Half A Mind TO Murder (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Mysteries Book 3)

by Paula Paul

  Zack, as was his custom, had been waiting just outside the doorway that led to the rest of the house. He pushed the door open with his nose and lumbered in, his eyes and ears alert, his enormous black and white body imposing itself on the scene with an authority that seemed to alarm Clyde even more.

  Nancy arrived a few moments later. “Yes, Miss?” she said, then stopped suddenly, wrinkling her nose at the smell emanating from the package and staring at the visitor. “’Tis you, Clyde. You’ve come back, I see.”

  “And why wouldn’t I come back?” He sounded defiant, but his voice was also laced with wariness. “There’s a need here for an apothecary, is there not? And have I not proved my ability? Just ask any of old man Neill’s customers. I’ll do the whole town a favor and take over his shop.”

  “I see,” Nancy said with her own brand of wariness. She glanced from Clyde to Alexandra. “Is there something I can help you… God in heaven. What is that smell?”

  “It’s a human heart, Nancy.” Alexandra was not doing a particularly good job of keeping her voice calm. She had to push Zack aside who was, by now, sniffing at the bag and growling nervously.

  Nancy’s eyes widened, and, in spite of the alarmed and comprehending look in her eyes, she didn’t seem capable of uttering a word.

  “Clyde found this, it seems, and thinks I should examine it, but as I’m sure you will understand, I think the two of us should accompany him to the constable’s office first.” Alexandra was still standing between Clyde and the door as she spoke, and she was well aware of his nervous attempts to get around her. She had the sense that he would flee if he could. Her original plan had been to alert Nancy she was leaving and ask her to take care of any patients who arrived. Clyde’s demeanor had changed her mind, however. She had decided she would need both Nancy and Zack to accompany them to the constable’s office to help insure that Clyde would not flee.

  “Of course,” Nancy said. Her quick mind had assessed the situation readily. “We must leave right away. Without our bonnets.”

  Chapter Seven

  The gaol and the attached office of the constable were located in a section of town where ancient buildings lined a street named Griffon. These buildings had, over the centuries, begun to tilt from the top, forming a broken arch over the street like old women bending toward each other to whisper. Opposite the gaol was the pub known as the Blue Ram where the assizes met when the judges were in town and where town meetings were held. It was a drab brown wooden building crisscrossed with shallow moldings.

  Clyde, his face flushed, turned a longing glance toward the pub that seemed now to be loitering in the afternoon sun. Clyde breathed a sigh as he, Nancy, and Alexandra approached the gaol. He had been animated with what Alexandra took to be nervousness during the entire walk from her house. His manner gave him more the appearance of a fidgety adolescent than a man in his mid-twenties.

  “I fail to see the necessity for this,” he said, holding back a little as they approached the door. “’T’would simplify matters altogether if you would just examine the bloody thing and give the results to old Snow.”

  “Dr. Gladstone has told you the necessity.” Nancy’s tone was impatient. “Constable Snow will want to question you.”

  “Well, he can bloody well question me all he wants, but I got nothing to say except I found the damned thing.”

  “You would do well to mind your language when ladies are present,” Nancy said, stepping in front of Alexandra to open the door to the constable’s office. “And why are you so skittish about this? One would think you have something to hide.”

  Clyde seemed about to reply to Nancy’s goading, but by then she had the door open and Snow was glancing up from his desk with a frown that could have meant either surprise or annoyance. Gweneth Pendennis, appearing tired and worried, stood across from his desk. Her son, Lucas, stood next to her, his expression confused. As soon as Nancy and Alexandra entered the room, his look of confusion gave way to a beaming smile of recognition.

  “Look, Mama. It’s Nancy. Did you bring me a sweet, Nancy?”

  “Hush, Lukey,” Gweneth said. She placed one of her arms around him and pulled him close, an awkward gesture, since he was both taller and heavier than she. They each placed a hand over nose and mouth in reaction to the smell of the bundle Clyde had brought.

  “Be seated, please. I’ll only be a moment,” Snow said to Alexandra and her party. If he was curious about their presence, he showed no sign of it. Neither did he react to the smell of the rotting specimen. Instead, he simply turned back to Gweneth and addressed her. “You and your son may leave, Miss Pendennis. There are no charges against you.”

