The Trial of Dr. Kate (12 page)

Beads of perspiration formed on Mr. Coleman’s forehead, and he grimaced as the last of the gauze pulled free. Angry red streaks radiated up from the incision lines, and the wound gave off a sweet smell that made Kate want to retch.

The doctor took a thermometer from his black bag, placed it under the man’s tongue, and then listened to his chest with a stethoscope. When Dr. Walt removed the thermometer, it read 105 degrees. He shook his head. “This isn’t good, Archibald—infection in the stump and early pneumonia. Where’s your wife?”

“She’ll be here directly. She and the girl walked to town.”

At that moment, Shenandoah and her mother entered the room. The wife, tall like her husband, was thin and emaciated. Her dull brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and her dark eyes were the saddest Kate had ever seen. The woman’s hands had large calluses, and her fingernails were broken and dirty.

Shenandoah blushed when she saw Kate. “I’m sorry about your dad. I hope he gets better,” Kate told her.

Dr. Walt said, “Lucy, I need to talk to you and Archibald alone.” To his daughter, he said, “Kate, why don’t you and Shenandoah go out to the car and bring me that newspaper off the front seat?”

When they returned, Mrs. Coleman was crying. Two days later, Archibald Coleman died in his sleep.

The funeral at the Church of Christ was a simple affair. Gilbert, one of Mr. Coleman’s brothers, had made the coffin out of rough pine boards. At the gravesite in the paupers’ area of the city cemetery, Kate and her father watched as the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the cold ground. Stone-faced, Shenandoah stood by her mother and wouldn’t look at Kate.

* * *

“Being a Coleman is like climbing a mountain carrying a hundred-pound sack of potatoes on your back,” Shenandoah said. “Everyone I meet won’t let me forget where I came from.”

Kate frowned and said, “Your mom died when we were seniors, didn’t she?”

“Cancer of the ovary. They operated on her at Vanderbilt Hospital, but she only lived three months.” As Shenandoah remembered her mother’s death, a feeling of sadness swept over her. Her mother had done the best she could to provide for the two of them after her father’s demise. Kate’s mother had died in childbirth too, Shenandoah remembered, and Kate had been raised by her father. She’d always felt sorry for Kate, that she’d grown up not knowing her mother, never knowing all the things a girl learns from her mother.

“But, Kate, now we need to stay focused on the present,” she said quickly. “I also talked to Randall Moody, the mayor and poet laureate of Moodyville. Seems you saved his daughter’s life—and his wife’s.”

A smile formed on Kate’s face, and the worry lines on her forehead disappeared. “I guess I’ve done a few things right. I hope that counts for something.”

“You’ve done a lot of things right. Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all make mistakes.”

“And we pay for them the rest of our lives. Who else did you talk to?”

“Army. That didn’t go well. Threw me out of his office. Got really pissed off when I asked him why he’s a ridge runner.”

“His illegal business worries me sick. I’m afraid he’ll get killed on one of those hairpin curves between here and Cookeville. Did you meet Bobby?”

“Oh, yes, I met Bobby. Drives like a maniac.”

“You rode with him?”

“Just a trial run to Static. Scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m crazy about Bobby. He’s an incredible fellow when you get to know him. Sweet as he can be. I worry about him too. I’ve begged Army to keep Bobby out of his illegal activities, but he ignores me.”

“Bobby asked me to have a burger with him. I think he likes me. But that would be a disaster. I told him I couldn’t possibly do that.”

“He’s a really sweet man. You could do worse, Shenandoah.”

“I’m not interested in a relationship with someone from Round Rock. I never have been. All I ever wanted was to get out of this town. There was some boy from Celina who mooned after me when we were seniors. I’m sure he wanted to marry me. What was his name? I can’t remember for the life of me.”

“Ashley Crouch was his name. He had a sister named Lisbeth.”

“What happened to him?”

“He killed himself. Took a shotgun into a closet, placed the barrel under his chin, and pulled the trigger with his thumb.”

“Jesus. That’s terrible. Did he leave a note?”

“No.”

“Let’s change the subject. I can’t deal with that. Bobby and Army are in your corner.”

Kate smiled and said, “You’ve covered a lot of ground in a short time. What’s the score?”

“By my count you’re ahead by a slim margin. Some people who don’t seem to like you have had some bad experience where you’ve bested them in some way. The people who love you have good reason to. You’ve been a positive influence in their lives. Any suggestions on other people I should talk to?”

