For Dead Men Only: An Alexandra Gladstone Mystery Read online

  “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” Alexandra said. She placed a hand on her forehead, noting that there was no apparent fever.

  “Only a little tired,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “My age, you know, but Judith was kind enough to stay with me a little longer.”

  “Thoughtful of her,” Alexandra said as she removed her stethoscope from her bag. Mrs. Fontaine’s heart rate was normal, but she was pale and clammy. “Are you sleeping well?” she asked.

  Mrs. Fontaine gave her a wan smile. “As we age, we develop odd sleeping habits. I may fall asleep in my chair during the day, but I stay awake most of the night. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Perhaps the need for sleep is not so urgent when the eternal sleep is so rapidly approaching,” she added.

  “I suspect you need a tonic to restore your energy,” Alexandra said. “I know that would seem to contradict your need for sleep. However, my father taught me that a restorative elixir puts the body back in the proper rhythm so that sleep comes naturally.”

  “Oh, yes, Huntington was keen on restoring the body’s rhythm. I remember that well,” Mrs. Fontaine said and smiled again. “Such a wise man, and it’s a comfort to know he passed along some of his wisdom to you.”

  “Thank you,” Alexandra said, noting that the lady had conceded that her father had passed on only some of his wisdom. Nevertheless, it was a compliment, since there were many who wouldn’t admit that a woman, even his daughter, could possibly live up to the standards of their beloved Dr. Huntington Gladstone. Never mind that he had been her principal teacher in the medical profession. “I’ll see that the tonic is delivered to you before the end of the day,” she said.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Mrs. Fontaine said, leaning back against her pillows while the cat who had moved to her lap purred at a level so loud it reminded Alexandra of the constant grind of grist mills.

  By the time Alexandra had replaced her stethoscope in her medical bag, Judith had reentered the room. “Is she going to be all right?” she asked, anxiety in her voice.

  “I believe so,” Alexandra said, “but she needs rest.” She paused for a moment and looked at each of the women. “Now, I have some news for both of you,” she said. “Constable Snow has returned.” There was no reaction from Mrs. Fontaine, but Judith’s eyes grew wider. “Apparently, someone in the village sent for him,” Alexandra said. “Do you know who that could be?” She directed her question to Mrs. Fontaine.

  “He is a most secretive man,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “Never divulges much to anyone. Nevertheless, he’s a good man. I know that with absolute certainty.”

  “You’re right, he’s always been a bit eccentric,” Alexandra said. “This recent disappearance was odd, however, even for him. Nevertheless, he’s back.” She turned to Judith. “He is completely convinced your father had nothing to do with the deaths of those men.”

  Judith grew pale again. “Of course, he would be. Constable Snow and my father enjoyed a rather close friendship.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that,” Alexandra said.

  “Oh, yes, they were chums,” Mrs. Fontaine said, “even when they were youths.” She stroked the cat in her lap, initiating an even louder purr from the cat. “I suppose the Freemason brotherhood also created a bond.”

  “I see,” Alexandra said.

  “Why would Snow come to see you first when he arrived?” Judith asked.

  “He knew I had examined the bodies of those who died, with the exception of your father, of course. He only wanted to gather details from me.”

  “You examined all of those bodies?” Judith asked. “What a dreadful duty. You must have been appalled.”

  “It’s part of my profession, my dear. Constable Snow often relies on my reports. There are many questions to be answered about all of these deaths.”

  Judith shook her head and seemed on the verge of tears. “I told you who killed all of those men. If only the two of you would listen to me.”

  “Now, now, Judith, calm yourself, dear child,” Mrs. Fontaine said, taking her hand from the cat’s silky back long enough to reach for Judith and give her a comforting pat on her hand. “She’s immensely distraught,” Mrs. Fontaine said, glancing at Alexandra. “Who can blame her?”

  “Who indeed?” Alexandra said, and turned back to Judith. “Please do try to stay as calm as possible. I don’t think you should be alone.”

  “She’ll continue to stay with me,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “It will be good for both of us.”

