Read Online The Loner: Trail Of Blood by J.A. Johnstone - Free Book Online
Authors: J.A. Johnstone
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was having breakfast in the sitting room when a knock came on the door.
He didn’t think Murtagh would come after him in the hotel, but he slipped his hand into the pocket of his dressing gown and closed it around the butt of the small .32 caliber pistol he had placed there before he nodded to Arturo to answer the door.
“Who’s there?” the valet called.
“Jack Mallory.”
Conrad nodded again. Arturo opened the door to admit the private detective. Mallory came in and handed Arturo his hat.
Conrad asked, “Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure.”
“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” Conrad said as Arturo poured the coffee.
“You didn’t say how often you wanted reports from me. Since I had some information I thought I’d go ahead and give it to you.”
Conrad leaned forward eagerly. “What have you found out?”
“I have contacts in most of the hospitals in the city. Pamela Tarleton wasn’t admitted to any of them in the past four years, at least not under her own name.”
Conrad shook his head. “I expected that. I’ve believed all along that she gave birth in a private hospital or sanitarium.”
Mallory took the cup from Arturo and nodded his thanks. “Here’s the thing. Some of the nurses I know have also worked for doctors in private hospitals. I was able to spread the word, including Miss Tarleton’s description, and I found a girl who remembers a patient who might have been her.”
Conrad came to his feet. “That was fast work.”
“I haven’t determined yet if the patient actually
was
Miss Tarleton,” Mallory said with a shrug. “I can continue to investigate, but I’m not sure how far I’ll get. The doctor who runs this place has a lot of rich patients, so I’m sure he’s in the habit of being discreet. He’s not going to want to talk to a detective.”
“What’s his name?”
“Dr. Vernon Futrelle.”
The name was familiar to Conrad. Dr. Futrelle operated a sanitarium across the river in Cambridge that catered to the wealthy and powerfulmembers of Boston’s elite. It was just the sort of place where a woman such as Pamela, who found herself with child and without a husband, could go to give birth without anyone knowing about it. Conrad suspected that plenty of daughters from rich families had done exactly that. It was easier than sailing off to Europe for a year, another time-honored method of dealing with that particular problem. Futrelle also numbered among his patients women who were too fond of alcohol or opium, things like that.
Mallory was right about one thing: Dr. Futrelle would never reveal his patients’ secrets willingly. Discretion was as important as his medical skill, if not more so.
He might be more inclined to talk to a member of Boston society, however.
“Tell me what else you know,” Conrad said as a plan began to formulate in his mind. “When was this mysterious patient who might have been Miss Tarleton at Dr. Futrelle’s sanitarium?”
Mallory shook his head. “The girl I talked to couldn’t remember for sure. Somewhere between three and four years ago. That was as much as she could narrow it down.”
“How long was she there?”
“Several months. She had a private suite, of course. Her and the maid she brought with her.”
“Maid?”
“Yeah, she had a servant with her.”
“Did the nurse you talked to remember anything about the maid?” Conrad thought it might be productive to track the woman down.
But Mallory shook his head again. “I’m afraid not. Who pays attention to servants?”
Unfortunately, that was true. Pamela and her father had had numerous servants working for them, and despite the fact that Conrad had been in the Tarleton house a great deal while he and Pamela were engaged, he couldn’t remember any of them. Of course, he had been a pompous jackass back then, he reminded himself.
“All right. That’s good work, Mr. Mallory. Excellent work. I’ll speak to Dr. Futrelle myself and see if I
He didn’t think Murtagh would come after him in the hotel, but he slipped his hand into the pocket of his dressing gown and closed it around the butt of the small .32 caliber pistol he had placed there before he nodded to Arturo to answer the door.
“Who’s there?” the valet called.
“Jack Mallory.”
Conrad nodded again. Arturo opened the door to admit the private detective. Mallory came in and handed Arturo his hat.
Conrad asked, “Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure.”
“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” Conrad said as Arturo poured the coffee.
“You didn’t say how often you wanted reports from me. Since I had some information I thought I’d go ahead and give it to you.”
Conrad leaned forward eagerly. “What have you found out?”
“I have contacts in most of the hospitals in the city. Pamela Tarleton wasn’t admitted to any of them in the past four years, at least not under her own name.”
Conrad shook his head. “I expected that. I’ve believed all along that she gave birth in a private hospital or sanitarium.”
Mallory took the cup from Arturo and nodded his thanks. “Here’s the thing. Some of the nurses I know have also worked for doctors in private hospitals. I was able to spread the word, including Miss Tarleton’s description, and I found a girl who remembers a patient who might have been her.”
Conrad came to his feet. “That was fast work.”
“I haven’t determined yet if the patient actually
was
Miss Tarleton,” Mallory said with a shrug. “I can continue to investigate, but I’m not sure how far I’ll get. The doctor who runs this place has a lot of rich patients, so I’m sure he’s in the habit of being discreet. He’s not going to want to talk to a detective.”
“What’s his name?”
“Dr. Vernon Futrelle.”
The name was familiar to Conrad. Dr. Futrelle operated a sanitarium across the river in Cambridge that catered to the wealthy and powerfulmembers of Boston’s elite. It was just the sort of place where a woman such as Pamela, who found herself with child and without a husband, could go to give birth without anyone knowing about it. Conrad suspected that plenty of daughters from rich families had done exactly that. It was easier than sailing off to Europe for a year, another time-honored method of dealing with that particular problem. Futrelle also numbered among his patients women who were too fond of alcohol or opium, things like that.
Mallory was right about one thing: Dr. Futrelle would never reveal his patients’ secrets willingly. Discretion was as important as his medical skill, if not more so.
He might be more inclined to talk to a member of Boston society, however.
“Tell me what else you know,” Conrad said as a plan began to formulate in his mind. “When was this mysterious patient who might have been Miss Tarleton at Dr. Futrelle’s sanitarium?”
Mallory shook his head. “The girl I talked to couldn’t remember for sure. Somewhere between three and four years ago. That was as much as she could narrow it down.”
“How long was she there?”
“Several months. She had a private suite, of course. Her and the maid she brought with her.”
“Maid?”
“Yeah, she had a servant with her.”
“Did the nurse you talked to remember anything about the maid?” Conrad thought it might be productive to track the woman down.
But Mallory shook his head again. “I’m afraid not. Who pays attention to servants?”
Unfortunately, that was true. Pamela and her father had had numerous servants working for them, and despite the fact that Conrad had been in the Tarleton house a great deal while he and Pamela were engaged, he couldn’t remember any of them. Of course, he had been a pompous jackass back then, he reminded himself.
“All right. That’s good work, Mr. Mallory. Excellent work. I’ll speak to Dr. Futrelle myself and see if I
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