Snifter of Death

by Chris Karlsen

  An overhead bell jingled as she stepped across the threshold into the well-appointed room. Two chairs with a table between them were arranged along the walls to her left and right. Elegant and beautiful Meissen and Sevres porcelain plates sat on the tables. Directly ahead was a large walnut desk with a brass and green glass gas lamp. Wall sconces kept the room nicely lit. Behind the desk on one side was a tea tray and on the other a file cabinet.

  The waiting room had a more welcoming feel than Mrs. Zachary’s doctor’s. He had only two chairs and they were uncomfortable ladder back wooden ones with hard seats. The chairs here had leather padded arms and seats. The lighting in Mrs. Zachary’s doctor’s office was dim and dreary. No wall sconces, just a gas lamp on the nurse’s desk. This room was papered in a soft green moiré with paintings of different native English trees. The wallpaper in Zachary’s doctor’s office was shades of grey stripes. Sitting there was akin to sitting in a rain cloud.

  A nurse in her late twenties came out from the inner office. How crisp and professional she appeared. Her light blue gown looked fresh pressed with hardly a wrinkle. Her white apron hadn’t a speck of blood or smudge on it. Her hair was neatly tucked under her headdress and her gold wire-frame glasses added an additional air of seriousness.

  She gave Graciela pause and an idea for her future. Mrs. Zachary wouldn’t live forever. Graciela thought nursing offered a good switch of professions. To move from lady’s companion into a profession where her livelihood didn’t depend on the whims of an old woman made a lot of sense. She wondered how long she’d have to train. How much would she have to save to afford nursing school?

  “May I help you?” the nurse asked Graciela, interrupting her thoughts.

  They were alone in the waiting room, so Graciela spoke in a normal tone. “I would like to make an appointment. I’ve been suffering headaches.”

  “You’re not one of Dr. Finch’s regular patients. Do you have the name of one of our patients as a referral?”

  A referral. Graciela hadn’t counted on that request. Of course, it never came up before. Whenever she had need of a doctor now, she used Zachary’s. She had an automatic referral with her employer. She did a mental scramble of ways to get around the referral issue and came up with little to nothing to offer the nurse.

  “I am currently Dr. Fitzhugh’s patient. I am Mrs. Esther Zachary’s companion and Dr. Fitzhugh is her doctor.”

  The nurse sat in the desk chair and folded her hands in front of her on top of a leather bound diary. The book the doctor kept his appointments recorded in, no doubt. “Then why come to Dr. Finch? We are familiar with Dr. Fitzhugh. He has a fine reputation.”

  The nurse’s somber manner, her stiff posture, and the way her mouth tightened after asking the question brought memories of Graciela’s old headmistress to mind. The way the nurse’s pale, untidy brows and intense blue eyes focused on Graciela reminded her even more of the headmistress. A foolish temptation to confess what her true intent was darted in and out of her mind along with a sense of guilt she hadn’t experienced in years.

  “I hope anything I say is held in the strictest confidence,” she said, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling.

  The nurse nodded.

  Graciela approached the desk and hung her head for five seconds. She stared at the floor and counted to five before raising her eyes to the nurse. Hopefully the delay lent an element of genuine dismay. “I find the man has a less than caring attitude. That may not be true but it’s how I feel. I’m suffering headaches. When I discuss the matter with Dr. Fitzhugh, he’s been rather cavalier about my pain.”

  Doctors didn’t like to poach from other doctors, especially ones they were acquainted with. Graciela chewed her lower lip and hung her head again, hoping to convey discomfort at disloyalty to Dr. Fitzhugh. She took a deep breath, looked up and said, “I just want them to end. But I need a doctor who truly wants to help me.”

  “I don’t know if the doctor will accept you as a patient without a referral. Nor can I say without consulting him if he is willing to take on a patient from Dr. Fitzhugh. He’s not good friends with Fitzhugh, but even so, it’s not good form to purloin another’s patients.”

  “He’s not really purloining if I’ve come to him on my own. I voluntarily left Fitzhugh.”

  The nurse spread her hands in temporary peace. “Semantics. It’s in the perception. You were his and then you weren’t.”

