Chapter 19
If Eugene Astor had any doubts about his days being numbered, that was in the past. The dizzy spells and blurred vision came more often. Twice he’d actually blacked out only to wake up on the floor, just as he had that Saturday when Dr. Duval had been present.
Now he was having trouble controlling his left hand and arm, and the head pain was constant.
He made his way to Dr. Duval’s knowing there was little she could do.
She had talked about drilling a hole into the cranium in order to relieve the pressure, but she wasn’t at all certain it would help.
And if it did help, it probably wouldn’t help for long.
He knocked on the door, feeling the world begin to spin once more. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. How much longer did he have? He had already outlived all of the doctors’ predictions.
Then there were the questions of how the end would come.
Would he be conscious and know what was happening?
Would it be painful or a soothing release?
He had so many unanswered questions about his condition, not to mention some of his other issues.
Who was he to leave his money and house to now that his mother was dead?
Who would see to his arrangements? He had an appointment later in the day with Colton Benton, the lawyer who had set up his will.
He would ask him what he suggested be done.
Dr. Duval opened the door and gave him a quick glance from top to bottom. “I wasn’t expecting to see you, Mr. Knowles. Please come in.”
“I’m afraid . . . I’m worse. I’ve passed out twice, and my hand and arm are causing me trouble now. My vision is worse at times, and the dizziness and pain are nearly constant.”
She nodded and took hold of his right arm. “Come into my examination room.”
She wasted no time helping him up on the examination table. “Now, tell me what preceded your fainting spells. Did you feel them coming on?”
“I remember feeling warm all of a sudden, and then it was as if my vision began to tunnel on me. Like the blackness was coming in from all sides. Then I knew nothing.”
“And was this different from your regular blurred vision?” She widened his eye with her thumb and index finger and bent closer.
“Yes, it was different. The pain in my head was worse in the morning but constant now.”
She finished looking into his eyes and took hold of his hands. “Hold your hands out in front.” She let go and then reached to place her hands atop his. “Don’t let me push your arm down.”
Eugene was able to keep his right hand fairly firm, but he had no strength in the left. After that there were a series of tests on his hands.
“Close your eyes and tell me when you feel me touching you.” She started with the right hand, and Eugene had no difficulty detecting touch.
When she moved to his left, he was completely lost. Without looking, he was convinced she wasn’t touching him at all.
When he opened his eyes, he could see that she was running the end of a pencil over his fingertips.
“I had no sense of that whatsoever. Is that normal for my disease?”
“It’s normal for a tumor in the brain. You are clearly worsening, but I don’t believe you’ve had a stroke.
I have been speaking to a colleague of mine, Dr. Compton.
He shares my interests in the brain. We would like to continue to care for you and share the responsibilities.
He has a better setup than I do. He suggested that when the time is right, you should close up your house and stay at his facility.
I will come and take turns with your medical needs. You will have round-the-clock care.”
“That’s quite generous of you both.” He rubbed at his temples. “And how do we gauge when the time is right?”
“I believe that time has come, Mr. Astor. You are going downhill fast, as you already know. There’s very little time left. Frankly, I’m surprised that you’re still with us.”
He looked into her eyes. Such a beautiful shade of blue. It reminded him of an icy mountain lake he’d once seen back in Pennsylvania. “Then this is the end?”
“I believe so, Mr. Knowles. I’m sorry.” There was such sincerity in her voice.
Eugene gave her a smile. “Don’t be sorry.
We knew this was coming.” He slipped off the examination table.
“I will go put my things in order and allow you to escort me to Dr. Compton’s.
” He started for the door, then turned back.
“What do you suppose all of this care will cost? I’d like to bring you money when I return.
You deserve to be paid, and you can hardly get coins from a dead man. ”
“You’ve already agreed to let us autopsy you. I won’t be charging you further.”
“Your help has been important to me, Dr. Duval. I want to pay you as I have the other doctors.”
“No pay is due, Mr. Knowles.”
She smiled at him, and it was such a kind look that Eugene almost turned away.
He wasn’t deserving of such innocence and tenderness of spirit.
She was married to the man who surely wanted him dead.
If he knew who it was his wife was treating, he’d probably throw Eugene out onto the street.
Perhaps she would as well, but something in her countenance suggested to him that she wouldn’t.
“Have you a faith in the Almighty, Dr. Duval?”
“Absolutely,” she answered, her expression growing quite serious.
“My mother had a deep abiding faith, and I recall to mind her quoting a verse about the laborer being worthy of his reward.”
“Yes, I believe that verse is found in the fifth chapter of First Timothy. But you are paying me in the only way that I truly wish. Your autopsy will allow Dr. Compton and myself to learn more about the disease that is taking your life. In turn, it may well save the life of another. You are more than paying your way as far as I’m concerned. ”
A thought came to Eugene and brought a smile to his face. “Perhaps the Good Lord has another reward in mind for you.”
When he left, he headed directly to Colton Benton’s office. He now knew to whom he intended to leave his fortune.
Spencer had narrowed the list of suspects down to just three.
With the help of Carrie’s father and brother, they had managed to cross every other name off the list that Al had provided.
They split the list between them, and Spencer was now off to see what he could learn about Rowland Knowles.
The name was familiar to him for some reason, but he wasn’t sure why.
Neither Edward nor Robert knew of the man, yet Spencer was certain he’d heard the man’s name mentioned.
He headed home to check his journals, where he made meticulous notes on his cases.
Surprisingly enough, the house was quiet.
Carrie had told him that she would be spending more time at the Compton house during certain days.
The two were trying to figure out a way to go into business together.
Spencer had done his best to encourage his wife to pursue her dream in whatever manner seemed appropriate.
He only wanted her to be successful and garner the credit she deserved.
