Death By Intention Page 13

  Chapter 13

  “Why did you do it Mrs. Steuben?” asked James curiously.

  “I did it to save my son from that harlot Mary O’Brien,” she hissed. “She was nothing but a cheap, little tramp! Yes, I found the love letters of my foolish son’s, and, of that O’Brien woman. I’ve had a key to that president’s desk for years. I’ve always had a duplicate key to the president’s desk so I could make sure nothing happened that I did not know about. I could not have my son black mailed by that trollop! What would the town think? No Prescott-Steuben could possibly have an illegitimate child with that sort of trash! There was also the matter of the inheritance. That little Martha O’Brien would usurp my darling grandchildren’s rights of property. I could not stand for it!”

  “So you killed an innocent woman for money,” said James sadly.

  “Innocent?” snorted Mrs. Steuben. “A little schemer from the start! I knew she’d eventually tell someone. I had to kill her don’t you see? The cocaine was perfect. I merely read enough about it and secured the powder from one of my late husband’s laboratory contacts. I even planted the cocaine by the bedside!” cackled the deranged old woman.

  Sue returned at that moment with the leather restraints. James and she carefully fastened Mrs. Steuben into the chair by the bedside. The older woman made no resistance. They took special pains to make sure Mrs. Steuben would not be injured or uncomfortable.

  “See to Abbey would you?” asked James to Sue.

  “Sure. Will you be okay with Mrs. Steuben?” inquired Sue.

  “I’ll be just fine. You help Abbey,” replied James.

  James turned to Mrs. Steuben again, “But, didn’t you inject Mary with cocaine?”

  “Yes, yes,” muttered Mrs. Steuben, her eyes losing focus momentarily. “But it took more cunning. She might have survived the overdose since she was young and healthy. I made sure she never woke up. The night you admitted me for my bladder surgery I crept into her room and gave her potassium chloride intravenously. I learned about potassium chloride from one of my husband’s previous medical supply companies he worked with in the business. That fool of a husband of mine thought I never listened to business at his dinner parties. But, I did. Oh yes, I did! I learned how useful potassium chloride could be and never forgot. That trashy woman died in her sleep. Quite peacefully, I assure you,” smirked Mrs. Steuben wickedly.

  “But how could you know she’d be delivering that day and you’d be in the hospital the same day? You couldn’t possibly predict her delivery date,” questioned James.

  “Merely providential. As a trustee to the hospital, I have a master key that will open every door. I planned to kill Mary O’Brien when she entered the hospital to deliver. Small towns are easy to gather information about such things. I would merely wait until she delivered, visit the hospital on some pretense, find her room number, make sure she was alone, and kill her with potassium chloride. The cocaine was merely a ruse to throw off that clot of a sheriff. And it would have worked except for you meddling Dr Phelan!” exclaimed Mrs. Steuben with eyes glittering with an insane glow.

  “How wicked,” muttered James. “Premeditated from the start. But, what about the others: Bessie Flint and Mr. Fields?”

  “Ah. That was the genius, Doctor. After you stuck your nose into things I just killed them to throw you off the trail. They were just poor, white trash anyway. And sickly on welfare to boot. If you remember, John had his hernia repaired the same time Mr. Fields died. He died so peacefully with the potassium. Bessie merely sighed after the injection and stopped breathing. That was during my gall bladder surgery as you recall,” grinned Mrs. Steuben with deranged relish.

  All the pieces finally fell into place. The three deaths made sense now. Mary died because of greed. The others died because they were poor and to confuse the case. But, why Abbey?

  “I just have to know, Mrs. Steuben. Why were you going to kill Abbey?” asked James afraid of the answer.

  “Why, so you could suffer as I have in this whole sordid Mary O’Brien business and for your meddling in my family’s affairs,” said Mrs. Steuben with a wide-eyed innocence.

  Then James knew the whole truth. Mrs. Steuben had to be stark-raving mad. He felt overwhelming pity and loss. As he sat down on Abbey’s bed, the tears filled his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. All this pain from one, twisted, sick old woman. “The Lord protect us all from such as these,” thought James to himself.

  Sheriff Edwards arrived with John Steuben and Deputy Frank Thompson shortly after finish the conversation with Mrs. Steuben. James filled them in with what Mrs. Steuben admitted she had done. Abbey and Sue heard the whole story as well and could corroborate Mrs. Steuben’s involvement in the three murders. Edwards looked sheepishly at James.

  “I guess you were right after all, Doc. Of course, I’ll need a signed statement from all of you when you get up to it. Accept my apologies,” said Edwards gruffly extending his hand.

  “Apology accepted. It must have all sounded too weird for you. I understand your skepticism. I’ll be proud to shake your hand,” said James warmly and without rancor.

  Abbey hugged James neck and cried softly. Little Joshua still cried softly in his bassinet. James held Abbey very close and pressed her head onto his chest.

  Frank Thompson and Sheriff Edwards slowly unfastened Mrs. Steuben’s restraints and gently stood her up. Even in her madness, Mrs. Steuben retained that regal, matriarchal bearing. Her son John looked on stunned and sorrowful.

  “We knew mother had some small strokes but I never thought it’d come to this. Her behavior at home never changed. I wish now I’d burned all those letters!” John choked out.

  As Mrs. Steuben left the room, she turned to look once more at James. For an instant, her eyes cleared. James knew at that moment she saw the old Mrs. Steuben.

  “Dr Phelan, I’m so sorry. . .I never meant to hurt anyone. . .oh Lord! Forgive me,” she shrieked.

  Mrs. Steuben stiffened in the officers’ arms, her eyes rolled back into her head. She convulsed twice and collapsed. James rushed to her side as a long sigh escaped from her throat. No breathing. He felt for a pulse at her neck. There was none. He gently slid her to the floor and pushed the code button over Abbey’s bed. In moments, the code team arrived.

  Abbey and little Joshua were hustled out of the room and moved down the hall. The team lifted Mrs. Steuben onto Abbey’s bed and began the resuscitation. James pushed cardiac medications, defibrillated, and anesthesia intubated Mrs. Steuben to oxygenate her. All interventions were to no avail. The code team never elicited a positive response. After twenty minutes of trying to resuscitate, James called the code off. James gently covered Mrs. Steuben’s face with a sheet and went out in the hall to talk to John. He had been hustled out of the room the moment the code began.

  “I’m so sorry John. She never regained consciousness or a pulse,” consoled James.

  “You did your best James,” answered John through his grief. “It is best she died rather than to have to go through a trial.”

  “It was the strokes that caused this. You know that John,” comforted James.

  “Partly yes. But I am to blame as well. If I had acted honorably in the past Mary would still be alive. I need to act honorably now for Mary’s sake. I am going to talk to Sam O’Brien about Martha and offer to make good on my paternity. If he thinks I don’t deserve to be a part of their lives, then so be it. I don’t want to make them miserable. I can, however; at least offer to help make their lives better,” said John bitterly. “What a fool I’ve been! To live in this deception so long. Look what it cost. At to what end?”

  “Perhaps to the end to heal the relationship with your daughter. Maybe to bring you to the point of learning you need to rely on the Lord and not your own schemes,” counseled James solemnly.

  “How can God forgive me all of this? What about Sam and Martha? How can my ow
n wife and family ever get over all this?” questioned John.

  “Maybe if I tell you the story of the ‘Prodigal Son’ from the Bib le and explain how Jesus saved a drunk I know,” began James. “Let me check on Abbey and Joshua, and then, let’s go get a pot of coffee at the Cozy Corner and talk to the Lord about all this,” said James with a smile.