Maggie O'Bannen 2 Page 4

  ‘That’s easy for you to say with your gun tied to your leg. I’m no fighting man,’ Doc said.

  Rick glared at him. ‘Nobody expects you to be. Just do what you’re good at and find out who’s murdering Maggie’s pa.’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘I’m sorry, my husband—Doctor Peters—isn’t here.’

  The young woman peering around the barely opened door looked as though she hadn’t slept for a few days. Dark shadows under her red-rimmed hazel eyes provided a stark contrast to the pallor of her skin. Her blonde hair hung in an untidy knot on top of her head. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the door.

  ‘Do you mind if we come in and wait?’ Doc asked. ‘It’s urgent that we speak with him.’

  Reluctantly, she showed them to a small kitchen at the back of the house where she poured coffee in to china cups and offered them cookies that were fresh out of the oven. After a few minutes of small talk, they lapsed into silence.

  ‘I don’t know where he’s got to,’ Mrs. Peters said, glancing at the clock on the dresser.

  ‘Maybe he’s with a patient,’ Doc suggested.

  ‘I suppose he could be up at the big house.’

  ‘Big house?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Mr. Stanford’s house. Poor thing. Bill says he doesn’t have long left. He’s been ill for quite a while. It’s strange really.’

  ‘Strange?’ Doc asked.

  ‘That Mrs. Stanford asked Bill to tend him. Doctor Porter, over on Pinfold Street, is much more experienced. Then again I’ve heard Mrs. Stanford can be a little...erm…’ She bit her lip. ‘Well, let’s just say she likes to get her own way.’

  Maggie laughed. ‘Don’t we all, if we can get away with it.’

  Doc shot her a hawkish look that warned her not to try his patience.

  ‘But at what cost, Mrs. Simpkins?’ Mrs. Peters asked. ‘A husband? A marriage?’

  Just then a knock at the kitchen door preceded Sheriff Anderson’s entry. He pushed his way in as if he belonged there. Curled up beside the stove, a fat lazy-looking cat watched him through yellow eyes. When he removed his hat, the animal arched its back and hissed.

  ‘Careful, Sheriff,’ Mrs. Peters warned. ‘You know he’s not fond of people.’

  As if to prove the point, the feline stabbed its claws at him then ran off as the sheriff retaliated with a swipe of his hat.

  ‘Fancy meeting you two here,’ he said, looking between Doc and Maggie.

  ‘Quite the coincidence,’ Doc said drily.

  ‘I’m starting to wonder. Seems whenever anything happens lately, you’re somewhere around.’

  Doc scowled but said nothing.

  ‘If you’re looking for Bill, Sheriff,’ Mrs. Peters interrupted, getting to her feet and heading for the stove, ‘he’s not here. Do you want coffee?’

  Anderson’s mood changed. He turned his wide-brimmed hat between his hands. ‘No, Martha. I’m afraid I’m here in an official capacity. I’ve got some bad news. They just found Bill’s body out back of the Big Diamond saloon.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ Rick said later as they sat around a table at one of the quieter eateries off Main Street. ‘Any idea who might have done it?’

  Maggie cast a sideways glance at Doc. ‘The sheriff says in a town like this it could have been anyone.’

  Rick pushed a piece of peach pie around his plate while the other two sipped their coffee. When the bell above the door rang, Maggie looked up and recognized Archie Cavanaugh. The detective stopped and scanned the room until he saw them, then made a beeline to their table.

  ‘Do you have word from my father?’ Maggie asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Did you hear the news?’ he asked, pulling a chair away from the next table and sitting down.

  ‘Peters?’ Doc asked.

  Archie nodded and leaned back as a buxom waitress poured him a cup of coffee. He declined to order anything else and waited until she was out of earshot before continuing.

  ‘I don’t believe his death was as random as the sheriff seems to think it was.’

  ‘What do you think happened then?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Same as you probably; that he was murdered.’ He leaned in slightly and waited for them to do the same. ‘Emma tells me there was an argument at the house yesterday between Peters and Lucille, your father’s wife,’ he added to Maggie. ‘She only heard about it this morning, from one of the maids. The girl didn’t know what it was about but she said Peters was escorted off the premises by two of the servants.’

