Saturday, late afternoon, March 11, 1882
Pacific Dispensary for Women and Children
“Richard, Dr. Blair is here because I asked her to be with me. She is a very busy woman, with patients she must attend to, so don’t waste her time, or mine, with meaningless apologies.”
Ella put her hand on Phoebe’s wrist in order to monitor the woman’s pulse, which was rapid, but not dangerously so. When Megs, the downstairs servant, had arrived in Phoebe Truscott’s room a few minutes earlier to announce that Mr. Truscott was downstairs asking if he could speak with his wife, Ella was surprised the young woman agreed.
All Ella had heard from Phoebe this afternoon was how upset the young woman was with her husband, how she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to see him again. According to Mrs. Dawson, who had come downstairs to report to her before leaving the dispensary, the meeting this morning between Phoebe and her husband, who had brought his aunt along, had turned quite contentious. Mrs. Dawson told Ella that she had recommended that Phoebe write a letter to her husband as a way of expressing her anger, hoping this would help her calm down.
Evidently, this suggestion had worked so well that once Phoebe had sent Joan out to post her three-page letter to her husband, she’d been able to eat a small lunch of beef and barley soup and a vanilla custard before taking a nap. Whether it was the letter, the lunch, or the nap, Phoebe seemed much more at peace when she woke up.
Then, when she heard that her husband had come to visit her—alone—she’d become quite decisive.
Phoebe sent Megs down to tell her husband she would be down shortly, directed Joan to help her dress and do up her hair, and asked Ella if she would accompany her during this meeting, saying that she thought it might be better if Joan wasn’t there. When Ella said she would need to finish her rounds first, Phoebe had even laughed and said it would be good to make her husband wait.
When she and Phoebe came downstairs, they found Richard Truscott sitting in the reception room, looking very uncomfortable, surrounded by a boisterous group consisting of a grandmother, a grandfather, a husband, and five children, all of whom had arrived to get their first glimpse of the newest baby in their family.
As soon as he followed his wife and Ella into the office, he made the mistake of reciting what was clearly a pat speech about how sorry he was that he had let his fears over Phoebe’s illness cloud his judgment regarding the Pacific Dispensary and her recent illness.
That was when Phoebe told him to get to the point.
As far as Ella could determine, the point was evidently that he had discovered that he couldn’t trust Dr. Skerry and that he realized that he should have been listening to Phoebe, not Dr. Skerry or even his aunt, about her health.
Phoebe said, “Are you willing to admit that you should have honored my request to send for Dr. Granger and that failing to do so seriously compromised my health?”
Before Richard Truscott could respond, Phoebe coughed, and Ella said, “Please, Mrs. Truscott, do have a seat and let me pour you some tea. Would you like some, Mr. Truscott? And would you be so good as to sit beside your wife, so she doesn’t have to strain her voice? The aconite that was given to her and the violent vomiting it produced had a very caustic effect on the soft tissues of her throat.”
Ella hurried over to the table where, as instructed, the servant Megs had put the tea tray. After serving tea to the couple, she removed herself to a chair that was a little away from them, but close enough that she could get to Mrs. Truscott quickly if the woman looked faint.
As Ella sat down, she heard Richard Truscott ask how his wife was feeling. Phoebe responded impatiently that she’d already told him how much better she was doing this morning but that she still felt the effects of the poison she’d been given.
He said, “Dr. Blair mentioned this aconite. The police also mentioned it…”
“Why were you speaking to the police, Richard?” Phoebe broke in. “Did you go and tell them about Dr. Skerry, how she persuaded you to send those wretched letters defaming the dispensary?”
Ella saw Phoebe’s husband flinch, then he said, “Not exactly. A Sergeant Thompson came to see me earlier this afternoon. I told him that I now saw how foolish I had been to write the letter to the San Francisco Chronicle, a letter which Dr. Skerry had dictated to me. But I only wrote that one letter. Please, Phoebe, believe me when I say I sincerely regret that action.”
Looking over at Ella, he said, “And, Dr. Blair, I am also sorry about my failure to pay my wife’s outstanding bills.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a checkbook. “I am prepared to write a check right now, covering not only what I owed for her past care, but whatever charges my wife has accrued in this latest visit.”
Ella was about to thank him when Phoebe spoke up. Holding out her hand, she said, “Richard, why don’t you let me write the check covering my own bills?”
After a shocked pause, her husband reluctantly handed the checkbook over to his wife, and she said, “Thank you. Now Dr. Blair and I will settle up once you are gone. I assume that there is enough money in the account to cover whatever I owe?”
Ella was pleased to hear that Phoebe Truscott really had paid attention to Mrs. Dawson and her concerns about Richard Truscott’s financial dealings.
His color high, he said stiffly, “Certainly there is. Phoebe, I swear to you, I have always been scrupulous about handling your money. I do see it was a mistake not to consult you about my decision not to pay the bills. I let my aunt persuade me I was protecting your interests in doing so. I now see that was wrong.”
Phoebe said, “What about Aunt Ruby? Was she there when the policeman came? What did she say about the letters? She knew about them, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she was there. And she was very upset when Sergeant Thompson said the police were looking to see if there was any connection between Dr. Skerry, the letters to the newspapers, and Dr. Granger.”
