An Improper Death (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Mysteries Book 2) (9 page)

Killborn
stiffened again. “I’m glad the bastard’s dead. I wouldn’t waste my grief on—”

Nicholas forced
Killborn’s arm to bend at an even more awkward angle behind his back, and he felt him wince. “Don’t say any more, you fool. Just turn yourself in and keep your mouth shut.” There was no response from Killborn, but Nicholas sensed a change. He relaxed his grip slightly. “Let’s go!” he said.

By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, Nicholas was no longer restraining
Killborn. Still, he walked close by and watched him carefully.

Snow was just locking the front door of his office, preparing to leave for the day when the two of them approached. He glanced up at them as they neared him. A sudden, terrible light shone in his eyes, like shards of glass. He straightened his shoulders and seemed to will dullness to his eyes. “Good evening, Mr. Forsythe.” He refused to acknowledge Killborn with even a glance.

“I’m afraid I must disturb your plans to leave your work for the day.” Nicholas’ hand went cautiously to grasp
Killborn’s arm again.

“I see.” For the first time Snow glanced at
Killborn.

“Do you know who this is?”

There was no response from Snow.

“My client, Mr. John
Killborn, wishes to turn himself in and requests that you notify Newgate Prison as soon as possible,” Nicholas said, puzzled at Snow’s lack of response.

Snow turned around and unlocked the door, then stood back for Nicholas and
Killborn to enter. He went straight to his desk, and when he was seated, pulled out a form. Without looking up, he asked the routine questions of the prisoner while he wrote down his responses.

Name, age, city of residence, charges against him, next of kin. Snow must have known all of the answers without asking.
Killborn gave his answers in a monotone. His face had turned as gray as lead and his lips were bloodless. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Do you wish to make a statement at this time regarding your escape?” Snow still kept his eyes down and the pen poised over the line to be completed.

Nicholas was about to caution young Killborn not to say anything in that regard when the young man swayed slightly, clasped his hand to his mouth, and mumbled behind the hand, “I’m going to be sick!”

Snow looked up suddenly,
then pointed with his pen to a side door. Killborn rushed toward it, flung it open, and stepped outside. Both Nicholas and Snow followed him. They both turned away when he began to retch, but Snow kept his hand firmly at the boy’s back, his fingers grasping his belt.

Young
Killborn continued to retch, bending from the waist. And then suddenly he was running, and Snow was left holding his belt. The boy had obviously unfastened the belt and slipped it off as he bent over. Both Nicholas and Snow ran to catch him, but he had disappeared into an alley. When they reached the alley, he was gone.

“He had to go either right or left at the end of the alley,” Nicholas called to Snow. “You take the left, and I’ll take the right.” Nicholas ran, but he knew within seconds it was futile.
Killborn was nowhere in sight. He continued to search, though, until the shadows grew too thick to see. He returned to the gaol, hoping Snow’d had better luck. He saw him standing at the back entrance, breathing heavily. There was no sign of Killborn, however, except for the stench and the puddle of his vomit.

Chapter Eight

Zack was not in a good mood. He made it clear he felt slighted because he had not been invited to accompany Alexandra on her last visit to Gull House. His first tactic was to sulk in a corner near the fireplace, emitting occasional whimpers of self-pity. His next was to follow Alexandra closer than a shadow everywhere she went in the house, as if to make certain she had no chance to leave again without him.

He leaned heavily against her leg as she sat at the kitchen table with Nancy, finishing her meat pie. Alexandra frequently took meals in the kitchen with Nancy, something her father, the late Dr. Huntington Gladstone, never did. He often scolded her for having a too familiar relationship with Nancy. “It’s best for each of you to remember your station in life,” he said. Yet, it had been he who had encouraged their friendship as children, and it had been he who had seen to it that Nancy received the same education as Alexandra when they were young.

“Poor Mrs. Orkwright. She seems to be taking it terribly hard,” Nancy said. Alexandra had just told her everything that happened on her most recent visit to Gull House.

“I’m afraid so. She doesn’t look at all well.” As she spoke, Alexandra tried to free her foot from underneath Zack’s heavy shoulder. He had been lying on it for so
long, she had lost feeling in it.

“The little boy’s comments make a person wonder…”

Alexandra raised her eyes from her plate to look at Nancy. “You’re referring to his comment about being glad his father is dead.”

“Well, yes. You’ll have to admit that sounds—”

“I wouldn’t read anything into that, Nancy. It’s not at all uncommon for a child to feel anger over the death of a loved one. I should think it’s merely part of his grieving.”

Nancy gave her a frown fraught with skepticism. “Oh come now, Miss Alex, didn’t you tell me he said he was angry at his father for being mean to the housekeeper? Isn’t it possible he mistreated her in some way? Perhaps he beat her, or—”

“Nancy…”

“Now, don’t go shushing me, Miss Alex. I have no doubt the same thought crossed your mind.”

