Biting back his annoyance to keep Felipe from feeling it on the other end of the tether, Oliver tried to pretend he hadn’t heard a forty year out-of-date treatment method for angina. “Had he been declining before his death or was it sudden?”
“Oh, it was sudden. He dropped dead in the middle of dinner with Hogarth. They had been arguing; they always were.” Miller let out a chuckle as he spooned his porridge. “I told Roger his temper would be the death of him.”
“I assume there was no investigation done.”
Dr. Miller eyed him suspiciously. “Of course not. Ekland died in his own home of a condition he had had for years. The threshold for foul play must be far lower in New York.”
Beside him, Gwen quickly transcribed what the doctor had said. As she finished, she added in the margin,Make sure to ask for the medical records. Oliver was about to ask when Miriam bustled in with two off-white cups and a matching teapot. Her hands shook as she poured the translucent tea into their cups and set them before them. When Oliver’s almost tipped over as she put it down, Gwen shot out her powers to steady it. Miriam’s eyes widened in alarm, and she glanced toward the doctor to see if he had noticed Gwen do it. He was absorbed in his breakfast, and Miriam let out a nearly imperceivable sigh of relief as she stepped back with a tight bob of her head. Gwen’s brown eyes ran across the nearly empty table for a sugar bowl or pitcher of cream, but there was none. Flashing Miriam a look of thanks, Gwen took a sip. The grimace appeared and disappeared beneath a placating smile so fast that Oliver would have missed it if he didn’t know her so well.
“We’re merely trying to be thorough,” Oliver said as he ignored his cup. “I assume Mr. Fleming bled out from his injury.”
“Yes, he was dead by the time I arrived at the mill.”
“That leaves Miss Annabelle Harrison. Can you tell us about her health conditions, especially before her death?”
“She was born early. We were surprised she made it through that first winter. She rallied, but it might have been better if she hadn’t survived. She was always sickly. My daughter, Alice, cared for Annabelle around the clock.”
“Annabelle was your granddaughter?” Gwen asked.
“Yes, my eldest granddaughter. Alice took excellent care of her. She bathed her, administered treatments, nursed her through sickness after sickness since she was a babe, worried about her constantly. As much as I hate to see it, her death was probably a blessing.”
Oliver clenched his jaw so hard his teeth crunched. While Gwen’s hands and eyes remained on her notebook, he felt her powers press against his shoulder.
“What was your diagnosis?” Oliver asked stiffly.
“She had enough ailments for twenty people: intermittent hair loss, pains of all sorts, headaches, vomiting, delirium, fevers. It all stems from her birth. None of Alice’s other children had the same problem, but they were all born hearty and hale.”
“Except one did become ill in the period right after Annabelle died but before their mother was injured, right?”
The doctor waved it away dismissively. “That was a brief illness brought on by grief. Annabelle and Agnes were very close.”
Oliver made a noncommittal noise, but when he glanced at Miriam, he found her watching him with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. The tea in his cup sloshed dangerously. Realizing she had been caught, Miriam quickly looked away and stared at the far wall of the dining room.
“You’ve lived in this town for most of your life, doctor?”
“Since 1847. I came right after I finished my training,” Dr. Miller replied proudly. Nodding to Miriam, he added, “And all my girls were born and raised here.”
“So you would know most people in town very well. Do you knowof anyone who might be a necromancer?”
“Good god, no. We don’t have any ofthatsort in Aldorhaven. No, most of our families are purely elemental, as nature intended. The Jarngrens are plantmancers, the Lindstroms are firemancers, the Hogarths are earthmancers, the Harrisons are airmancers, and the Eklands and my own kin are watermancers, though my girls know better than to dabble in their powers too deeply. I don’t believe anyone should rely too heavily on them. It upsets the humors.”
“I see,” Oliver said, keeping his voice level and his face neutral, though he knew he was probably failing, “and do you have any theories as to why the dead are rising?”
“Hot blood and too heavy of a reliance on magic. It’s cursed them to walk after death. I’ve thought that since Sarah Lindstrom rose, haven’t I, Miriam? She showed off her powers every chance she got, and my granddaughter, god rest her soul, was a spoiled child who wanted for nothing but rebelled against her mother constantly. I can’t imagine how bad she would have been had her illness not hobbled her. The damage she did to her mother is proof enough of the stain on her soul.”
Oliver shot to his feet. “I think we have all the information we need, Dr. Miller. Thank you for your time.”
Gwen cleared her throat.
“Before we leave, may we please have the medical files for the four risen deceased?”
Dr. Miller squinted at them from behind his thick spectacles. “What files?”
“The records you kept for your patients.”
“The records are right here,” he replied, pointing to his temple. “I have no need of records. I know everyone in this town.”
Nodding tightly, Oliver pasted on his best approximation of a smile. “Of course, how silly of me. Thank you for your time, sir.”
