The Lady Doctor's Alibi

by J. R. Roberts

  He was scheduled to speak with the parents this morning, and was waiting for them to arrive. He still didn’t know what he was going to tell them.

  He was sitting at his desk, just prior to checking on the patients again, when there was a knock at his door. He finished a notation he was making then got up and walked to the door. He was distracted as he opened it and did not see the fist coming at him. He was punched square in the face so that his nose exploded. Blood sprayed everywhere as he went windmilling back, crashed into his desk, and fell to the floor.

  Someone entered, closing the door behind them. Then they approached Graham, who was sitting on the floor, trying to figure out what was going on. He couldn’t see because there were blood and tears in his eyes.

  “Wha-what-what’s—who—” he stammered, but he couldn’t speak because the blood streaming from his nose was getting into his mouth.

  Suddenly, he was kicked in the chest. All the air rushed from his body and he thought he was going to die in that moment.

  But he didn’t.

  He died several moments after that . . .

  The door opened later and the parents of the two injured children entered. They immediately saw all the blood. The woman screamed, but the man assessed the situation and realized it was the doctor who was dead, not their children.

  They went in search of the law.

  Sheriff Kyle Brown stared down at the battered body of the doctor.

  “Now who would want to do that to a sawbones?” he asked.

  His deputy, Jim Boone, also stared down at the dead man.

  “Maybe he overcharged somebody, Cap’n?”

  Brown used to be a captain in the army. Boone never let him forget it.

  “We’re gonna need somebody to look after these people,” Brown said.

  “There is another doctor in town, Cap’n,” Boone said. “That woman?”

  “That’s right,” Brown said. “What was her name?”

  “Sugar-somethin’.”

  “You know where her office is?”

  “Just down by the docks somewhere,” the deputy said. “You want I should go find her?”

  “Naw,” Brown said, “I’ll go. You get some men to take the doctor’s body to the undertaker.”

  “What about his wife?”

  “I’ll take care of that, too,” Brown said. “I’ll get the lady doctor to come here, and then I’ll notify his wife.”

  “Maybe she’ll know who hated him enough to beat him to death, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Boone said. “Maybe.”

  It took Kyle Brown about an hour to locate Dr. Sugarman’s office. In fact, somebody told him where her office was and called her “Doc Veracruz.”

  “I thought her name was Sugar-somethin’,” he said.

  “Sí, El Jefe, but that is what some call her.”

  He found her office and knocked on the door, took his hat off as she answered it. Her eyes immediately went to the badge on his chest.

  “Sheriff,” she said. “Can I help you?”

  “I hope you can, ma’am,” Sheriff Kyle Brown said. “I surely hope you can.”

  TWELVE

  Clint spent the next two days doing the same thing. He’d get up in the morning, have breakfast at Josephina’s, then go and sit in front of the hotel until it was time to go to Josephina’s again for a meal.

  On the evening of the second day, there was a knock at his door . . .

  He was sitting up in bed, his boots off, resting his foot. He pulled his gun from the holster hanging nearby and called out, “Come in.”

  The door opened and Josephina stepped in, closing it behind her.

  “Josephina,” he said. “What brings you here? Is everything all right at the cantina?”

  “Everything is fine,” she said, “except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You only come there to eat,” she said. “I keep waiting for you to come there for me, but no. All you do is eat. Am I not pretty?”

  “You’re not pretty,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Then why do you not come for me?”

  “I was waiting,” he said.

  “Waiting for what?”

  He smiled.

  “Hijo de un cabrón!” she said in wonder. “You were waiting for me to come to you?”

  “And you have.”

  “You are a bad man.”

  “Do you want to leave?”

  “Oh no,” she said. “Now that I am here, I am going to get what I came for.”

  “Be gentle,” he said, pointing to his ankle, “I’m an injured man.”

  “You just lie back,” she said, dropping her shawl from her shoulders, “and let Josephina have her fun.”

  The peasant blouse came off quickly, her large breasts bobbing into view, the dark brown nipples already hard. The skirt came next, kicked into a corner gracefully. She approached the bed naked, and he could feel the heat emanating from her body.

  She leaned over him, ran her hand down his chest, then began to unbutton his shirt. When he started to reach for her breasts, she slapped his hands away.

  “Be still!” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, then ran her hands down his bare chest until she reached his belt buckle. She undid the buckle and buttons and removed his trousers, sliding them down his legs along with his underwear. Now he was naked, his penis standing straight and begging for her attention.

  She took his penis first in one hand, then in two, slowly stroking it while licking her lips.

  “I am not a whore, señor, but I know certain things—” she started.

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Josephina,” he said. “You do whatever you want.”