“No. You’re doing a good job.”

Shenandoah smiled and said, “Did I tell you I’m writing a book about the Crump political machine?”

“I don’t think so. That’s wonderful. How far along are you?”

“I’ve got the outline completed and I’ve done a number of interviews. While I’m here I plan to see Buford Frampton. You know him?”

“Everyone knows Buford.”

“What do you think of him?”

“He’s a politician. What can I say? He’s probably no worse than the rest of them.”

“Do you have a history with him?”

“I have a history with almost everyone in Parsons County.”

“And?”

“You’ll have to ask Buford.”

“I will. I’m going to try to see him this afternoon. I understand he has a big farm just outside of town.”

“It’s a showplace. You’ll be impressed.”

“Can you think of anyone who could account for your activities on the day Lillian died? Did you make any other house calls?”

“I don’t know, but you might check with Jazz or Nurse Little. They knew where I was supposed to be—who I was to see—that sort of thing.”

“Jazz is Hank Boldt’s daughter? The one you grew up with?”

“I’m closer in some ways to Jazz than to Rebecca. Don’t get me wrong—I love my sister, but we were never close.”

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll go by your clinic this morning and try to talk to them. Any other suggestions?”

“I think Fred Compton is there today. He’s covering my patients two days a week. I’m sure he’ll talk to you.”

“May I tell him you suggested it?”

“Yes.” Tears welled in Kate’s eyes, and she took Shenandoah’s hand in hers. “I want you to know how much I appreciate your friendship. I’ve felt deserted in the last couple of months.”

“I do care, Kate. I’m sure a lot of people do.”

“Shenandoah, I want you to know I’m beholden to you for all your help. It means so much to me.” Then Kate gasped. “Oh, my God. I am so sorry. I plum forgot to ask if you’ve had any more trouble.”

“Someone ran me off the road on my way out to Randall’s. A new Dodge pickup. A Miss Tate pulled me back on the highway with her tractor.”

“Did you recognize the driver?”

Shenandoah shook her head. “Window was too dirty.”

“I don’t like this, Shenandoah. I don’t like it one little bit. You need to see the state trooper.”

“If anything else happens, I will. I’ve got to go before Jasper has a fit. See you tomorrow.”

Kate gave Shenandoah her usual hug, and then Shenandoah pushed the buzzer for Deputy Masterson and left the jail.

It was barely nine o’clock, but the temperature was already in the low nineties. Even the whittlers seemed subdued and lethargic, and they barely cleared a way for her to descend the steps.

Shenandoah found the clinic and parked the Bel Air behind a Ford pickup. Cars and trucks lined the street. The place looked like a madhouse already, with some families waiting on the steps. She made her way up the stairs, stepping over two- and three-year-olds. The waiting room was even more crowded, and she realized that Jazz and the nurse would probably be too busy to talk to her. She decided to ask if the doctor could spare a minute or two.

At the reception window, she pushed the ringer button, and a young black woman slid the glass partition open. She held a phone in her hand, and when she replaced the receiver, Shenandoah leaned through the window and said, “You must be Jazz. Dr. Kate told me I should look up Dr. Compton. Think he’s got a few minutes?”

“You Miss Shenandoah?”

“Yes. All these people waiting to see him?”

“He’s awfully busy right now.” Sweeping her hand toward the waiting room, she said, “These folks are sick, Miss Shenandoah, and they need to see the doctor. He ain’t got time to be talking to no reporter.”

Shenandoah took a business card out of her wallet and handed it to Jazz. “Dr. Kate asked me to see him. Please give this to the doctor and tell him I just want a few minutes.”

She took the card and got to her feet. “Wait here,” she said.

Shenandoah glanced around the waiting room to hostile stares. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but instead studied the furnishings in the room. Gray linoleum covered the floor, and the high ceiling had a whirling fan. The framed pictures that adorned the walls looked as if children had drawn them. The orange vinyl chairs could have come from someone’s kitchen.

A door opened, and Jazz said, “Dr. Fred said he’d talk to you for a minute.”

Shenandoah slipped through the door and followed her down a long hallway. They passed several examination rooms filled with patients. At the end of the hall, Jazz led her into a cramped office and motioned for her to sit in a chair opposite the desk.

As she turned to leave, Shenandoah said, “Wait a second. I had a nice talk with your father the other day. He’s awfully proud of you, but I guess you know that.”

