Felicity Carrol and the Murderous Menace

by Patricia Marcantonio

  “We’ll take good care of her, Helen,” Pike said.

  Helen went downstairs.

  With effort, Felicity looked into the doctor’s face. “I apologize for my appalling suspicions, Dr. Lennox. I’m ashamed of my behavior towards you. Forgive me.”

  The man remained dispassionate. “I probably did make a terribly good suspect.” A modicum of pride went with the statement.

  “You certainly did. For instance, the visits to the girls of the line.”

  “Even ill, you demonstrate a tremendous amount of fortitude.” Lennox straightened and gave Pike a nod.

  “Dr. Lennox is treating the prostitutes for syphilis,” the sheriff said.

  “Why didn’t you say so in the first place, Dr. Lennox?” Felicity said.

  “Because such diseases aren’t mentioned in polite society, Miss Carrol, particularly to a young woman of good breeding like yourself. Besides, I promised to keep my patients’ identities a secret.”

  “Tom, how did you know?”

  “After your telegram, I had a long sit-down with the doctor. He confided in me about tending to the prostitutes. The women who he’s treating backed up his story.”

  The honest talk gave Felicity strength. She sat up a little more, but her head still felt as if it might explode at any second. “Why couldn’t my solicitors find your name among those who practiced medicine in England or Scotland?”

  Pike leaned in. “A real good question, Doc.”

  Lennox placed the medical equipment in his black bag. “Because I caused a death.” His voice quivered the slightest bit. He sounded like a person then and not an emotionless metallic creature. “My real name is Donnan Brody. In Scotland, I was troubled by the treatment of syphilitics. The dejected creatures who worked the streets. Many weren’t even allowed into hospitals for care. As terrible, the use of mercury to treat the disease often killed the patients.”

  “It’s no simple cure,” Felicity said.

  “Quite. Patients suffer from mercury poisoning. And this was my treatment for a fourteen-year-old prostitute from Edinburgh. I pasted a mercury ointment over her and placed her in a sweat bath. She died as a result, but not without great anguish.” He closed the medical bag.

  “You were only adhering to the recommended treatment, Doctor,” Felicity said.

  “She still died at my hands, Miss Carrol, and nothing would change that. I traveled to America. Changed my name so I could continue helping these unfortunates in my own way with new treatments not involving the use of mercury.”

  “Newer techniques frowned upon back home,” Felicity said.

  “Most certainly.”

  The doctor had proven he was human. “You make me doubly ashamed, sir.”

  “No need.” Lennox’s kindness vaporized. He picked up his medical bag. “Now I must see to another patient. I hope, Miss Carrol, my story won’t become part of your crime book.”

  “You have my promise, Doctor.”

  Lennox walked out the door.

  “I’m such a fool, Tom.”

  “The prettiest I’ve met in a long time. But yes, a fool.”

  “Because of my preoccupation with the doctor’s guilt, I couldn’t find the real suspect in time. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, Beth Ray might be alive today.” A strident pain hit her left temple, which she rubbed. She longed to sleep but had more to confess. “I wanted the doctor to be guilty. He is so like my late father.”

  Pike held on to her hand as she spoke.

  “Weakened by my birth, my mother died of consumption. I was six months old. I was five when my brother died of pneumonia. He was seven.” The words came easier than she expected, as if they had always been near the surface.

  “And your father blamed you for the death of your mother.”

  “Not to mention that I lived and they didn’t.” Felicity took his hand. “Once again, you see to the heart of things. An uneasy land lay between me and my father. I had found, however, that science and reason will never betray or hurt you. Until now.” She gave a weak smile.

  Pike’s breathing remained steady, as if he balanced the air in the room. “You’re not to blame for Beth Ray.”

  “I didn’t stop Jack the Ripper from knocking on her door.”

  “If that’s the case, then I’m as guilty as you. But we aren’t.” His smile was sad. “Stopping this killer is like stopping hell itself.”

