A New York Haunting: Pt. 10

Clearing his throat, Anders motioned for them to turn back towards the ward. "Thanks for coming to visit. How did you find me?"

Fulton shook his head. "No thanks to your scary landlady. She wouldn't give me the time of day --- the old bat almost bludgeoned me to death with a broom."

Anders laughed.

"After several sweeps of the harbor failed to produce your mangy corpse, I was so worried, I started going from hospital to hospital asking after you. I didn't realize there were so many damned hospitals in the city."

"Thanks for not giving up."

Fulton nodded, smiling around a cigarette he had just placed between his lips. He held out the flat gold case in offering.

Anders shook his head. "No thanks. And you'd best wait until you're out of the hospital. The nurses here are strict to a fault."

Sighing, his friend returned the cigarette to the case. "How soon are you getting out of here?"

Anders sighed too. "Soon, I hope."

Chapter 42. DECTECTIVE DONNELLY

The following morning --- three days after the episode on the tower --- Anders was released from Bellevue Hospital. He yielded to Dr. Mullenix's urging to stay as a guest in his home --- at least for several days so he could monitor the repaired artery. Anders' one misgiving in leaving the hospital was that Ondine would not be able to find him --- but after three days, he reluctantly acknowledged the hoped-for visit was not to be. In any case, he was too restless to languish on the ward any further.

Although he missed his own humble room at the boardinghouse, he had to admit there were advantages in staying at the Mullenix mansion. His luxurious guestroom had its own bathroom with modern conveniences --- certainly rendering the task of bathing and tending to his needs with an injured arm far easier than it would have been at Mrs. Sullivan's cramped, but cozy house. His mentor sent a servant to fetch his textbooks, allowing Anders to be productive during his recuperation.

Young Alexander and Gavin Mullenix were admonished by their father to curtail their usual wrestling and tomfoolery with their guest. But Anders happily obliged them with games of cards, checkers, and chess.

Twice-daily did Dr. Mullenix change the bandage on his arm, during which they both observed with satisfaction the progress of healing. His mentor assessed the functions Anders obsessively checked throughout the day: pulse, sensation in his fingers, and strength. The latter --- at least in his biceps --- was presently the most constrained, secondary to pain. Eschewing laudanum entirely now, he took only aspirin powder. Thank God the blade had been narrow, or the muscle injury would have been significantly worse!

"It's a good thing you're so fit from the rowing --- all this extra muscle provided a broad target," Mullenix joked. "If it had been my puny arm, the nerve would have been severed for sure."

To treat the anemia, the surgeon insisted his patient nightly consume beefsteak and prescribed Dr. Williams' Pink Pills for Pale People. Anders smiled at the memory evoked by the pills --- he had analyzed its composition in his college chemistry class --- it did indeed contain a significant dose of iron.

Another attraction of the Mullenix residence was its proximity to the Cornelissen estate. Morning and afternoon, Anders walked past the looming manse, then crossed the street into Central Park --- his eyes ever searching for the dark-haired girl.

He had to know! Now that the murderer had been dispatched, was Peter Van der Veen's ghost finally at peace?

Every day, he scoured the newspaper for any news on the tower incident or mentions of Ondine, but the police were being remarkably tight-lipped about their inquiries. With neither the identity of the victim nor Ondine Van der Veen's involvement known, columnists were reduced to wild speculation about the tragic event.

The police --- specifically ginger-haired, piercing-eyed Detective Donnelly --- interviewed Anders a second time, and he answered each question factually. Again, he described the series of events on the tower. The detective examined the bruises on his flank and head left by Dr. Schuller's stick, as well as the abrasion on the back of his scalp from the doctor dragging him by his feet over the flagstones.

Detective Donnelly asked several questions regarding Anders' relationship with Dr. Schuller and Mrs. Van der Veen. Anders explained how he had arranged the clerkship in Schuller's clinic with the assistance of his neurology professor, Dr. Pratt, and how he had first encountered Mrs. Van der Veen as a patient called 'Mrs. Smith' during his second week with the psychoanalyst.

"Can anyone corroborate that?"

"Dr. Schuller's nurse, Mrs. Lunsford, would have a record of her first appointment."

The detective was much intrigued by Anders' report of Schuller's commission to follow the girl. "What reason did he give for this surveillance?"

