“What’s it like a salve to keep your hands from chapping from all the washings?”
“Yes, in part; the compound does have those properties, but it’s more of an antiseptic coating.”
“What’s it called?” Walking around me, he initially squints at my hands as though they’re volatile specimens, then lowers his chin and peers at them curiously. “You order the stuff from Stanhope’s catalog?”
“I call them second skins and no, I didn’t order them. My brother Quinn and I came up with the formula. I prefer not to handle fluids and viscera with my bare hands as most surgeons do, and nothing like this exists to serve my purpose, so I had to make them myself.”
“That so?” he questions, eyeing me with wonder in his brown eyes. “Neat,” he murmurs. “Yeah, very cool. Now, the dead bodies I can do without, but a lot of what you do, Doc, I’d have to say, I find it really fascinating. ’Course, Tanner thinks I’m soft in the head.”
“Is that right? Then what he must he think of me.” I’m smiling at Theo when Archer’s other favorite quietly enters the lab.
“They almost put him in the theater,” Sergeant Adams says without preamble.
Whereas Theo’s friendly manners and open expressions attract others to him, his best friend and colleague is traditionally handsome by all accounts. Aside from their similar ages, the two are a study in contrast. One is rather awkwardly tall and loose-limbed with a boyishly small head and ginger-colored freckles and hair. The other wears his dark good looks with an almost athletic casualness. And yet, Theo is more put together within and Tanner only seemingly more so without.
“But it’s Cochran and McCoy we’re talking ’bout. Not the sharpest tacks in the box, yeah?” he says.
Sergeant Dent screws up his mouth into a concurring grimace. “I knew right away an autopsy weren’t going to be necessary, Doc. I ducked my head in earlier, and sure enough, they’d deposited him on the table. So, I just thought we’d lend a hand transferring him to another stretcher for you. Or even load ‘em on a wagon if you like.”
“We understand you and the chief are leaving early today. A couple of the constables could run this one down to the undertaker’s, so he doesn’t have to sit around here,” Tanner says.
“That’s thoughtful of you. But I’ve gotten quite adept in the art—”
“Art?” Raising his eyebrows, the chocolate-haired sergeant chuckles. “Only you, Dr. Reid, would consider anything having to do with corpses an art.”
“Not anything, Tanner. Though, being able to maneuver the dead regardless of their size and state of limberness requires a certain finesse. You’ve helped me refine my technique more times than I can count. Or maybe you don’t remember?” I tease.
“Oh yeah, I remember all right.” His lips curl in disgust. “Eck!” A loose-limbed shudder travels down his body; it starts at his shoulders where is shimmies equally down his arms but seems to exit out just one pant leg. “Sure wish I didn’t.” His eyes skim over the table, then around the room in search of another stretcher. Spotting one with wheels, he confirms the presence of lockable foot pedals and nods.
I give him a sympathetic smile and turn back to Theo with a questioning look over the rim of my glasses. It didn’t seem as though Archer had sent them to help me. That they’d come of their own accord speaks volumes about how their once wary acceptance of me has developed. “I appreciate the offer, but if you have other duties to see to …” I glance again at the notes. “I’m sure I can manage ‘Joe’ Gunn on my own.”
“The truth of it is, Doc, we don’t got much else going at the moment. Particularly with naught coming of the Birdie Day incident,” Theo says.
“I see. Well, twenty minutes should give me all the information I need. You can wait here or not as you please. There are a couple of stools in the anteroom.”
“Just double-checking, you won’t be needing to cut him open, yeah, Doc?” Tanner asks, a sheepish grin on his face. “I’ll wait outside in that case.”
“You won’t have to witness anything too gruesome today, sergeant.” I then pull my mask over my mouth, and with the Theo and Tanner watching on I make my observations, jotting down the relevant points on the release form. I have no idea of what use, if any, the undertaker will make of my findings, but at least a basic accounting of the cause of death is part of the usual process, so I assume there is some.
