Half a Mind TO Murder (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Mysteries Book 3) (18 page)

“
You heard something? What?” Alexandra asked. “What did you hear?”

“
Well, ’twasn’t Nancy, now was it? What would a nice girl like Nancy be doing out there?”

Alexandra turned toward the wooded area, hurrying away while Helen called after her.
“Maybe ’twas just Lucas out there. The boy don’t know what ’e’s doing ’af the time.”

Zack stayed close to Alexandra as she and the boys made their way into the outcrop
ping. Behind them they heard Helen calling out to them. “They’s nothing there save that old barn what’s falling down. Be careful now, mind you.”

Zack stopped suddenly, almost causing Alexandra to stumble over him. He barked, loud and excited, his ears
turned back, his nose pointing to an area in front of them and slightly to the right.

Alexandra touched the top of his head.
“What is it, Zack?”

“
Is it Nancy?” Artie asked.

No one answered him, and Alexandra heard a sound, like the rustle of dry leaves.
“Who’s there?” she called.

There was only the sound of leaves again. Leaves being crushed. By someone
’s feet. Then something emerged from the shadows.

“
Lucas? What are you doing here?” A mixture of annoyance, and relief flooded Alexandra’s soul.

“
I seen her,” Lucas said, ignoring Alexandra’s question. “I seen her hurt Nancy.”

“
Yes, Lucas. You saw Polly push Nancy, didn’t you? Just as you told Rob. Go home now, Lucas. Your mother will be looking for you.” Alexandra moved away from him, once again hurrying in the direction Helen had pointed.

“
She was good to me and to me mum. She stopped them people from hurting Mum, Polly did.”

“
Yes, Lucas, I know,” Alexandra said, pushing branches away with abandon. Zack continued to bark, responding to her frantic movements.

“
So why did she hurt Nancy?” Lucas asked, trying to keep up.

“
I don’t know, Lucas. Please go…” She slowed, breathing hard, when she saw the old stone barn. It was overgrown with vines on two sides, and half of the roof had collapsed. A heavy and weathered wooden door hung from one hinge, blocking the entrance.

“
That’s where I seen her,” Lucas said. “I seen Polly carry something in there. I think ’twas Nancy.”

Fear set Alexandra
’s blood afire, and she ran toward the barn. She didn’t stop when she reached the door. Still running, she pushed the door with her out-stretched hands, followed by her entire body. The door crashed to the earthen floor, sending up a cloud of dust. Zack, running beside her, barked even louder as the boys followed them inside the dark, shadowy space.

“
Quiet, Zack!” Alexandra said. He didn’t obey but continued to bark louder and louder as he stared into the corner at the same thing that held Alexandra’s gaze. It was the form of a woman, half hidden by shadows, her skirts spread around her as she sat, leaning against the wall. Half of her face was missing.

“
Oh God, ’tis Nancy.” Artie said, his words dissolving into sobs.

“
Hush!” Rob commanded. “It ain’t Nancy.”

But it was. Alexandra recognized the dark muslin skirt. She took several slow steps toward her until she could hear her muffled
sounds and see that it was a dirty rag tied around her mouth that, coupled with the shadows, made it appear as if part of her face was missing. She dropped to her knees in the muck to untie the rag. Nancy’s hair was matted and filthy and hung about her face in dirty ropes. Her dress was covered with filth and slime and held the same odor as the pigpens. Alexandra knew by the sound of Nancy’s muffled voice and the fire that danced in her eyes that she was unhurt, and that she would soon give them an earful.

Alexandra dropped the rag and stood to pull
Nancy to her feet. Nancy spat the taste of pig filth from her mouth before the barrage started.

“’
Twas Polly that killed them. All of them. You have to hurry and tell the constable. Rob, you go, and take Artie with you. No, don’t go. It may be dangerous. We must all leave. She’s coming back for me. And she’ll have you dead, too, Miss Alex. Said she’d kill us both because I finally saw ’twas she that killed… Said I was too clever for my own… Thank God you’re… What took you so long? I’ve been here for days. Can you imagine? In this…I thought at least the boys would… Forgot you can’t read. We must teach… What have you two been doing anyway? You’re not hurt, are you? Polly didn’t…”

“
The constable has Polly. She’s in gaol,” Alexandra finally managed to say after several unsuccessful attempts to interrupt Nancy.

Nancy
looked at Alexandra, her face, beneath the grime, now appearing drawn and tired. A tear found its way down one cheek, plowing a pink row to her chin. Alexandra’s own unshed tears made her eyes ache as she reached for Nancy to embrace her.

Alexandra had little time to talk with Nancy until morning. The night before, Nancy had washed her hair five times and rinsed it with diluted vinegar, and she’d had two soaking baths in steaming water, the last soak lasting more than an hour. It was well past midnight when Alexandra heard her come upstairs to her room.

Yet
Nancy was up early the next morning. She’d already fed the boys their breakfast and sent them out to weed her herb garden when Alexandra came downstairs. She had prepared a breakfast of stewed tomatoes, beef, and scones for the two of them.

Nancy
took a sip of her tea and replaced the cup in its saucer. “’Twas Polly’s apron that finally let me figure it out,” she said, in answer to the question Alexandra had just asked.

“
Her apron?”

“
Yes. ’Twas Monday, you see, and I always do the laundry on the second Monday of the month, you know. Had that practice for years, I have. Just like my mum before me.”

“
Yes, Nancy, I know,” Alexandra said, trying not to allow her impatience to show.

“
Well, I was gathering the bed linens as I always do, including the ones in the room where Polly was staying. The one that used to be your father’s, you know.”

Alexandra nodded.