  Alexandra turned to Judith. “Will you agree to stay here awhile longer?”

  She nodded, looking paler than she had before.

  “Very well, then, I’ll be going. Send for me if either of you should need me. I’ll be in my surgery the rest of the day, barring an emergency.”

  By the time Alexandra left Mrs. Fontaine’s house, it was nearing noon, and there wasn’t enough time to finish her rounds before she was compelled to be at the surgery to see patients. She would have to finish her rounds later. There were only three of her patients who should not wait until the next morning. One was Vernon Walcott, who was suffering from consumption with a bloody, frothy expectoration when he coughed. The others were Charlotte and her son, both of whom remained in weak condition.

  When she arrived at her own home, it was too late for lunch, and she expected Nancy to be in a foul mood, since whatever she had cooked would have grown cold. But Nancy made no mention of lunch or anything she might have prepared when Alexandra entered through the surgery door. She was busy with a patient—a boy who had broken his arm in a fall. She finished splinting and bandaging the break, all the while assuring the boy and his mother that the break was not serious and would heal quickly.

  “Zack?” Alexandra said under her voice as she walked past Nancy. She could see that he was not in his usual spot just outside the door of the hallway that led to the main house.

  Nancy made a gesture with her head toward the front of the house as she finished her work with the splint and bandage. Alexandra found him in the parlor in front of the hearth. Worry stabbed at her when he did not jump to his feet and lumber toward her, wagging his tail as he usually did when he saw her. The most he could manage was to raise his head and then lick her hand when she sat on the floor next to him.

  “Oh, Zack!” she said as she stroked his head. “Get well. Please. You must.”

  He whimpered and licked her hand again then laid his head in her lap. She took the time to check his pupils and to feel for swollen glands before she stood to go to the surgery. Zack rose to his feet and followed her a few steps before he stopped and lay on the floor. Dismayed, Alexandra went back to the surgery to see a steady flow of patients. However, while she was examining a little girl with chicken pox, the girl’s smile made her follow the child’s eyes to the hall doorway, where she saw Zack in his usual spot. He lay on his side, sleeping.

  “He wants to be near us,” Nancy said.

  Alexandra nodded as she soothed the girl’s itchy pox with chamomile. She wanted to be near him as well.

  When the last patient left and the surgery door was closed, Nancy went toward the doorway where Zack still waited. He stood when he saw her approach. His stance was wobbly, but Alexandra felt a bit of encouragement that he could stand.

  Nancy seemed encouraged as well, as she rubbed the top of head. “Supper will be warmed-over lunch, since you weren’t here to eat it,” she said over her shoulder to Alexandra. “You can wait in the parlor with Zack, since ’tis obvious he’d appreciate the attention.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t yet give him the attention he deserves,” Alexandra said. “I wasn’t able to finish my rounds this morning since I spent too much time with Mrs. Fontaine and Judith. Now I must see Charlotte and her baby, as well as Vernon Walcott, before darkness falls.”

  “But you didn’t have lunch. You must not go without your supper,” Nancy scolded.

  “I won’t go without. I’ll be back soon,” Al
exandra assured her. When Zack saw her retrieve her medical bag, he sensed that she was leaving, and he made an unsteady attempt to follow her. “Zack’s not well enough to go with me,” she said, and glanced at Nancy. “Keep good watch over him.”

  “Of course I will,” Nancy said, sounding disgruntled. She was never happy when Alexandra missed a meal, and certainly not when she missed two.

  Alexandra stepped out the door and walked past the stable, where Artie and Rob lounged in front, trying to spin a top on an area of hard-packed earth.

  “Goin’ out again, are ye?” Rob called. “I’ll ’ave old Lucy saddled quick-like. Want me to go wif ye? To protect ye, I means.”

  “No need,” she answered. “And no need to saddle Lucy again. The weather is rather pleasant, and I shall enjoy the walk.”

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, doc, I can’t let ye go alone. It ain’t safe.” Rob was on his feet, determined to accompany her.