  She made a sound like “Mmmmm,” as when something tastes good, then swooped in and took his penis into her mouth. She wet the head of his dick thoroughly, licking and sucking it, then lowered her mouth until most of his shaft was inside, where it was steamy hot. As she leaned into him, her nipples brushed his thighs. She rode him with her mouth, and as he snuck a hand in to take gentle hold of her breast, she allowed it. She became more and more avid, until finally she released her lips and got on the bed with him. She mounted him, reached down to hold him steady, and sat down on him, taking his cock inside. If her mouth had been hot, now she was burning like fire. She pressed her hands flat against his chest, leaned forward, and began to ride him. Her eyes were closed and she was lost in her own pleasure. She had really meant it when she said she was going to have her fun, but as he slid his hands beneath her ass, he figured there was no harm in him having some fun, too . . .

  He was sitting in front of the hotel, replaying the night in his mind, when a small boy approached him, almost shyly.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you Clint Adams?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Es verdad?” the boy asked. “The Gunsmith? La Leyenda?”

  “Yes.”

  “Gee . . . a lady gave me a note, said you’d give me two bits when I delivered it.”

  “Two bits, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  He handed the boy the coin thinking, I guess there are no discounts for legends.

  THIRTEEN

  When Clint got to Dr. Oliver Graham’s office, he found Lissa Sugarman very busy.

  “All the victims of that accident are here,” she told him. “Please have a seat and I’ll be right with you.”

  He sat down, wondering what one doctor was doing in the other doctor’s office. When he looked down at the floor, he thought he saw his answer. Someone had scrubbed, but they couldn’t get all the blood out.

  When she came back in, she said, “I’m sorry, I’ve been here for a couple of hours and already . . .”

  “What happened here?” he asked, indicating the blood.

  “Dr. Graham was found beaten to death this morning,” she said.

  “And how di
d you get here?”

  “The sheriff came and asked me if I’d see to his patients. There’s no other doctor in town.”

  “I’m sure that’s adding insult to injury for his wife,” he said. “Why did you send me a message saying you needed my help?”

  She pushed a lock of hair out of her face and sat down opposite him, folding her hands into her lap.

  “I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “I think the sheriff thinks I did this.”

  “What?”

  “It makes sense,” she said. “Who benefits most from the death of Dr. Graham? Me.”

  “How about his wife?” Clint asked. “She gets everything now that he’s dead, right?”

  “I don’t like the way the sheriff was looking at me,” she said.

  “Has he said anything about suspecting you?”

  “No.”

  “All right, what’s his name?”

  “Brown,” she said. “Sheriff Kyle Brown.”

  “I don’t know him,” he said, “and I don’t know the name, but I’ll stop in and have a talk with him.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t know who else to go to for help.”

  “Well,” he said, “I told you to come find me if you needed me.” He stood up. “How are the patients?”

  “I had to do some surgery this morning on the little girl to try and save her leg.”

  “Did you do it?”

  “I did the surgery,” she said, “but it remains to be seen if I can restore circulation to her right leg and save it.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Six.”

  “I hope you can do it.”

  “So do I. I’ll have to watch her all day.”

  Clint wondered what would happen if the sheriff decided to arrest Lissa. Would he hold off until the little girl was out of danger?

  “What are you going to do for food later?” he said.

  “I’ll try to have something right here.”

  “I’ll bring something back with me after I see the sheriff,” Clint said. “We can eat together.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  “You just worry about the patients,” he said, “and I’ll worry about the sheriff.”

  “It’s a deal,” she said.

  He patted her shoulder, and then she went back to check on her patients as he left the office.

  FOURTEEN

  Clint found the sheriff’s office with no problem. He entered, saw three armed men wearing badges standing around a desk. They all looked at him.

  “Sheriff Brown?” he asked.

  He expected the older of the three men to step forward, but it was the middle one. He stepped forward while the other two simply turned their heads.

  “I’m Brown.”

  “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  “About what?”

  “Oliver Graham.”

  “Dr. Graham?”

  “That’s right.”

  The two deputies turned to face him now.

  “You know Graham?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then what do you know?”

  “I know Dr. Sugarman.”

  “Mister, who are you?”

  “A friend of Dr. Sugarman’s,” Clint said. “My name’s Clint Adams.”

  “Clint Adams?” Brown repeated.

  “That’s right.”

  “The Gunsmith?” the older deputy asked. “That Clint Adams?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Gee,” the young deputy said, his eyes going wide.

  The sheriff turned to the older deputy.

  “Jim, take Ed out and show him the rounds.”

  “Sure, Cap’n.”

  Both deputies donned their hats and left the office.

  “New deputy?” Clint asked.

  “Brand new,” Brown said. “Have a seat, Mr. Adams. I’d offer you some coffee but I’m fresh out.”

  “No problem.”

  Clint sat. Brown went around behind his desk and sat down.

  “Why do you want to talk about Dr. Sugarman?” he asked.

  “She’s kind of worried.”

  “About what?”

