Dody McCleland 02 - Antidote to Murder

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Dody McCleland 02 - Antidote to Murder Page 30

by Felicity Young


  On cue, Florence tapped on the door and entered with Pike. They stood at the door without moving for a moment and stared open-mouthed at the shrouded dining room.

  Florence gave Pike a nudge. “There you go, Pike, up you get,” she said with the enthusiasm of a jolly-hockey-sticks games mistress.

  Pike looked anything but jolly as he shuffled over to the table, wearing a dressing gown over a striped nightshirt, and nodded to Barker. Florence relieved Pike of the gown, helped him onto the table, and then hurried from the room.

  Daphne straightened the pillow under the patient’s head and moved to the carbolic spray machine positioned on a planter near the window. The steam-powered contraption chugged into action and soon the room’s occupants were covered in a fine mist of antiseptic spray.

  “Are you ready, Chief Inspector?” Dody asked, mindful of what had happened the last time someone had attempted to operate on Pike’s knee. Fortunately, she could see no sign of a pistol tucked in the folds of his nightshirt.

  Pike nodded, his body shivering uncontrollably despite her earlier administration of calming bromide. Dody’s hand lingered on his forehead as she remembered the stories she had heard above the fishmonger’s. Well, why wouldn’t he be anxious after what he had seen in that hospital tent? Van Noort had told him that if he had attended, he would not have amputated, but left his knee in a much better state than it was now. He had strongly advised Pike to have the operation that Barker was about to perform.

  Dody smoothed away Pike’s hair and lowered the mask.

  If only Van Noort’s own problems had been this easy to treat.

  Author’s Note

  The inspiration behind this work of fiction was my examination of Dr. Bernard Spilsbury’s handwritten autopsy notes at the Wellcome Library, London. The poignancy of each death recorded solely on a single, yellowing palm card struck me deeply, with many attributed to causes rarely seen today, especially death by criminal abortion.

  My Bernard Spilsbury was fictionalised, though his personality was gleaned from several biographies. I experienced his chain smoking for myself when I examined his palm cards. After all these years, they still reeked of cigarette smoke.

  I have been unable to find evidence of a female autopsy surgeon as early as 1910, but Bernard Spilsbury did have a female assistant, Hilda Bainbridge, by 1920. I hope the reader can forgive this ten-year discrepancy.

  Dody McCleland’s background is that of my grandmother, at the time one of only a handful of female graduates of Trinity College, Dublin. Much of the Fabian colour was inspired by her memoirs.

  Table of Contents

  Contents

  Title Page

  Praise

  Also by Felicity Young

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

 

 

 


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