Murder on Charles Street - Leighann Dobbs Page 0,32
Westing House—is the niece of a woman who works for Dr. Gammon as his housekeeper. So whenever we’re ill or injured, Mary calls on her aunt, and he’ll treat us free of charge, especially now that he has no other patients that demand his time. He fit the wrist back into place, and Mary’s aunt made a poultice that helps with the pain.”
Katherine frowned as she thought. “His housekeeper… do you mean Mrs. Campbell?”
Peggy nodded. “Yes, that’s the woman. A kinder soul you’ll never see, and loyal too. She takes care of her own.”
Whenever Dr. Gammon had spoken of his housekeeper, he hadn’t mentioned that he had taught her about medicine. “Why would Mrs. Campbell make you a poultice and not Dr. Gammon?”
The maid wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care for the sort of tinctures he prescribes. Laudanum makes me sleepy, and I can’t afford it. At least with this”—she hefted her wrist—“I can still work with my good hand. And it numbs the pain.”
“What is it made from?” Katherine asked. She wouldn’t want to slather something with so noxious a stench on her own skin, but perhaps if Emma were injured, she could treat the dog herself. After all, she no longer had Dr. Gammon’s help. A fresh wave of grief crested over her, but she took a deep breath and pushed it aside.
Seemingly oblivious to ought except the cobbles at her feet, the maid shrugged. “I can’t say. Herbs and the like, I suppose.”
Perhaps Katherine would have to ask Mrs. Campbell herself for the secret. In fact, if she were to speak with Mrs. Campbell, she might as well ask about her niece and her position in Lord Westing’s house.
Before she found herself too consumed in future plans, Katherine asked about her other suspect. Focusing on the mystery gave her purpose. “Didn’t Dr. Gammon work with a partner?”
Peggy nodded. “He did, a fellow by the name of Dr. Sumner. Lord Westing imbibed too much and would call one or the other at all hours when his stomach or chest ailed him. If you ask me, it was his lavish lifestyle that did him in. Dr. Sumner is nice enough, though not as kind as Dr. Gammon. Dr. Gammon…” She paused, drawing in a breath. “He truly cared about us working folk, you know? We don’t see that sort of treatment often.”
Pru asked, “And Lord Westing’s daughter? She didn’t share your good opinion of the doctors?”
The maid shrugged. “Who am I to know the lady’s mind? She wailed at them at first, but that didn’t bring her father back from the dead, now did it?”
Katherine asked, “She hasn’t confronted them recently?”
Peggy gave her an odd look. “I wouldn’t know, but I don’t guess so.”
“Where was Lady Westing the night before last? Do you know if she went out after dark?”
The line of confusion between the maid’s eyebrows deepened. “I’m afraid I have no idea where Lord Westing’s daughter was—and she’s Mrs. Eden now, not Lady Westing.”
If the maid couldn’t confirm the whereabouts of Lord Westing’s daughter on the night of the murder, perhaps she had killed Dr. Gammon! Katherine might already have found the clue she needed to solve the case. “Then she was out that night?”
Peggy shook her head. “No, you misunderstand. I don’t know where she was because Mrs. Eden isn’t in London.”
“She isn’t?” Pru asked.
Peggy shook her head. “She lives east of town in the country house her father entailed to her.”
Katherine’s primary suspect didn’t even live in London. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t driven all the way in from her country estate, but that made it rather more likely that someone would have seen her. “If she isn’t in London, why is your poor footman so laden down with packages?”
Peggy shrugged her good shoulder. “The title went to a cousin. Lord Westing IV is in residence at the house now, and I must say he is a far better employer than his predecessor.”
Harriet tried to keep her emotions off her face as Jarrod, the young footman, peacocked for her. In a show of strength, he shifted every package onto one hand in a tottering tower of parcels. Rather slender of frame, he didn’t have the bulging muscles or thick shoulders to impress. Not to mention, if his attention continued to stray to her figure, those packages would topple on her head.
She didn’t have time for his flirting. “My, that is a tall order of packages. For Lord Westing, you said? Tell me, is he