“Has there been any progress in the postmortem cases we talked about?”
Anna glanced at her in surprise, as if she had already forgotten the long conversation of just two days ago. Then her expression cleared.
“There’s been another case,” she said. “And a little forward movement. A witness who has some information the detectives are pursuing. Did you find the cases interesting?”
“The circumstances are terrible, but the discussion was interesting. Did the detectives agree that the doctor must be well established, and considered trustworthy?”
At that Anna smiled. “Just the opposite. They have a suspect. An intern, very young and untried. I’m not sure why exactly but they are as sure about him as I am convinced that you have the right of it, and they should be looking for someone older.”
They walked in silence for a while, and then Elise said what came to mind.
“Why couldn’t it be both?”
• • •
ON THE WAY out of the squad room a runner brought Jack a message that he opened and read on the spot.
Oscar waited, worrying the end of his cigar. “Well?”
“From Anna. It says, ‘Why are you assuming there is only one doctor? Could it not be the man you suspect as well as a more established physician, the two working together? Elise suggested this to me, and it makes sense.’”
“I can see where this is going,” Oscar said dismally. “Those two are after our jobs.”
This time they found Neill Graham’s landlady up to her elbows in soapsuds, but she was all good cheer, made offers of tea and cake, begged just a moment while she changed her apron.
When she had finally settled on the very edge of a sofa, Oscar smiled at her. “Mrs. Jennings. We’re just trying to tie up some loose ends on a case, and we were wondering if you might answer a few questions for us.”
She had the bright dark eyes of a robin, but the way she was chewing on her lower lip gave her nervousness away.
“Well, now,” she said, her hands fluttering. “You know I’m not the youngest anymore, and my memory sometimes fails me.”
Jack caught on before Oscar. He introduced them both and left all details about their last visit unstated. It seemed possible that Mrs. Jennings had no memory of their earlier meeting; Anna wondered if that would work for or against them.
Mrs. Jennings seemed relieved not to be scolded, and sat up even straighter, an eager schoolchild wanting to please the teacher.
“We have a few questions about one of your boarders, Neill Graham. We are trying to locate his family, but without luck. Do you happen to know where they live?”
Vague enough, he hoped, to start her talking.
She knotted her hands in her lap. “Oh,” she said, “Neill Graham. A very good boy, very orderly, never late with his rent. Never tries to sneak girls into his room, which you must imagine, happens often with young men like these medical students. The things I’ve seen, I could make the seven sisters blush, I’m sure of it.”
She paused as if she had lost track of the subject.
“Neill Graham,” Oscar said gently.
“Oh, yes. Dr. Graham. No, he never has girls in his room, or I’ve never caught him at it, I should say. Young men do have their urges. But he’s never been any trouble.”
“Do you know if he has any family nearby, or any close friends who might come to visit?” Oscar leaned back, as relaxed as a Buddha, radiating calm acceptance of whatever she wanted to tell them. It was the only hope they had of getting anything useful from the conversation.
“Family. Family. A sister, I think. Or a brother? A brother-in-law. Yes, a married sister, she comes by now and then and brings him things, new shirts and socks and such. He never seems very happy to see her, but then brothers and sisters often quarrel. She was a very elegant type, tall and slim, but no furs or jewels. Spoke to me very politely and didn’t even blink when her brother was short with her.”
“And her name?”
The small dark eyes opened wide. “Sure, she has one. I don’t recall what it was he called her, she came in a fine carriage.”
“You don’t have any idea of her family name?”
“Well, Graham, of course.”
“Pardon me, Mrs. Jennings, but didn’t you just say she was married? Did her husband come to call with her?”
“He waited out in the carriage.”
“Did you catch the brother-in-law’s last name?”
“No, I don’t think I did. Shall I ask Dr. Graham when he comes in?”
“It’s really not important,” Oscar said. “No reason to bother Dr. Graham with it. If you happen to remember anything else about his sister, would you drop us a note at police headquarters? We’ll come again if you recall something new.” He fished a card out of his vest pocket and passed it over to her.
“I’ll try, but my memory does sometimes fail me. Oh. Dr. Graham’s sister might be a baker’s wife, she smelled of anise. Might that be of use?”
“It might just,” Oscar said.
On the porch Oscar shook Mrs. Jennings’s hand with great formality. As he was turning away he seemed to remember something—it always amazed Jack that no one ever saw through this little ruse—and came up with one last question.
“How often did the older gentleman visit?”
Mrs. Jennings smiled apologetically. “I can’t say. It wasn’t very often, and always on Sunday. Not a talkative man, the kind who don’t heap praise on a child. Or anybody, for that matter.”
“And his name?”
“Don’t fathers and sons always have the same last name? Dr. Graham, I suppose.”
“Wait. I’m confused. Neill Graham’s father comes to call, is that right?” Oscar’s voice came a little hoarse: a hound on the scent, Jack thought.
“Not very often,” said the landlady.
“And his father is a doctor, like he is. How do you know that he’s a doctor?”
