With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel (35 page)

Elizabeth nodded. No wonder Katie had been unable to give her details of what had occurred.

“I’ll be fine,” Elizabeth assured Jason with false bravado as he helped her out of the carriage. The truth was, she was concerned about whatever had spooked Katie. The girl had always seemed sensible. Even when Sheila had been dying, Katie had remained calm, but tonight she seemed close to panic.

Jason shook his head. “I’m not going to let you go in there alone. We don’t know what happened.” He handed Elizabeth her medical bag, then put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close for a second. “You can send me away once I see that you’re safe inside. I’ll wait in the carriage until you’re ready to leave. You won’t be alone.” He repeated the words that had comforted Elizabeth when she was struggling to keep Louella alive.

“Thank you.” Though she hadn’t wanted to ask Jason to accompany her, believing it would be an imposition and yet another reminder that her profession was interfering with his plans for the evening, Elizabeth felt a sense of relief that she would not be alone when she faced the cause of Katie’s panic. Perhaps Katie was mistaken. Perhaps whatever had happened was not serious, and Elizabeth and Jason would be able to reach the Opera House before the concert began.

Elizabeth shivered as they rounded the corner and approached the back of Phoebe’s house, apprehension mingling with the cool November air.

“This way, Doctor.” Katie pointed toward the outside entrance to Phoebe’s apartment.

To Elizabeth’s surprise, the door was ajar, and though the breeze was carrying most of it away, there was no mistaking the smell of blood. Katie had been right to believe something was wrong. Her heart sinking at the realization that she might be too late to help, Elizabeth approached Phoebe’s parlor.

“Someone has lost a lot of blood,” she said softly, in case Jason did not recognize the smell.

He nodded, then pushed the door open for Elizabeth. She entered the room, trying not to recoil at the sight. A lamp cast its warm yellow glow over the room, revealing a crystal
decanter and two glasses set on a low table in front of the tapestry-covered settee. A potted plant with a few blossoms decorated a tall plant stand. Everything seemed normal, so long as Elizabeth did not permit her gaze to move to the floor. She had feared death, but it was worse than she had expected, for not one but two bodies were sprawled there.

Nelson Chadwick lay in the center of the room, his legs bent at an awkward angle, his sightless eyes staring at the ceiling. He had been dead for a few minutes. Elizabeth knew that instantly, just as she knew that the cause of death was the stab wounds he’d sustained to his chest. The slit shirt and the bloodstains on its previously snowy front told her that. Though there was no sign of the weapon, Elizabeth suspected a knife.

“Poor Nelson. He didn’t deserve that.”

Jason was right. Knowing there was nothing she could do for Nelson, Elizabeth turned toward the second body, dreading what she would find. Like Nelson, Phoebe did not deserve violent death. No one did. The blonde-haired woman who’d proudly placed her name on this building lay facedown a few feet away from Nelson, a pool of blood spreading beneath her.

There was no way of telling whether she was still alive, but Elizabeth said a brief prayer as she knelt next to Phoebe, carefully turning her over.
Oh, Phoebe!
Elizabeth shuddered at the sight of the pale face and closed eyes. The knife embedded in Phoebe’s chest left no question about the source of the blood.

“She killed him! She killed Mr. Chadwick!”

Elizabeth turned, startled by the shrieking. Though she had thought Katie had remained outside, it appeared that she had entered the room behind Elizabeth and Jason. “I heard
voices,” Katie screeched. “I heard arguing. Then someone fell.”

Elizabeth gave Jason an imploring look as she placed her stethoscope on Phoebe’s chest, hoping against hope that the woman was still alive. She did not need a frantic woman shouting while she tried to treat a patient.

Jason grabbed Katie’s arm. “Dr. Harding and I will take care of this,” he said sternly as he marched Katie through the interior doorway and into the hall. “You go back to whatever you were doing. And don’t say anything to anyone until the sheriff arrives. He’ll want to talk to you.”

