An Improper Death (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  When she sat down at the table across from John and saw his face illuminated by the lamp, she was struck by how young he looked. In spite of his size and his mannerisms, he was little more than a boy. Most striking was the terrible sadness in his eyes where she had expected fear.

  “What you are doing is very dangerous.” Her voice was strained with tension. “You must turn yourself in to the—”

  “We are not going to talk about me.” A frown creased his otherwise smooth brow. “We are going to talk about my mother.” Outside the wind howled and sleet pelted the window.

  Alexandra looked at him without speaking. His repeated abruptness had a slightly disorienting effect on her.

  “I know you have been a friend to her.” He had lost some of his cockiness and seemed a bit uneasy now.

  “I have tried to be.” Alexandra spoke quietly, waiting to see where he was leading.

  John leaned back in his chair affecting a confident, in-command attitude. “You must tell me how she is holding up.” It was clear now that he was making a concerted attempt to cover his uneasiness with bravado.

  “Holding up? Why, she’s quite distraught. After all, she’s lost a husband and in the same week heard of her son’s escape from Newgate, which she understands can bring serious repercussions.” There was the sting of anger in her voice.

  John’s fist came down on the table with a hard thud. “I told you we’re not here to talk about me!” He stood up, knocking over his chair. He kicked it out of his way. “You don’t know my mother, after all. I should have known you’d be like the rest of them. You’re no help to me at all.”

  Rob opened the door a crack and stared at John, a puzzled look on his face. Behind him, Artie was wide-eyed and frightened. John’s temper tantrum had obviously surprised both of them.

  “If you’re hoping not to call attention to your whereabouts, I suggest you calm yourself.” Alexandra, still seated at the table, kept her voice quiet.

  John stopped his raging long enough to glance at her. His shoulders drooped, and he looked tired. For a moment she thought he was about to cry. Picking up the chair, he replaced it next to the table and sat down. Alexandra started to reach her hand to cover his, but thought better of it.

  John was silent for a moment longer. “I can’t stand that they say she did it,” he said finally.

  “John, you’re wrong, no one…” Alexandra still kept her voice low, hoping not to disturb him more.

  “They’ll say it’s because of me.” He shivered. The wind had whipped up even more, seeping through the window to John’s back and defeating the heat emanating from the belly of the stove. “They’ll say she was trying to protect me from the bastard.”

  “Is that true, John? Was she trying to protect you?” Alexandra knew she was risking another outburst.

  John surprised her by raising his eyes slowly to look at her. Those eyes glistened with unshed tears. He shook his head slowly. “No.”

  “So that was not a reason to kill him.”

  “Of course not,” he said, the anger returning to his voice. He seemed agitated again, and Alexandra studied his face, trying to determine whether or not he was lying, but she found it impossible to judge.

  “But you didn’t get on well with the admiral, did you?” she asked.

  “I hated the bastard!”

  “Enough to kill him?”

  John looked up at her suddenly. His face had gone white. “What are you saying?”

  “Did you hate him enough to kill him?”

  John stood and leaned toward her across the table. He appeared ready to attack. “I don’t like the sound of what you’re—”

  Rob bounded across the room and had him by the arms before he could say more. “’Tis all right, bloke. She don’t mean nothin’ by it,” Rob said. At the same time he gave Alexandra a warning look.

  “I’m sorry, John. Perhaps I was out of line. You wanted to talk to me about your mother.”

  He jerked himself free of Rob’s grip. “Is she holding up all right? Can you tell me that much at least?”

  “She has a lot to bear,” Alexandra said, trying to keep any hint of fear or excitement out of her voice. “But she seems to be a strong woman.”

  “She’s not as strong as you think.” His anger had not completely dissipated. “But she wouldn’t kill the old man. You must understand that.”

  “I do understand that, of course, but I’m afraid I don’t understand your wrath or this particular concern of yours. As I said, I don’t think a significant number of people believe your mother killed her husband. More importantly, the constable doesn’t seem to think so.”

