12 High Crime Adventures of Dr. Christian Maier: America's First Forensic Detective

By Glenn Haas

During the last decade of the 18th century, Dr. Christian Maier serves as the Medical Examiner for Philadelphia, the capital and largest city in the young United States of America. Relying on the most advanced scientific investigative skills of his era, he assumes the role of America’s first forensic detective. Christian and his wife Henrietta become an indispensable team working with Philadelphia’s constabulary to help protect and preserve the city. The eight short stories and four novellas mix Christian’s scientific methods with derring-do to solve crimes with social, political and international consequences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781546274209

Glenn Haas

Dr. Glenn E. Haas is a former trauma surgeon who was born and raised in Philadelphia and practiced in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. While in the U.S. Air Force he was a triage officer and director of emergency services. He authored more than a dozen articles published in medical journals. His "Murder in the Time of Plague" and "12 High Crime Adventures of Dr. Christian Maier" were finalists for Next Generation Indie book awards. "The Patriot Surgeon: Victory or Death" is the fourth in the Patriot Surgeon series. An avid golfer and outdoorsman, he is retired and lives with his wife in Sea Isle City, N. J.

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© 2019 . All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  01/24/2019

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7421-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7420-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018915263

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Christian and Henrietta Maier, Carnell Fitzherbert and all of the criminals and nefarious

associates presented in these stories are fictional characters and bear no semblance to any

individuals living or long since deceased. In regard to other characters in these stories who did

exist, it is the author’s intent to present them in a fashion best depicted by their chroniclers.

Contents

Dedication

Author’s Note

Miss Anna and Miss Hannah

The Left-Handed Murderer

The Murder of Young Rodney Norris

Glencoe Retribution

Citizen Genet and the Laughing Corpse

The Deadly Inheritance

The Survivors Club

The Deadly Coach Ride

The Way to a Man’s Heart

A Sister’s Love

Black Widows Weeds

The Man with the Ink Stained Hands

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my trainers and mentors who should never go unthanked. Many have passed on but they never should be forgotten:

Drs. Segal, Harris, Mogul, Peguero, Citta, Trout, Pasdar, Parr and Lemole.

Christian and Henrietta Maier, Carnell Fitzherbert and all of the criminals and nefarious associates presented in these stories are fictional characters and bear no semblance to any individuals living or long since deceased. In regard to other characters in these stories who did exist, it is the author’s intent to present them in a fashion best depicted by their chroniclers.

Author’s Note

Christian Maier made his first appearance in The Patriot Surgeon novels. We followed him through his formative years, medical training and early years of his professional career. At odds with his friends, family and mentors, he remained loyal to his king and kingdom, followed his conscious and served as a volunteer surgeon with the British army during the War for Independence. He cared for Patriots, Loyalists and British soldiers alike, from the early days on Bunker’s Hill to the siege at Yorktown.

He returned to Philadelphia following the war, married Henrietta Chew and gradually was re-patriated into the Philadelphia scene. As quid pro quo for receiving privileges at Pennsylvania Hospital and gaining acceptance to the teaching staff of the Medical College of the newly re-organized University of Pennsylvania, he agreed to become the Medical Examiner for the City of Philadelphia. It was a non-paying position that required him to work endless hours with the city’s constabulary.

Dr. Maier next appears in the critically acclaimed novel Murder in the Time of Plague. By this time he has blossomed in his new role, bringing all of his professional talents to the forefront, to become America’s first and foremost forensic detective. Balancing deductive reasoning and courage with his ‘scientific approach’ to criminal investigation, he becomes an irreplaceable character in his adoptive city.

12 High Crime Adventures of Dr. Christian Maier returns us to the last decade of the 18th century, better known as the Federal Period. Mischief abounds in the nation’s capital, with social, political and international consequences. The reader is invited to enjoy how Henrietta and Christian right these many wrongs.

Miss Anna and Miss Hannah

The day had been a long one for Dr. Christian Maier. Earlier in the morning he performed two surgeries. At the noon hour he appeared in court as Philadelphia’s medical examiner at the trial of a man accused of poisoning his wife. The remainder of the afternoon was taken up with patient visits in his medical office. Now, as the afternoon dragged to its tired and weary end, he sat on a stool and eyed his final patient of the day. Mrs. Nolan, he said by way of greeting.