  Gweneth shook her head. “Please, sir. You were kind enough to rescue me from that mob and give me and my boy a safe night. Will you throw me out among the wolves now?”

  Snow frowned at her. “I’ve kept you as long as I can. I have no authority to keep you longer, and even if I did, it is not a fit place for a woman and a boy.”

  “But, sir, I—”

  “I shall keep a watchful eye on your house, Miss. You must alert me of anything untoward, and now I must bid you good day.” Snow turned his attention toward Alexandra. “How may I help you, Dr. Gladstone?”

  Gweneth stood with her arm still placed protectively around her son for a brief moment longer before she turned away, as resigned as her position in life had taught her to be, but as frightened as her good sense demanded.

  On the way out the door, Lucas stopped to look at Clyde and the blood-stained bundle he carried. “So ’twas you that buried it. It stinks. Why’d you dig it up?” He glanced at Snow. “If he gets to keep it, can I have mine back?”

  “Lucas, wait.” Alexandra called to him. “What did you mean about Clyde burying…” Before she could say more, Gweneth picked up Lucas’s hand and gave him a hard, quick jerk, pulling him out the door. Alexandra glanced at Clyde. “What did he mean about you burying something and digging it up again?”

  Clyde shrugged, looking more annoyed than ever. “How should I know what he means? He’s an idjet.”

  “What is this?” Snow demanded. He stood up from his desk and looked at the bag.

  When it was obvious that Clyde would not respond, Alexandra told Snow the story Clyde had told her. “I knew you had to be notified, of course. Before any examination is done.”

  “Quite so,” Snow said. He had opened the bag enough to give the decaying organ a cursory glance, then pushed it aside. “I suggest you place that outside, Mr. Wright, and then I shall want to question you.”

  Clyde did as he was told and returned to stand once again in front of the constable’s desk.

  Snow instructed him to sit down, then, towering over him, he said, “Tell me exactly where you found that.”

  “In the woods, sir,” Clyde said.

  “Precisely where in the woods?” Snow glowered at him.

  “At the edge of the village, sir. Opposite end from the sea. Near the road to Bradfordshire.”

  “Near Seth Blackburn’s pig sties?”

  “I wouldn’t be knowing who Seth Blackburn is or where his pig pens is, sir.”

  “What were you doing in the woods?”

  There was no response from Clyde. He kept his eyes glued on a spot at his feet.

  Snow took a step closer. “I said, Mr. Wright, what were you doing in the woods?”

  It seemed for a moment that Clyde would still would not reply, but after a few seconds he spoke. “Nature’s call, sir.”

  Alexandra was aware of the quick, embarrassed glance Snow threw in her direction, but she ignored it. She found it tiresome that anyone would expect either she or Nancy to be embarrassed by human bodily functions, given the circumstances of their professions.

  Snow cleared his throat, showing a sign of his own rare discomfort. “It was my understanding that you had left Newton-Upon-Sea.”

  “For a while, I did, but I couldn’t find a decent position.” Clyde’s voice shook as he spoke. “Wh
en I come back thinkin’ to ask for my old position, I heard about old Harry and his brother dyin’, and I thought to stay on awhile and open up the shop on my own.”

  “You’re not to leave town again until I tell you,” Snow said.

  Clyde came up from his seat a little. “But I had nothin’ to do with none o’ this, and I never took the money.” He sank back into the chair.

  Snow was silent, studying his face. “What money?”

  “Why the money that’s missin’ from old Harry’s…” Clyde’s face went suddenly white.

  “Money was missing from the apothecary?”

  Clyde didn’t answer. He must have realized too late that Harry Neill must never have gotten around to reporting the theft. Perspiration beaded on his forehead and in the hollows of his thin cheeks. Snow’s protracted silence made him sweat even more.

  Finally Snow spoke. “You took money from the apothecary?”

  Clyde didn’t answer, but his lips had begun to tremble.

  “Did someone see you take the money? Ben Milligan, perhaps? That stranger found dead in the alley?”

