“What can you do?” Frank asked, still not certain he believed Dr. Newton could do anything at all. “The other doctor said it was hopeless.”
“Could I examine Brian’s foot for a moment before I answer that question?” the doctor asked.
“Yeah, of course,” Frank said.
“Let’s take him into the examining room, shall we?”
The examining room was a small, sterile chamber containing a metal table and a couple of tall cabinets. Frank set Brian on the table and stood beside him, holding him so he wouldn’t fall or try to get away. The boy sat quietly, as he always did, looking at Frank uncertainly but not at all frightened.
Dr. Newton poked and prodded Brian’s leg and foot, then tapped his knees with a small hammer and made his legs jerk. Brian looked up in surprise when his leg moved as if of its own volition, and he grinned when the doctor made it move again. The doctor made the examination a game, tickling Brian and letting him hold the tiny hammer when he was finished with it.
After a few minutes he turned to Frank. “Your son is very fortunate, Mr. Malloy. I’ve seen feet much more severely disfigured than his. I believe that with surgery, we can repair most of the damage and that Brian will even be able to walk. He might have a slight limp or have to wear a special shoe on that foot, but he will walk.”
Frank felt such a rush of emotion, he could hardly breathe. Relief and amazement and suspicion and a terrible rage. “Why did that other doctor tell me there was nothing he could do?” he demanded furiously.
Dr. Newton didn’t look like he’d taken offense. “I’m afraid I can’t speak for my colleague. Perhaps he was simply unaware of the advances that have been made or of the newer techniques.”
This was, of course, the politic answer, the kind of answer Frank would have given if asked why one of his colleagues had failed to solve a case or had taken a bribe to make sure a case wasn’t solved at all. It didn’t make Frank feel any less angry, but at least he knew that Dr. Newton was an honorable man. And a modest one, too. He could have said he was just smarter than the quack Frank had consulted.
“What will you have to do to the boy’s foot?” he asked.
Dr. Newton explained as simply as he could how he would cut and sew and rearrange the various parts of Brian’s foot to make it whole, answering Frank’s questions patiently.
Frank couldn’t help wondering how patient the doctor would have been with the likes of Frank Malloy if Sarah Brandt hadn’t brought him in herself, but he didn’t let that stop him from making sure he understood everything as well as was possible.
Then he asked the doctor about his fees, and Dr. Newton replied straightforwardly, as if it never occurred to him that Frank wouldn’t be able to pay them. Frank had been right, the reward in the Blackwell case would go a long way toward paying the good doctor.
“I’ll bring you the money tomorrow,” Frank said.
“There’s no need to pay me until I do the surgery,” the doctor assured him with a smile. “Shall we look at my schedule and see when we can fit Brian in?”
A few minutes later they were outside on the street, with the surgery scheduled toward the end of the month. Frank hoisted Brian onto his shoulder again, and he resumed looking at everything around him with the greatest fascination.
“Was he very upset when you took him away from your mother today?” Mrs. Brandt asked.
“I expected he’d throw a fit,” Frank admitted, “but he just wrapped his arms around my neck so tight I thought I’d strangle and never even looked back.”
“That’s how much he loves you, Malloy,” she said wisely. “He had no idea where you were taking him or why. He just wanted to go with you. He was willing to give up the only security he’s ever known just for the chance to have your attention.”
Frank felt a suspicious burning behind his eyes, but he blinked a couple of times until it went away. He had to clear his throat before he could say, “It was good of you to come today.”
“Don’t think I did it out of kindness, Malloy,” she cautioned him. “I was as anxious as you to find out if David could do anything for Brian.”
They walked a few steps in silence before Frank came up with the right combination of words. “I looked into your husband’s file.”
“His file?” she asked in confusion.
“The police file. To see what they found out when they investigated his murder, if they had any idea who might’ve done it.”
Her fine eyes lit with interest. “What did you find out?”
“Not much,” he said, resigning himself to her instant disappointment. “You were right. Without a reward being offered, there wasn’t any reason to solve the case, so nobody tried very hard.”
She sighed, and he thought she blinked a little harder than she usually did. “I suppose it’s far too late to investigate now. After three years…”
Frank cleared his throat again. “I was wondering…”
“Yes…?” she said when he hesitated, a small spark of hope lighting her eyes again.
“Maybe I could look through your husband’s files. Of his patients, I mean. Maybe there’s something there, a reason why somebody’d want him dead.”
It was unlikely that he’d learn anything. Just as she’d said, after three years there was little chance of learning anything new. She must have known this, too, but still she smiled a little when she looked up at him.
“If you think it might help, you’re certainly welcome to look through all of his records,” she said. “And Malloy…?”
“Yeah?” he said.
“Thank you for caring.”
8
MALLOY ARRIVED AT SARAH’S IN TIME FOR SUPPER. She’d felt obligated to cook for him since he was going to investigate Tom’s murder. Also because she wasn’t fond of eating alone, and Malloy was good company. Or at least interesting company. And they had a lot to discuss about the Blackwell case. Well, Sarah did, anyway, and she hadn’t wanted to discuss it walking down a public street this afternoon when Malloy was wrestling with his restless son. So she’d invited him to supper.
“How’s Brian doing after his exciting day?” she asked when she’d greeted him.
“He fell asleep on the train ride home,” Malloy told her. “I guess all the excitement was too much for him.”
“He certainly did seem to be enjoying himself.”
Malloy frowned as he hung his hat on the coatrack in her hallway. “I never thought of it before, but his life is pretty boring. My mother takes him shopping with her, but he sees the same things all the time. And the same people, too.”
“If he could walk, he could go more places,” she suggested.
“Did you understand what all that doctor said he was going to do to Brian’s foot?” he asked with a frown.
Sarah bit back a smile. Malloy had behaved as if he’d understood perfectly when they were in the doctor’s office. “Not all of it. The techniques he’s going to use are pretty unusual, at least from my experiences with medicine. Basically, I think he’s just going to fix the parts of Brian’s foot that didn’t form properly. And I know he’s been very successful in the past. There’s every reason to believe he can help Brian, too.”
Malloy didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t look quite so worried, either. He’d probably question her some more later, but not now. He wouldn’t want to belabor the issue and make her think he was ignorant.
The thought startled her, and she wondered how and when she’d become such an expert on Malloy’s personality. Before she could decide, he said, “Something smells good.”