  This was the only means Graciela knew to gain access to Finch. She had to convince him to take her on as a patient. “Please...I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “Miss Keating.”

  “Please speak to him, Miss Keating. I beg you. I need help. I’ll wait here until he is free of his current patient and you can talk to him.”

  “I’ll do what I can. No promises.”

  When she slipped inside the exam room, Graciela got a fast glimpse of a dark-haired man standing in front of a worried looking woman. He was holding her hands in his. His head was bent as he talked to her. He didn’t turn his attention from the woman when Keating entered.

  Graciela sat under a painting of an ancient oak. Outside the bell tower on a nearby church rang eleven. She’d only been on Harley Street when she or Mrs. Zachary went to Dr. Fitzhugh. They came by carriage and left immediately. After she left today, she’d stroll down the street. Maybe there was a tearoom in walking distance. She could do with a scone and a cup.

  She found she couldn’t bear to sit while awaiting his decision. She began to pace, circling the room from the desk to the front door and back. To her dismay, no decanter of wine or brandy was displayed in the room, nor a tea service. She could only hope Finch kept one or the other in the exam room. If he didn’t, she had no idea how to proceed with administering the arsenic.

  After what seemed like forever, the female patient came out of the exam room. A few more minutes passed then Nurse Keating stepped out and told Graciela to come inside.

  The exam room was almost identical to Dr. Fitzhugh’s. The room had a long table covered with a white linen sheet, a tri-fold screen for patients to undress behind, a stand with a basin, pitcher and stack of towels, and on the other side of the door was a steel multi-shelf stand against the wall. On the top of the stand were several common instruments used by doctors in routine exams. Grim looking tools in Graciela’s opinion. Angled in the corner was a desk with the usual desk materials, a lamp, inkwell, and a wooden tray. Unfortunately, Graciela didn’t see any display of teacups or decanters near this desk either. Not good.

  Finch was standing by the desk when she entered. He wore a tweed frock coat with black trousers and waistcoat and a diamond pattern ascot. She needn’t feel the cloth to know the wool was of the finest weave. Of course he was successful. She expected nothing less.

  “Good morning. You made no appointment but no matter, I’ll still speak with you. Before we begin, let me introduce myself. I’m Dr. Finch, and you are?” He remained where he was and kept one hand in the pocket of his trousers and the other resting on his middle. Graciela had the sense that he waited for the first opportunity to politely send her on her way.

  She searched his eyes for the slightest sign of recognition of her on his part but saw none. “Graciela Robson.”

  Of the three rapists she’d now seen again, Finch aged the best. He still had a fine head of dark hair with grey touching lightly at the temples alone. His facial muscles were still firm. He was clean shaven then. Now he wore a neatly trimmed beard but it was easy to see his jawline stayed strong without the early wattle men his age begin to develop. His eyes were a deep, warm brown. How strange to stand in front of him and stare into them so hard. The day of the attack he insisted she close her eyes and not look at him while he raped her.

  No, not now. An involuntary whimper slipped out. The emotions of the attack suddenly gripped her, the rush of terror, the horror that engulfed her as she was overpowered. The acute sting of the first penetration and the pain of them pushing, prodding, stretch
ing her. Light-headed and afraid she’d faint, Graciela grabbed the edge of the exam table and tried to force even breaths.

  “Miss Robson, please sit. Tell me what’s wrong. Are you in pain?” Finch wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the chair in front of his desk.

  She’d flinched at his touch. In her plans, she had focused on the logistics of getting him alone, not on the emotional effect his touch would have on her. Nor had she considered what she’d feel having a true conversation with one of her rapists. She’d only pictured talking to them after they drank the poison. With Cross and Skinner that was all that had transpired. Facing Finch now, forcing herself to keep a tight grip on her emotions, on her memories while speaking to him, as though they had no past, as though she had no prior loathing of his touch.

  Without asking, he removed Graciela’s bonnet, then unbuttoned and loosened the collar on her dress. “Miss Keating, bring me a cool wet cloth, a cup of water, and my stethoscope.

