Race for the Dying (12 page)

“Of course, sir.” Haines left, and it took Thomas only moments to close the yawning incision with large, utilitarian sutures.

“Guess he belongs to me now,” Winchell said philosophically as Alvi pulled the sheet up to cover the corpse. “Don't think Charlie had relatives, so the county will take care of him. I'll get Riggs and have him help me load.” He extended his hand, not appearing to mind the gore that covered Thomas' own. “We'll be seein' each other,” he said. “When you have a minute or two, stop by my place. Got some interesting things to show you.”

“I look forward to that,” Thomas said.

“Miss Haines, always a pleasure.” Winchell nodded at her and shot a last glance at the corpse before he left, perhaps measuring and weighing.

Alvi helped Thomas shed the apron. “Father's rather proud of you for making the effort to come down, you know.”

“And I can just stay here,” Thomas offered. He looked hard at Alvi. “I confess that I'm more than a bit puzzled, Alvi. This is the clinic, then? This single building?”

“For the present it is,” she said, and offered no further explanation.

“I see,” Thomas said, although he did not. “Surely somewhere in this building you have a room where I might lodge? Zachary stays here?”

“He does, but on the third floor. As far as you're concerned, that might as well be Chicago.” Alvi laughed. “Unless we hire two manservants to lug you up and down the stairs.”

“I did five steps this morning,” Thomas said gamely. “Seven tomorrow, then eight…in no time at all, two flights.”

She smiled affectionately at the young man. “We'll see. Actually, Father had an idea for you.”

Chapter Twenty-one

John Haines settled into the huge leather chair behind an equally impressive desk. Thomas wheeled across the room so his back was to the window and marveled at the impressive office—shelves heavy with the finest volumes, various surgical tools, some for show and some for use. A narrow door led to a lavatory.

“So,” Haines said. He folded his hands in front of himself on the walnut desk. “Tell me about the boy. What did you discover?”

“A single powerful thrust, sir. Directed ever so slightly upward, and from the victim's left to right. A direct through-and-through laceration of the anterior wall of the left ventricle, and the tip of the blade passed through the chamber and lacerated the posterior ventricle wall.”

“And death was sure, but far from instantaneous,” Haines mused. He rubbed his face and then let his head rest in his hand. “Fascinating how these things work sometimes. Did Eastman happen to know where the crime was committed?”

“No, sir. All that is known is that young Grimes traveled some unknown distance to our front step, maybe without assistance. We can't be sure of that.”

“Remarkable.” Haines pushed away from the desk and leaned his head back against the chair. He closed his eyes. “But not altogether unusual, is it? As your studies in Philadelphia no doubt revealed, the heart is a more resilient organ than we once supposed. You attended Roberts' lectures at university, did you not?”

“John Roberts? Yes. I was most fortunate to know him well.”

“I've read that he suggests that surgery on the heart may be possible, after all.”

“I agree.” Thomas leaned forward eagerly, and the sudden motion drew him up abruptly. “That very thought occurred to me as I explored the wound, sir,” he continued. “The puncture of the heart was…” He stopped and smiled. “I was about to say ‘a trifle,' but that's not quite true. A serious wound because of the complications, but had I been able to instantly stitch it up to stop the bleeding, Charlie Grimes would be alive. I'm sure of it.”

“Circumstances made that clearly impossible,” Haines said.

“Indeed they did,” Thomas agreed. “But such a wound, say, into the hand, thus,” and he marked an incision at the pad below his right thumb with the tip of his left index finger, “requires only a few quick stitches. Healing will be perfect.”

“Interesting.”

“But forgive me for prattling on,” Thomas said. “I need not explain surgery to you, sir.”

A slight smile touched John Haines' face. “Well, yes. I've had my share, haven't I? Nevertheless, all this is very sad. To waste the young…” He turned his chair and gazed out the window. “It's really quite magnificent when the sun breaks through, isn't it?”

“Indeed, it is, sir.” Thomas waited politely, hearing the touch of melancholy in the older man's voice.

“I've lost the sight in one eye,” John Haines said abruptly, and for a moment Thomas sat without breathing, unsure of what to say, unsure of what Haines might want him to say. Haines opened his eyes without moving his head from the pad of the chairback. He looked sideways at the younger man. “You could tell?”

“Only that you were having some difficulty,” Thomas said. “I noticed that, yes, sir. The right eye.”