She nodded eagerly, as if she had finally come across something that might please him. “He carries one of those doctor bags. I’ve been boarding medical students for many years, and I’d know one of those bags anywhere.”
• • •
JACK SAID, “SHE could be wrong on both counts. The old man might not be Graham’s father, and even if he is, she could be mistaken by the bag.”
“No,” Oscar said. “She had it right, except I think the man she remembers was the grandfather she mentioned last time. An older doctor, established, experienced, trustworthy. A woman paying him a visit would be assured by all that. Once she’s under, she doesn’t know who actually does the operation, does she?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. It feels too pat, like a big bow on an empty box.”
“Do you have a better idea where to start?”
The ultimate argument. When you were stuck, you worked the clues.
• • •
THEY SPENT THE rest of the day interviewing clerks at hospitals, clinics, and dispensaries from one end of the island to the other, jumping in and out of cabs until they came across a driver they knew and hired him to drive them for the day. So far no one had any memory of a Dr. Graham who met the landlady’s description; getting a hit going about it like this was unlikely, but they plowed on.
Jerking through traffic from St. Luke’s to Women’s Hospital, Oscar raised the subject of Archer Campbell.
“Does Anna know they booked him?”
Jack shook his head.
Oscar said, “He doesn’t realize how lucky he is to be sitting in the Tombs where you can’t get at him.”
“He can’t make bail,” Jack said. “So he’s safe where he is for the time being.”
“Unless you want to grease old Fish’s palm, so we could pay Prisoner Campbell a visit.”
“I admit it’s tempting. But Anna
wouldn’t like it.”
Oscar stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “All right,” he said. “We’ll table it. For the moment.”
In the late afternoon they went back to Mulberry Street with just three names: Michael Graham, house physician at the Protestant Half-Orphan Asylum, Ulrich Graham, on the faculty at the Eclectic Medical School, and Andrew Graham, who had a small practice near Stuyvesant Square. None of them old enough to be Neill Graham’s father or grandfather, but they’d have a look anyway. They’d find something to eat and start calling on hospital night porters. Most of them liked to talk, all of them were bored, and they saw a lot.
What Jack wanted to do was to go home to Anna, to stay close so she didn’t start to imagine that the things she had told him in the night were weighing on him. As if anything could make him think less of her. He wrote her a note, one that he put in an envelope and sealed.
Anna my love, I’ll be very late but it’s your own fault. The suggestion you made earlier today has us rushing around Manhattan looking for that second doctor, and we’re making progress. Oscar thinks you’re after his job. I ask myself now every day how I got so lucky. Love you, J.
• • •
ALL DAY LONG Anna wondered if she had imagined the newspaper article about Archer Campbell, a question that could have been answered by a short trip to the corner where six different daily newspapers could be had for pennies each. She could read the news in German, if she pleased, or Italian, or Hebrew. And then as soon as the opportunity presented itself, she had some very specific questions for Jack and Oscar.
But she didn’t go get a paper, not so much because she conquered her disquiet but because she had one emergency after another that kept her in the operating room. It began with a woman whose hand had been caught up in the machinery at a steam cleaners, mangled and scalded both. There was no choice but to amputate, which meant that she was robbing the woman of her livelihood. She explained this to her husband, still young enough that he had very little beard, and watched his eyes fill with tears that he blinked back furiously.
Elise was serving as the circulating nurse that day, and was doing a very good job ignoring the stares and whispers that came her way. They were referring to her as the little nun with the hard fist. Apparently Anna wasn’t the only one thinking about Campbell’s visit.
“I hear you were assaulted in the hall yesterday,” Judith Ambrose said when they were scrubbing in together. “A red-haired demon, the story goes. Nurse Mercier came to your rescue with a very professional one-two punch.”
Anna had to laugh. “She says she was taught how to fight by her brothers.”
“She’s a tough one, all right. Let’s see how she handles this sad mess.”
The patient was a woman of about thirty, a charwoman so strong that it took three orderlies to restrain her. She was howling, a terrible mournful wail that cut right to the bone.
“You can’t have my baby.” Her voice was tear-clogged and hoarse. “You can’t, you can’t, I won’t let you.”
Judy Ambrose crouched down so that the patient could see her face.
“Mrs. Allen. Listen, please, Mrs. Allen. Your baby is no longer alive. Its heart stopped beating at least a month ago. I’m sorry for your loss, truly sorry, but we have to think of your health now. The medicine we’ve given you will help you deliver the child. Don’t fight it, please. If you don’t deliver the child you’ll get very sick and you will die of blood poisoning.”
“No, it’s not dead.” She strained against the restraints, her whole body arching into a contraction. When it passed she said, “I feel it kicking. Just leave it be, just go away and leave me alone. Please.”
Anna finished scrubbing in and saw that Elise was watching this exchange very closely. She was biting her lip as if to keep herself from speaking.
“Elise?”
“Just a thought.”
“Go on.”
“She might be comforted by prayer. If someone prayed with her for the soul of her child. Can a priest be called?”
