached the building in the oldest section of the village, that the door was closed. A sign on the door outside explained the reason.

I will be away from the office for an indefinite period, attending to a matter of personal interest. A deputy has been appointed and will assume duties when possible.

The note was signed by Constable Snow.

Alexandra could hardly believe what she had read. It made no sense at all that the constable would leave town when there were two suspicious deaths to investigate.

“Always was an odd bird, that Snow,” said Nancy, when Alexandra told her the extraordinary news. “I should think now you'd have to agree.” She was busy replacing items on shelves and in drawers in the surgery, preparing for the next walk-in patient.

Alexandra looped a stethoscope around her neck. “It hardly makes sense, does it?”

“To leave the parish when there's a crazed murderer running loose? Makes sense only to him, I suppose.”

Alexandra shook her head and frowned. “I can't think why he would do such a thing.”

“I can think of just two possibilities.” Nancy spoke with her back to Alexandra, still busy with her task at hand. “Either he's afraid he'll be next, since 'tis Freemasons the killer appears to be after, or else he's the killer himself and has nothing to fear.”

Alexandra almost dropped a stack of bandages. “Nancy! How absurd. You know as well as I that for all his oddities and foibles, Constable Snow is not a killer.”

Nancy's response was a shrug.

“And as for his fearing he might be the next victim,” Alexandra continued, “there are plenty of other Freemasons in Newton who could be next, if that's even the motive. However, I've just explained to you that Judith Payne offers another reason for the killings, and I'm beginning to think she could be right.”

Nancy turned around, wearing a look on her face that could have been interpreted as surprise at Alexandra's dense thinking. “They were both killed in the Freemasons' lodge—the temple, as they call it. Both died in a similar manner, with no marks upon their bodies. I'd say that's more than coincidence. I'd say there's a connection.”

Alexandra sighed audibly. “Perhaps you're right. Or perhaps you're not right. As I told you, Judith said they were killed because they were her suitors.”

Nancy shuddered. “Whatever the motive, the village is left unprotected, with a mad killer on the loose.”

“I'm sure Constable Snow will be back in time to take care of any further emergencies, and in the meantime, there will be a deputy in charge,” Alexandra said, without being as confident as she was pretending to be.

Before they could continue their discourse, a patient showed up at the surgery door. A housewife had sliced her hand on a broken teacup and needed a few stitches. Nancy helped by suppressing the bleeding with a solution of alum and white oak bark.

Several other patients followed, and it was no surprise that the prevalent topic of conversation among them was the two deaths.

“I say 'tis the horseman what done it, killed both of 'em,” Hannibal Talbot said. “Seen 'im meself, I did, on the night before young Mayhew died. Saw 'im again on the night before Fitzsimmons was kilt.” He'd come in for a compound of balsam and sulfur, which Nancy concocted for him at Alexandra's direction. It was the only thing that would give him relief from the irritation of gravel in his kidneys, he claimed.

“You must restrict yourself to one cup of tea a day,” Alexandra said.

“What horseman?” Nancy asked, before Alexandra could finish giving her instructions to Hannibal.

“The Templar horseman,” Hannibal said. “You've heard the tale, haven't you Nance? Lived here all yer life, ye have, just like me. Ask the doctor. I'm sure she's heard.”

Nancy shook her head. “Can't say that I have.” She glanced at Alexandra. “Have you heard anything about a Templar horseman, miss?”

Alexandra was too distracted to answer. She was making a note in Hannibal's file to add a tincture of colchicum seed if his condition didn't improve.

Hannibal scowled at both of them. “Now, I find that hard to believe, since the real Dr. Gladstone knew all about it. Must 'ave mentioned it to ye.”

“The
real
Dr. Gladstone?” Nancy sounded incensed. “You are in the presence of the real Dr.—”

“Never mind, Nancy,” Alexandra said, interrupting her. It wasn't the first time she'd heard the inference that she wasn't a
real
doctor. “Now, Hannibal, what's this about a horse?”

“Not a horse, miss, a horseman. One of the Knights Templar.”

