Medicine and Manners #2 (7 page)

“Good God, man!” Nicholas said.

“Constable Snow?” Alexandra said at the same time.

Poole's face took on a sanctimonious expression. “Can't say more. This is police business.”

“Police business be damned!” Nicholas said. “You are accusing the man in charge of law enforcement in this village of frightening people by riding around at night dressed as a Templar Knight.”

“Didn't say he was purposely frightening anybody. Just said it looks like the constable to me.”

By this time Alexandra had Judith sitting upright and was wiping her face with a damp cloth. “What possible motive would Constable Snow have for doing that?” Alexandra asked.

“I wouldn't be knowing that, now, would I, miss?” Poole said.

“This unknown rider only
looks
like
Snow, in your opinion. Not very substantial, would you say?” Nicholas said.

Poole shrugged. “Same slight build, same horse.”

“Same horse?” Alexandra asked. “Do you agree, Lord Dunsford? That the rider you saw was on a horse that looked like the constable's horse?”

Nicholas shook his head. “I can't say. It was rather dark, don't you know.”

“Yes,” Judith said, speaking for the first time since she'd fainted. “I've seen it, too. I think it was Constable Snow's horse the man was riding.”

“A waste of time,” Alexandra said in response to Nancy's question about the meeting with Deputy Poole. She and Nicholas were in the parlor, which, after the death of her father, had become less formal and more of a drawing room.

“A colossal waste of time,” Nicholas said, his arm resting on the white Parian mantelpiece, his elbow dangerously close to a crystal candelabrum that had belonged to Alexandra's mother. “He's inept. Completely uninterested in the situation, if you ask me.” Nicholas was keeping a wary eye on Zack, who had just entered the parlor. He had been lounging in the hallway that led to the surgery until he heard Nicholas's voice. “He even voiced an opinion that Constable Snow was the mysterious Templar Knight some of us have seen. Odd, isn't it?”

“I'm not so sure it's odd,” Nancy said.

Nicholas straightened. “What do you mean?”

Nancy shrugged. “You have to admit the constable has always been a bit secretive. Well, at least not very forthcoming about his private life. Just a strange bird, all in all, and besides that, I have a caution that something is going on, something unusual.”

“You have a caution?” Nicholas said. “I'm afraid I don't understand.”

“It's not easy to explain,” Nancy said.

“Sometimes Nancy is prescient,” Alexandra said.

Nicholas frowned. “Oh, come now—”

“You're right, it's probably nothing,” Nancy said, and quickly changed the subject. “If I may ask, what was Miss Payne's reaction to the meeting with the deputy?” Nancy asked.

“She was as disappointed as Lord Dunsford and I were,” Alexandra said. “Deputy Poole seemed to completely dismiss Judith's story.”

“Getting back to that so-called Templar,” Nicholas said, “Miss Payne and Deputy Poole both believe it's Constable Snow's horse that strange would-be knight is riding.”

Alexandra frowned. “It's all a bit far-fetched. Why would someone be riding the constable's horse?”

Nancy made an innocent-sounding cough but said nothing. She was pretending to be busy folding bandages as she relaxed in one of the red velvet chairs next to the fireplace. Zack ambled over to stand next to Alexandra, who sat in a matching chair, his eyes never leaving Nicholas.

“Why, indeed?” Nicholas said. “It's not going to be easy to get to the bottom of any of this.”

Nancy made her fake-sounding cough again, a little louder this time.

“We can only hope there are no more deaths,” Alexandra said. “We would all feel so much better if the constable…” There was a loud thump and several feet of white bandages unwound as they snaked across the floor. “What
is it,
Nancy? If there's something you must say, then say it.”

“Well, I don't mean to be impertinent,” Nancy began.

“Of course you do,” Alexandra said, “but go on.”

“It's just that it seems to me there is a way we could get to the bottom of this—”

“Oh, no,” Alexandra interrupted her. “Your idea of clandestine surveillance won't work.”

“Excuse me, miss, but—”

“I say, you did mention a surveillance plan,” Nicholas said. He took a step forward, but backed up again when Zack made a slight move toward him. “What did you have in mind, Nancy?”

“ 'Tis the obvious solution, if you ask me,” Nancy said, clearly eager to have her say. “As I pointed out, this knight, or whatever he is, has been seen several times recently, mostly around the Masonic Temple, which makes sense if you think about it, since people say the Freemasons grew out of the Knights Templar.”

“That's never been verified, actually,” Nicholas said, “but I think I see what you're getting at. Please go on.”