“You're observant. I had suspicions, you see. The last time I visited San Francisco, only two months ago, I took the opportunity for an examination by a certain Dr. Dwight, a man of considerable renown who surrounds himself with the most magnificent machinery and gadgets. The examination was of excruciating thoroughness, I might add.” He shrugged. “Nothing can be done. Were it something as simple as a cataract, or even the ravages of glaucoma, there might be something, but not in this case.”

“I am genuinely sorry,” Thomas said. “The nerve itself has failed?”

“I would suppose so. Or the retinal complex. Whatever it is, it's surely beyond the surgeon's scalpel, or for that matter, homeopathy. Even my own extensive study of alteratives has yielded nothing.” He heaved a sigh. “And the left eye shows signs…”

“What does Dr. Riggs have to say on your behalf?”

“Ah, well,” Haines said, and stopped, gazing out the window again. “Mysteries of the eye aren't his specialty, I'm afraid.”

“Nor mine,” Thomas said quickly. “But I look forward to being of any assistance that I can manage.”

“Let me tell you, young man, your arrival has been a ray of sunshine for us. A certain delay has been thrust upon us…well, upon you…but this, too, shall pass. I see your condition improving daily. I hope you see that as well, and do not grow too impatient.”

“Most certainly. I'm grateful to you all.”

“Alvi tells me that I missed a sliver of glass.” He touched his own ribs.

“A trifle. Apparently along with my other accomplishments, I fell upon a broken bottle caught in the rocks.”

Haines grimaced. “I didn't see that. I'm sorry. But you see what I mean.”

“It's on the mend,” Thomas said. “As is the hip. And the head.”

Haines laughed gently. “You are a mess, most certainly. Most important, Alvi tells me that you are keen to begin work…right here at the clinic.”

“As soon as possible, sir.”

“I would much prefer that you stayed at the house, with us. I enjoy Zachary's company of an evening, but sometimes I have the impression he is most careful to tell me only what I want to hear.” He grinned broadly. “I take that as a compliment, of course. But yours is a fresh voice.”

“It's just that I don't want to be a nuisance when—”

“Please, Thomas. What little we expend in your care will be returned many times over, believe me. You know, I thoroughly enjoyed the stroll on that new boardwalk this morning, but I can see that my original thought—that it would be easy for a wheelchair—was not carefully thought out. The slope, the steps.” He held both hands up in surrender. “You could stay here, of course. We can certainly arrange something. Still, it would be easier for everyone if you'd consider our hospitality at one-oh-one. That way, Gert can keep an eye on you. I'll make arrangements for transportation. Alvi says that you believe you could rest on the back of a low wagon.”

“Most certainly.”

“Well, we'll find a way. But listen, what I wanted to discuss with you is your position here, relative to myself and Zachary. We haven't spoken of that.” He frowned at the desktop. “I have no desire…” He paused, frowning harder, then reached out and straightened an elegant pen that had listed a couple of degrees in the ink pot. “I don't wish to be one of those despots who refuses to acknowledge his own failings, stumbling on until he becomes nothing but an old fool.”

“Hardly…”

Haines held up a hand abruptly, and then leaned forward, both elbows on the desk. “Thomas, let me be blunt. Will you allow that? As a favor to an old family friend?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“I am soon to be sixty-seven years old, Thomas. I am blind in one eye, and God only knows what the fate of the other eye shall be. I cannot see properly for the surgery, and already am in the habit of referring cases to St. Mary's that only last year I would have taken on here without hesitation. As the fragment of glass buried in your rib so aptly illustrated…” He shrugged. “So,” he continued before Thomas could reply, “on top of all this, I am just weary, Thomas. One of the joys of age, I suppose. The old bones don't want to rise from bed in the morning, and start yearning for repose by early afternoon.”

He barked a short laugh. “You have all this to look forward to, in years to come, but enough of that.” He rose from the desk with an impressive popping of joints, and stepped to an elegant cabinet near at hand. Removing a bottle of brandy, he poured first one generous tumbler for himself, and then held the bottle toward Thomas. “Too early?”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.

“Good man. As you can see, a fine brandy is one of my more significant failings.” He put the bottle back and sipped the brandy with his eyes closed. “But it helps. Now,” and he returned to his seat, “this is what I propose. As soon as you're able, I wish to turn over my patient load entirely to you. During the next few weeks, as you regain your strength, working here each day as best you can, you will be introduced to my patients. They will be most impressed with you, I'm sure. Alvi knows each and every one, and will be of great assistance.”

“I look forward to working with you, sir.”

“Ah, more than that. I don't intend to look over your shoulder, my good man.” He laughed again. “For one thing, I can't see a damn thing, so what good would it do?”