“I did hear someone mention something about a horseman, now that I think about it,” Alexandra said, remembering Mrs. Fontaine's reference. “Now, Hannibal, if you're not better in two or three days, come back to see me. And don't forget, only a cup of tea each day.”

“Knights Templar!” Nancy said, her voice full of disdain as she, along with Hannibal, appeared to dismiss Alexandra's instructions. “They've all been gone from England for centuries.”

“Well, one of 'em still rides here. Or at least the ghost of one. Out by the Temple of the Ninth Daughter,” Hannibal said. “You know, the Freemasons' temple. Used to be a Templar priory there. They's Templar treasure buried there, some say. That's why the horseman shows up now and then. To guard it, they says.”

“Oh, that old wives' tale about the treasure!” Nancy said. “I've heard that one, of course. Who hasn't? But as the first Dr. Gladstone used to say, 'tis nothing but humbug and jiggery-pokery.”

Hannibal's face turned red with anger. “Ain't humbug and jiggery-pokery when men is dying for it. I knows that fer sure!”

“We can all agree that the death of two men is nothing to be taken lightly,” Alexandra said in an effort to diffuse the exchange.

“Freemasons! They's all accustomed to the black arts. Don't ye know they keeps a goat in that temple? 'Tis the symbol of the devil.”

“Never saw a goat around the temple,” Nancy said.

“ 'Tis true! I heard it many times. They's plenty o' secret stuff goes on in that temple. They say they kills a man by the name o' Hiram and brings 'im back to live now and then. Dark magic, 'tis.”

“Hiram Abiff,” Nancy said. “Supposed to be the architect for Solomon's Temple.”

“I ain't fer knowin' that. All I know is, they's secret stuff they do in that—”

“Now, Hannibal, do you understand that I want to see you again in two or three days?” Alexandra asked, hoping to end the conversation.

“I understands that all right, but if ye thinks a man's going to forgo his tea, then ye sure didn't learn it from the real Dr. Gladstone. Why, I'd sooner give up me pint!” He was still grumbling as he left the surgery.

“How did you know about the architect of Solomon's Temple, Nancy?” Alexandra asked after Hannibal was gone.

Nancy shrugged. “You hear all kinds of things about the Freemasons. Some of it true, some of it not, I suppose. But people are fascinated by them.”

“You amaze me with what you know,” Alexandra said, just as Elsie Prodder showed up at the surgery door. She was in no better mood than Hannibal had been and complained of a stomach ailment. “Now, don't go telling me 'tis something I ate,” she cautioned Alexandra. “For I know 'tis not. I have something far more dangerous eating away at me, and I wants a cure. After all, that's what you're here for, is it not?”

“I will certainly do my best,” Alexandra said. Elsie kept talking all the while Alexandra examined her, stopping only long enough to stick out her tongue when she was asked to.

“Don't know what Newton-upon-Sea is coming to. First we lose our doctor, then our constable disappears right when we need 'im most. Two dead men, and he leaves! Can you fathom that? There could be more deaths with Robert Snow not here to stop it. Not that he would stop it, mind you. Couldn't stop the first two, could he? Has a streak of coward in 'im, don't he? Don't care if he did used to be a schoolmaster. Learning don't keep a man from being a coward, I always say.” Elsie moved to the table, where Alexandra directed her to lie down. “Take me own husband. Never learned a thing in 'is life, and neither did I, but neither of us has ever been called cowards. Stands up to anything, we does. But Robert Snow? What does he do? Runs, that's what. I say 'e's scared o' dying hisself, and I don't care what Nell Stillwell says. Thinks 'e's gone off to Scotland. Ung, that hurts when you do that.”

“Sorry,” Alexandra said. “Tell me if it hurts again.”

“Why would the constable go to Scotland?” Nancy asked. She was adjusting the sheet that had been spread over Elsie to protect her privacy.

“To visit that Orkwright woman, Nell says. Remember that one? Everyone says 'e was in love with 'er. Lived up there on that hill above the sea, she did. High-falutin' woman she was. Not the kind to 'ave anything to do with the likes of old Snow. God in heaven, yes, that hurts.”