"He was concerned she might harm herself, given her degree of despondency."

"And what did you observe on these missions?"

Anders summarized what he had seen, leaving out --- as he had in his report to Dr. Schuller --- the provocative incident of Ondine climbing into the fountain and her secret career ambitions.

The detective's pencil tapped on his notebook. "Can this nurse also corroborate that the doctor asked you to follow his patient?"

"I'm not certain. He made the request to me in his library, out of her earshot. She may recall my leaving during clinic but be in ignorance as to the reason for it."

"Mr. Røkke, what are your feelings about the lady, Mrs. Van der Veen?"

"My - my feelings?" Anders blinked, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks. He prayed his flush was inconspicuous in his anemic state. "Why --- she's an attractive girl, naturally. But since she's a patient, any connection between us would be improper. And even if she wasn't a patient, the difference in our ... erm ... social ranks makes such a connection impossible."

Donnelly eyed him shrewdly, an eyebrow arching. "It sounds like you've given the matter some thought."

Anders' mouth opened, but no words issued.

"Are you certain it was not your own initiative to follow Mrs. Van der Veen? Out of an unsavory interest in the young widow?"

"No, sir --- I mean yes, I'm certain it was Dr. Schuller's idea."

"But even after Dr. Schuller indicated the surveillance was no longer necessary, you continued to see the young lady."

Anders knew he had already addressed this point and wondered if the repeated questions were a ploy to make him nervous. Nonetheless, he explained again. "Having become aware of Mrs. Van der Veen's artistic accomplishments and being in need of an illustrator for a surgical article Dr. Mullenix and I were writing, I asked if she might provide the illustrations. In the course of these conversations, she enlisted my assistance in looking into her husband's death."

"And such you say was the reason for meeting at Madison Square Garden tower?"

Anders nodded.

"Rather an out-of-the-way location for a supposedly innocent meeting, wasn't it?"

"Well, I ---" He cleared his throat. "I guess we both were feeling jittery about our investigation and wanted a secluded meeting place. I especially had the jumps after discovering the arsenic in Peter Van der Veen's specimen."

"Hmmm." Donnelly pursed his lips, seeming lost in thought for several moments. He turned back a page in his notebook. "So, as you were hiding on the tower, you overheard Dr. Schuller's marriage proposal to Mrs. Van der Veen. What were your feelings at that moment?"

Anders searched the detective's face, endeavoring to understand this line of questioning, then chose to answer candidly. "At that moment, I believed Mrs. Van der Veen had poisoned her husband --- that colored any jealousy I felt."

The man's blue eyes fixed upon him. "You're saying you felt jealous? Jealous enough to attack the doctor?"

Anders started. "No, of course not! As I said previously, sir, I intervened when I heard the lady's cries of distress. He attempted to throw her off the tower, then attacked me!"

Detective Donnelly's response of silence was wholly unsettling. After a long pause, he next proceeded to ask him a series of detailed questions about Peter Van der Veen's specimen jar and how Anders had conducted the arsenic test upon it. With this pointed line of inquiry, he was forced to consider the grim implication that the police suspected him of planting the arsenic in the stomach contents!

The detective scribbled something in his notebook. Without looking up, he said, "Where were you seated at the Van der Veen wedding reception last year?"

Anders stared at Donnelly. "I did not attend the wedding or the reception. Like I said, I only met Mrs. Van der Veen a few weeks ago."

"Were you acquainted with Peter Van der Veen?"

"No, sir."

"Where were you the night of October 7, 1899?"

What the devil?! Why was Donnelly interrogating him about his whereabouts on a day over a year ago? Then he realized it was the date of Ondine's wedding. Good God! Did the detective truly suspect he had something to do with Van der Veen's death? He struggled to find a calm voice. "I couldn't say specifically --- that long ago."

After several more questions, the detective departed, leaving Anders in a flustered state. Judging by the interview, the man considered him a suspect in Van der Veen's murder in addition to disbelieving his account of self-defense in Dr. Schuller's death.

Upon recounting the conversation to Dr. Mullenix that evening, the surgeon opined the perturbing questions were merely routine. The deceased was unable to speak for himself --- the police were obliged to rely upon his and Ondine's accounts. Given that her aunt had made certain accusations, they had no choice but to thoroughly interrogate the two witnesses' statements.

