Page 87 of Deceiving an Earl
“Maybe,” Lindsay said. “But there is talk among us all. It’s just strange.”
At that moment they were called back to the lecture, and Lindsay hurried away to join the rest of the group.
Oliver and Ashland hung back, watching them file in.
“What do you think?” Ashland asked.
“I think Needham has a mysterious supply of fresh bodies.”
“It could be like you said. He pays the Resurrectionists more to bring him the newly dead.”
“It could be.”
Oliver followed the last of the crowd back into the viewing area. “Are we really staying for more?” Ashland asked a bit thinly.
“You may leave, if you can’t take it.”
Ashland stiffened his spine and marched in with him.
Oliver paid little attention to the rest of the lecture as Needham carved up the body and produced the various organs. Oliver paid more attention to Needham himself and his assistants. One would think that a physician’s assistant would be another physician. Or an apprentice, one learning the trade and about to embark on his own. But these assistants seemed different than the men in the viewing area.
They were harder in appearance, and they paid little attention to the lecture, hovering about and fetching as Needham called for it.
Toward the end of the lecture—or what he hoped was the end—Oliver touched Ashland’s arm and indicated his friend follow him out. He circled the building until they were at the back entrance, where one lone door led into the lecture hall. Oliver hung back in the shadows of some trees.
“Dare I ask what we are up to now?” Ashland asked.
“I’m waiting for the two assistants to leave.”
“May I ask why?”
“Did you notice them? They weren’t what I would consider appropriate assistants for such a noted surgeon as Needham. They seemed more like ruffians.”
They did not have to wait long. The two assistants, one short and bulky and the other tall and thin, emerged from the back door and immediately headed toward the street.
Oliver and Ashland followed at a good distance. The assistants did not speak to each other. The shorter one was continually looking around, as if assessing the area for danger. The taller one seemed oblivious.
They walked for some time, until they were at the edges of, “The East End,” Oliver whispered.
“Should we continue to follow?” Ashland asked.
Oliver plunged forward. Now that they were in the East End it was more difficult to keep the two in his sight, but he managed. They walked with purpose—no loitering here. It was far too dangerous—until they disappeared inside a home that butted up against several other homes, all tall and leaning in toward the street, blocking the sunlight.
Oliver made note of where the home was and then motioned for Ashland to follow him out.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next day Oliver and Ashland sat in O’Leary’s office.
Oliver had a hunch that Needham’s two assistants were killing people in the East End to supply the doctor with the bodies necessary for his numerous autopsies. Needham was known as the brightest, most brilliant surgeon. Not only did he educate up-and-coming doctors on human anatomy, but he performed autopsies on his own, in private, to learn more about the way the human body worked.
He was considered a genius in his field.
But at what price did that reputation come?
The demand for his lectures increased yearly. Students were put on waiting lists to watch and learn from the master.
Oliver supposed that the beast of Needham’s genius must be fed somehow.