  “I’m not in pain. I was just overtaken with dizziness for a moment.”

  “Is your stomach upset? Do you feel like you might vomit?”

  Graciela shook her head. “No.”

  Keating returned with the cloth and cup and Finch pressed the cool compress to Graciela’s forehead. “Hold this against your head. You’ll be fine in a moment. Try to breath normally. When you feel you are able, take a sip of water. It will help refresh you. I’d like to listen to your heart as a matter of routine.”

  He stroked her back along her spine as he spoke. The action relaxed her and her breathing returned to normal quickly. He pressed the stethoscope to her chest in three different places. “Your heart is beating faster than normal but not at a worrying rate.”

  “Thank you.” She finished the cup of water and Finch handed Keating the compress. “Are you up to discussing your headache situation?” he asked.

  “I am.”

  “Miss Keating explained your situation to me. She also explained to you it is not my habit to acquire another doctor’s patients without his awareness or agreement.”

  At the mention of her name, Keating wet the tip of her little finger and ran it over her untidy brows. That’s interesting, Graciela thought.

  “As I explained to Nurse Keating, I’m not satisfied with Dr. Fitzhugh’s handling of my headaches. He’s not helping me. I must beg your willingness to not discuss the matter with him. It could cost me my position. If he feels I’ve insulted him or insinuated his skill as a doctor is not up to par, he will tell Mrs. Zachary. She thinks highly of him, and if he asks her to dismiss me, she might.”

  Finch stood next to her chair. The fact she was sitting and he standing emphasized his height. A grim reminder he’d been the tallest of her attackers. If she turned her head to the right, she was eye-level with the buttons on his trousers, which she couldn’t bear. She kept her eyes raised to his when she spoke and otherwise looked straight ahead.

  He reached over and took a ledger of some kind from the tray on his desk. As he moved, his trousers brushed the sleeve of her dress and she involuntarily flinched. She glanced over at Keating, hoping the nurse didn’t notice but Keating’s eyes were on Finch. The observation provided a nice distraction. Graciela recognized the desire in her eyes and was curious if Finch saw it too and acted on it. That could be a problem. If they had an on-going affaire de coeur, it might make getting Finch alone much more difficult.

  “I’ll want to conduct a complete examination before seeing to your headaches,” Finch said. “I have an opening this Thursday afternoon.”

  “My day off is Monday. I’d like to come then.”

  “Sorry, I am not in the office on Mondays.”

  “Can’t you make an exception?” Doctors set their own hours. Graciela thought a refusal to make an exception on his part would be wanton stubbornness.

  “No. I do rounds at Our Lady of Mercy Charity Hospital on Mondays.”

  Mrs. Zachary always took a nap in the afternoons. Graciela did a fast calculation of time in her head. It would be tight but she might be able to see Finch and return home while Zachary napped. “What time is the Thursday opening?”

  “Two o’clock.”

  “I’ll take that appointment.”

  He wrote her name in his ledger. “Nurse Keating, please have Miss Robson fill out the patient form.” He removed the stethoscope from his neck. “And please put these back.”

  “Certainly.” The back of her hand brushed his as she took the instrument and they shared a brief but intimate glance.

  Definitely something going on between these two. Ugh, another problem I didn’t need or anticipate. I wonder if she’s the type who wouldn’t want to live without the man she loves?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Morris joined Ruddy and Winky at Ruddy’s favorite table at the Boot and Bayonet. June was right behind Morris with their beers and a plate of meat scraps for Winky.

  “No banger scraps in there, I hope,” Ruddy said. “Winky loves them, but they play havoc with his digestion, which I pay a price for if I dare breathe through my nose.”

  “No, no banger bits. I remember you didn’t want him to have those. Just some lamb, chicken, and beef fat.” June laid the plate on the floor. Winky jumped down and began devouring the treat. “Will you be eating tonight, Budgie?” June asked.

  “What’s the special?”

  “Haddock fish pie.” June wiggled her brows. “Grandma made her tasty sticky toffee pudding if you’re in a mind for dessert after.”