  After Pike left, Felicity pulled up the quilt, lay back, and closed her eyes. She slept several hours and then woke. Sunset colored the room ocher. Her ears rang from the stillness. She splashed water on her face in the basin. Through the windows, a glowing red layer sat above the horizon. Particles in the air from the smelters daubed the sky with the magnificent hues. How ironic that ugly smoke could result in something so radiant.

  Felicity contemplated the chamber of horrors she had created on the wall in her laboratory. She began removing the photographs and news articles about the crimes in London and in Placer. Doing so, she also recounted her transgressions.

  She had wrongly accused Dr. William Lennox.

  She had not saved Beth or the other women.

  Jack the Ripper had won. The butcher of Whitechapel and now the Red District of Placer, Montana, had triumphed. His name should be Jack the Conqueror. His insanity had vanquished enlightenment. His violence dominated science.

  Never having met failure in her studies, she encountered it now. The selfish need to prove herself a great detective could mean destroying the livelihoods of people back home if she didn’t quit this investigation.

  And what of Jackson Davies? His reaction to abandoning their shared mission? He had almost died from a fixation on the killer.

  Felicity placed the papers and photographs in a trunk. She would just have to help her friend get through this failure, and she hoped he might do the same for her. Her love of education had always sustained her. Well, she had continued her education in Placer. She had learned evil could win.

  It was time to go home.

  CHAPTER 28

  Helen Wilkins dotted away tears with a handkerchief. Her nose gushed. “I don’t mean to carry on so, Miss Felicity. I’ve come to like this place.”

  “So have I, Hellie.” Felicity had expected some reaction when she told Helen about her decision, but the older woman had stunned her with its force.

  “I’ve met such nice people here,” Helen blubbered.

  Felicity sat next to her. “If it’s any consolation to you, I’m going to ask Robert Lowery to come with us to England. We could use another good man at Carrol Manor.”

  “Oh, Miss Felicity.” Helen grinned.

  Felicity used her handkerchief to dab at Helen’s tears. “If you like, you can extend him the invitation.”

  Her voice lifted with delight. “I wanted to ask but not get above my station.”

  “There are no stations between us. Only friendship.”

  Helen dried her face with her apron, curtsied, and hurried out.

  Felicity heard the kitchen door open and close. A while later, Helen and Lowery entered the library where Felicity sat, still exhausted from the night before.

  “Miss Felicity, I’ll work hard for you,” Lowery said.

  “I have no doubt. And one more thing.” He and Helen both stopped smiling, because Felicity had taken on an exaggerated seriousness. “As Helen’s employer and, more importantly, one of her oldest friends, please tell me of your intentions, Robert.”

  The color left his cheeks. Helen laughed like a fresh country girl and elbowed his ribs. “Go on then.”

  Lowery straightened so much Felicity worried he might break in two. “I’d like permission to marry Helen.”

  “While her brother is not here, I hope I may be a good substitute.” She didn’t hesitate. “You have my blessing. But would you like to remain here or return to England?”

  Helen and Lowery took each other’s hands. She whispered to Lowery. He whispered to Helen.

  “If it’s all the same, Mi
ss, I’d like to be married as soon as we can so my dried-up old brother won’t have a thing to say,” Helen said. “And we both decided to go back to Carrol Manor. Robert’s never traveled and he’d love it there.”

  “Then please, do me the greatest of honors. Allow me to make those arrangements,” Felicity said.

  “I have no words,” Helen said.

  She hugged Helen and shook hands with Lowery. “Your faces are reward enough.”

  “We best get back to work. Come on, Robert. Much to do.” Helen ushered him from the room. “Miss Felicity, you rest and I’ll bring in your tea.”

  Felicity walked up to her room and sat on the bed. Since she had made her decision to go home, her chest had never seemed to fill with enough air. Her muscles weakened at the thought that she had been bested by the killer. As she lay on the bed, resolve abandoned her. But she didn’t remain there long. She had a wedding to plan.