  “No, Rob. Stay here and help Nancy look after Zack. I only have two stops to make, and neither of them is far away.” Alexandra wanted no company at the moment. She craved solitude after a long, busy day.

  Rob stopped before he reached her side, sensing her determination. “Whatever you say, doc, but mark what I say. It ain’t a good idea.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Alexandra walked along the path leading to the road, thinking she might have liked to have Zack trudging along silently with his heavy, lumbering gait. He wouldn’t demand conversation and would want only to be by her side. She tried to put thoughts and especially worry about him out of her mind and made her way toward her first stop—the Malcolms’ place.

  She was relieved to see some improvement in both mother and child. The baby was gaining weight with the help of the wet nurse. She knew, however, that neither was completely out of danger, and that she would need to look in on them often.

  The sky had turned gloomy with clouds that had rolled in from the sea as she made her way toward the house where Mr. Walcott lived with his aging wife. She knew his condition would not be as encouraging as that of Charlotte and her baby. Consumption was almost always fatal, and his bloody sputum and continuously weakening condition told her he could not last long. Still, she wanted to offer him, as well as his wife, as much comfort as possible.

  She was almost half a mile away from the couple’s cottage when a whooshing sound startled her, and in the next moment she saw a long-bladed knife embed itself in the ground in front of her, quivering from the force of its landing. Turning her head quickly toward the wooded area at the side of the road, she saw rapid movement. In the next moment, she saw a figure—a man dressed in trousers and a farmer’s hat. He had something in his hand, something that glinted in the dying light of the spring evening. Another knife!

  Without meaning to, she dropped her medical bag as she hurried into the stand of trees on the opposite side of the road, hoping the man wouldn’t see her. She stood with her back pressed against an oak tree, her heart galloping in her chest, her breath coming in short, terrified gasps. She heard leaves rustling as something—the knife-wielding man—crashed through the trees, coming ever closer.

  Chapter 14

  The sound of footsteps grew louder. Alexandra knew with certainty the man with the knife would soon find her if she stayed where she stood, only partially hidden by the tree. If she ran, he would see her, since the trees were widely spaced.

  Fear clawed at her. It was impossible to think rationally, and her reaction was pure instinct.

  She ran.

  The hem of her skirts picked up leaves and dampness, encumbering her. She could not run fast enough. Even her own body seemed to be weighing her down. The sound of footsteps behind her quickened and grew even louder.

  The remains of an ancient hedgerow loomed in front of her, and she ran toward it, hoping she was agile enough to jump over it. Hiking her skirts in front, she lunged, one leg stretched in front of her, the other straightened behind her as much as her heavy skirts would allow.

  It surprised her that she cleared the hedgerow, but it surprised her even more when she found herself rolling down a steep embankment. Pebbles dug into her hands and face. Branches and roots tore her stockings and cut her legs. When at last she stopped tumbling, she was too stunned to stand at first. Her face, arms, and legs stung where blood seeped from her scraped skin and mingled with soil and fine pebbles. Glancing up, she saw a figure looming over the edge of the embankment. Dark clouds obscured the dying light enough that it was impossible to clearly distinguish details of the face, but she knew it had to be the man who had followed her. A rush of fright brought with it enough energy to clear her mind and make her forget the fire of abrasions on her skin.

  She shot to her feet and felt a tormenting stab at her lower leg. She would not allow herself to think it could be broken, and she tried to run. This time a white-hot rod of agony twisted in her leg, making anything beyond stumbling impossible. But she kept going. Her only hope was that it would take the man pursuing her long enough to make his way down the embankment that she would have time to escape.

  Escape where? She tried to force herself to ignore the torture of her leg. Yet all she could do was drag her aching limb and continue on—to what and to where, she had no idea; she only knew she had to keep moving. Her foot caught on something, bringing her to a sudden halt. For a fraction of a second she was aware of her body pitching forward and of her bloodied hands in front of her, trying to break her fall.

  Then only darkness.