  For a moment John appeared stunned, as if she had given him unexpected news. The sadness returned to his eyes just as quickly, however. He slumped once more into the chair in which he’d been sitting and leaned toward her with the weariness and desperation of an old man. “You must not let your guard down. You must help me protect her.”

  “Against whom, John? I don’t understand.”

  “Just take my word for it. She is in danger. They will try to make her look guilty.”

  “Who, John? Who will try to make her look guilty?”

  “Everyone. The constable, eventually.”

  Alexandra, feeling more and more frustrated, shook her head. “But why?”

  John hesitated a moment as if he was trying to decide whether or not to give her the answer. Finally, he leaned toward her and spoke. “The reason is simply because she…”

  There was the sudden mind-shattering sound of a blast and then the tinkle of broken window glass. Almost instantaneously John slumped on the table, which was soon covered with his blood.

  Chapter Twelve

  The door to the boys’ sleeping quarters burst open. “What happened?” Rob shouted as Alexandra jumped to her feet and hurried around the table to John’s side. “Oh Jesus!” Rob’s face turned a sickly white when he saw John slumped on the table, his upper torso covered with blood. Artie was crying, too frightened to be embarrassed.

  “Get back! Stay away from the window!” Alexandra cried. She heard the muffled sound of Zack’s bark and was suddenly frightened that he might be outside in harm’s way. Whoever shot John could shoot Zack as well.

  She tried to block out Zack’s frantic barking as she tore John’s shirt away to get to the wound, thankful it was his shoulder and not his head. He was conscious still and moaning. It was impossible to see the wound even after his shirt was out of the way. All that was visible was the blood that covered his shoulder and back. Using her fingers to find the wound, she pressed her hand against it to stop the bleeding, but blood seeped through her fingers and within a few seconds her hand was covered.

  Her medical bag, which she had taken to the Talbot’s house to care for Hannibal, sat on the floor beside the table. As she reached for it, still holding one hand on John’s shoulder, she glanced at the window and felt a moment of cold fear that the gunman could still be out there.

  “Help me move him away from the window.”

  The two frightened boys responded immediately to her tension-charged voice. They moved the chair with John still in it, to a corner of the room. “He’s falling! Hold him in the chair, Rob. And you, Artie! If there’s still water in the tea pot, bring it to me. And that basin on the cupboard.”

  She pulled a strip of linen from her bag and folded it to press against the wound in another attempt to stop the bleeding. Artie brought the basin and the water and stepped back, wide-eyed. He had stopped his sniffling and stood like a frightened soldier waiting for his next command.

  The bleeding slowed, and she washed the wound clean with the water and another swatch of linen she took from her bag. “Artie! Go to the house and fetch Nancy. Tell her I need…”

  Before she could say another word, the door burst open, and Nancy and Zack rushed into the room.

  “Tanic acid!” Nancy said as soon as she saw the wound. She turned around quickly and left the room.

 
; “’E’s comin’ round!” Rob stood behind Alexandra, looking over her shoulder, his voice high-pitched with excitement.

  Alexandra, still holding the compress against the wound, saw John’s eyes flicker and then open wide, full of both pain and confusion. He moaned, tried to sit up, and at the same time, push her hand away from his shoulder. She had hoped he wouldn’t regain consciousness until the wound was cauterized.

  “Be still,” she said. “You’ve been wounded.”

  “Shot.” John’s voice was low and hoarse.

  “Any idea who could have done this?” she asked.

  John tried to shrug and winced in pain. “Coppers,” he said. “I’m a fugitive.” His words were choppy and edged with pain. “You won’t…won’t turn me in?”

  “Look! The bullet is stuck in the ceiling,” Artie said before she could answer.

  “That’s because the bloke what shot ’im was aiming up.” Rob used his arms, as if holding an imaginary rifle, to illustrate how the shooter might have aimed. “’E was standing down there, below us.” Rob pointed to the area from which the shot had come.

  Alexandra paid little attention. She was busy discarding the blood-soaked compress and reaching for another.

