From a few paces back, he watched them turn the corner and stop in front of a building. A doctor’s office, Jerry noted. Then Adele pulled out a key and opened the door, and Jerry’s thoughts began to spiral as Ernie Willoughby followed her inside.
sixteenADELE
Dr. Knowles must still be out at lunch,” Adele told Ernie, setting her purse on the front counter with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “He’s having lunch with his wife. It’s their anniversary, but he’ll probably be back soon,” she added.
“Don’t worry. I’ll leave before he returns. Can’t be seen distracting his beautiful nurse.” Ernie winked. “I’m actually glad we ran into one another just now. I heard Sammy McDonald was here, and I wanted to make sure he was doing all right.”
Alarm skittered up Adele’s neck at the mention of Sammy’s name. The poor man had been brought to Dr. Knowles’ office from the rail yard that morning; his body was covered in bruises and blood, and his face was barely recognizable. Adele had witnessed the carnage men inflicted on one another on the battlefields, even tended a few gunshot and stab wounds here in this office, but she had never expected to see this kind of brutality. Hadn’t they fought enough overseas?
Sammy’s jaw needed to be reset, so Adele had assisted Dr. Knowles with the intricate surgery. When they were done wiring Sammy’s jaw closed so the bones could begin to heal back together, they stood backand hoped for the best. Dr. Knowles had ruled out any serious internal bleeding, but only time would tell if Sammy would make a full recovery.
“Should we call the police?” Adele had asked.
Dr. Knowles shook his head. “Not one of them is gonna step in for this poor fellow. I have a hunch that this is gang-related. The man who did this, well, he probably has the cops on his side.”
He wouldn’t tell her anything more, saying he might be mistaken—and he didn’t want to end up in a similar condition to Sammy.
Adele’s next patient, a woman with a two-inch gash above the back of her elbow, was more forthcoming. “Did you hear they found a man almost beaten to death by the rail yard?” she asked as Adele fetched her suture kit.
“I did.” She said nothing about Sammy, heavily sedated in the next room.
Her patient lowered her voice. “Some say he owed money to that rumrunner, Big Will, though why anyone would be so stupid as to borrow from that man is beyond me.”
Adele’s mouth went dry. Maybe it was a coincidence. “Big Will?”
“He’s a big man in the racket. Booze, gambling, whores…”
The image of Ernie’s bloodied knuckles filled Adele’s vision.
“Nurse?”
Adele blinked.
The woman’s eyes were round with fear. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“Of course not,” Adele managed, but she had to work to still her shaking hands as she finished up her stitches.
Now Ernie stood before her, asking politely after the man whose jaw she had laboured to repair a few hours earlier. After what she’d heard from her patient, she couldn’t help but wonder if Ernie was responsible for Sammy. Was it possible that the same man who listened to her so attentively and sweetly kissed the back of her hand had beaten a man to within an inch of his life only to return to a party after, cool as ice? Shedidn’t want to believe it, but now, she saw once again the still fresh cuts and the bruises on his knuckles.
“How do you know Sammy?” she asked casually.
Ernie tilted his head. “We do business together from time to time. I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.”
“It’s such a shock what happened to him,” she said. “You’re very kind to take such an interest in his well-being.”
“Can I see him?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s unconscious. Even if he was awake, he couldn’t speak with anyone, because his jaw is wired shut.”
“Is that right? For how long?”
“I don’t know. Weeks, I suppose. It takes a long time to recover from something so… traumatic.”
“Will he survive?” Ernie pressed. “And eventually be able to speak?”
Was he asking out of concern? She couldn’t help thinking that the most likely reason for this line of questioning was that he was afraid Sammy might blow the whistle on him.
“He’ll survive,” she said. “But I doubt he’ll ever talk again. Not so anyone could understand what he is trying to say, anyway.” It was a half-truth. She couldn’t possibly know how Sammy’s speech would do, but she felt compelled to protect him in that moment.