It was a futile request. Elizabeth knew that, but she didn’t care. What mattered now was saving Phoebe. For, though she had lost a large quantity of blood, she still clung to life. Her breathing was so shallow that her chest barely moved with each inspiration, but so long as she breathed, Elizabeth had hope.

“I think the knife may have punctured a lung,” she told Jason when he returned.

Though his face whitened at the implication, he nodded. “Do you need help?”

She shook her head. She had handled knife wounds as part of her training, although this was the first time the victim had been a woman.

“Then I’d better get the sheriff before he hears a distorted view of what happened. Are you sure you’ll be all right until I return?” Jason asked, inclining his head toward Nelson’s body.

Elizabeth nodded. “It’s not my first experience with death.” Although it was the first time she’d encountered violent death. Moving as quickly as she could, Elizabeth cut away Phoebe’s gown and corset before removing the knife. The gush of blood
that she’d feared did not happen, but the wound was deep and would need to be sutured. And then there was the blood loss. Elizabeth had seen patients die after losing less than Phoebe had.

Saying a silent prayer as she kept her eyes focused on Phoebe, Elizabeth cleansed the wound site and began to suture the gash. Fortunately for Phoebe, the knife appeared to have missed her heart, though Elizabeth’s first diagnosis had been accurate and Phoebe’s left lung had been punctured.

“Oh, Phoebe, what happened?” Elizabeth murmured as she took tiny, careful stitches to close the wound. There was no answer, but she hadn’t expected one. Phoebe was so near death that she was unable to speak, and as far as Elizabeth could tell, she was unaware of her surroundings. Given the amount of blood she’d lost and the seriousness of her condition, that was a mercy.

While her fingers moved mechanically, suturing the layers of skin and tissue, Elizabeth’s brain continued to whirl. The girls had told her that while Phoebe rarely entertained men, there were one or two special customers who were admitted to her suite. Nelson must have been one of them. But if that was true, Elizabeth could not imagine why Phoebe had killed him. Though she didn’t know Nelson well, he had always struck Elizabeth as a peaceful man. And though Phoebe had a quick temper, Elizabeth had never seen any signs of violence. Phoebe tended to be more bluster than bite.

Elizabeth tied a suture and clipped the end. It could have been a lovers’ quarrel. She’d heard tales of them. But though that was possible, something still did not feel right. Elizabeth simply could not imagine Phoebe killing a man and then trying to take her own life.

“In here, sheriff.”

Elizabeth turned at the sound of Jason’s voice. He ushered a tall, very thin man with graying brown hair and shrewd brown eyes into the room. After he’d acknowledged Jason’s introductions, the sheriff walked around the room, his expression grave. Though he did not touch either body, Elizabeth had the impression that his eyes were cataloging everything.

“It looks pretty cut and dried,” he said at last. “Phoebe killed Nelson and tried to kill herself.”

There was nothing Elizabeth could say, no way to refute the sheriff’s allegations, even though she believed them to be false. She, Jason, and the sheriff were all missing a clue, for the Phoebe Elizabeth knew would not have killed a man she’d obviously favored, and she was an unlikely candidate for suicide. Phoebe enjoyed life too much to deprive herself of a single minute.

The sheriff looked down at Elizabeth as she bandaged Phoebe’s wound. “You could save the Territory the expense of a trial by just letting her die now. I sure do hate to hang women, even when they deserve it the way she does.”

Anger, sharp and fierce, flared inside Elizabeth. Even if the sheriff was correct and Phoebe had killed Nelson, she could not be left to die. Elizabeth rose. There was nothing more she could do for Phoebe here. The wound was closed, and Phoebe’s breathing, though shallow, was improving. Once the sheriff left, Elizabeth would ask Jason to help her take Phoebe to her infirmary. She could keep a vigil there, but first she owed the sheriff a response. Looking him in the eye, Elizabeth said, “I will not let her die. I took an oath to save lives, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. If Phoebe survives, she can stand trial.”

The sheriff shrugged. “It won’t be easy, finding someone to defend her. Lots of folks liked Nelson.”