  “You won’t turn me in!” John pleaded again, just as Nancy reappeared holding a glass jar containing the acid, which she quickly opened and poured into a thick bandage.

  “This is going to hurt, John. Prepare yourself,” Alexandra said. She turned to Rob. “Help me hold him.” Rob, still wide-eyed, hesitated, then moved quickly to wrap his arms around John’s torso, pinning John’s good arm to his side. At the same time she signaled Nancy with a nod of her head.

  John watched Nancy approach him, and Alexandra felt his body stiffen and then jerk as the acid-soaked bandage touched him. He cried out, a long piercing sound that made Zack howl in sympathy. Behind her Alexandra heard Artie cough and then gag and run toward the chamber pot. By the time the bleeding stopped, John was pale, and had mercifully lost consciousness. Nancy set about helping Alexandra dress the twice-wounded shoulder, removing shards of glass and bits of clothing.

  The room was quiet as they worked. Even Zack seemed to hold his breath. Rob, who had backed into a corner and placed his arm around young Artie’s shoulder, was the first to speak. “You won’t, will you, Doc? Turn ’im in to them coppers what shot ’im?”

  Nancy spoke up before Alexandra had a chance to reply. “That wasn’t the police out there shooting at him, boy.”

  “And how can ye be knowin’ that?” Rob sounded defiant.

  “Because ’tisn’t the way they work, now is it? The coppers, I mean.” She placed her hands on her hips in an equally defiant gesture. “If ’twas them out looking for him, why, they’d knock on the door in a proper way and ask first. They wouldn’t be taking the risk of blowing the heads off innocent people.”

  “Well now, Nance, ain’t you the smart one?” Rob tried to sound mocking, but his eyes gave away his secret. They looked as if he thought Nancy made sense. “But who else would be shooting at ’im?” His mocking tone was gone.

  “I think we’d best ask him that when he wakes,” Nancy said.

  Rob turned to Alexandra. “Even if it weren’t the coppers shooting at ’im, ye won’t turn ’im over will ye?”

  “Rob, you must understand—”

  “Come along now, boys, you’ve got to help us get him in the house.” Nancy interrupted before Alexandra could make her confession that she was duty bound to turn him over to Constable Snow the next morning. “Dr. Gladstone will want to keep an eye on him tonight.”

  Nancy motioned for each of them to pick up a foot while she and Alexandra took his arms, bracing him as much as possible to keep from disturbing his wound. The movement made him restless, and he moaned again and opened his eyes.

  “A bit of laudanum?” Nancy said, glancing at Alexandra as the four of them, with John in tow, moved toward the door.

  Before Alexandra could answer, Rob spoke again, still not willing to give up his demand on Alexandra. “You won’t send ’im back to that hellhole at Newgate, will you?”

  Alexandra suddenly felt very tired. “Rob, you have to understand that I must do what is right and what is, after all, best for—”

  “Now will you stop it, Robin Foggarty!” It was Nancy again, interrupting. She stopped walking, halting the entire party as she glared at Rob. “Neither of us turned you in to the police to be sent to prison, did we? Although, I might add, you richly deserved it. Roaming with a band of young thugs down on the pier, stealing everything from poor Nell’s fresh hams in the butcher shop to the money and jewelry of your betters.”

  Rob looked a bit chastened. “Well…”

  Artie, who had been kept busy turning his head first to Nancy and then Rob and back to Nancy again, finally spoke. “She’s right, she is, Rob. She never turned us in to old Snow for what we done.”

  “Well, then,” Nancy said. “You know the kind of people the two of us are, Dr. Gladstone and I, so why will you go around doubting us?”

  Rob stared at both of them for a long moment, not speaking. Then he started his backward trek out the door and down the stairs. Nancy had bested him, but he still wore a troubled look. Alexandra was equally troubled. Perhaps Nancy meant well, but she had only succeeded in placing her in a very awkward position. She would have to tell Rob the truth—that she would have to turn John Killborn in to the constable. But she had not the stomach to do it now.