“What kind of connection?” Phoebe asked.
He stammered, “I…I guess a connection between the letters and his death. The sergeant mentioned that some of the letters…not the one I wrote…made specific allegations against Dr. Granger, not just the dispensary. Turns out that Dr. Skerry had some sort of well-known grievance against him. I told the sergeant I knew that Dr. Skerry didn’t think highly of the doctor, but I couldn’t see her killing him over some petty difference of opinion.”
Phoebe stared at her husband for a moment and said, her voice rising, “Petty difference of opinion? She tried to ruin him and the Pacific Dispensary. In addition, it’s very possible that Dr. Skerry was willing to poison me as part of her campaign against Granger and the dispensary.”
“Phoebe, you don’t really believe you were being deliberately poisoned? I realize now that Dr. Skerry was using me and my aunt for her own purposes. But I can’t believe you think she deliberately tried to make you ill.”
Phoebe took a deep breath and said, her voice steady, “Joan took two bottles off of my bureau, and they turned out to hold two different drugs…belladonna and this aconite. Dr. Blair has explained that while these substances are found in homeopathic medicine, they should have been diluted so much in distilled water that they couldn’t do any harm. Yet these bottles held doses that were high enough to make me quite ill. And the symptoms I have been having were consistent with being poisoned by those drugs. So, if Dr. Skerry wasn’t responsible for giving them to me, who was? Are you saying it was you or Aunt Ruby?”
Richard Truscott looked frozen in place. Then he shook his head vehemently and said, “Of course I’m not saying that. If someone gave you something from these bottles, and it made you sick, it must have been a mistake. Perhaps my aunt misunderstood Dr. Skerry’s instructions. She will be devastated if that turns out to be true.”
“A mistake? Richard, don’t you see, you are still making excuses. You just said that even the police are seriously looking into the possibility that Dr. Skerry might be responsible for Dr. Granger’s death. Why can’t you take my concerns seriously? I almost died. Yet even this morning Aunt Ruby still insisted that my illness was the fault of the operation and the dispensary and that it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Dr. Skerry.”
There was a long pause as Richard Truscott drained his cup, clearly buying time before he replied. Finally, he put the cup down and said, “I know that Aunt Ruby can be difficult. She assumes she knows best, and often she does. But I can see that in this case, her own specific beliefs regarding medicine and her loyalty to Dr. Skerry have created a problem. You have to understand, she believes that if the doctor who attended my mother had been a homeopath, my mother wouldn’t have died. And Aunt Ruby has a long history with Dr. Skerry, and she believes she is an excellent doctor. Even my father let her attend him. So it was natural that I deferred to her.”
Phoebe sighed. “So, what is going to happen when I come home and she continues to consult with Dr. Skerry and lets her into our home? What will you do?”
“I’ll tell her that Dr. Skerry is no longer welcome.”
“Really? And when have you ever gone against your aunt about anything?”
“I…well, there hasn’t been a good reason to do so before.”
“So the fact that I begged you to reach out to Dr. Granger, let me be seen by Dr. Blair when she dropped by, they weren’t good enough reasons? Or when I wrote to you that I would only see you this morning if you promised not to bring your aunt, that wasn’t a good enough reason to tell her she couldn’t come?”
Richard Truscott quickly said, “You’re right. But it’s hard to go against the woman who raised me, looked out for me, protected me against my father.”
Reaching out, Phoebe put her hand on his. “I know it’s hard. But you aren’t a motherless boy anymore. You’re a man, with a wife. I know I have been part of the problem. I learned very early in our marriage that if I tried to assert myself over even the smallest detail—like I wanted salmon for dinner—either she simply ignored my wishes or would take the issue to you, and you would always back her up.”
After a long pause, Richard looked up at his wife and said, “I’m sorry.”
For the first time, Ella thought that maybe the young man was truly sincere.
However, Phoebe didn’t look convinced, and she said, “How did she take it when you said you were coming back here to see me?”
“I didn’t tell her. After the police left, she retired to her room, and I didn’t want to disturb her. She was very agitated by the sergeant’s suggestion that Dr. Skerry, or I, for that matter, would have wished to do Dr. Granger harm. I didn’t want to upset her further.”
“What do you mean? The policeman thought you might have killed Dr. Granger? That’s ridiculous,” Phoebe said.
“He didn’t say that in so many words, but he asked me about my movements on Tuesday night. I guess that was the night the doctor died. Sergeant Thompson said that they simply needed to check out anyone who seemed to have a problem with Dr. Granger.”
Richard glanced quickly over at Ella and then back to his wife, saying haltingly, “You see, I had written that letter, and I believe I might have said some stupid things to him on Monday afternoon when I first tried to see you. I may have given Dr. Blair, who was there, the wrong impression. Of course I didn’t mean anything by it. I was so terribly frustrated by not being able to see you. You do understand, don’t you, Phoebe?”
Phoebe squeezed his hand, saying, “I understand. And you did satisfy that policeman that you couldn’t possibly have been the person who killed poor Dr. Granger, didn’t you?”