  Maggie noticed the inflection in his voice and the way his eyes darted around the room. She let her gaze follow his, noting the dozen other patrons eating and drinking at tables spread around the large glass fronted premises. They were a motley bunch but no one seemed out of place. She let it go when Doc started speaking.

  ‘That doesn’t prove anything. Martha Peters told us Lucille fired the previous medic.’ Doc pointed out. ‘He’s not dead, is he?’

  Archie shook his head.

  ‘Then what makes you think an argument would escalate to murder in this instance?’

  ‘Porter was fired before George took ill. He didn’t even see what you saw, Doc, and you saw what Peters saw. There’s a lot at stake here for the person behind it.’

  Maggie’s brain whirred. In other words, someone eliminated him because he knew the truth. That didn’t bode well for Archie or Emma or anyone else who had been in contact with her father.

  ‘What are you telling us, Archie?’ Maggie asked, sensing there was more. ‘Are you saying someone at the house is manipulating Lucille?’

  ‘Far from it.’ He looked around the room, his eyes narrowing as he glanced towards a burly man wearing a black suit who had just entered. ‘Doc can you get your medical bag and go up to the house now?’

  ‘Probably. Why?’

  ‘Now that Peters is dead, George needs another physician. Say you’re new in town, looking to set up a practice and you heard that the local doctor had met an untimely death. You’re visiting his patients to see if you can be of service.’

  Doc frowned.

  ‘Make sure you speak to Lucille personally. Turn on the charm. You’re her type, it shouldn’t take much to convince her.’

  Maggie chuckled, earning herself a waspish look from Doc.

  ‘Then what?’ Doc asked.

  ‘Do your job. See the patient. Just don’t let on that you know the real cause of his illness. I know it probably goes against everything you stand for but will you do it?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, without hesitation.

  ‘What about me?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘You wouldn’t get near him. Even Attorney Philips only got fifteen minutes with him.’

  ‘Is he worse?’ she asked, gripped by panic.

  ‘Emma says he’s about the same but he’s made it clear he doesn’t want you putting yourself in danger.’

  It was a blow but she accepted it with a tight nod.

  ‘Shall I say you sent me?’ Doc asked.

  ‘You won’t need to. Lucille will know who you are, and that you talked to me, before you reach the house,’ Archie told Doc. ‘Just stick to the truth as much as possible but don’t show your hand.’ He threw some change down on the table. ‘I’ll see you later.’ With that, he left.

  ‘What do you make of that?’ Doc asked.

  Maggie watched Archie cross the street and disappear from sight. ‘He’s not telling us everything, that’s for sure, but I’ll feel happier knowing my father is in your care.’ She gripped his arm. ‘You heard what he said though, be careful.’

  ‘It looks like you were right. He’s coming up the hill now.’

  Lucille Stanford turned away from the large glass window that overlooked the town below. In her late twenties, brown haired and brown eyed, she wasn’t naturally pretty but she had learned to make the most of what she had. Her tailored emerald green dress skimmed a figure that had curves in all the right places and revealed just
enough skin at the bosom to interest a man whilst maintaining decency.

  ‘Wait in the kitchen,’ she told the man in the black suit. ‘I’ll let you know if I need you.’

  ‘Are you sure, Mrs. Stanford?’

  ‘Positive. The doctor’s credentials have been confirmed to me. I’ll be quite all right.’ She had a thought. ‘Tell Emma he’s on his way, would you?’

  He nodded deferentially and stepped out of the large airy sitting room.

  Lucille approached the mirror hung above the ornate marble and mosaic fireplace. After patting her high-piled hair in to place, she pinched her cheeks and nibbled her lips to bring a rosy glow to each. Lastly, she adjusted the neckline of her dress to reveal a tad more cleavage, then smoothed her skirt.

  ‘Might as well play along,’ she mumbled as she spread herself elegantly on the chaise longue.

  Like a cat watching a mouse, her gaze followed John Simpkins as he approached through the iron gates and up the stone path to the house. The bell clanged loudly. Again she nibbled her lips and smoothed her hair. Two minutes later, a knock sounded at the double doors and the young butler, wearing a fancy brocaded vest and white gloves, announced him.

