For Dead Men Only: An Alexandra Gladstone Mystery Read online

  “No, Nancy,” Alexandra said. “I’ll go to the door. I’m the one who should handle this.” She was well aware of all of them, Nancy, Zack, and the boys, following her as she made her way to the front door and opened it to Nicholas.

  “Lord Dunsford!” she said, using his formal title because of the presence of her entourage.

  “At your service, doctor,” Nicholas said with mock formality.

  “Come in, please. I’m so eager to talk to you.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he said, keeping an eye on Zack as he entered. Zack, however, did not make the customary growl when he saw Nicholas. Instead, he stood still and tense, his ears pointed upward, as he had done the night before, when Nicholas confronted the mob.

  “Tea for Lord Dunsford, Nancy,” Alexandra said. “Finish your breakfast and then back to work,” she added, turning to Artie and Rob.

  Alexandra led him toward the parlor. “Now, tell me what happened last night and whether or not I’m going to need the services of a good London barrister.” Her flippant remark belied the terrible anxiety she felt.

  “Of course you need a good London barrister,” he said. “Doesn’t everyone?” he added, when he saw the look she gave him. “And as for what happened last night, all I can say is that I believe I managed to turn down the flame under a pot that was about to boil over. Can’t say how long that will last.”

  “How did you do it? How did you keep them from coming back and lynching me?”

  “Oh, I simply used an old and reliable technique. I lied.”

  “You—”

  “I told them that you were no longer in the coroner’s building, although I assured them that they did see you go inside in all likelihood, but that you went in on the instructions of Constable Snow to make certain all was in order with the body.”

  “But they know Constable Snow is not here.”

  “Certainly they do. I told him that you had received a telegraph message from him, instructing you as to what you must do.”

  “And they believed you?”

  “I showed them the telegram.”

  “How could you have possibly done that? I’ve received no such telegram, and you know that. You also know that no one knows how to reach Constable Snow to apprise him of what’s going on in Newton-upon-Sea.”

  “All right, let’s just say I showed him a telegram. I happened to have one in my pocket. I’d received it earlier from my office advising me of the postponement of a court date.”

  “But if it wasn’t from the constable advising me—”

  “I was counting on them not being able to read, and it worked. What I showed them looked like a telegram, and they accepted that I knew what it said.”

  “The fire under that boiling pot could very easily flare up again,” Alexandra said, just as Nancy entered with the tea.

  “Then I suppose I’ll have to do some more quick thinking,” Nicholas said. In spite of his flippant remark, his brow was creased with a worried frown. He stayed long enough to finish his tea before he left to allow Alexandra to make her morning rounds to see patients.

  —

  Alexandra went to Olive Fontaine’s house first, out of concern for her being elderly and living alone. Mrs. Fontaine opened her door and welcomed Alexandra with her usual graciousness while her four cats curled around her ankles. Zack was, as always, leery of the alien creatures and barked when he saw them. By now he had come to anticipate Alexandra’s command to stay quiet and not start a chase. It was clear by the look in his eyes that he did not obey the command with any enthusiasm and instead wanted with all that was in him to follow his natural instincts. A raised back and a hiss from the yellow cat gave him second thoughts, and he took a step backward. Mrs. Fontaine quickly closed the door, leaving Zack outside, before the drama could come to a climax.

  “You’re such a dear to stop by so often to make sure of my well-being,” she said. “Your father would have been so proud of you. I’m sure you know that without my telling you. Huntington always spoke of you in glowing terms. Always mentioned how, had you not been born female, you could have become one of the kingdom’s stellar physicians.”

  Her remarks caused a mixture of embarrassment and chagrin in Alexandra. “How nice of you to mention it,” she finally managed to say. “Now, tell me how you’re feeling.”

  “Quite well, as always,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “From a physical standpoint, at least, although I must confess anguish over the recent events in Newton.”

  “Who can blame you? We all feel distress.”

  “I was about to have a cup of tea,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “Will you join me? Nothing like tea shared with a friend to cheer one up. Especially when there are scones spread with honey.”