Jane Orkwright had been Alexandra's friend and had moved away after her husband, Admiral George Edward Orkwright, died under unfortunate circumstances. Constable Snow had always admired Mrs. Orkwright, a gentle, refined woman, as had many people in Newton-upon-Sea. Even Alexandra had wondered herself if he had been in love with her.

“Well, it wasn't Scotland 'e went off to,” Elsie said. “Nell don't know of what she speaks. I happen to know 'twas London.” She paused long enough for a self-satisfied chuckle followed by another groan as Alexandra prodded her stomach. “You should 'ave seen Nell's face when I told her that. Didn't like it that I found out before she did.”

“London?” Nancy asked.

“The constable bought a train ticket for London. Stationmaster told me that. Ben Tottenham hisself.”

“For what reason?” Nancy never hesitated to pry. Alexandra was equally as curious, but she'd never allow herself to ask.

“And how would I be knowing the answer to that?” Elsie said, just as Alexandra put a stethoscope to her midsection.

“Most likely, business of the commonwealth,” Nancy said.

“Commonwealth, my foot. Most likely a woman, if ye ask me.”

Nancy wasn't one to let things drop. “And why would you say that?”

“Why? 'E's a man ain't 'e? Maybe ye wouldn't be knowin' about things like that, ye bein' a maiden lady, but I can tell ye, when a man—”

“It doesn't appear you have any serious problem with your stomach,” Alexandra said, interrupting before the conversation further degenerated. “I believe you can find substantial relief if you forgo things like butter, cream, and meat fats.”

Elsie was indignant. “You wants me to eat like a pauper?”

“Certainly not, but you'll feel better if you cut back on rich foods,” Alexandra said.

Elsie pulled herself up to a sitting position. “What business does a doctor 'ave tellin' a body what to eat? 'Tis not yer business. 'Tis yer business to give me tonics and physics and the like.”

Nancy had already pulled a bottle full of pills from the shelf. She and Alexandra had concocted them from sulfate of quinia and nux vomica for digestive problems. She looked at Alexandra for confirmation.

“Take one of these three times a day,” she said, accepting the bottle from Nancy. “But they won't work if you don't change your diet.”

Elsie took the bottle with a self-satisfied smile, paid her bill, and left.

“Now she has a new ailment to brag about to Nell and the pills to show for it,” Nancy said when she'd left. “Mark my word, Nell will be in wanting the same thing before the week is done.”

It was the end of the day, and Nancy and Alexandra were closing the surgery, straightening the room, and preparing to retire to the main part of the house for their evening meal when they heard Zack's frantic barking coming from outside, then Artie and Rob shouting for him to come back.

Alexandra hurried to the surgery door with Nancy close behind her. It was unusual for Zack to bark in such a manner. He usually lay quietly in the hallway while Alexandra saw patients and followed her with devotion as she rode Lucy on her rounds to visit the sick in their homes. He'd give his single or double bark to signal that visitors had arrived.

As Alexandra opened the door and peered outside, she saw the two boys running along the driveway toward the road. Both stopped as Zack disappeared from view around a curve obscured by brush.

Alexandra and Nancy ran toward the boys. “Artie! Rob!” Alexandra called. “What's happened to Zack? Where is he going?”

“Seen something, 'e did,” Rob shouted.

“What did he see?” Nancy called as she and Alexandra closed the distance between themselves and the boys.

“Not sure.” Rob was scanning the road, searching for Zack.

“Somethin' scary,” Artie said. The little boy was by now hurrying toward Nancy and Alexandra.

“Zack sounded more agitated than scared,” Alexandra said, putting her arm around Artie's thin shoulders.

“I think 'e seen that horseman,” Artie said, edging closer.

“Horseman?” Nancy asked.

“You know. The one they's all talkin' about in town. The one what rides out to that place they call a temple.”

“Oh, Artie,” Alexandra said. “That horseman isn't real.”

“I knows that,” Artie replied. “That's what makes 'im so scary.”