  —

  Nancy made no attempt to deny her anger at first. The meal she had prepared was growing cold for the second time. She had been waiting for Alexandra so they could have their meal together, and now she was hungry. She’d already given Artie and Rob their supper, and she’d fed Zack. Or she’d tried to feed him. He still had no interest in his food. At least he was standing, although he was still wobbly. She was desperately worried about him, and it seemed to her now, in her tired and famished state, that it was immensely unfair of Miss Alex to leave her to care for him alone. Something could happen. Anything. She wouldn’t be able to abide it if Zack collapsed or died while she was alone with him.

  After a few minutes, she sat down at the table and helped herself to a serving of potatoes and cut off a generous slice of the sausage she’d boiled. After a few mouthfuls had settled in her stomach, she felt ashamed. She should know, after all these years with Miss Alex, that if the doctor was late, there would be good reason. Either Charlotte or Mr. Walcott had worsened, and she had to take extra time with them. Or perhaps she’d been called away to another patient. Eventually, Alexandra would send word to Nancy by someone.

  Nancy ate the rest of her meal quietly and without agitation, and there was no more self-pity. However, by the time she’d finished and washed her plate, she felt a nagging worry. She should have heard from Miss Alex by now. In the past, she’d always sent someone as soon as possible to let her know why she was late.

  Zack, as well, sensed that something wasn’t right. He kept his ears raised in constant alert and paced the floor—not with as much vigor as usual, for he had to take frequent rests.

  “I know, Zack, ’tis late, and she’s still not here,” Nancy said. “What could have happened to her?”

  Zack howled—a mournful sound that deeply disturbed Nancy.

  She paced the floor with Zack for several minutes until he collapsed in front of the kitchen hearth, unable to stand any longer. She sat next to him and took his head in her lap.

  “Don’t give up now, Zack. We must be strong together.” She was still speaking to him in soothing tones, hoping they would dampen her own worries, when she heard a knock at the kitchen door. Zack lifted his head briefly, then laid it in her lap again, a signal that whoever was at the door was of no interest to him. “Who is it?” Nancy called toward the door.

  “ ’Tis us, Nance. She ain’t come back yet.”

  She laid Zack’s head on the floor and rose to open the door for Rob and Art
ie.

  “They’s something wrong, I fear,” Rob said. “She ought to be home by now. ’Tis full dark, and she ain’t sent nobody to tell us why she ain’t here.”

  Artie stood behind Rob, his face pale with worry.

  “I know, Rob,” Nancy said. “We should have heard something by now.”

  “Why ain’t she back?” Artie asked. “Rob told her not to go alone. We shoulda went wif ’er, like Rob said.”

  Nancy shook her head. “I don’t know why she’s not here, but I’m certain we’ll hear from her soon.” She forced her voice and demeanor to remain as calm as possible in front of the boys.

  Zack, recognizing the boys, struggled to his feet and ambled toward them.

  “ ’E’s still sick, ain’t ’e?” Artie said, placing a hand on Zack’s head.

  “I’m afraid so. Dr. Gladstone thinks he may have been poisoned.”

  “Who would do such evil?” Artie asked.

  “If only I knew!” Nancy said. Zack’s illness, and now Miss Alex not showing up—it was almost too much to bear. She could feel a headache coming on, but she dare not take one of the powders Miss Alex often prescribed. It would make her sleepy, and she had to be awake in case Miss Alex was in trouble and needed her, or in case Zack took a turn for the worse.

  “I think I needs to go out and search for the doc,” Rob said.

  Nancy looked at him in silence for a moment. “As much as I hate to send you out at night, I’m afraid you’re right. But I worry about you going out alone.”

  “ ’Course I’m goin’ alone,” Rob said. “Ye got to stay here wif ol’ Zack, and Artie’s too young, but don’t ye worry. I knows what I’m doin’, I does.”

  “I ain’t too young!” Artie protested. “I’ll go if I wants.”

  Nancy frowned, unable to decide what to do. “All right,” she said finally. “You go on, Rob. Take a lantern, and saddle Lucy and ride her. Dr. Gladstone was on her way to the Malcolm house and then to Vernon Walcott’s place. Go to the Malcolms’ first and ask if they’ve seen her, and then—”