I’ve a belly ache Dr. Maier, she replied, getting directly to the point of her visit. Christian knew her to be nearing fifty years of age but to his eye she had always appeared older. A laundress and scullery maid since childhood, she was round shouldered with a dowager’s hump. Christian was certain her life of heavy work was responsible for her warped body posture. Presently she was employed at the Belden Mansion. Christian noted that her face was thinner and more sallow than he remembered from her previous visits. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, hands that were callused and thick jointed from many years cleaning and mending. He saw a mild tremor in her fingers.

When did the pain start? he asked.

Last few weeks, she replied in her normally gravelly voice.

A few more minutes of questioning revealed that the pain had remained unchanged since it started, she wasn’t feeling feverish, no foods in particular gave her difficulties and she was mildly constipated.

Please lie down on the examination table, he implored.

With his index finger he pulled down her lower eyelid and noted the paleness. Her facial skin was pastier than he had first appreciated but there was no evidence of yellow-jaundice. He found no lumps or bumps in her neck and mentally ticked off scrofula from his list of ailments. He draped a bedsheet across her waist and undid the buttons of her dress. The remainder of the physical examination was unremarkable except for the doughy texture to her abdomen that confirmed her complaint of constipation. No spark lit in Christian’s mind but fortunately her condition did not appear to be life threatening. He pondered whether she might have suffered an imbalance to her humours: too much black bile and insufficient yellow bile. He shook his head. He was a surgeon by training and by habit; he forced himself to retreat to a state where he based his opinions on what he could feel and see.

No rupture, no tumors I can feel, Christian said in a low voice. "You’re passing wind but no blood, so that is a good thing; no obstruction. No evidence of strangulation, perforations nor an abscess. No longer having your monthly, right.

She nodded her head and said Right.

Has this problem arisen before? he asked for the third time and for the third time she reassured him this complaint was the first of its nature.

All very queer and curious.

By the by, Doctor, Mr. Nolan has the same belly ache too, she added.

Your husband? he asked and she confirmed. More queer and more curious. Unlike the flux or dysentery, Mrs. Nolan, constipation is not contagious nor does it spread from one person to the next.

Christian took a quill from his desk, wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to Mrs. Nolan who was now dressed. He doubled the quantity of the prescription for he presumed she would dose her husband with the same medicine. Take this to the apothecary. We’ll try purging for a start. I shall treat you with cascara mixed with a tincture of turpentine. Add whey to your diet. No other restrictions. Three days hence I want to see you again, and bring Mr. Nolan with you. Three days, do not forget.

Henrietta cleared the last of the dishes from the dining table and Christian refilled their glasses with sherry. He scanned the mail that rested on a side table. Letter here from Ben Rush, he said.

Scented with perfume? his wife teased.

He sat down at the table again, unfolded the letter and read it. A request to perform a consultation. Two consultations, actually.

Henrietta returned to the table and he handed her the letter written by Philadelphia’s preeminent physician.

Dear Christian,

Please do me the honor of performing a consultation on two of my patients. You may not know them personally but I trust you are familiar with them by way of reputation. I am much in need of a fresh set of eyes and a keen wit to decipher their complaints and aid in their recovery.

Miss Anna and Miss Hannah Belden are two maiden sisters who share similar complaints and present similarly upon examination. They have abdominal discomfort of two to three weeks duration and are troubled by constipation. No fever, no chills, no abnormal discharges or bleeding or vomiting. They have various other complaints that prove difficult to interpret, complicated to some extent because they are somewhat balmy.

I await your opinion and as always remain in your debt.

Ben

Just this afternoon I examined a patient with similar complaints, Christian mused. I too was at a loss to arrive at a definitive diagnosis.

A coincidence? his lovely wife pondered.

You know I don’t believe in coincidences, he scoffed, but by a similar happenstance the patient is the housekeeper at the Belden Mansion.

Too bad you don’t believe in coincidences; it would help to relieve your confusion.

Hah! he replied. Then I shall tax you to help resolve the perplexion of both Dr. Rush and myself. I shall implore upon you to accompany me to the Belden Mansion and use that keen mind of yours to assist me with my consultation.

I shall be delighted to join you, Henrietta gushed over him. I haven’t seen either of the Belden sisters in years.