“You don’t want to pray with her?”
Elise put a hand to her lower face and shook her head sharply.
“Then find someone who will,” Anna said. “We’re about to get started here.”
• • •
NOT A HALF hour after the conclusion to Mrs. Allen’s labor Anna was scrubbing in again, this time for a slack-faced young girl who refused to give a name. Her problem was easily diagnosed.
Elise said, “This seems to be a common . . . ailment.”
“Women who are desperate do desperate things,” Anna said. “You will see a lot of this, I’m sorry to say.”
“I thought I understood about poverty.”
“You still don’t. You won’t, until you start going out with the visiting nurses. That’s where many women give up medicine.”
“Not men?”
Anna looked at this young woman who showed so much promise, who learned so eagerly and quickly, and who still was completely unprepared for the trials to come.
“Primarily women. Few male doctors will visit patients in the worst of the tenements. I don’t know of any who treat the outdoor poor unless they come to a clinic. I personally think that all male medical students should be required to pay home visits to the poorest and most desperate for a month at least, but nobody asks my opinion.” She managed a small smile. “So let’s see to this girl. I think her case will take a happy ending.” She stopped herself.
“That’s entirely the wrong word. What I mean is, we will probably be able to save her life.”
• • •
ON THE WAY home she stopped to buy a variety of newspapers, and then sat on a bench in the small cemetery behind St. Mark’s to look through them. She found mention of Archer Campbell’s arrest in all of them, the articles prominently placed. There was no new information beyond the fact that he had been arrested when three stolen bearer bonds were found in his possession. The gossip rags were speculating on his role in the disappearance of his four sons. In that they were entirely wrong, and also absolutely correct.
The names of the detectives were familiar, for the simple reason that Jack had introduced her to both Michael Larkin and Hank Sainsbury the last time she had been to police headquarters. They had been both polite and terribly awkward, because, Jack told her later, they had no experience of respectable women in their squad room and feared the wrath of Maroney if they failed to meet his standards of proper behavior.
She thought of Archer Campbell sitting in the Tombs. With his visit to the New Amsterdam he had crossed a line of no return, in Jack’s view of the world. She asked herself if she should be objecting for moral or ethical reasons. Then she thought of Mabel Stone and four little boys, and decided she should not.
44
SHE SAID, “DON’T you have a full day planned?”
Jack’s arms tightened around her waist. “You owe me a rainy Saturday in bed.”
“I might debate that, if it were raining. But it’s not. Jack.”
“Heartless wretch.” Just a mutter, but she heard it and she knew without a doubt that he was already asleep again. It was a trick Anna knew too; she had learned it out of necessity during her training. Somehow that made it easier to rouse him again. She pressed a hand to his shoulder.
“Jack. Don’t you have to go in?”
His eyes opened. “I didn’t get in until three hours ago.”
“That late,” Anna said. “Did you make some progress on the case?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and the beard stubble made a sound like a scrubbing brush on brickwork.
“Three doctors named Graham so far, none of them fit the bill. We talked to maybe ten night porters. Later today we’ll go to the registry office and have a look through the books.” He yawned and stretched, opened one eye, and waggled both brows at her.
“Come here.”
“Oh, no.” She danced away, grabbing up her robe.
“You woke me not once, but twice. Now you must face the consequences.”
She slipped out the door and ran, and he came along after her, grumbling, struggling into his robe. In the dining room she said, “Why are you following me?”
“Now you’re fishing for compliments,” he said, and gave another great yawn.
• • •
AT THE TABLE he showed her the text of the advertisement they were going to run in the newspapers. Anna read it while she buttered her toast.
She said, “So the idea is that if you can’t stop him right away, you might be able to slow him down?”
“At this point we have to warn the public.”
Anna reasoned that if this announcement in the newspaper frightened one woman away, it was worth the effort and expense. “But what if it makes him angry, what might that mean? Would it make him—strike out more often?”
“My sense is that it won’t make a difference,” Jack said. “I think he’s picking up his pace anyway, and that may mean he’s getting sloppy. I’ve been wondering ever since we interviewed Mamie Winthrop’s maid. She gave me the impression that women like Winthrop don’t have trouble finding a doctor to solve this particular problem, if the price is right and it can be handled privately. Is that true?”
“Nobody talks about it, but yes, probably. This is one of those areas where physicians say one thing publicly to protect themselves, but then do what they must in the patient’s best interest.”
“Or for their bank balances.”
She nodded, stiffly. “There are unscrupulous physicians, as there are unscrupulous bankers and factory owners and police. Can we talk about something else?”
Just then Mrs. Cabot brought in the mail, a letter from Amelie on the very top.
“Apparently not,” Anna said, and opened it while Jack began to look through the rest of the mail.
She said, “She sent a newspaper clipping with a note. We’re supposed to go see a woman called Kate Sparrow who lives on Patchin Place; she’s got a market stall where she sells sewing supplies, buttons and ribbons and such. I know her stall, but where is Patchin Place?”