  Zack, in the meantime, was acting uncommonly nervous. He started barking as soon as the door was opened, and, in spite of Alexandra’s repeated attempts to quiet him, he wouldn’t stop.

  “Old Zack knows they’s someone out there.” Little Artie spoke in a frightened whisper. At almost the same moment, Zack cleared the steps in one long, powerful leap and raced toward the wooded area behind the stables.

  “Zack!” Alexandra called again, suddenly frightened for all of them, including Zack. Artie was right. Whoever shot John must still be out there. Zack paid no heed, and Alexandra had no choice but to keep moving toward the house.

  Rob, however, had a different inclination. “Help them get him inside!” He spoke in a commanding voice as he handed off his part of the burden that was John over to Artie. Then, in less than the length of a breath, he raced away toward the barking Zack.

  Both Alexandra and Nancy shouted at once for him to come back, but he disappeared into the darkness. They had no choice but to take John inside. As soon as they placed him in bed, Artie moved toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Alexandra snapped. She had just opened the vial of laudanum Nancy handed her.

  Artie stopped and turned around, and she saw the fear in his eyes and in his white face. “I’m going after Rob.” His little-boy voice was weak and trembling.

  “No! You’ll not leave this house without my permission.” Alexandra took a step toward him as she spoke, and he cowered in fright.

  “But Rob is—”

  “Rob has done a foolish thing.” Alexandra’s voice had softened a little. She knew Rob was the nearest thing to a relative Artie had. He was at once big brother, father, and mother to the little boy. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “We would be quite worried about him if Zack weren’t out there with him, wouldn’t we? Come along now. You must sleep in the house tonight. Nancy will show you where.” She gave him a gentle shove toward Nancy. “And see that you have a proper bath before you get in bed,” she called after him.

  The suggestion of a bath made Artie grumble in protest as Nancy took him firmly in hand and led him away. As soon as they were out of sight, Alexandra went to the window, searching the darkness for some sign of Zack and Rob. In spite of the reassurance she had given Artie, she felt no such assurance herself. A gunman could fell them both. She saw no sign of either of them, and only the fact that she had not heard another gunshot gave her hope.

  She had been at the window searching the night for several minutes when she heard Nancy’s
voice behind her.

  “Do you see them, Miss?”

  Before Alexandra could answer, she heard Zack’s bark and she felt a quickening in her blood.

  “’Tis Zack!” Nancy said. “Lord, I hope the lad is with him.”

  In the next moment they could hear Zack barking loudly and could see two dark forms moving toward them. Behind them, they heard the sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs and Artie’s voice calling. “’Tis old Zack, ain’t it? Is Rob with ’im?” He was so excited he seemed to have forgotten to be embarrassed that he was wearing one of Nancy’s nightgowns.

  “I’m not sure,” Alexandra said. She pulled the child closer to her in an instinctively protective gesture. Artie didn’t resist until Rob and Zack came clearly into sight. He pulled away from her and ran to the door, opening it, calling out to Rob.

  “Is it you, Rob? You’re not kilt, are ye?”

  Zack was the only one who answered. He gave a sharp bark and bounded through the open door, almost knocking over Alexandra as he greeted her. Rob stepped inside and edged close to Artie, breathing hard and looking as if he might faint in any minute. He seemed not even to have noticed Artie’s unorthodox attire.

  “Let me close the door, boy,” Nancy said, taking charge and shooing them all into the parlor. “What is it you saw, Rob? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Wasn’t no ghost,” Rob said, “though I thought it was at first.”

  “You saw someone?” Alexandra guided him toward the kitchen where the stove was still hot and where Nancy could quickly warm a pot of milk.

  “A woman,” Rob said.

  “The witch?” Artie’s eyes were wide and frightened.

  Rob glanced at him and, for the first time, noticed his clothing. Instead of laughing, though, he seemed to grow more upset. “What in damnation are ye wearin’, Artie?”

  “Never mind what he’s wearing.” Nancy spoke over her shoulder as she poured milk into a pot and set it on the stove. “You’ll be wearing the same soon enough. Tell us now, what’s this about a witch?”