The story of the Belden family was common fare in Philadelphia. Captain Hezekiah Belden was a highly successful sea captain. During the War for Independence he was an audacious privateer who made life miserable for many a British supply ship and amassed a great fortune for himself. After the war he sailed the world, importing fine goods from Europe, spices from the Caribbean and jewels from the orient. He built a house on the Delaware River waterfront, more a small palace than a house, that overlooked the wide and heavily trafficked waterway. Midway through its construction the Pennsylvania Packet dubbed it Belden’s Mansion, and the name stuck. He also purchased vast farming property north of the city. During a trip to Halifax the sloop he was captaining was lost in a storm with all hands. His entire fortune, including the land holdings, furnishings and capital assets, was left to his three children.

Anna and Hannah remained in the city, lived by themselves at the mansion and were frequently seen throughout town. The two spinsters rarely were seen individually and more often than not were noted to be walking arm and arm. They dressed in the height of fashion and had achieved a level of local celebrity status. They were known simply as ‘Miss Anna & Miss Hannah.’ The brother, Henry, a recluse by nature, retreated to the farm and was seldom seen in the city any more. Apples were the farm’s main product. The farm’s apple orchards were vast and the farm provided a lion’s share of the cider for the city. Few ever saw or met Henry Belden. All of the cider and produce generated by the farm were brought to the city by the farm’s overseer and manager. He dealt personally with their many customers and to many he was the face of the operation. The financial affairs for the family were managed by William Bingham. Bingham had been a business associate of the departed Captain Belden, both during the war and after. He amassed a small fortune himself privateering during the war and was a onetime school mate and long-time acquaintance of Christian Maier.

The Belden Mansion sat on the corner of Mulberry and Water Streets. As he approached the mansion Christian counted the windows and stopped at 22. The building was three stories, topped by a cupola that mimicked a crow’s nest. The main floor of the mansion was surrounded by a large porch and scattered on the porch were many chairs. On the southeast corner two rocking chairs were positioned next to each other facing the river. The early autumn breezes off the river were brisk and caused the empty rockers to list forward and back.

A butler met Henrietta and Christian at the door, took his hat and showed them into the parlor. You are expected, Dr. Maier. The Ladies Belden will be with you shortly.

There were several chairs and sofas in the parlor. Tables were distributed between and among them. Vases and urns, adorned with oriental etchings and paintings, filled the room. Tapestries of every color and design covered the walls. Christian chose a small sofa, motioned to it and Henrietta sat. The sofa was upholstered in silk, emblazoned with oriental dragons and flowers, and cast a sheen from the reflected morning sun. Make sure you don’t slide off that sofa, he teased his wife as he remained standing.

The butler returned with a tray which he placed on a trolley that rested against the wall. The tray held eight china cups and two teapots. Also on the tray was a small glass tumbler that contained cinnamon sticks. Cider, Dr. Maier. Fresh and fortified. Please, help yourself.

Christian thanked the butler. He noted both teapots were warm and steamy as he lifted the lid of the forward positioned pot. The aroma was sweet. He poured a few ounces into one of the china cups, took a cinnamon stick in hand and swirled the cider. He gave Henrietta the cup with its saucer.

He lifted the lid off the second pot, waved his hand and gathered the steam from the pot toward his face. The aroma was strong and caused Christian’s eyes to water and his nose hairs to stand on end. The breathing passages in his head opened with a thud and his throat tingled as the vapors entered his lungs. Fortified, he mumbled hoarsely. He poured a few ounces into a cup and sipped.

As he replaced the pot’s lid the two sisters entered the parlor. More correctly they glided into the room, effortlessly and smoothly. Dressed in similar fashion with laced ruffles in the front of their dresses and bows and sashes to the side, they were differentiated only by the color of their hair. The woman on the right, with gray flecks in raven black hair that swirled high above her head, nodded to him and said, Thank you for coming to visit with us; Dr. Maier, isn’t it?

Christian bowed at the waist. I am, Miss Belden. It is very nice to meet you. May I present my wife, Henrietta, who very much wanted to accompany me this morning. Henrietta stood and half bowed and half curtsied.

The other sister, perhaps younger, had hair red-mahogany in color that was combed straight back and somehow folded under itself. Baubles and broaches were enmeshed in her tresses. She greeted Christian, saying, Dr. Rush has said many very nice things about you, Dr. Maier, and we welcome you to our home. Please continue with your cider, Mrs. Maier. Wilson will return shortly with pastries. Danish today, I believe. It is Tuesday, Anna, is it not? Christian presumed the red-haired sister speaking was Miss Hannah.