She smiled, turned to face Shenandoah, and crossed her arms over her bosom. “What did you and old Hank find to talk about?”

“You, mostly, and Dr. Kate—and about his run-in with my uncle some time ago.”

“That poor white trash is going to get hisself killed one of these days. He ain’t got the sense God gave a goose. He’s just plain mean and no good. All of them Coleman people to the man are no good.” Jazz’s milk chocolate complexion reddened. “I’m sorry, Miss Shenandoah. I plain forgot
you
was a Coleman.”

“Don’t worry, Jazz. I don’t think much of my uncle Junior myself. Your father said you and Dr. Kate grew up together. You two must be pretty close.”

Jazz squinted at Shenandoah with narrowed eyes and said, “You wouldn’t be trying to pump me for information now, would you, Miss Shenandoah?”

“I
am
a reporter.”

“Dr. Kate and me are like sisters, so to speak. That don’t mean nothing against Miss Rebecca ‘cause she’s a fine lady. It’s just that Dr. Kate and me was always together as kids ‘til she went off to college and medical school. I stayed on to look after Dr. Walt. I cooked and cleaned for him. Proud of it, too.”

Jazz turned to leave, and Shenandoah touched her on the arm. “How about telling one good story about Dr. Kate?”

Again, she narrowed her eyes. “You a God-fearing woman, Miss Shenandoah?”

“Do I believe in God? Is that what you’re asking me?”

“The good Lord. Do you know Jesus?”

Shenandoah said, “I probably look at religion a little differently than most people.”

“Faith’s a hard thing for some folks. They don’t rightly know how to come by it. That may be your problem, Miss Shenandoah. But there’s a widow lady over in Allons—she’s got faith ‘cause of Dr. Kate.

“When Dr. Kate took over after her daddy died, she’d get plumb lost looking for folks’ houses. She even put a small compass on the dash of her daddy’s old Ford station wagon. One Saturday afternoon in 1944, she got really lost looking for Mrs. Jack Murray’s house. That old woman had called the office thinking she’d had a bad heart attack. Being lost, Dr. Kate stopped at a house in the middle of Allons to get directions. She got out of her car and walked to the front door and knocked twice on the house of a Mrs. Smith.

“What Dr. Kate had no way of knowing was that a few minutes earlier, Mrs. Smith’s three-year-old daughter had popped a peanut into her mouth and then started coughing. Mrs. Smith told Dr. Kate later that the little girl turned blue and rolled over on her side and kept gagging. Mrs. Smith said she’d dropped to her knees and started to pray: ‘Lord Jesus, keeper of my soul, please send me a doctor before my baby dies. Please, Lord.’

“When she saw Dr. Kate standing at the door, Mrs. Smith’s eyes filled with tears, and she screamed, ‘Lord Jesus, you’ve answered my prayers! This way, Dr. Kate, hurry!’ Dr. Kate saw what was happening and ran to where the child lay gasping for breath. She swept up the child, grabbed her by the ankles, and turned her upside down. Then she beat the little girl on the back until the peanut flew out of her throat. Mrs. Smith sat on the floor rocking back and forth, saying, ‘Thank you, Lord. Thank you for answering my prayer.’

“Dr. Kate saved that baby’s life and made a believer of Mrs. Smith. That widow lady knows Jesus. Yes, sir, she’s got the faith.”

As Jazz turned and left the room, Shenandoah took her seat and scanned the area. The desk, piled high with patients’ charts, also contained an open
Physicians’ Desk Reference
. Children’s drawings covered the walls, and a harsh fluorescent light lit the room from the center of the ceiling. All in all, the office was as starkly furnished as the waiting room.

Dr. Compton walked in carrying a patient’s chart. He looked to be about four inches taller than Shenandoah. His shirttail had worked its way out of his pants, he had a little potbelly hanging over his belt, and his tie hung to one side. A stethoscope was looped over his neck, and his dark brown hair, clipped into a crew cut, was flat on top. He pulled a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, tapped one out, and lit it.

Flopping into the chair behind the desk, he said, “I’m glad you came in—gives me a chance to catch my breath. I’ve been busier than a one armed paper hanger in a hurricane.” Leaning across the desk, he held his pack of cigarettes in front of him and said, “Care for a smoke?”

“No thanks.”

“Damn things can’t be good for you, but, Jesus, I love them. Could say I’m addicted. What can I do for you?”