When Alexandra didn’t reply, Nancy pressed her advantage. “And isn’t it true Mrs. Orkwright’s older son detested his stepfather? The man must have been terribly unpleasant for one lad to fear him and the other to hate him. One wonders why Mrs. Orkwright didn’t detest him as well.”

Alexandra gave her a stern look. “Are you suggesting that his stepson, or perhaps even his own young son, detested him enough to kill him?”

Nancy shrugged. “’Tis something to consider. One never knows what goes on behind closed doors.”

Alexandra finished the last of her meat pie and touched her napkin to her lips. “I hardly think it worth considering that young
Will could do such a thing, even if he did hate his father. And I’m not at all convinced he did hate him. I still say his anger could be just an expression of grief.”

“And John
Killborn? Can you explain that away as well?”

Again Alexandra did not immediately answer. The truth was, she couldn’t explain John
Killborn’s dislike for his stepfather, and, in truth, she had no way of knowing whether or not he was capable of killing anyone. Except that he was Jane Orkwright’s son, and irrational as it may be, she could not think of a person as gentle as Jane having an offspring who would commit murder. She’d mulled it over in her mind almost constantly, and now she felt very tired. She pushed herself away from the table.

“I don’t know, Nancy. I suppose you’re right. One never does know what goes on behind closed doors. But I’m too tired to speculate, so, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll retire to my bed. Our irregular schedule of late has left me rather exhausted.” She started toward the door but turned back to look at Nancy. “I suspect it has you exhausted as well. Why don’t we both—”

There was a sudden loud knock at the door that startled the two of them and Zack as well. His bark was sharp and loud. Alexandra and Nancy exchanged a glance, and Nancy started to the front of the house to open the door. Both of them, as well as Zack, were used to the occasional patient coming to the house late because of some medical emergency. Alexandra would have to forget that she was tired and minister to whomever it was who needed her.

Nancy opened the door, and Alexandra, several feet behind her, was surprised to see that it was Nicholas Forsythe who stood there. He was shivering without a coat, and the rest of his fancy clothes were torn. His handsome aristocratic face was bruised and bloody. Alexandra emitted a little cry and rushed toward him. Zack growled and followed her so closely she almost tripped.

“Mr. Forsythe! What happened to you?”

“I’m afraid I—”

“Let me have a look at those wounds,” she said, not giving him a chance to answer. Nancy, in the meantime, had hurried away to the surgery to prepare the materials that Alexandra would need to stitch the cuts.

He tried to protest. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious. You see, I—”

“Is there still hot water on the stove?” Alexandra asked just as she stepped into the surgery with her patient in tow.

“Of course.
I’m on my way to get it now.” Nancy spoke as she passed her on the way to the kitchen. Zack whined pitifully as Alexandra disappeared into the surgery. He knew it was forbidden territory for him, and he had to be content with waiting outside the door.

“I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to remove your shirt,” Alexandra said over her shoulder as she washed her hands at the basin in her surgery, using water poured from a pitcher.

“My shirt?”

“That will be sufficient for the moment. Zack, for heaven’s sake, be quiet!” Alexandra said, still with her back to Nicholas.

“For the moment?”

“I may have to examine your body for more wounds. Please don’t allow that to concern you. I am a doctor. You must think of me that way. Don’t think of me as a woman.” She was quite accustomed to her male patients feeling uncomfortable when certain types of examination
became necessary. She dried her hands and picked up a needle and needle holder Nancy had prepared for her, wanting to make sure it was the one she would most likely need.

“I’m afraid I would find that impossible. Not to think of you as a woman, I mean.”

Alexandra turned around to face him. His eyes went immediately to the needle she held in her hand. His eyes widened, and his smile disappeared as the blood drained from his face. “You’re going to…to use that? On my face?”

Alexandra put the needle back on the table, satisfied that it was the correct size, should she need it. “I’m not certain yet. I want to clean the cuts and examine them first.”

Nancy entered the room with a basin of warm water and soap, and Alexandra went to work immediately, cleaning the wounds and examining his face and torso carefully. He was rather badly bruised, but the cuts, with the exception of one on his chin, would not need sutures after all. The chin cut, she thought, would probably need only three or four stitches.

“Just how did this happen?” She spoke as she dabbed at a cut on his jaw. “You look as if you’ve been in an accident.”

“In a manner of speaking.” He winced as she continued to clean the wound.

“What do you mean?” She was now examining his hands. The knuckles were covered with scrapes and blood.

“I’ve engaged in fisticuffs, as I’m certain you have surmised.”

His answer surprised her. She dropped his hand and looked at him.
“Fisticuffs? With whom?”

“John
Killborn.”

Alexandra heard Nancy’s sudden intake of breath behind her, and she struggled to keep her own composure.