  Clyde suddenly came to life. “No! No, of course not. I told you I didn’t have anything to do with none o’ this.”

  Another long silence during which Clyde’s face changed from white to grey, and Alexandra feared he would faint.

  Snow broke the silence with another question. “Did you dig up the organ, as Lucas suggested?”

  Clyde again answered quickly. “I did not. ’Twas just laying there, I swear. Splattered it a bit with my own piss before I realized it.”

  “When did you find it, Mr. Wright?”

  “’Twas late yesterday. If the idjet was around, I can see why he thought I was diggin’ when I went down on my knees to pick it up.”

  Lucas could not have seen him yesterday, Alexandra realized, because Lucas was in jail. The boy must have seen someone else earlier.

  “I find it odd that you should happen to stumble upon the organ at the edge of the forest when several of the townsmen and I spent more than a few hours scouring the area earlier searching for it.” Snow’s voice remained stern and intimidating.

  Alexandra saw the knuckles of Clyde’s hands grow white, but his voice was calm. “Yes, sir.”

  Before the words were out of his mouth, the front door flew open and everyone’s attention, including Snow’s, was turned to Seth Blackburn as he entered. Without acknowledging the presence of anyone else in the room, he stomped to the constable’s desk, spewing anger and spittle. “’Tis past the time ye puts an end to this, Constable. They’s a pagan devil out there doin’ this, they is, and if I spots ’er first, I’ll splatter ’er blood from here to Spennymoor.”

  Snow rose to his feet. “Calm yourself, Blackburn.”

  Seth’s lips were pursed, ready to spew more anger, but he quieted at the sound of Snow’s voice and shuffled his feet uneasily.

  “Now, you may state your business, but in a calm voice, and you must make it brief,” Snow said, resuming his seat.

  “’Tis me pigs, sir.” Seth’s voice trembled.

  “What of your pigs?”

  “They’s dyin’. Them what ain’t dead is sick. Staggers about, they does, like they’s gone mad, then they’s blood in their shit. Could only be the work of a devil what puts a spell on ’em. And I spied ’er on the street just now. ’Er with ’er idjet son. I never had this problem ’til they come to Newton. And now you sprung ’em loose again. They’s full o’ spite for me, they is, and I never done naught to them. They’s out to ruin me, I say, and yer—”

  “It is entirely possible that your swine have contracted a disease without the help of any evil spirit, Blackburn. I suggest you have a veterinarian examine one of the carcasses.” Snow reached for a tablet on his desk and wrote something on it. “There is a veterinarian in Colchester, a Mr. Samuel McBride,” he said as he wrote. “I shall send a telegram advising him of your situation, and—”

  “And how will I be payin’ a veternery?” Seth’s face was red again. “Devils has wiped me clean of me livelihood, I tells ye.”

  Snow put down his pen and studied Seth’s face for a moment. “I shall contact him, nevertheless. There may be something he can do before other herds meet the same fate.”

  “And what bloody good will that be to me?” Seth asked, his anger boiling again. “We’s overrun with lunatics and idjets and other evil doers. Ye’d best spend yer time stoppin’ it, I say.”

  “I shall do my best to end the evil.” Snow forced the paper into Seth’s hands then took his arm and led him to the door. “In the meantime, burn the carcasses of your dead swine and separate the healthy from the sick.”

  “They’s precious little of the healthy left, and the sows is birthin’ freakish piglets. If ye don’t do something, I’ll have to take it into me own ’ands to—”

  “Let me see your hands,” Alexandra said, stepping between Seth and the door.

  Seth gave her a startled, puzzled look. “What…”

  “Your hands, please.”

  Seth, still wearing his puzzled expression, held his hands out to her. Alexandra inspected them without touching them, instructing him to turn them over in order for her to see the palms as well. “You cover your hands with gloves when you tend the swine?” she asked.

  Seth nodded affirmatively, bewildered.

  “See that you continue to do so,” she said. “Especially when you handle the diseased animals.”

  Seth’s expression changed to alarm. “So’s I don’t touch the evil? Will it get me, too? Like the swine?”