  ‘Show him in, Jed,’ she said, in a low voice.

  Her assessment of the tall man in the smart grey suit was a positive one. Around thirty, his dark slightly graying hair and dark eyes gave him a distinguished look. His intense gaze seemed to bore into her and she felt a tingle run up her spine as she got to her feet and held out her hand to greet him.

  ‘Doctor Simpkins, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’

  His eyes met and held hers as he took her hand and inclined his head graciously. ‘Mrs. Stanford. The pleasure is mine. I hope you’ll forgive me for calling on you like this but I heard your husband might be in need of a new physician.’

  ‘Mr. Cavanaugh told you that?’

  The abrupt question didn’t faze him. ‘Word travels fast in a town like this. It was most unfortunate what happened to Doctor Peters.’

  She disengaged her hand and sat back down. ‘So, what is it you want?’

  ‘It’s obvious you know something about me so I’ll be honest with you. I came to Flamstead to set up a lucrative practice and it seems my arrival was well-timed.’ He paused as if gauging her reaction. ‘I’m visiting all Doctor Peters’ patients to offer my services.’ He smiled graciously. ‘And, please, call me John.’

  He was very charming, she had to give him that. Under other circumstances, his attention would have been flattering, but any friend of Margaret Stanford’s, especially a man claimed to be her husband, was no friend of hers.

  ‘What do you know of my husband’s illness?’ she asked bluntly.

  ‘As I understand it, he’s in the last stages of consumption.’

  She nodded. ‘Have you treated many cases?’

  ‘I have a theoretical knowledge mostly. Enough to ensure your husband’s comfort in his last days.’

  She nodded, encouraging him, letting him believe he was fooling her.

  ‘And how do I know that you’ll be discreet?’ she asked. ‘After all, my husband is an influential man. I wouldn’t want details of his demise to spread. People get all sorts of ideas when a man takes ill and dies suddenly.’

  He crossed the silk rug and sat beside her on the chaise, picking up her hand between both of his and fixing her with his dark gaze.

  ‘I assure you, madam…’ He pressed his lips against the back of her fingers. ‘I’m very discreet.’

  She decided to play along. ‘And what does your wife think about that?’ she asked pointedly.

  ‘My wife?’ A frown creased his forehead. ‘My wife is a bad tempered drunk. She rarely thinks beyond her next bottle of whiskey.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ she said without feeling. ‘Why don’t you take a look at my husband and we’ll see what arrangement we can come to.’

  Chapter Eight

  Doc threw down the $50 retainer Lucille had given him. ‘The woman made my skin crawl. If she’s not the one behind it, I’ll boil my own head.’

  Archie had joined them for a late supper at the hotel. Now with the last of the diners leaving, they pushed aside their plates and got down to business.

  ‘I knew you’d see right through her.’ Archie said. ‘I’ve had my suspicions since George first took ill two months ago. Straightaway, she fired Porter who had been the family doctor for years and brought in Peters who was little more than a glorified dentist.’

  ‘Didn’t my father have anything to say about that?’

  ‘He didn’t have time for doctors. He just thought he had been overdoing it. By the time the extent of his illness became apparent, Lucille was already in charge of the situation.’

  Maggie felt her anger building. Lucille was obviously guilty. How could she not be? A wife would know her husband.

  ‘So tell me about Lucille,’ Maggie said, keeping her tone even. ‘I vaguely remember her. I think her parents owned a store and she acted as bookkeeper. She knew father through her dealings with the bank.’ She yawned through the last words as her previous night’s antics caught up with her. ‘I met her a few times but she and I moved in different circles. She was a few years older than me, plain, dowdy, always looked like she was wearing her mother’s dresses. She wasn’t the type of woman father admired.’

  Doc glanced at Archie, shaking his head subtly as they both raised an eyebrow.

  ‘After you were kidnapped she provided George with comfort. The rest, as they say, is history. All I know for sure is that within a few years of the marriage, she was entertaining other men.’