“Would you defend her?” Elizabeth asked Jason an hour later. They were sitting in the kitchen that adjoined her infirmary, sipping coffee that Jason had made while Elizabeth tended to her patient. Elizabeth gave a silent prayer of thanks that Phoebe had survived the short ride from her bordello to the infirmary and that her condition appeared stable, though she had not regained consciousness. While Phoebe’s loss of blood might have been the reason for the unconsciousness, Elizabeth was inclined to blame the large bump on the back of Phoebe’s head. She hadn’t seen it at first, but when she’d helped lift Phoebe into the carriage, a few of Phoebe’s intricate curls had come undone and Elizabeth had discovered the lump.

Jason drained his cup and poured another before he answered. “I know that everyone deserves a defense, but I can’t afford Phoebe. I don’t mean financially, either. People are starting to forget Adam Bennett. If I took on the case of another brutal murder, I doubt I’d have any clients left.” Elizabeth heard the regret in Jason’s voice and suspected what he regretted was disappointing her, not leaving Phoebe with no defense. “Besides,” he added after he’d taken a large swallow of coffee, “Nelson was my client. If anything, I ought to be prosecuting his murderer.”

“What if Phoebe isn’t the murderer?”

“She is. The evidence is clear.”

Though it had appeared that way, Elizabeth was not convinced. “I know Phoebe. She’s a hard woman in some
respects—she’d have to be to live the way she does—but I don’t believe she’s capable of murder.”

Jason’s grip on the mug told Elizabeth he disagreed. Though he’d only defended one murderer, he had undoubtedly studied numerous cases of homicide in law school and was more familiar with murderers’ actions than Elizabeth. Like the sheriff, he believed Phoebe was guilty.

“People lie.” Jason’s voice was low but filled with pain. “They show you the sides of themselves they want you to see. That’s what Adam Bennett did. He pretended to be a bereaved husband when he was really a violent killer.”

Elizabeth cocked her head, wondering whether she had heard a sound coming from the infirmary. It might have been her imagination, for the only things she heard were the ordinary sounds of her breathing and Jason’s, the ticking of the clock, and the clinking of the mug when Jason placed it on the table.

“I know what happened in the Bennett case and how painful that was to you. The problem is, I don’t think this is the same. Even if Phoebe killed Nelson—and I can’t believe that she did—why would she try to kill herself?”

“Remorse.” Though his voice remained firm, Jason’s shrug said he wasn’t as certain as he sounded. “Maybe in her own way Phoebe cared about Nelson. Something angered her, and she lashed out, killing him, then regretted it.”

The coffee was strong and hot, just what Elizabeth needed to clear the cobwebs that had taken residence in her brain. Unfortunately, though the coffee was good, the cobwebs remained. What Jason said made sense, and yet . . .

“I understand why you’re such a successful attorney. You almost convinced me. Almost. I still don’t believe Phoebe’s a murderer.”

Jason merely shrugged, indicating that nothing Elizabeth said would change his mind. They were at an impasse. Elizabeth glanced at the clock hanging over the table. “The concert must have ended by now.”

“And no one got to see your gown.”

She gave her dress a rueful smile. “It’s ruined. I’ll never get the bloodstains out.” Elizabeth fingered the silk, carefully skirting the patches that were stiffened with blood. “Charlotte will claim she doesn’t mind, but I know this was one of her favorite gowns. I hate the fact that I ruined it.”

More than the gown had been destroyed by the events surrounding Nelson Chadwick’s murder. Jason’s plans for the evening had been ruined. He’d gone to so much trouble and expense, even arranging for box seats, and then Elizabeth’s responsibilities as a physician had interfered. “I’m sorry, Jason.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I know you didn’t plan this. You did what you had to do, and I . . .” He broke off and cleared his throat. “If you’re going to stay here with Phoebe, why don’t I ask Gwen to give me some fresh clothes for you?”

It wasn’t what he had planned to say. Elizabeth knew that. The solemn expression in Jason’s eyes told her she wasn’t ready to hear the rest of his incomplete sentence. Not tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough to listen to him admit that their courtship must end, that he was not willing to marry a woman who could not promise him more than a portion of her heart.