“But what about Dr. Riggs? I confess, I don't understand.”

Haines leaned back in the chair and inspected the brandy tumbler for a moment. “What Zachary Riggs brings to this practice,” he said carefully, “is an amazing talent for business. An absolute genius in that regard. Let me tell you, I could cease practice immediately, this very moment, and we would continue to enjoy a level of wealth I couldn't imagine just five years ago.”

“He seems eager,” Thomas said. Although from the first meeting, he had found Zachary Riggs a likable soul, he had also been impressed with how deftly the man parried questions that should have simple answers.

“‘Eager' is an understatement,” Haines said. “To be sure, I owe him an immense debt. And at this stage of my life, I have no intention of going to a poorhouse, blind and useless. Work with us, Thomas, and Zachary Riggs will make us all wealthy far, far beyond our needs.”

Thomas could not contain his puzzlement. “I suppose I don't understand yet just what the business is,” he said. “Beyond ministering to the needs of the community's sick and injured.”

“Well beyond,” Haines said. “Well beyond. Port McKinney is a tiny spot on some maps, and not at all on most. What Zachary has done is to take my medicine, my practice, far beyond this clinic. As he implied the other night at dinner, we have patients who correspond with us from practically every corner of the nation. From several foreign countries as well.” He held up his glass, letting the light catch it. “This is the simple plan that we've discussed at length before your arrival. Although I shall remain the titular head of this practice, you will take over my patient load. Not tomorrow, of course, but as you recover. For their part, Zachary and Alvina will continue to organize the financial ways and means. Now, should you need anything, anything at all, for your practice, you have but to mention it to Alvi or Zachary.” He grinned. “I'm sure you're developing a list already, given the carelessness of the shipping industry.”

“Surely.”

“Beyond that, Alvina takes care of the staff for me. The young women who work upstairs, and of course Bertha. My God. where would I be without her? You haven't yet met Bertha Auerbach.” He sipped the brandy. “Even I'm afraid of her, but, thank God, Alvina isn't.”

“I haven't had the pleasure,” Thomas said, “but I'm already in her debt. She rescued my medical bag from the tide, it seems. Everything once more clean and neatly stowed. I need to thank her for that.”

“Ah, you will have the chance. Bertha makes my day bearable. Now, upstairs, that's another matter. Perhaps six or seven young women work for Zachary in that enterprise. The correspondence and shipping is a veritable avalanche, rest assured. But you have no reason to concern yourself with that. What you will do is run the walk-in medical practice, with any assistance I can give you. Fortunately for us, that's entirely on the first floor. Later, we'll see about the other. I'll show you the examining room in a moment. The community will greet you with open arms, I'm sure.”

“I look forward to it. But correspondence?”

Haines waved a hand dismissively. “Zachary's world. Now, I want to make myself clear.” He leaned forward again. “I want you to take charge of the local medical practice. Just as soon as you can. I am here to help you. Not vice versa.”

“That's very generous of you, sir.”

“It's necessary, is what it is, Thomas. With your arrival, I see a chance here, and by God, I'm going to take it. When your father told me that you were considering my offer, it was as if a heavy cloud lifted from my shoulders. And then I spoke with John Roberts—”

“Professor Roberts?”

“None other. I'd allow you to read his recommendation, but I'm afraid it might drive you to the city, where you could earn far more than I can pay.”

“Thank you, sir. But I'm capable of earning my way.”

“I know you are, and so you shall. But as you're working here, as part of the clinic, there is a foundation salary that will keep the wolves from the door. The clinic is prepared to establish your partnership at one thousand dollars a month, to be increased on a regular semiannual basis as the practice builds.”

Thomas' jaw dropped. He had grown up far, far removed from poverty, but this offer was beyond his expectations. “A thousand?” he managed to gasp.

“A month,” Haines added. “Come January, we'll review that, if you're agreeable.” He chuckled at Thomas' discomfiture. “Don't worry, young man. We'll work it out of you, to be sure. But it's important work we do here at the clinic, with commensurate income. We don't want our staff worrying about where their next meal might be coming from.”

He pushed his chair back and rose, not releasing his grip on the edge of the desk until he was sure of his balance. “While you're considering the offer, let me show you the basic examining room so that come tomorrow, you'll know where things are.” He pulled out a gold watch and snapped it open. “Bertha normally opens the door at eight o'clock, although Zachary is in business upstairs long before that. Mrs. Cleary will be here by two minutes after the hour, and you need to be ready for her.”