He went directly to his bedroom and opened a trunk at the end of the bed.
He pulled out the book in which he’d been keeping all his notes on Eugene Astor.
He glanced through the list of names that Astor had been known to use.
There was nothing to connect him to Rowland Knowles.
Spencer continued to scan through his notes but found nothing that seemed to offer any help.
He replaced the book and closed the lid of the trunk.
Why was that name familiar?
He heard the front door open and made his way to see who it was. Carrie hurried in pulling her hat from her head.
“I wondered where you were.”
She startled at his voice and took a stance with hatpin in hand as though she might attack. “You scared the life right out of me.” She shook her head and glanced at the pin. “I thought I might have to do battle.”
“With a hatpin?” He grinned. “I don’t know that you’d get very far.”
“You’d be surprised just how effective an eight-inch-long pin can be, especially when poked into certain parts of the body.” She tucked the pin into the straw brim of her bonnet and placed it on the foyer table. “What are you doing home at this hour?”
“I’ve been looking for some information.” Spencer waited as Carrie finished pulling off her gloves. “Does the name Rowland Knowles mean anything to you?”
She looked at him oddly and narrowed her eyes. “I should say it does. He’s a patient of mine.”
“A patient? Have you mentioned his name before?”
“I’m sure I have. He’s the one I visit every morning. In fact, that’s who I was arranging for just now. We’re going to settle him in at Dr. Compton’s house. Bruce and I are going to take turns caring for him.”
“Caring for him? What’s wrong with him?”
Carrie frowned. “He’s dying. He has some sort of brain tumor. At least that’s what a half dozen doctors have determined. He has only a short time. Days or a week at the most.”
Spencer felt his heart rate pick up. “Knowles is dying?”
“Yes. I don’t understand your sudden interest in him.”
“He may be Eugene Astor. I’ve narrowed the list to three men, and your father and brother are checking out the other two. Knowles was left to me.”
“Well, if he’s Eugene Astor, there’s little you can do about it. He won’t live much longer, and I intend to see him made comfortable. He’s given me permission to autopsy his brain, and it will be very helpful to us in our research.”
“I still need to speak to him.”
She gave him a look that suggested frustration. “Spencer, if he’s your man, you won’t be able to arrest him. He’s not going anywhere. Certainly not back to Philadelphia or Chicago or wherever it was you had in mind to take him for his comeuppance.”
Spencer had never considered the possibility of Astor being too ill to face responsibility for what he’d done.
“I’ve chased down this man my entire adult life. He needs to face up to what he did, and I mean to make him pay.”
Carrie moved past him toward her examination room and office. “Rowland Knowles is a dead man, and as his doctor, I must insist you allow him to die in peace.”
Spencer wasn’t at all sure what to think or say.
His purpose in life had been to get his father justice, and now his killer was going to avoid any kind of punishment?
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Astor had killed a good man.
Was it true he was dying? If Carrie said he was too ill to live much longer, Spencer believed her.
She was an astute doctor. She wouldn’t say such a thing just to throw him off the trail.
He followed her to where she was gathering some of her things and putting them into her black bag.
“Look, where is he now? I need to talk to him.”
Carrie looked up. “To what purpose, Spencer?”
“The truth. I need to know if he’s Astor. I need to . . . I need to find out if he’s the man who killed my father. At this point, he shouldn’t feel the need to hide the truth.”
“It won’t change anything,” Carrie all but whispered.
“I need to know. It’s important to me. Can’t you understand that?” Spencer realized he sounded much harsher than he’d intended. He tried to calm himself. “You know I’ve been looking for this man for a long time. It’s the reason I came here.” He looked away. “Part of the reason.”
He paced off a few steps and tried to put his thoughts in order. “Look, I just need to talk to him. Obviously if he’s dying I can’t very well take him in, but I can make him admit what he’s done.”
“And if he’s not Astor?”
“He has to be.”
“You said my father and brother are checking the two other men. You don’t know that Mr. Knowles is your man. You don’t know.”
“I will know if I talk to him. There’s no reason he should lie to me if he’s dying. I’ll make him tell me.”
Carrie put her hands on her hips. “Listen to yourself. You’re going to make him tell you. Will you knock him around if he refuses to speak? Perhaps draw a gun and scare him with the threat of a bullet in his head? He’s already got a bullet in his head, for all intents and purposes.”
“I thought you understood. I thought you cared.” Spencer frowned and immediately regretted his words. He knew she cared, but he also knew she was devoted to her patients. Her considerate nature and determination to heal was what drove her passion for medicine.
Carrie’s expression hardened. “I do care. And although you may not like to hear it, God has brought Rowland Knowles, or Eugene Astor, into my life. He needs my help—not to live, but rather to die.”
“He killed my father.”
“You don’t know that.” She squared her shoulders, and Spencer knew he was in for a fight.
“I know you’ve searched for this man for a great many years, and I wanted very much to help you find him.
But if Knowles is Astor, then as his physician I must insist that you listen to me.
He is going to die, and I am going to do what I can to make that passing easy no matter who he’s killed. Do you understand me?”
“He deserves torment and pain,” Spencer heard himself all but growl. What had gotten into him? How could he act so callously? He could see by the look on her face that she was thinking much the same.
“I’m sorry, Carrie. I just . . . I need to know if it’s him. If need be, I’ll get your father’s help on this.”
“You’re obsessed with making someone pay for your father’s death.”
“I want him to pay. Eugene Astor needs to pay for my father’s death!” Spencer got to his feet and stormed out of the house.
She didn’t understand, but then how could he expect her to when even he didn’t understand this sudden hardening of his heart? Astor deserved to face the truth, but if Knowles and Astor were one and the same, then he was going to die no matter what the truth of the past might be.
But I need to know if it’s him.