  “Thank you, I’ve had more than enough tea this morning, but I can’t resist a scone with honey.”

  “I’ll be back with it soon. Brush the cats away if they bother you,” Mrs. Fontaine said over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen. She reemerged with a tray holding a teapot and cup, plates of scones, and a small bowl of honey. “I wish you’d been here a bit earlier. Young Judith was just here. We could have all had tea together. Such a lovely girl.”

  “She is indeed,” Alexandra said as she accepted a plate.

  “She’s the image of her mother.”

  “Judith told me her family came from Foulness,” Alexandra said. “How is it that you know her mother?”

  “The Payne family is one of the oldest families in England, my dear, and besides, we’re distantly related. I was a Payne before I married. Judith’s branch of the family settled in Foulness, while my family came to Newton-upon-Sea, as did the Fontaines, another old-line family.”

  “Then you must know Judith’s father, George Payne.”

  “Oh, yes, of course, and his parents as well. As a matter of fact, I was present when little George was born. God rest his mother’s soul. She would have been proud of him.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Oh, yes. Followed in his own father’s footsteps and rose in the ranks of the brotherhood to become Grand Master of the Freemasons. A shame he was not as successful in business as his father was. The Paynes were merchant bankers, you know. Started out as salt merchants, of course, but moved on to other things, as did all our old-line families. I’m afraid young George was a bit of a dreamer and never quite fit into the banking business. Still, he’s a fine man at heart.”

  “I see.”

  Mrs. Fontaine scrutinized Alexandra’s face. “What is it you’re not saying? Do I detect doubt? Suspicion?”

  “Well, you see, it’s just that…”

  “Go on,” Mrs. Fontaine urged.

  “I don’t want to sound like a gossip, but I’ve heard Judith didn’t get on well with her father.”

  “Oh, that!” Mrs. Fontaine said with a wave of her hand while she used her other hand to lift one of her cats from where it had found a comfortable nest on the top of her head. “That really is nothing more than gossip—a silly rumor started by a cousin in Foulness. Men can be such gossips, although it’s always women who get the blame, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Of course it’s true. In this case, it was a cousin who was jealous of George’s advancement in the brotherhood.”

  “Grand Master, you mentioned.”

  “Oh, yes. Quite an honor, I understand. Master over several lodges in the area. You know how those Freemasons are. Ah, of course you don’t know. Huntington never got around to joining, even though he was invited several times. I know because my own husband told me. Always too busy, I suppose. Nevertheless, those who do find the time take their positions and their power quite seriously, so it’s understandable, even if it’s not excusable, that a jealous cousin might try to do something underhanded to discredit his more successful relative. Now, I see that look on your face, and I quite agree. It’s all so petty and childish, but some boys never grow up, you know.”

  “You don’t believe the rumo
r, then, that Judith and her father are—well, at least at odds, if not estranged.”

  “Of course not. Mind you, I’m not saying they didn’t have their disagreements. Judith has more than a few modern notions that rub her father the wrong way. Always going on about that woman, Mary Something, who wrote that book about women and their rights.”

  “Mary Wollstonecraft. She wrote A Vindication of the Rights of Woman.”

  “Yes, that’s it. Never read it myself. Have you?”

  “I have. It’s quite an old book. Written almost a hundred years ago.”

  “My education is lacking, I suppose. Judith tells me that’s the premise of Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s work—that women aren’t inferior to men, but only appear to be because they’re denied an equal education.”

  “A reasonable summary, I’d say. She believed that if reason could prevail, women would have all of the opportunities of men.”

  “Oh, yes. That kind of talk infuriated her father. They could argue for hours about such things.”

  “Do you believe George Payne could be guilty of something that is, shall we say, sinister?”

  Mrs. Fontaine frowned. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. George Payne is the last person in the world you would call sinister. He’s a fine man. I should like to introduce you to him sometime. You’ll find him every bit as agreeable as Judith.”