  “Somebody in town killed a doctor,” Clint said. “That leaves one doctor in town. Her.”

  “So?”

  “So she’s worried the killer might come after her next,” Clint said. “You got any reason to think that might happen?”

  “None.”

  “Okay, then.” Clint stood up.

  “That’s it?” the lawman asked.

  “Sure,” Clint said. “I just had the one question.”

  “Well, sit back down, Mr. Adams,” Brown said. “I got some questions for you.”

  Clint was impressed by the lawman. He looked about forty, didn’t seem to be impressed by Clint’s reputation. Or if he was, he was hiding it well.

  He sat back down.

  “What do you know about Drs. Graham and Sugarman?” the sheriff asked.

  “Not much. I met them both when I came to town.”

  “When was that?”

  “Couple of days ago.”

  “I thought you said you were a friend of Dr. Sugarman’s?”

  “I make friends fast.”

  “But not with Graham?”

  “Well, we didn’t really meet,” Clint said. “I helped him get a man out from under a wagon that had turned over on the street.”

  “I know about that accident,” Brown said. “Dr. Sugarman was there, too.”

  “Yes, she was with me. When we saw what was happening, we went to help.”

  “And that was the first time she met Dr. Graham?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Tell me something, Mr. Adams,” Brown said. “Why does Dr. Sugarman have an office down by the docks?”

  “I suppose it’s because she wants to be there,” Clint replied.

  “Nobody wants to be down there.”

  “Well, she’s just starting out here in Veracruz, and she said she wanted to be where people needed her.”

  “You got any reason to think Dr. Sugarman might have wanted to kill Dr. Graham?”

  Clint frowned at the man.

  “I thought he was beaten to death. Do you really think—”

  “How do you know that?”

  “What?”

  “How do you know that? I didn’t say how he was killed. In fact, how did you know he was killed?”

  “I stopped by his office today. I wanted to see how those people were. Imagine my surprise to see blood on the floor, and Dr. Sugarman there.”

  “So you decided to come over here and talk to me?”

  “I did when Dr. Sugarman told me about her fears,” Clint said.

  “So you don’t believe Dr. Sugarman would’ve killed him—or had him killed—so she could take over his practice?”

  “That sounds ridiculous.”

  “Does it? A good medical practice can be worth a lot of money.”

  “In Veracruz?”

  “Veracruz is growing,” Brown said. “Doc Graham was gonna open a hospital.”

  “Well, I don’t think she had anything to do with it, Sheriff.”

  “Why not? Because she’s a woman?”

  “She just doesn’t seem to be that kind of person.”

  “Anybody can commit murder, Mr. Adams, given the right circumstances.”

  Clint stood up.

  “Well, I don’t think those circumstances exist here. Mind if I go now?”

  “Where are you staying?”

  Clint told him.

  “I’m gonna stay in touch with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all, Sheriff,” Clint said. “If you think I can help you, let me know.”

  “I’ll do that. Meanwhile, why don’t you put the good doctor’s mind at ease and tell her I don’t have any reason to believe someone is targeting doctors. Not at the moment anyway.�
�

  “I’ll tell her, Sheriff. Thanks.”

  FIFTEEN

  Clint stopped off for some tacos and enchiladas, brought them over to Dr. Graham’s office in a basket. He wished he could have bought them from Josephina’s, but her place was just too far away. No point in going all the way there and then all the way back.

  He entered the office, found it empty. Lissa must have been checking on the patients again. He had the food out and on plates on Dr. Graham’s desk when she came back into the room.

  “Wow, I could smell that from the other room. Thanks. I’m starved.”

  “I don’t have anything to drink with it,” he said.

  “Coffeepot over there.”

  “I’ll make it. How’s the little girl?”

  “She’s good. She’s got good color back in her leg. She should have some feeling in it by tomorrow.”

  “So you did a good job, huh?”

  She bit into a taco and said, “I did a helluva job—and so did you. This is great.”

  He put the coffee on and then joined her at the desk, sitting across from her. He grabbed a taco and bit into it. Not as good as Josephina’s, but good nevertheless.

  “Did you see the sheriff?” she asked.

  “I did,” Clint said.

  “What did he say?”

  “Well, I didn’t ask him the question straight out,” Clint replied. “I told him you were worried the killer might be killing doctors. He said he had no reason to believe that.”

  “That was a smart way to approach him,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

  “Well, we finally did move on to the subject you’re actually interested in.”

  “And?”

  “He seems to think you’re one of the people who might benefit from the doctor’s death.”

  “Who else?”

  “Well . . .”

  “He didn’t mention anyone else, did he?” She put down the taco she’d been eating, as if she’d just lost her appetite.

  “No, he didn’t,” Clint said, “but I’m sure that Graham’s wife, at least, is a suspect.”

  “Yeah, maybe number two on his list.”