“’Twas there I saw the apron. One of the big white ones she always wears. Rather like the ones I wear, except the stitching on mine is fine, and I always make certain the cut is—”

“
Nancy…”

“
Impatient, aren’t you?” Nancy said, taking a leisurely sip of her tea. “And there’s something else about you, something that’s…what happened to you in London?”

“
For heaven’s sake, Nancy, tell me about the apron.”

“
Stained dark with blood.”

“
Polly brought a bloody apron here?”

Nancy
nodded. “I found it in a drawer when I pulled it open for the clean sheets. ’Twas laying there on top of them. Polly walks in as I was standing there, holding it up a bit from the drawer. ‘What are you doing?’ she asks. ‘Why just changing the sheets,’ I say. I felt uneasy, of course, as if I was meddling in her things. But I had made it clear to her that she could put her things in the other bureau, and I pointed out to her, just as you know I always do when there are guests, that the first bureau held the linens. If I didn’t know better, I would think she wanted me to find that apron.”

“
Perhaps she did,” Alexandra said, remembering what Dr. Mortimer had told her.

“
You really think so?”

“Never
mind. Please go on with your story.”

“
Oh yes. I was feeling guilty, as I said, but Polly finally just laughs it off and says she must have gotten the bureaus mixed in her mind. Said she meant to put it in the bottom drawer of her bureau where she put her soiled clothes. And as for the blood, she claimed ’twas her own. From her menses, she said. But anyone could see ’twasn’t so. No woman bloodies the top of her apron with her monthlies, and even if she did, ’twould soak her dress first, and there was no sign of a soiled dress. She wore the same dress the whole time she was here.”

A
lexandra frowned and shook her head. “I don’t understand how you would know immediately that she’d committed murder even if you knew it wasn’t menstrual blood on her apron.”

“’
Twasn’t just that, of course. There were other things, before that, and the apron just put the cap on it, as they say.”

“
What other things?”

Nancy
shrugged. “It was strange things she did. I saw her tearing the pages from my novels of romance and love after you left. You know, the ones you dislike so much? I never confronted her, but I found it odd that she would tear out all references to any intimacy a man might have with a woman. I didn’t say anything, of course, because I thought, since she is a Nonconformist, it might be some kind of religious fanaticism. And that same day I found a scalpel in her room.  Found it when I went to fetch the linens, as I believe I mentioned I do on the second Monday.”

“
Yes, yes. You did.

“
When I came into her room, there ’twas—a scalpel. At first I thought ’twas one of yours. Thought she’d stolen it, maybe. But when I looked closer, I knew ’twasn’t yours. It made me wonder, and I started thinking about all the medical knowledge she has. She just might have surgical skills, I thought. But ’twasn’t ’til that apron that I put it all together and began to think it could be a woman who killed those men. It could be Polly. I wasn’t really certain, though, until she confronted me. Said I’d have to die. Now that gave me a fright if I ever had one. She made me leave at knife point, but when I left, I didn’t lock the house, and I left Zack here, thinking the boys would think something was wrong and come looking for me.” She gave a little derisive laugh.

“
They did look for you,” Alexandra said. “They just couldn’t find you. And we’re all lucky she didn’t kill you.”

“
I don’t think she wanted to. Not really,” Nancy said. “That’s another thing strange about her. I couldn’t help getting the feeling she didn’t have the courage to kill me. Yet she seemed to have no trouble at all killing the others.”

“
They were all men, Nancy. And you’re a woman. That’s why she couldn’t kill you.”

“
That’s true,” Nancy said. “But why did she choose only men?”

“
When I saw Dr. Mortimer in London—”

“
What happened to you in London?”

Alexandra ignored her.
“Dr. Mortimer said—”

A knock on the surgery door interrupted her before she could begin to explain the alienist
’s theories to Nancy. It was Evelyn Murray, who had walked from the village to ask the doctor to come have a look at her eight-year-old son, who had a terrible cough. Alexandra left immediately to care for the boy who, she soon learned, had whooping cough, evidence that the disease had not yet run its course in Newton-Upon-Sea. She used the rest of the morning to complete her usual rounds to visit patients at home, making Tom and Kate Hastings’s home her last stop.

When she arrived home around noon, she was surprised to see Nicholas Forsythe in the parlor, engaged in a casual conversation with
Nancy. The thought that Nancy might have been prodding him to learn whether anything had happened between to two of them filled her with dread. They both greeted her with guilty smiles which made her even more suspicious.

Nicholas rose to his feet.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Gladstone.”

“
Good afternoon, Mr. Forsythe,” she said and glanced at Nancy, who was also now standing, pretending to be busy.

“
I must say, I’m rather surprised to see you here,” Alexandra said, turning back to Nicholas. “I should have thought the Montmarsh case would have taken you back to London immediately.”

“
It seems I’ve been given something of a reprieve from that case.”

“
Really?” Alexandra said, removing her gloves and placing them on top of the medical bag she’d set on the hall table. “Let’s have a look at those wounds,”

“
What? Oh no, they’re quite all right,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Nancy’s given them all the attention they need.”

Alexandra nodded.
“So the Montmarsh case has been settled? There’s a new heir?”

“
I just received a telegram a few hours ago informing me of that.”

“
A telegram? Of course. How did we ever live without them?” There was a weary sound to her voice. She continued to eye Nancy suspiciously.

Nancy
responded by making herself busy gathering up the tea dishes she’d used to serve Nicholas. “And how are our patients?” she asked just as Alexandra was about to ask Nicholas who had inherited Montmarsh and been named the sixth earl of Dunsford.

“
Most are doing quite well,” she said in answer to Nancy’s question. “The Murray boy has whooping cough, but I expect him to recover nicely.”