“He rides at night, they say,” Nancy continued. “I wouldn't know because I've never seen him with my own eyes, but if 'tis true—”

“Of course!” Nicholas said. “I remember your suggestion. We wait at the temple. Undercover, so to speak. Sounds like one of those American novels, but it's brilliant.
You're
brilliant, Nancy, old girl.”

Nancy blushed. “As I said, 'tis nothing more than the obvious solution.”

“What's not so obvious, however, is, if we do see this so-called knight, how to determine exactly who he is,” Alexandra said. “Are we going to take this American adventure to the ultimate and shoot him off his horse so we can see his face?”

“But who's to say we won't recognize him just by seeing him close?” Nicholas said. “I say it's worth a try.”

Nancy nodded with an excited look in her eyes, and she glanced first at Nicholas and then Alexandra.

“I say we do it,” Nicholas said. “I say we start now, while it's good and dark. We can take my carriage, leave it a few yards from the temple, and walk to the building under the cover of darkness. What do you say, Dr. Gladstone?”

“I say you only call me Dr. Gladstone when you're trying to win me over to something, and I might ask why you thought my scheme of getting Judith Payne to your place to talk to the deputy was so far-fetched when it pales in the light of this surveillance idea.”

“My dear Alexandra, you obviously need to read the right kind of literature if you want to stay current with this sort of thing,” Nicholas said.

A breeze had blown a thin veil of fog in from the sea, rendering what might have been a bright half-moon pale and weary-looking. The air felt damp, and, if not quite cold, it was uncomfortably cool. The three would-be spies walked a few yards from where Nicholas had left his carriage, which he'd driven himself, not wanting to involve a driver in their scheme. They moved toward the Temple of the Ninth Daughter, which looked like a hovering monster in the hazy darkness. The tall pillars in front appeared as enormous teeth, and roaring lions guarded each side of what might be the mouth. A growth of brush and trees around the building offered cover to the three of them as they huddled together, communicating with one another only with gestures.

Finally, after what she judged to be near half an hour, Alexandra broke the silence with a whisper. “This is futile and ridiculous.”

“Shhh,” Nicholas said, putting a finger to his lips.

Nancy said nothing and sat so still Alexandra was astounded at her fortitude and patience. Nicholas was the first, after several more minutes, to show signs of restlessness. He bobbed up several times to peer over the tops of the brush that obscured them and finally stood upright, searching all around in the dim light.

“Sit down, or you'll be seen,” Alexandra whispered.

“Seen by whom?” Nicholas whispered in response. “There's no one around. The horseman isn't riding tonight.”

Nancy rolled her shoulders as if sitting still for so long had made them ache.

“I feel ridiculous,” Alexandra muttered. “We should leave.”

This time Nancy nodded and, after a brief pause, stood up. Alexandra stood as well, and almost immediately Nicholas sighed.

Something hovered over them, glowing white in the sickly light of the partially obscured moon. The specter was accompanied by a sweet smell. In the same instant, Alexandra looked up into the flaring nostrils of a white horse and then raised her gaze higher to see that the deathly glow came from the white tunic the rider wore. It was making a weak reflection of the moonlight. Before the rider turned his horse and rode away at a fast gallop, she saw the red cross sewn on the breast of the tunic. It was the traditional dress of the Knights Templar. All three of them ran toward the carriage.

“ 'Twas no ghost we saw. I take some comfort in that,” Nancy said when they were safely back in the carriage. “ 'Twas a flesh-and-blood human.”

“An altogether unnerving experience, nevertheless,” Nicholas added. “And he got away so quickly, it's too late to follow him.”

“Can either of you say whether or not the horse was Constable Snow's?” Alexandra asked.

“All I can say is the horse was white,” Nancy said. “Same color as the one the constable rides.”

“I'm afraid I'd never be able to swear under oath to anything other than the color of the animal myself,” Nicholas said. “And you're right, Alexandra. We don't know any more than we did before. It seems every turn we take leads to a dead end.”

“Did you notice the oddly sweet smell?” Alexandra asked.

“Nothing odd about it. Just the usual horse smell,” Nancy said.

“I have to agree,” Nicholas said. “No odd smell, just bloody frightening.”

“Frightening, yes,” Alexandra agreed. “But there was that odor…I can't quite identify it.”

“It means there's going to be another death.” Nancy's voice was heavy with fear and foreboding. “Each time someone sees the horseman, someone dies.”