  Ruddy wasn’t overly fond of desserts, but Morris’s wife made the best sticky toffee pudding he’d ever had, better than his mum’s. He’d never tell his mum that, of course. “Yes to both.”

  “Are you still taking boxing lessons?” Morris asked and took a pull from his tankard of beer.

  “I am.”

  “How are they going? You weren’t happy with your slow progress the last time we talked.”

  “Better. I’m not spending as much time flopping about in the ropes like a wounded fish anymore.” Ruddy smiled over the rim of his tankard before taking several refreshing swallows. The day had been hot and the beer, although warm, still tasted sweet and refreshing washing its way down his throat.

  “Think there’s a chance you can beat this Napier fellow?”

  Ruddy raised his hands in a universal who knows gesture.

  “Your lessons are still with that Afghanistan veteran?”

  Ruddy nodded.

  “You still interested in finding him another job?”

  Ruddy put his tankard down. “Yes, do you know of one?”

  “I need a man to help here. My man Tom is going home to Herefordshire back to his family’s sheep farm. I can’t do it all myself, not one-armed.”

  “Morris, he’d love to work here. This would be a good change for him. If I recall right, Tom has a room here above the storeroom. Is it possible Tony could have the same arrangement?”

  “Yes, but with rules. He must keep his area clean. He must be clean. I won’t put up with slovenliness. He must be a gentleman and no rough talk around my Bess or our June. How he is with this lot...” Morris glanced around the pub. “Is a different story. I’m sure his fighting skills will come in handy on occasion.”

  “I’ll tell him. Thank you. I appreciate you giving him this chance.” Ruddy polished off his beer faster than usual, excited by the idea of delivering the news to Tony Critchlow. Ruddy hadn’t told him he’d looked into the possibilities of Tony working somewhere other than the athletic club. He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

  “Are you working any new interesting cases?” Morris asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I’m working on a couple of interesting poisoning cases.”

  A young corporal sitting with his buddies at another table tossed a half-eaten banger on the floor in front of Winky, who wolfed it down. He followed that by quickly lapping up a splash of spilled beer.

  Ruddy groaned and called to the table of soldiers, “no more bang
ers please, lads.” He waved to June who came over. “Bring a round of beers to that table,” he indicated the corporal and his friends. “Charge my bill for the drinks.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Ruddy. I’ll put the drinks on the house,” Morris said. “As for your case, is that interesting in a good way or messy way?”

  “In a baffling way, which walks a fine line with messy way.”

  “One advantage to owning a pub is I’m never baffled.”

  They sat quietly drinking and watching a game of darts between two talented teams. “You used to play darts when you first started coming here, but I haven’t seen you play for quite some time,” Morris said.

  “I enjoy darts better than cards or dice. Your boards are generally busy by the time I arrive. I don’t want to put my name on a wait list. I’m fine watching and drinking.”

  June brought Ruddy’s fish pie and fresh beers for him and Morris along with the beers for the corporal’s table. How the petite young woman managed the heavy tray impressed Ruddy. She carried it shoulder height without a grimace of pain or struggle.

  He’d just dipped his fork into the pie when the corporal came to the table. “Thank you. Very kind of you sir.”

  “You’re welcome, but Morris here deserves the thank you more than I. The Boot and Bayonet bought your drinks.” Ruddy smiled and returned to his dinner expecting the soldier to leave. The young man hovered in his peripheral vision. Turning back to him, Ruddy asked, “Is there something you want to say?”

  “One of the lads at our table heard a rumor that you’ve a V.C.? Is that true?”

  Ruddy sighed. “Yes.”

  The soldier snapped to attention, clicking his heels together and saluting.

  “At ease.” Ruddy gestured for the young man to relax. “Where’s your regiment deployed?”

  “Gibraltar, sir.”

  “Don’t call me sir. I never got past your rank. As for Gibraltar, that’s not a bad posting. Well done you,” Ruddy gave him a congratulatory smile touched with faint nostalgic envy. In his army days, he’d have welcomed Gibraltar with her sea breezes and temperate climate, unlike the insect-infested and hotter-than-the-devil’s-boudoir Africa. “I hope you find your time with the military fulfilling. Take care of yourself, soldier.”