Mullenix was acquainted with the Police Commissioner and was eventually able to supply Anders with information he learned from him. The police had interviewed a variety of people including the dean of the medical school and several of Anders' professors --- all of whom had testified to the student's good character. Schuller's nurse Mrs. Lunsford had corroborated the date of Anders' and Ondine's first meeting.

Inquiries at Madison Square Garden had yielded a ticket clerk who recalled seeing the attractive young lady with a portfolio bag enter and head towards the tower. A minute or so later --- according to the clerk --- a distinguished gentleman matching Dr. Schuller's description entered. Contrary to his statement to Ondine, he had not joined a line to buy a ticket to the dog show but had proceeded directly into the hall to the tower.

From what the Police Commissioner had shared with Mullenix, Detective Donnelly had --- in the presence of her aunt --- examined the lump on Ondine's head from Schuller flinging her back against the tower, as well as the bruise on her belly from being thrown onto the balustrade.

Anders' apprehension was somewhat relieved by these tidings, although he could not help but wonder if his testimony would have been subjected to this intense scrutiny if he had been an affluent gentleman. He longed to ask Mullenix further questions about Ondine but held his tongue.

One final advantage of staying in a wealthy household was access to a telephone. In a telephone conversation with Izzy, he was apprised of additional details. Detective Donnelly had interrogated his friend about the specimen jars: how the disappearance of the main specimen jar had been discovered, how the second jar had been found, and the exact sequence of events by which it had been left in Anders' care.

The jar of stomach contents had been turned over to the coroner who announced the dried, year-old residue had been disturbed only at one site: where Anders' forceps had scooped up a small portion. Any recent, deliberate doctoring of the specimen with arsenic could only have involved this removed sample.

Izzy teased him by withholding till the last moment the dénouement: the coroner repeated the Marsh test on a second sample and obtained the same positive result.

Chapter 43. A WARNING

At last, it appeared the police were satisfied --- no evidence did they find of Anders' wrongdoing. As this was indeed the case, the degree of relief he felt was ironic.

For one thing, even knowing Dr. Schuller had been the murderer, the man's horrifying end did not rest easy in his conscience. Committed to the Hippocratic oath of Primum non nocere --- first do no harm --- he was deeply troubled at having contributed to another human's death. Not to mention the yet reverberating shock at discovering the dedicated, intelligent physician he had admired had had such darkness hidden in his soul.

For another thing, Anders' sense of vindication at his technical innocence was undermined by the guilty erotic obsession possessing his heart. Even while answering the detective's questions, it had been difficult to look the man in the eye, fearing some telltale sign in his own face would give away his ever-present, improper, amorous musings about the girl.

One week after the events on the tower, the New York Times ran a story headed by:

MADISON SQUARE GARDEN TOWER TRAGEDY: POLICE AND CORONER'S INQUIRIES COMPLETE!

Anders raced through the text. The victim was identified as Dr. Alfred Schuller, a thirty-eight-year-old Austrian nobleman and physician specializing in psychoanalysis. After that statement of fact, nothing corresponded to the true story.

According to the article, Dr. Schuller had ascended the tower with a young female patient suffering from acrophobia --- a morbid fear of heights. The patient had been under the doctor's care for some time, and treatment had progressed to the point where a trial tower climb had been deemed appropriate. Unfortunately, the young woman had experienced an attack of terror upon glimpsing the elevated view, necessitating immediate abandonment of the experiment. Such was the violence of the young lady's phobic flailing that Dr. Schuller, while attempting to calm her, had been thrown against the stone railing of the tower with fatal consequences. Out of respect for the distraught patient's privacy, the police were protecting her name.

Anders stared dumbfounded at the newspaper. There could be only one explanation for the whitewashed account. Only one family had the motive and pull to obfuscate the truth --- the Cornelissens. No doubt, fearing further scandal attaching itself to Ondine's name, her aunt and uncle had persuaded the police to release this bowdlerized story.

Notwithstanding his own disgust at the mendacity and abuse of power, Anders could offer up no compelling reason for the truth to come out. Peter Van der Veen had been murdered, and his murderer had been served justice. Like the Cornelissens, he had no desire to see Ondine inundated with more troubles and notoriety. Indeed, his reason for involving himself in the girl's life in the first place had been to relieve her of such distress.