  “You’ll be fine, Seth. If you do as I say,” Alexandra said. “And see that you cover your mouth and nose with a kerchief so you don’t breathe in dust from the pens.”

  The constable ushered him out the door and closed it, but Alexandra could still hear his muted and worried voice as he walked away. Alexandra caught Snow’s eye as he returned to his desk.

  “Anthrax,” she said.

  “A strong possibility, I’m afraid,” Snow said.

  “Oh dear God,” Nancy brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

  Clyde merely stared at everyone else with an expression on his face that was hard to read. It could have been either fear or bewilderment.

  “If it isn’t stopped, it can spread to all the farms,” Alexandra said. “And to the farmers as well, and…” Her words trailed off as she thought of the lesions she’d found on the arms of Harry and Winslow Neill and Ben Milligan and the ones she’d seen on Frewin Millsap’s corpse.

  “There could be an epidemic,” Nancy said, finishing her thought for her. “And it could spread to humans.”

  “Caustic potash,” Clyde said. “And then a poultice of iodide of potassium, iodide of cadmium, glycerin, and powdered iodine.” His glance slid from person to person. “I’m an apothecary, you know.”

  “We can try to treat the lesions if we get to them soon enough, but there isn’t a good way to stop the spread among animals, is there?” Alexandra’s concern was growing.

  “There is some study underway on the continent,” Snow said. “I read of them in a recent scientific journal. A chemistry professor by the name of Pasteur, it seems, has claimed to have found a vaccine of some sort. I trust McBride will know about it.”

  It was not surprising that Snow, a former schoolmaster, subscribed to scientific journals, but the subject piqued Alexandra’s interest. “Pasteur, you say? The same Pasteur who has studied fermentation and putrification of wine and milk?”

  “I can’t be sure,” Snow said.

  “It has to be one and the same,” Alexandra said. “It’s all part of his belief in the germ theory of disease.”

  “If ’tis a vaccine, then that means he’s not likely to cure the ones who are already sick,” Nancy said. “He can only prevent other animals from contracting it.” She glanced at Alexandra. “Do you suppose the Neill brothers or Ben Milligan could have come in contact with Seth’s pigs?”

  Alexandra was
not surprised that Nancy had come to the same conclusion she had concerning the men’s mysterious disease, but judging by the troubled expression on her face, she was no closer to understanding the connection. “I suppose it’s possible,” Alexandra said.

  “Perhaps you will find a clue to help solve that mystery when you examine the organ Mr. Wright found,” Snow said.

  Clyde had been kept busy turning his head from one speaker to another, and he now spoke, addressing his words to Alexandra. “I told you, didn’t I? Told you I brought it to you to examine. We could have saved a great deal of time had you not insisted—”

  “Dr. Gladstone was correct in having you bring your find here.” Snow’s interruption was brusque, and as soon as he had spoken, he turned back to Alexandra. “You will do the examination?”

  “Of course,” Alexandra said. “Since I won’t be going to London, I shall have plenty of time, although I must remind you, I found nothing helpful when I examined the first heart.”

  “London? You had planned a trip to London?” Snow appeared uncommonly interested.

  “She was going to hear Dr. Lister’s lecture on germs,” Nancy said before Alexandra could reply. “And she should go. Hasn’t gotten away in months. A trip would do her good, not to mention Dr. Lister’s lectures would be invaluable to her. But she says she can’t leave, what with all the dreadful murders and such.”

  “Nancy, please. Now is not the time to—”

  “I agree with Nancy.” Snow’s comment caught Alexandra by surprise. “Of course you should go.”

  “But—”

  “Perhaps you could be of more help in London than you would be here,” Snow said.

  “I don’t understand…”

  “There is someone in London I would like you to consult while you are there.” Snow’s eyes had grown bright, a rare hint of enthusiasm. “A certain Dr. Kingsly Mortimer.”

  “A physician?” Alexandra asked, wondering if the constable had some illness he’d not told her about.

  “An alienist.”

  “I see.” Alexandra’s expression belied the astonishment she felt. “You would like for me to consult with Dr. Mortimer regarding…”