  Guilty, Maggie thought. She had to be. Nevertheless, Maggie took a minute to digest the facts, more for the sake of the others than a need to clarify things in her own mind. It backfired.

  ‘Although I already hate her,’ she said, fighting resentment, ‘that, as Doc would say, doesn’t prove she’s the one poisoning him.’

  Archie sighed and sat back in his chair. ‘And that’s the problem I’ve been wrestling with. She’s the only one with something to gain but there’s nothing to connect her. Although there’s arsenic in the house, she doesn’t buy it. She doesn’t prepare the meals. She doesn’t feed him. In fact, she barely sees him.’

  ‘So anyone in the house could be lacing his food,’ Doc concluded. ‘I’m presuming you’ve looked at everyone else with the opportunity?’

  Archie nodded. ‘Apart from the two men that Lucille has running around for her, and Emma, everyone else has worked at the house since before Lucille arrived. Everything points to Lucille, and nothing points to Lucille,’ he concluded.

  The tick of the grandfather clock in the corner was the only sound as they all considered what he had just said.

  ‘Maybe we could get her to confess,’ Leo suggested.

  They all chuckled, except for Maggie. ‘It’s not a bad idea.’

  ‘She’d never do it,’ Archie said. ‘She’s too clever to say anything that might jeopardize her future.’

  Maggie shrugged irritably. Archie had a counter argument for everything and it was starting to wear on her nerves.

  ‘If she’s that clever,’ she said, yawning again, ‘she’ll know that all the money in the world won’t do her any good if she’s dead.’ She got to her feet. ‘I need to see my father. Can you arrange it?’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do but I’m not promising anything.’

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ Maggie said, past caring what Archie had to say as she headed for the door.

  After she was gone, Archie excused himself and the others sat in silence for a while. Doc knew they were all asking themselves the same thing: what trouble was Maggie going to get them into?

  ‘You know we can’t stop her if she makes up her mind,’ Rick said at last.

  ‘We have to try,’ Leo argued.

  ‘You’re both right but...it’s been a long day. Does anyone else want a drink while we think on it?’

  Rick got to his feet
. ‘I’ll buy.’

  According to the sign above the entrance to the Fool’s Gold saloon and bawdy-house, it offered “everything a man’s heart desires”. Certainly it attracted a lot of custom. Between the drinkers, the gamblers, the dancing girls and the soiled doves there was barely an inch of space in the place.

  They hustled their way to the long mahogany bar at the back of the room and ordered a bottle of whiskey. Despite near constant jostling, Rick managed to pour three generous measures. Leo watched wide-eyed and nervous as the other two finished theirs in one neat throwback.

  ‘Don’t you want that?’ Rick asked Leo, raising his voice above the general hubbub.

  ‘Can I?’ he asked hopeful and doubting at the same time.

  ‘I poured it for you, didn’t I?’

  Leo picked it up, holding it between the index finger and thumb of both hands as he licked his lips and stared at the amber liquid with plate-sized eyes. Someone bumped him from behind but he managed to keep it steady.

  ‘Careful, Leo, you look like you’ve never drunk whiskey before,’ Doc warned him, leaning in to make himself heard.

  ‘I haven’t.’

  Doc grinned and winked at Rick. ‘Then in my medical opinion, you should just swallow it down in one go.’

  Leo nodded. Being the youngest, he never questioned what the others told him. Doc continued to grin as the whiskey hit the back of the youngster’s throat and burned all the way down to his stomach with spluttering results.

  Doc smacked him on the back. ‘Congratulations,’ he said as Leo struggled to catch his breath. ‘You just took your first step to becoming a man.’

  Leo grimaced. ‘I can’t see why you all like it so much. I feel like I swallowed a bucket of fire.’

  Rick poured refills. ‘Drink enough of it and you’ll soon find out.’

  Doc raised his glass. ‘Amen to that, gentleman.’

  As a rule, he wasn’t much of a drinker but tonight Doc felt like making an exception. If it was good enough for Maggie, then why the hell not? Coming home had been meant to put her demons to rest. Instead, it had put her on a collision course with trouble and she seemed hell-bent on speeding towards it. Damn her!