Tuesday it is, the dark-haired Miss Anna replied, but I suspect butter-rolls. Mazy, our cook, is partial to butter-rolls. I suspect butter-rolls it shall be, even if it is Tuesday. As Miss Anna spoke her hands fluttered in several directions, as if she were clearing away wayward flying insects.

Please, Miss Hannah said as she motioned to one of the sofas, join us. Christian nodded and accepted the offer. The women approached the sofa that was positioned against the far wall and sat down at either end. Christian was amazed at how they were able to reposition the bows and bustles of their dresses to negotiate the act of sitting down. Henrietta sat again on her small settee but Christian felt obliged to sit in the space between the two women.

As close as he now was to both of the women, he was still unsure how old or young they were. Each was trim in appearance and he was unable to detect any wrinkling or signs of aging in their faces. A soft coating of powder gave their faces a milky complexion.

Tuesday, Miss Anna said.

Sister is correct. Today is Tuesday, Miss Hannah added with a gentle hand wave. Dr. Maier, I believe sister is correct.

Miss Hannah looked past Christian to her sister at the opposite side of the sofa and said with syrupy emotion in her voice, I wouldn’t want to mislead our dearest and newest guest. Miss Hannah refocused on Christian again and rolled her right hand as she said, Dr. Rush’s note suggested you are from Philadelphia.

Yes, ma’am. I grew up in the countryside outside the city but went to school in Philadelphia.

Tuesday, Miss Anna said as she tapped Christian’s forearm for emphasis.

We originally are from Charlestown, Miss Hannah said. It is in South Carolina, you know. Father visited Philadelphia on many occasions and had nice things to say about the people and the city. Consequently he moved us here, built this house and now here we are. Both her hands rolled when she spoke.

But now, Dr. Maier, you are in Philadelphia, Miss Anna offered. To Henrietta she asked, Are you enjoying Philadelphia?

With a straight face she nodded and replied, It has its benefits and attractions.

I wonder where Wilson is with the butter-rolls? Miss Anna asked.

Father spoke often of Philadelphia, Miss Hannah said, in between his stories of voyages to Cathay and his tales of the cannibals in the South Sea islands. Where was it, sister, that he encountered sea monsters that threatened his sailing ships?

India, I believe, Miss Anna replied, or was it Africa? Some place where they have tea, or was it coffee?

Lord, what has Ben Rush gotten me into?

Before they could change topics or take the current conversation in a direction Christian did not wish to travel, he implored, Please, ladies, I know that you are quite busy. If you would allow me a few minutes, perhaps we may address the purpose of my visit.

Anna numbly stared at Christian, unsure what to say or how to say it, and nodded meekly. Hannah, baffled by Christian’s suggestion, shifted her gaze from her sister to Christian, and then back to her sister. She opened her mouth as if to speak but uttered no sound. She squirmed on the sofa and shifted her attention back to Christian when he said, Dr. Rush mentioned to me that you both have been troubled with discomfort in your abdominal regions, in your stomachs. Perhaps we may move forward with our interview and my consultation?

Christian stood up, stepped a few paces away from the sofa and sat in a chair that faced each of the women. Almost in unison they nodded their heads, put their feet squarely on the floor and sat upright with their shoulders braced back and erect. They brought their hands together onto their laps, folded them like obedient schoolgirls, looked expectantly to Christian and said in unison, Proceed.

Miss Anna, when did your pains start?

Anna looked at Hannah and both their lips started to work. Their mumbling was barely audible, indeterminable and lasted for 15 seconds. Miss Anna replied, Two weeks or so.

Maybe closer to three weeks, Miss Hannah corrected her.

Yes. Three weeks. The pains started three weeks, Miss Anna modified her answer. Three weeks ago, Reverend Lewis visited and ...

Christian’s eyes widened as he feared losing what little momentum he had gained. He interrupted as politely as possible and asked, For each of you, the pains started at about the same time?

Again, they looked to each other and the lips worked without their jaws moving or their eyes blinking. When they finished, after another fifteen counts, their heads turned to look at Christian and Miss Anna answered, Yes. Christian looked to Miss Hannah for affirmation and she silently nodded her head.