“Indeed?” Alexandra said.

“Yes.
At his mother’s house.”

“You’ve been to see Jane?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“You keep using that expression. Just what do you mean?” Alexandra was not able to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“I’ve been trying to explain that ever since I got here, but you… Ouch! You won’t give me the… Ouch! Can’t you be a little gentler?”

“I must get the dirt out of these cuts.
Nancy, some alcohol please.”

“Alcohol?
Isn’t that going to burn?”

“Perhaps a little.
Now, go on with your story.”

Nicholas eyed the bottle of alcohol suspiciously as he talked. “I thought young John might show up at his mother’s house, so I waited for him, hiding in the gorse. When he arrived, we got into a bit of an altercation because, of course, he didn’t want to surrender to me and have me take him to the
gaol.”

“Of course.”
Alexandra took the bottle of alcohol along with a bit of lamb’s wool from Nancy. “Yes, you do have bruises and cuts that would suggest blows. Rather uncivilized of you, I should say. But this wound on your chin is quite full of dirt and small pebbles. How did you—?”

“I performed what is called a tackle and plowed my chin into the ground in the process.”

“A tackle you say?”

“Yes. Rather like rugby players do. I played a bit at school, you see. Rather rough game, you know.”

“Oh yes, of course.”

“OUCH! Good god,
woman, that burns like h… Rather badly, I mean.” His voice had become weak, and his sudden loud cry had brought forth a single alarmed bark from Zack, who still waited outside the door.

“And did you have a chance to talk to young John? After the tackle and the fisticuffs, that is.” Alexandra handed the alcohol and lamb’s wool to Nancy, who took it and, in almost the same movement, handed Alexandra the needle threaded with cat gut.

“We did talk a little, and he said something interesting about… What’s that for? I thought you said you weren’t going to sew anything.”

“I said I didn’t know. This won’t take long, Mr. Forsythe. And I’m quite certain you’ll live through it. Perhaps you’ve even encountered worse pain on the rugby field.”

Nicholas didn’t reply. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the needle, even as it got closer and closer to his face.

“Go on, please. You were saying young John said something interesting.” Nicholas was leaning back, trying to distance himself from her. “Nancy,” she said over her shoulder. She needn’t have bothered. Nancy was already at his side, one hand placed firmly on his back, pushing him forward. With her other hand, she picked up one of his to hold.

“Squeeze my hand if it starts to hurt.” Nancy often invited patients to squeeze her hand if they felt pain. She claimed it would take their mind off of it.

“Perhaps a bit of brandy,” Alexandra said, remembering, with some embarrassment, that she had once fainted when Nancy had to stitch a bad cut on her neck. The experience had at least made her more sympathetic with her patients.

“That won’t be necessary.” Nicholas spoke with a bravado that was perhaps a bit too exaggerated.

“Very well.”
Alexandra took her first stitch.

Nicholas’ face went white again and grew whiter with each stitch until she was certain he would faint. He was still conscious when she finished, but when he spoke to her, his voice was no more than a croak.

“I’ll take that brandy now.”

Nancy gave Alexandra a knowing look as she wordlessly left the room to fetch the brandy.

Within a few minutes Nicholas was seated in an overstuffed chair with his feet on an ottoman and a snifter of brandy in his hand. Zack was curled in front of the fire, eyeing him with great suspicion while Alexandra seated herself on the sofa. She had declined Nicholas’ suggestion that she join him in a brandy, knowing that in her weary state it would have an immediate effect like that of sleeping droughts.

Nancy had left the room, but Alexandra was certain she hadn’t gone so far away that she couldn’t hear everything that was said. She was, no doubt, dallying in the hall, just outside the parlor.

“Now, Mr. Forsythe.” Alexandra leaned forward, ready to listen. “What were you saying about young John telling you something interesting?” She was not so weary that she would give up the hope that she might learn something to help clear up the baffling mystery of the admiral’s death.

“My concern is that he may have implicated himself in something more serious than burglary or even prison escape. As his lawyer I want to make certain whether or not that’s the case.” Nicholas stared into the fire and seemed to be talking more to
himself than to Alexandra.

“What did he say?”

He turned his gaze to her. “He could have meant anything by the remark, of course, but, given the circumstances, this is not something I would like to come out in court. Of course the judge could use his prerogative to question him, but if the matter hasn’t been introduced then, by the law of the court—”

“For heaven’s sake, Mr. Forsythe, stop musing over all that legal gibberish and tell me what the boy said!” Alexandra’s lack of proper sleep had left her short tempered. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would regret her outburst.

For the briefest of moments, surprise shown on Nicholas’ face. He collected himself quickly, however. “He seemed rather protective of his mother. Said I was to leave her out of things when I mentioned how upset she was sure to be at the news of his escape.”