Mayhap he will find the break of the spinal cord at the first cervical vertebrae useful. The deadweight of the head, which rests primarily on the atlas, would be difficult to pose upright for the family’s mourning photographs, for example. The supporting ligaments and musculature would not be able to manage the feat on their own, and my notations might help the mortician choose the appropriate props.
Half an hour later, the sergeants are hauling Joseph Gunn’s body through the barn doors and onto the back of a closed-wagon drawn by two chestnut mares. The horses nicker and shift their hooves and snort in shallow breaths. And a temperate breeze gusts through the backroom. Weather-wise, it looks as though it’s going to be a fine day.
“We’ll see to it the doors are locked up behind us and the key slipped under the door, Doc,” Tanner says while Theo has a word with a constable and the driver.
“Thanks,” I murmur, leaving the men to their task in order to get on with mine. I douse the table with carbolic acid to sanitize it, dropping the few instruments I’d just used into a shallow basin filled with the acid as well. No sooner have I finished prepping for my next case when a pounding at the side door reaches my ears. I glance around, wondering if the sergeants have forgotten something.
Just as I reach the archway, another knock knock knock shakes the door. It’s quickly followed by a single loud thwap! lower down the panel. “Coming!”
As soon as I unbolt the latch and yank the door open, Billy pushes his way past me, his arm around his sister. While straining to hold her up, he peers at me past the rim of his cap. “Sorry, um, … Dr. St. Clair. I did knock quieter-like, but don’t think you h-heard me,” he says, somewhat out of breath.
I nod and come around to her other side to help Billy carry Lulu forward, but she flinches away from me. I’d seen her in such a state once before—it had been the impetus for my self-imposed commitment to help Billy and his family. I had thought that if he could contribute more toward his family’s finances then maybe his sister wouldn’t have to sell herself. I’m fairly sure Mrs. Pasternak is too fully entrenched in the same professional to quit it.
An angry welt marks one of her temples, the corner of her mouth split and bloody, and her lips are swollen. A speckled crimson slash within a broader slash cuts across her cheek; I imagine her violator wore a ring.
“Billy, take me home … please. Ma will take care of me. We-we shouldn’t be here,” she says, her voice a strange hollow squeak. “I-I …”
“But Lu! You needs a doctor.”
A look of panic crosses her features for an instant when I glance down at the neckline of her bodice, which is ripped, exposing the tops of the nipples of her small breasts. Numerous fingerprints purple all over her chest, neck, arms, and I’m certain elsewhere. “It’s all right. You’re all right,” I say mildly.
“I jus’ wanna go home. I don’t wanna—”
I step back, hoping she will see it as an understanding gesture. “Really, you’re safe, Lulu.”
She eyes me warily, and I let her take her time. She looks at her brother and mews reluctantly. “Billy?”
“Lu. It’s all right. I’m right here. I ain’t going nowhere.”
“But I-I dunno what happened,” she starts meekly. “One minute me and this gent was, we was gettin’ on, an’ then … I didn’t, I swear I didn’t do naught to—”
She’s shaken but doesn’t seem close to tears. “You’ve no need to explain anything to me. Come on, let’s just get you cleaned up, hm?” I say, bobbing my head to ask for permission to cup her elbow and guide her further inward.
Though she treads care
fully, she winces with every step. And while my own brushes with violence had not included rape, my heart aches for her. I know well enough the fear growing inside her right now, an acute awareness of being helpless to protect oneself from the monsters skulking around many a corner. Many men in the time, irrelevant of social class, can recognize their utmost rights as men but not their inner barbarian.
“I weren’t gone but a quarter of an hour,” Billy says, his quiet words laced with remorse. “Found h-her knocked out, I did. I-I wasn’t sure right away that she weren’t dead.” He sniffs and looks away, his small thin chest convulsing for a minute. “Lu, I thought you was, an’ what was I gonna tell Ma then, huh? Don’t you do that to me a-gain.” He squeezes her hand. “Please say you won’t, Lu.” Brother and sister exchange a sad knowing look when Lulu does not make that promise.
“If you let me, I can help,” I venture.
Billy nods vehemently. “‘That’s why I brung her to you, sir. I know you ain’t a reglar doctor, but we don’t know a ’nother that’d help us no how.”