He plunged on with another question, not allowing for the chance interjection by either sister. How much worse is the pain now, as compared to ten days ago?

Again, the mouthings and labial pantomime, but Miss Hannah was first to answer. Worse.

Miss Anna added, Much worse.

Miss Hannah reaffirmed, Yes, much worse.

Worse now or worse before? Christian struggled for clarification.

Worse before, but worse now also, Anna said and again Hannah silently nodded her head.

Convinced that his questioning of the ladies might well fruitlessly continue into the next century, Christian lifted his china cup and drained the last of the fortified cider. The butler re-entered the room with a tray of butter-rolls, placed the tray on the trolley and poured fortified cider from the pot into the sisters’ teacups. He handed a cup and its saucer to each of the ladies and returned to the trolley. With tongs he lifted a roll onto each of the four plates.

Ah, Wilson, please, Christian said politely as possible, hoping to catch the attention of the butler. Could we possibly wait with the rolls until after our consultation?

Wilson looked to the sisters for direction. Suspecting they might have to wait until later to receive their butter-rolls, both sisters lifted their china cups and drained them in one swallow. Anna said, Later will be fine, Wilson. She waved her cup and Wilson refilled both Anna’s and Hannah’s china cups with the fortified cider.

Wilson disappeared from the parlor and Christian continued with his questioning. Have either of you experienced any vomiting or looseness of your bowels? Again, with the inaudible dialogue, this time punctuated by eyelid fluttering and a hand brought to Hannah’s mouth in pantomimed embarrassment. Miss Anna replied, No. As Christian looked to Hannah, she shook her head in the negative.

Wilson returned with two more pots of cider. Henrietta shook her head ‘no thank you’ and Christian raised his hand to defer. The sisters were not so deterred and in unison raised their cups to be serviced by Wilson. After waiting for Wilson to leave Christian asked, In regard to your bowel habits, would it be correct to say that you have been backed up for the past week or so? Constipated?

The sisters again turned their heads to gaze at each other but without delay and while still looking at each other, they answered in unison, Yes.

Thank you, Lord, Christian silently mouthed. The remainder of the questioning followed a course of more voiceless jabbering, head bobbing and the drinking of fortified cider. As they placed their teacups on adjacent end tables, with their hands now free, they resumed the waving and fluttering motions with their hands as they spoke. Christian thought it strange or queer, recalling their graceful entry into the room. Their flapping hand movements now appeared clumsy and purposeless.

The essence of their history was similar to the story related by Mrs. Nolan during yesterday’s visit. After another few minutes, satisfied he would recover no additional information, he asked, May we proceed with the examination?

The room afforded no ideal opportunity to perform a proper examination. After a few awkward and aborted attempts to re-establish positions, Christian was able to place Miss Anna supine on the sofa while Miss Hannah watched from an adjacent settee. The sofa was awkwardly short, for while the top of Anna’s coiffed hair butted against the left arm of the sofa, her legs were propped atop the right arm of the sofa and her shoes dangled over an ivory inlaid table. Christian placed his hands onto Miss Anna’s torso, hopeful he might discover the source of her complaint. He plodded on as best possible until he came upon an immovable object. The whalebone stays in her dress, supported further by the underlying corset made of some concrete-like substance, brought the examination to a screeching halt. The concept of asking the ladies to disrobe in the parlor to facilitate the examination was so macabre that Christian needed to close his eyes and shake his head to erase the thoughts of such a ludicrous debacle.

Christian was resigned to the fact his consultation would have to be completed without the benefit of a proper examination. Self-consciously he assumed the role of the quack charlatan. He probed at the patient’s belly region, interjected a few frowns and oh my’s and then repeated the charade for Miss Hannah. Mixed among the silly machinations Christian observed that both women exhibited many broken blood vessels in their faces about their noses. Christian was not surprised, given their affection for the hard cider. Miss Anna demonstrated a significant weakness in her wrists and elbows, weaker so than her sister. Each also exhibited mild tremors in their hands when asked to extend and stretch their arms.

At the conclusion of the consultation the sisters graciously bid their dearest and newest friend a good day. Christian assured them he would discuss their case in great depth and earnest with Dr. Rush. Thankful to be extricated from the quirky confines of the Belden Mansion, Christian was anything but contented. There were hints of abnormalities in the examination that thoroughly confused and confounded him. As they left the mansion Henrietta inserted her arm into the crook of his elbow and said, You don’t get paid enough for whatever it is that you do.