  “I’m sure I would, Mrs. Fontaine. Forgive me for suggesting otherwise. I’m afraid I may have been influenced by those scurrilous rumors you mentioned.” She didn’t want to upset Mrs. Fontaine by revealing what Judith had told her about her father.

  “Understandable, I suppose, at least to some extent, but I caution you not to be taken in too easily.” She was silent for a moment, looking at Alexandra. “You look so distressed. This must be quite difficult for you.”

  “It is, of course,” Alexandra said. “As I said, it’s difficult for all of us.”

  “But more so for you. Most of the townspeople look up to you, you know. You’re one of our problem solvers. Now with Robert, excuse me, Constable Snow, gone and young Daniel dead, much falls on your shoulders.”

  “It’s true,” Alexandra said with a sigh. “I do wish Constable Snow would return. If ever we needed him, it’s now.”

  “I quite agree.” Mrs. Fontaine had a troubled look on her face, as if it were she who had taken the town’s burdens on her own shoulders.

  “Try not to worry, Mrs. Fontaine. Lord Dunsford has sought the help of Scotland Yard to find the constable.”

  “Oh, dear!” Mrs. Fontaine said, as if the idea of Scotland Yard becoming involved alarmed her.

  “So far, Lord Dunsford hasn’t received a response,” Alexandra said. “Perhaps they deem it unimportant compared to all the crime they’re dealing with in London. The next step would be to ask a magistrate to appoint someone to stand in for the constable until we locate him.”

  “But if…Oh, I see you reaching for your bag. You don’t have to leave so soon, do you?”

  “I’d like to stay longer. There must be a great deal more you can tell me, but we’ll have to make it a later time. I’m afraid I have too many patients to see today.” Alexandra didn’t tell her that she also needed time to collect her thoughts. She needed to know if Judith had been lying to her about her father, or if it was Mrs. Fontaine who was lying. Or it could be that Mrs. Fontaine was simply confused. Confusion was not uncommon in the elderly, although Olive Fontaine had not shown signs of declining mental capacity. She seemed as fit as anyone twenty years her junior might be.

  Alexandra tried to put the troublesome question to the back of her mind as she made her morning rounds. Her last patient was Charlotte Malcolm and her new son, both of whom were still in precarious health.

  —

  By the time she left the young mother and her baby, there was little time left before surgery hours would start, but she wanted to stop by Judith’s cottage, as there was much to ask her. When Alexandra got to the house, however, no one answered the door. Zack wandered off and proceeded to dig a hole in the soft garden soil where Judith had just planted flowers.

  Alexandra scolded him and called him to her side. He obeyed and sat at her feet. Once again Alexandra knocked and called Judith’s name, but there was still no answer. She was about to leave when a woman in the next house over stepped out of her door.

  “Looking for Miss Payne, are you, Dr. Gladstone? Well, you won’t find ’er. Gone to Foulness, she has.”

  “Zack!” Alexandra called, scolding him again, this time because he had hiked his leg against a beautiful, tall flowering plant.

  “Left early this morning,” the woman said, although Alexandra was having a difficult time listening to her since Zack insisted on being so distracting. “Said she got a message from some bloke what came down from Foulness. A terrible tragedy. Yer dog is diggin’, ’e is. Get away, dog!” She turned back to Alexandra. “Left me in charge of the garden. Don’t know how long she’ll be gone. Her father kilt himself. Poor Miss Payne. May take ’er some time to get everything settled, don’t you know.”

  Chapter 11

  “I suppose it’s not so very long, but am I the only one who has noticed that ever since Daniel Poole died, there has been not another mysterious death in the parish?” Nancy asked nearly a week later. She was removing human tissue from a bottle of formaldehyde for Alexandra to examine under the microscope. They were both frustrated that, so far, they had found nothing to confirm their suspicion of poisoning.

  “If you’re saying Deputy Poole killed the others, it makes even less sense than blaming Constable Snow. After all, Deputy Poole is one of the victims,” Alexandra said as she took her seat in front of the microscope to examine the tissue.

  “He could have died of another cause.”