  * * *

  Sheriff Tom Pike had called the Placer Grand Hotel the nicest in town, and he wasn’t wrong. While not up to the standards of the fine hotels in London, the Grand exhibited luxury nonetheless—notable for an isolated town such as Placer. In the dining room, goblets sparkled and the napkins resembled tamed birds. A marvelous place for a wedding. However, Helen and Robert Lowery wanted to be married in the garden of the house on Bullion Boulevard. Lowery had already asked Judge Simon Winslow, a friend of his late employer, to perform the ceremony.

  Felicity talked with the manager of the Grand Hotel to hire a cook and waiters for the wedding, as well as obtain the use of tables, flowers, and the other settings for thirty people. The manager revealed himself to be an exacting man with a trim mustache. His black suit shone like obsidian from ironing. But his glacial attitude thawed when she mentioned she’d spare no expense on the event.

  “I can assure you, Miss Carrol, the nuptial party will be impeccable.” He had a voice prissy as satin.

  “Quite. I also want to reserve the wedding suite for the couple.” She paid in full for everything.

  His eyes gleamed at the money.

  Felicity had asked Helen and Lowery not to tell anyone about their return to England. She hadn’t told Pike of her decision and admonished herself for her cowardice. She could face the Midline Gang, but not the sheriff. Not yet. Walking on Main Avenue, she passed the Alhambra Theatre. The marquee read THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, which would be performed that weekend. Dinner and the theater. Her gift to him, since she had nothing else to give.

  She had not found Jack the Ripper.

  * * *

  Tom Pike grinned as she presented the tickets. “This makes me even happier than the time I caught five cattle rustlers up near the MacKay River.”

  Felicity laughed.

  “I’m joshing you. I only arrested three of them.”

  “Still very impressive, Tom.” She sounded too cheerful.

  He lost his smile. Suspicion lit on his face. Who could blame him after all her mistakes and deceptions?

  “Hold on, Felicity. What’s the real reason for all this?”

  She planned to save the news of her pending departure until after the dinner and play when they were alone. She’d lie until then. “To express my gratitude for how much you have helped me since I arrived in Placer.”

  “To be honest, there were lots of times I wanted to put you back on the stagecoach.”

  “How very kind you didn’t.”

  “And Bob Lowery told me you’re throwing a wedding party for him and Helen. I’m going to be his best man.”

  “Brilliant.” She needed to hurry out of his office so he couldn’t start reading her mind. “Must run. I’m meeting Helen at a dressmaker.”

  “I’ll let you go, but only for a while.”

  At a fashionable shop on Main Avenue, Felicity chose a dress for Helen’s wedding and one for herself for the evening with Pike because she hadn’t brought anything suitable for such an engagement. She chose a violet silk with puffed shoulder straps and black lace at the waist and hem. Blue brocade made up the train. She also purchased long black gloves and satin slippers. As she stood in front of a mirror in her new outfit, her eyes were rusted as old tin.

  “A picture of loveliness,” proclaimed the Irishwoman who owned the shop. “The gown needs a little altering, Miss Carrol. You can pick it up tomorrow morning.”

  Helen emerged from another dressing room wearing the wedding gown Felicity had selected, made of cream brocade and draped white lace, decorated with orange blossoms. In Helen’s hair were two mother-of-pearl combs painted with white roses that Felicity had picked out for her.

  Arms out, Helen revolved in front of the mirror. “I can barely believe it’s me.”

  “You look like a queen, Hellie.”

  “I do feel rather like Victoria.” Helen pushed out her chest.

  “Prettier.”

  “Mrs. O’Malley,” Felicity addressed the dressmaker, “Helen will also require a trousseau. Let’s see, a traveling outfit, two day dresses, a cloak, an evening gown, robe, shoes, and undergarments.”

  “Please, Miss, this is too much.” Tears gave Helen’s eyes a touching luster.

  “Unless you’re Henry the Eighth, you get married once. So the traditions will be conducted with all respect and ceremony.”

  “But you hate tradition.” Helen teased her mistress.

  “Not today. I’m merely returning the love and kindness you have given me all my life.”

  Helen suddenly hugged Felicity, who breathed in her smell of good cooking. “Excuse my forwardness, Miss.” Helen quickly put down her arms.

  “That’s the best gift you could ever have given me.”