“You can always come to me, either of you. But I meant that I could do more, so this doesn’t happen a third time. I have an idea that simply requires a word with my brother.”
“The chief inspector?” Lulu asks in a hushed voice and adds, “I don’t think so. I don’t want no trouble.” Her brows furrow as she casts a beseeching glance from me to her brother, a nine-year-old who had stepped into the role of a protector. How frustrating and senseless.
“Have a seat if you feel able, Lulu,” I say, rolling forward my stool and then turning away to collect the necessary supplies. “Why don’t I tell you my idea first? It’s been on my mind for a while. I’m only sorry I didn’t bring it up sooner.”
When I turn back around, Lulu is still standing, leaning stiffly against the metal table behind her. “Have you heard of Kathryn Leigh Foster?”
“Why sure we have, who hasn’t?” Billy answers.
“Well, my brother knows Miss Foster rather well. Did you know that?” Without waiting for a reply, I ask, “So, how would you like to work at a theater, Miss Pasternak?” Confusion flitters across the girl’s face. “Miss Foster is the proprietress of this particular theater, and she’s nice. Very nice.” I make no mention that Archer’s lady friend was a former prostitute.
The uncertainty and fear are still there, but Lulu’s eyes widen and her lips part. She begins to dab gingerly at the crusty corner of her mouth while surveying me through pale gossamer lashes. A hiss of pain escapes between her teeth before she says, “I’d like that. If—”
“Good. I’ll see to it,” I say, not giving her a chance to state her condition. “Though, I have to tell you that you may be required to board at the establishment. I hope that won’t be a problem.”
Mustering a cheerfulness at odds with his worry, Billy pronounces, “I call I get your bed!” After a pause, his voice catching, he says, “Looks like both you an’ me’ll be movin’ uh-up in the world, Lu.” The bridge of his pert nose furrows as his brows peak together a smidgen more. “I won’t mind the floor when you come to visit, though, honest.” He reaches for her hand once again, clasping it in both of his. “Didn’t I tell yuh he was real nice? An’ he ain’t just pretending either. You see? Didn’t I say?”
With light fingers, I mop the injuries on Lulu’s face and grimace sidelong at my young assistant. Having imagined his homelife countless times, I knew the small family of three made do in a one-room apartment. I wonder if he’s ever slept in a proper bed in his life.
“You did, Will,” she says, searching my face until I meet her eyes. She dips her chin shyly.
My eyes prickle un-masculinely. I avert my gaze and blink a couple of times. “I do what I can,” I say shortly. “There now, we’re done with this.” I drop the bloodied gauze into a receptacle. “Will, I’ll need a few minutes alone with your sister. Please ask the constable at the front desk for either Sergeant Dent or Adams to attend us here in fifteen minutes or so. No sooner than that.”
At the renewed flash of fear on her face, I put a comforting hand on her shoulder and say, “I get that you’re scared, Lulu, but I won’t harm you; I think you know that.” She nods. “As for the sergeants, you won’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to. It’s just that the chief has to know what crimes take place in this district at least. Do you understand?”
“Lu?” her brother implores.
She shakes her head, looking as though she’s going to start crying. “Ain’t naught gonna come of it anyways, sir. What’s the point? And what if—”
This sweet, sad girl is correct for the most part. Assaulting anyone, male or female, is not deemed a criminal offense unless the victim is killed by the act or the incident somehow disturbs the peace. Lesser still than a public brawl is domestic and/or sexual violence, which is treated merely as an unfortunate incident, no matter how many times it happens. But I don’t frame my argument around these facts. And I won’t say what I’m really thinking either. If I had it my way, the creep would undergo a penile lobotomy, which I would gladly perform myself. “That’s not true,” I begin, leaning forward. Gently taking her chin between my thumb and index finger, I look at her and say purposely, “The disgusting excuse for a man that did this to you could use a lesson, don’t you think?”