  “And there’s the strange occurrence of the bloody apron…”

  Nancy sighed. “I suppose I’m just trying to invent ways not to make the constable look guilty.”

  “Finding the cause of Daniel Poole’s death might help,” Alexandra said. “I only wish I could find that cause. There is something odd in the liver tissue, but I can’t determine what.” Alexandra continued to study the specimen carefully and write notes on a pad next to the microscope as she worked.

  After a few minutes, Nancy demanded her attention again. “Think about this: No one has seen the horseman since Daniel Poole’s death.”

  “Couldn’t we say the same thing about Judith Payne?” Alexandra asked. “She’s been gone several days as well.”

  “She’s been back almost two days.”

  “Oh, then I must stop by and see her,” Alexandra said. She wasn’t particularly surprised that Nancy knew about Judith’s return. She was privy to most of the town’s gossip, usually from patients who stopped by the surgery while Alexandra was making her rounds.

  “Nell Stillwell told me,” Nancy said, as if to confirm Alexandra’s thoughts.

  “Nell’s not ill, I hope.”

  “Of course not. You know Nell.”

  “Yes, I do indeed.” Ever since the Newton Press had stopped printing its weekly broadsheet a few years earlier, Nell had served as the main conveyer of news. It didn’t seem to bother most villagers that her reports weren’t always accurate.

  “Poor girl’s terribly upset, as one might imagine. Nell said Mrs. Fontaine has had Judith staying at her house. She believes Judith shouldn’t be alone. Staying with Mrs. Fontaine and all those cats. Can you imagine?”

  “I haven’t seen Mrs. Fontaine since late last week,” Alexandra said, “much to my embarrassment. I try to see her at least every two days, but I’m afraid I’ve let myself become distracted with the specimens I’ve been studying. Nevertheless, even if I saw everyone in town daily, I doubt I could keep up to date on the gossip as well as you, Nancy.”

  “ ’Tisn’t necessarily gossip.” Nancy sounded defensive. ’Tis usually things you need to know.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Alexandra said as she sl
id her microscope back. The first patient was sure to arrive soon.

  A frantic Charlotte Malcolm arrived with her baby, still only a few weeks old. They were brought in by an even more frantic Samuel, who carried the baby cradled in one arm while Charlotte leaned heavily on his other arm.

  “He’s turned bilious!” Charlotte cried in a feeble voice that was barely audible. She was still weak from her surgery, and as white as her baby was yellow. “He’s dying!” she cried. “See how he’s turning color. Like a dead person, he is. He’s already part dead!”

  “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Alexandra said. “And your baby is not dying. He’s jaundiced.”

  “He’s what?” Samuel asked, looking every bit as frightened as his young wife.

  “Plenty of babies get it,” Nancy said in an attempt to calm both of them. “Sometimes ’tis called yellow gum. Perhaps you’ve heard of that.”

  Samuel shook his head, eyes wide with fright.

  “Yellow gum! Babies die of yellow gum,” Charlotte said as Nancy led her to an examination table and put a stethoscope to her chest.

  “Your baby is not going to die,” Alexandra said. “I’ll give him a compound of rhubarb and potassia. He also needs sunshine. Now that the weather is warmer, you must take him outdoors wearing only his nappie so he can soak up as much sun as possible.”

  “She can’t do it,” Samuel said. “She’s too weak to carry ’im.”

  “Then you must do it for her,” Alexandra said. “Every day for at least an hour.” She turned to Charlotte. “Are you able to nurse the child?”

  “Can’t you see she can’t do nothin’!” Samuel cried before his wife could answer. “She’s dyin’ same as the babe. Heart beats so fast it makes ’er faint.”

  Nancy, with the stethoscope still in place, removed it and gave Alexandra a nod. “Palpitations,” she said. Before Alexandra could respond, Nancy had already turned around and reached for a compound of iron and quinine.

  “Take the compound Nancy is getting for you three times a day,” Alexandra said. “You must eat more beef and mutton. Eat it every day. I’ll have Nell Stillwell deliver it to you, and we’ll find a wet nurse for the baby.”