  * * *

  Felicity drove the wagon to Quigley and Son to pay for a proper funeral for Beth Ray. The rest of the murdered prostitutes had been buried in a plain pine coffin by the county. Admittedly out of guilt, she wanted more for Beth.

  Marcus Quigley offered to upgrade the coffin to one painted white and lined with blue silk. Felicity approved. He also would transport the coffin to the cemetery in his new black hearse, pulled by two white horses bedecked with black feathers. The likeness of two angels holding a vine of roses would decorate Beth Ray’s headstone.

  “Marvelous job, Mr. Quigley, but do you have to bury her in Pauper Grounds? Can’t she be interred in the regular cemetery?”

  Quigley scratched at his head. “People don’t like those wantons buried next to decent folk.”

  She handed him a fifty-dollar bank note. “A man such as yourself could sidestep such an absurd notion.”

  “I believe I can.” He accepted the money. “I’ll be ready tomorrow.”

  “Can you also manage to locate another minister besides the Reverend Phoenix to preside at the service?” She handed him more money.

  “Leave everything to me.” Quigley winked.

  Felicity thanked him and rubbed her temples, which had not stopped pulsating since the night of Beth Ray’s murder.

  “I suppose you want to see Beth’s body for your usual inspection. The doctor and sheriff already made theirs, but they called it too mangled up to tell them much.”

  Felicity had not come to the funeral parlor to examine the remains of the young woman. “Not this time.” She started for the door, but pivoted. “Well, maybe a quick review.”

  Quigley gave an extravagant bow. “After you, Miss.”

  With a swish, Marcus Quigley drew back the bloodstained sheet. Felicity staggered. Away from the little room in which Beth Ray had lived, worked, and died, the body appeared even smaller and more broken. Felicity walked around the corpse, while Quigley took his usual place on the stool in the corner.

  “Never seen a human body treated so, Miss. Not even the time we buried a miner who got caught in an explosion.”

  Felicity leaned in and sniffed. “Jasmine. Mr. Quigley, did you use a scent on the body?”

  “No, Miss. She came in smelling like that. Even stronger when they brought her to me.”

  �
�I didn’t notice it the night she died.” Then again, her fury at the sight of Beth’s body had blocked out her other senses. She’d been deaf and blind to all except the murder and her hatred of Dr. William Lennox.

  Quigley dug grit from under his nails. “I’m surprised the girls of the line could afford such nice-smelling perfume. Maybe the man who did this wanted to cover the stink of what he had done.”

  “I’ve seen all I can bear.” She turned away from the body. He replaced the sheet. “Mr. Quigley, you’ve been most accommodating and kind to me.”

  “Just part of the service.”

  Felicity started for home, but the jasmine lingered in her nose, and so did a question about the murder. She drove to Beth’s crib. As soon as she entered, she took a deep breath. The jasmine scent. Feeble but unmistakable. She rummaged inside the chest of drawers and on the shelves but couldn’t find any bottle of jasmine-scented perfume or toilet water.

  The mattress had been taken away, leaving behind the rusted metal springs. Several sets of reddish footprints covered the floor, no doubt from the sheriff, his deputies, and others who had trodden through the blood as they inspected the murder scene. She managed to discern one pair of bloody footprints belonging to men’s dress shoes in the small kitchen in the back. The prints were alike in size and shape to the one on the sidewalk at King General Mercantile where the third body had been found. The bloody prints stopped in the middle of the kitchen.

  Scratch marks on the floor indicated that the table had been shoved to one side. Dried red splashes covered the tabletop. A ceramic water basin had been smashed on the floor and swept into a corner. Several pieces of the broken basin had smears of blood on them, but no obvious fingerprints. Covered in blood, the killer must have cleaned up before leaving Beth’s room.

  Felicity checked the floor leading to the flimsy back door. No bloody tracks out there. He had taken off his shoes.

  Outside the back door, a wooden step led to dirt marred with footprints in every direction. Three wooden privies stood about thirty feet behind the shacks. The door to one whined open, causing Felicity to jump. A tiny woman with curly brown hair emerged, smoothing the front of her dress.