Lulu doesn’t answer, and her brother waits quietly by her side, his head swiveling back and forth between our faces.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if someone scared the piss out of him, just a little? Like literally make him pee his big boy pants?” I say, hoping to make her smile. “Because I promise, with your help, that’s precisely the task I have in mind for a couple of our officers. I have it on good authority that they have nothing better to do.” Now I get it, ‘violence breeds violence’ and all that, but several well-placed jabs delivered at the hands of a bigger bully is at times all that gets through to some.
After a moment’s hesitation, to my immense relief, the girl meekly bobs her head, and her brother takes off running through the back entrance. Shortly thereafter, he returns with Officer Adams in tow, and the sergeant and I have a few private words.
Tanner stands with his arms crossed over his chest while I detail my respectively light and dark intentions for Lulu and her assailant. He nods and “yeahs” his agreement when I tell him I’ll see to the arrangements for the former task but looks uncertain about my plan for the walking testosterone. Having once expressed nonchalance about violence against women that still gives me the heebie-jeebies, I’m reminded that the sergeant might not be willing to help in this situation. “I realize this isn’t a police matter, Sergeant Adams, but I promised we would do something. This one time, however small the gesture—”
“The chief doesn’t want us running around playing at being vigilantes is all, Doc,” Tanner interjects, his arms still crossed over his chest. “That’s a rule. Maybe you don’t know, but the chief’s pretty strict about it. He’ll have my hide if I even nick the guy.”
“I know my brother, sergeant,” I say. Better than you, I don’t say. “I guarantee you that our chief inspector will agree with me on this point. Some rules are meant to be broken.”
He shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t know about that. We’re not to go out looking for trouble. And there’s plenty to be had, I can tell you. Even when a crime’s been reported, we’re to keep our cool and not talk with our fists at the first push back.”
“I’ll talk to Archer or not, you tell me, just listen first. Okay so … I believe justice lies somewhere between what’s legal and what’s humane. And this kind of thing is completely unacceptable from a humane standpoint. If a young girl or woman can’t count on the police to have her back, then it makes me question my faith in men and the justice system as a whole. Doesn’t that make sense to you? As a man? As an officer of the law?”
“I suppose, yeah.” His arms drop to his sides.
“Men protect women, not harm them. Right?”
“Yeah.�
�
“And what of the girls and women who have no men in their lives to protect them? We can’t let Good Samaritans and the likes of Billy take on that burden. He’s just a child. No, the unprotected have to be able to rely on the police.” I’m glad to see Tanner is nodding by now. “So, let me ask you this, Tanner. Putting your professional sensibilities aside for a minute, if what happened to Lulu Pasternak happened to Theo’s sister today, what would expect him to do? What would you do?”
His eyes widen. “Oh, I got you now, Doc. Finally.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. Theo’s always on me about how thick I can be sometimes.”
“Mind telling me what you get?”
“‘A little blood loss never killed no one.’ That’s what you just said, ain’t it? That’s what I heard, anyway.”
“Mm-hm. Word for word.”
“And you go right ahead and clear it with the chief. That sounded like his kind of logic.”
I would beam at him, but instead, I give the sergeant a single nod and a knowing smirk. “Thank you, Tanner. I commend your hearing. And please, find something in the lost and found that Lulu can wear to cover herself up.”
By the time I leave the office, the weather outside is positively perfect. The earlier dampness has evaporated, and although not quite sixty degrees, after a Chicago winter and a temperamental end to it, the glorious spring-like air feels outright balmy. And the sun is not uncomfortably strong; against the palest of periwinkle backdrops, it bears a striking resemblance to an immense egg yolk. A few white wisps float around its bulbous middle like a twirling skirt. It reminds me of an evening when the moon was dressed just so.
Archer and I were supposed to leave together today, but he was detained by another visit from Dr. Ennis—the needy S.O.B. I saw them shaking hands when I went to remind Archer of our early deadline. There was a welcoming expression on his face when he greeted Henry Ennis, and his hand had been on the doctor’s shoulder. Both the look and the hand slipped when he caught sight of me. He mouthed, “meet you at home” and dismissed me with a wave.
No Time Like the Present Page 10