But what of Dr. Schuller's family in Austria, if any? What would they be told?

After reading this remarkable news story, Anders at last succumbed to his yearnings and dispatched a messenger boy with a note for Ondine (by way of Braddock):

May I speak with you? I'm staying with the Mullenix family.

The first Monday in December --- after one week away from school --- he returned to duty. He was still easily fatigued, and his biceps was still painful, but he could not afford to miss any more school. The first week back, he continued as a guest at the Mullenix residence, riding to and from campus with the surgeon in his carriage.

To classmates who inquired about his absence, he responded he had been hospitalized for a knife injury to his arm sustained in an altercation with a would-be mugger in Central Park. Ruefully, he appreciated not having been named in the article about the tower tragedy.

The week ended without a response from Ondine to his message. Two weeks had now passed since the confrontation on the tower --- two weeks since he had last seen her. Anders finally returned to his humble room at the boardinghouse.

That same day, he was back on his bicycle for a restrained ride. In the afternoon, he commenced a program of physical refurbishment for his injured left arm, christened with a cautious session of pulling his quimstake to a panoply of lascivious images of Ondine. Afterwards, he lay drained upon his narrow bed, pondering the absence of a message from her. Had she left New York City again? Certainly after the events on the tower, she would no longer need go to the doctor in Boston simply to appease her aunt.

No messages awaited him when he returned home from school the following afternoon, and his evening studying repeatedly stalled in frustrated contemplation of the matter. His last message had indicated he was at the Mullenix house --- he trusted Dr. Mullenix would forward any reply to him. But perhaps he should send another message --- just to let her know he was now back at the boardinghouse. Yes, tomorrow at the hospital he would find a messenger boy.

A half hour later, a knock on the hall door interrupted his reading. "Dr. Røkke?" called young Jimmy Sullivan.

"Come in."

"There's a lady outside in a fancy carriage who wants to speak to you."

Anders leapt to the window. In the dim glow of the streetlight, he could make out a large, shining brougham by the curb. Ondine had come! Christ! He had already doffed his tie and starched collar, but knowing how limited her opportunities were to meet him, there was no time to waste redonning them. He jerked on his coat to cover his waistcoat and shirtsleeves and rushed downstairs.

An unfamiliar, uniformed man waiting on the sidewalk stepped forward to open the carriage door as he approached. He swung inside and plopped on the velvet-upholstered seat opposite the veiled female figure waiting in the shadows.

"Hello!" He fought to control the eagerness in his voice.

A graceful, gloved hand lifted and folded back the veil.

It was not Ondine.

Mrs. Adele Cornelissen's pale blue eyes fastened upon him.

Anders sat bolt upright. He gaped at her for but a moment before bowing his head, scrambling for composure. After the events at the tower, the Cornelissens no doubt had surmised that Ondine and he had been secretly meeting. He stammered, "Mrs. Cornelissen! This is - is indeed a surprise."

"Evidently." Her tone was clipped, and her posture was one of rigid formality, but her face was unreadable. The low lantern highlighted the fur trim and jewel-like embroidery upon her coat as well as the upswept, reddish-blonde hair under her plume-swathed hat.

He swallowed. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" It was then he realized that her black-gloved hands were resting upon the carved ivory handle of an upright walking stick. Good God! Another walking stick! Immediately his eyes dropped to its far end braced on the carriage floor in front of her shoe tips --- the more delicate caliber of the lady's fashion accessory argued against a concealed blade. Nonetheless, he kept the object in his watchful peripheral vision as he regarded her.

Mrs. Cornelissen's gaze flicked from one of his arms to the other. "You are recovering from your injury satisfactorily, Mr. Røkke?"

"Yes, thank you, ma'am."

"I'm pleased to hear it."

She did not look particularly pleased. There was an extended pause during which her eyes traveled from his plain wool coat to the repaired laceration on his temple. At last, she spoke again. "In the wake of recent glowing reports of your character made by the professors at the medical school, Mr. Cornelissen and I found reason to chide ourselves on our delinquent expressions of gratitude for assisting Dr. Schuller with Ondine's case."