The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(40)

"Was Dr. Hale seen alive after Mr. Clark left?"

Dr. Wiley nodded. "I spoke to him myself. We had to discuss his patients, you see, since I would take over many of them until a replacement could be employed. I told the police all this."

"And they will appreciate you repeating it for me," Matt said. "Can you tell us where you were after your meeting with Dr. Hale?"

He bristled. "I was with a patient until six then I went home."

"Can anyone verify that?"

"My signature on the patient's medical chart. I signed it and wrote the time just before I left. Ask the nurse at the desk to show it to you. Tell her I authorized it."

"Thank you, Dr. Wiley."

He continued on his way along the corridor and we headed in the other direction. "What do you think of the fellow named Clark from the Apothecary's Guild speaking to Hale?" I said quietly.

"I think we must visit him next. But first, let's confirm Wiley's story."

I left it to Matt to ask the nurse on duty for any charts Dr. Wiley had signed the afternoon of Hale's death. He was good at that sort of thing and she agreeably fetched them for us. We pored over the paperwork and confirmed that Wiley signed a patient's chart at five minutes to six.

"Wait a moment," I said, studying the list of names and times. "There's a signature after his written at five forty-five. Shouldn't these notes be in chronological order? Someone seeing the patient before him should have signed above Wiley not below."

Matt posed this question to the nurse and she confirmed it with a frown. "That's my signature," she said. "I don't lie, sir, I promise you, but I don't look at the times that were signed above mine unless I need to give the patient medicine at a regular interval." She tapped the line on the chart where she'd signed. "I just checked his pulse."

"Dr. Wiley must have read the clock incorrectly," Matt said gently. "Nothing to worry about."

"That must be it." Her mouth twisted to the side and her frown deepened.

"Did you also see a man named Clark talk to Dr. Hale in his office that afternoon?"

"I did, sir. He left Dr. Hale's office with a black look in his eyes, muttering under his breath."

"What about?"

"I only caught a few words. Something about talking to that reporter fellow. That's all I heard."

Matt thanked her and we headed out to the hospital to our waiting carriage.

"So Wiley wasn't with the patient when he claimed he was and he deliberately lied about it," I said.

"It would appear so. The question is, why?"

"And what else has he lied about?"

"Do you know where the Apothecary's Guild hall is?" Matt asked Bryce.

"Aye, sir, it's in Black Friars Lane."

"Drive us there now."

Twenty minutes later we arrived at the guild hall's grand colonnaded entrance. The obligatory coat of arms above the closed arched doors depicted a golden man with bow and arrow in hand, the sun's rays radiating from his head. Unicorns crouched on either side of him.

"Why the unicorns?" I asked Matt as we waited for his knock to be answered.

"I don't know, but I think the figure is Apollo, the Greek god of medicine, among other things."

"If I had a coat of arms, I'd like unicorns on it, too. They're so much more impressive than horses."

He laughed softly but schooled his features when the door opened. A liveried porter welcomed us through to the courtyard beyond. The building rose three levels high on all sides of the courtyard with a staircase at the back leading up to a door. A youth lounged against a lamp post in the center of the yard, an open book in hand.

"We're looking for Mr. Clark," Matt said to the porter. "We believe he's a member here."

"He's the guild master, sir," the footman said.

"Is he here at the moment?"

"He is, sir, but I'm afraid he's busy. Would you like to wait?"

"We would."

"And you are?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Wild. My American-based company wishes to discuss the potential supply of medicines from the guild. I was given Mr. Clark's name by an associate."

The porter's eyes lit up. "I'm sure Mr. Clark will be available to talk to you very soon." He called out to the youth. "Cartwright, show Mr. and Mrs. Wild to the parlor."

Cartwright tucked his book under his arm and smiled. He couldn't have been more than eighteen with his slender build and tuft of pale hair struggling to make an impact on his chin. He led the way to the staircase with long, purposeful strides until Matt asked him to slow down, for my sake.

I glared at him to show that I was perfectly capable of keeping up and he winked at me.

"My apologies, Mrs. Wild," the lad said. "Mr. Clark says I'm always in a hurry too."

"Are you his apprentice?" Matt asked.

"I am an apprentice, but not his."

"Is he a good fellow?"

Cartwright narrowed his gaze at Matt as he opened the door at the top of the steps. "He's an excellent apothecary. He oversees production of the medicines here."

"The guild produces its own on the premises?"