It was the next morning when Alexandra had started her rounds to see homebound patients that Nancy's prediction was confirmed. When she stopped by Olive Fontaine's home to make sure she was safe and well, she learned the news.

“That young man, the Poole boy,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “I'm told he has passed on.” Tears rimmed her eyes. “Such a young man. Knew his grandparents years ago.”

Alexandra was alarmed. “Do you mean Deputy Daniel Poole?”

Mrs. Fontaine nodded and stroked the white Persian cat that had just jumped into her lap. “Died right in front of his house. Nell Stillwell was the one who found him when she went to deliver a sausage to young Poole's neighbor. You know, Mrs. Ives next door, the one who can't walk well enough to do her own shopping.”

“Why wasn't I sent for?” Alexandra was gripped by a sense of unease. With Constable Snow gone and now the deputy dead, the parish could descend into chaos.

“Why, you were sent for, my dear,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “Nell stopped by here to deliver my own sausage. She was in and out like a frightened cat. Said she was on her way to fetch you.”

Alexandra, who had not had time even to put down her bag, turned back to Mrs. Fontaine's front door. “Unless you're in need of anything, I'd best be on my way to Mr. Poole's home,” she said.

“I need nothing. Please go,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “Although it's too late, of course. Nell says the poor boy obviously died of an apoplexy. He's young for that, now, isn't he? Still, you'd best be gone. It will give the village some comfort to think someone is in charge. Oh, and there's one more thing,” Mrs. Fontaine said just as Alexandra turned away. “Poor Danny was wearing his Masonic apron. Nell said there was a spot of blood on it.”

When Alexandra reached Daniel Poole's cottage, she found Nancy already there, bent over his body with a stethoscope.

Nell Stillwell hovered nearby. Nell, who along with her husband, Horace, ran the butcher shop, was one of the town's main sources of news and gossip. She seemed always to know everything that was happening, and just to make certain she didn't miss anything, she made it a habit to stop by the surgery often to find out whether Nancy had learned some tidbit she didn't already know herself. At first she created imaginary ailments on her part to provide an excuse for her surgery visits, but when she ran out of maladies, she continued to stop by anyway. She apparently felt she no longer needed an excuse to gather or dispense information.

“No sign of blood, no sign of anything. Died just like the others,” Nell said by way of greeting when she saw Alexandra. “No sign of blood on his body, at any rate. Just that spot on his apron. Why was he wearing that thing, anyway?”

Nancy glanced up from her examination and nodded her agreement with Nell's observation.

“What's happening to our men?” Nell asked. “They's dying like flies. Some claim that ghost knight is really Snow hisself. Not right for him to abandon us like that. Not right for him to kill people, either.”

“We've no proof that anyone killed anyone,” Alexandra said, “and certainly not that Constable Snow committed such a crime.” Alexandra pulled her stethoscope from her medical bag. “What do you think, Nancy?”

“No sign of trauma. Looks like an apoplexy. Except he's so young. Of course, youth doesn't always protect a person from diseases of the brain, but—”

“That smell!” Alexandra said, interrupting Nancy. “Did you notice it?”

“I smelt it,” Nell said. “Vomited, he did. Seen it on the ground. Fear makes a person do that. Somebody scared the vomit out of 'im.”

“I saw the bile,” Nancy said, “but now that you mention it, yes, there's something else.” She bent over the corpse and sniffed. “Smells good. Rather like, I don't know, something sweet.”

“It's the same scent I detected on the horseman,” Alexandra said.

“Horseman?” Nell asked, forcing her way toward the body. “You mean the ghost knight? You seen 'im?” She sniffed. “I see what you mean by that smell. Smells like cakes baking, don't it? You smelled it before? On the ghost knight? Danny Poole was the ghost knight?”

“We must get Mr. Poole's body to Percy Gibbs,” Alexandra said, ignoring Nell's barrage of questions.

Nancy looked at Alexandra and seemed to read her mind. “You're going to…” She stopped speaking and glanced at Nell with a guilty look, then back at Alexandra.

Alexandra gave Nancy a cautionary look before she spoke to Nell. “Please ask Mr. Stillwell if we can borrow his wagon to transport the body. Oh, and see if you can find another able-bodied man to help your husband. It's never easy to lift a lifeless body.”

“I'll fetch the men and the meat wagon right away,” Nell said, hurrying off toward the butcher shop.

“You're thinking of doing an autopsy,” Nancy said in a low voice, when Nell was out of hearing range.

“I'm not allowed to do autopsies, you know that,” Alexandra said. “That's a task reserved for male physicians.”