When Christian arrived at the Pennsylvania Hospital early the next morning, he came upon two people standing outside the door of the office: a man and a woman. He opened the door, bid them entry and offered, Good morning. May I help you?

The man took off his hat, held it in his hands and said, We’re the Gormley’s, me wife and me. We work at the Belden Mansion and knows you was there yestiday to see the ladies.

Yes, I was, Christian replied.

W...w... well, Mr. Gormley stammered, Mazy says the old ladies got belly aches, which is why you came to see ‘em. Me and Mazy, we think we have the same belly aches the old ladies got.

Please come in, Christian said as he ushered them into the examination room. He asked the couple many of the same questions he had asked Mrs. Nolan and the Belden sisters and received mostly the same answers. Edger Gormley admitted to being the carpenter-joiner at the Belden Mansion and was kept busy doing repairs on the house throughout the year. He complained of increased difficulties lifting planks and boards and tired easily when he sawed wood. And you of course, Mazy, are the cook for the Belden household? She admitted that the cooking pots were becoming increasingly heavier and she had greater difficulty remembering her recipes and the times required to cook the food.

Mazy’s examination was similar to what he uncovered in the other Belden patients but he discovered a different and more extreme picture in Mr. Gormley. Both lower legs exhibited blue-black discolorations. Christian placed his hand on the sole of Gormley’s right foot and said, Push away. Gormley tried to point his toe downward but Christian was able to use only his hand to keep the foot pointed directly up. He repeated the test on the left foot and the findings were reproduced.

Sit up, Mr. Gormley, Christian ordered. Gormley complied, allowing his legs to dangle over the side of the examination table. Extend your arms.

Gormley straightened his arms and thrust them to Christian. Christian noted the slight tremor in Edgar’s hands and fingers. Resist me, Christian ordered as he grasped Gormley’s hand and bent it backward. Christian did so easily without any resistance from the patient. Christian grasped the patient’s forearm and bent the elbow with minimal resistance. Christian redirected his attention to Gormley’s legs, placed his hand on the right kneecap and tapped with the side of his hand on the tendon that connected the kneecap to the shinbone. There was no reaction of the lower leg. He repeated the procedure several times on both legs and at no time did the expected knee jerk occur.

Christian was growing more disconcerted with what was starting to take the form of an epidemic. He ordered the cascara-turpentine purgative he had given to Mrs. Nolan, gave them their instructions and ordered them to return to his office within three days’ time.

Later in the day, en route from the hospital to home, Christian visited with Dr. Rush. He shared with him his findings and his opinions relative to Miss Anna and Miss Hannah. He also related the case histories of the Nolan and Gormley couples. Most confusing, Rush replied, but I do thank you for taking the time to visit with the Belden sisters. I shall follow your suggestions, prescribe the purgatives and see them again in a few days.

Thinking back to his previous conversation with his wife, Christian offered to Rush, If this is a giant coincidence, so be it. I believe it highly more likely we are inching toward an outbreak of vile disease. Not of plague-like proportion mind you, but of some malady that threatens to reach beyond the walls of the Belden Mansion.

Two days later Mrs. Nolan returned to Christian’s office with her husband in tow. Mr. Nolan, the gardener for the grounds of the Belden Mansion, was a thickly built man with dark and gnarly hands, consistent with his toiling for many years in dirt and soil. Christian briefly asked him many of the questions he had been asking the other Belden patients and learned nothing new. Yes, they had responded to the purgative ordered for them but No, they were not feeling appreciably better. Mr. Nolan admitted that he wasn’t passing his water with as much frequency as he had in the past. Upon examination he also exhibited vague weaknesses of the arms.

Enough of this Tomfoolery, Christian silently grumbled. He asked Mrs. Nolan to lie on the examination table, rolled up the sleeve of her dress and applied a tourniquet to her arm. He removed his lancet-blade and a bowl from the desk drawer, nicked a vein in her forearm and drained six ounces of blood. He bandaged her wound and repeated the procedure for the mister. When he finished, he called for a hospital attendant and ordered, A soapsuds clyster-enema for each of them. I want their bowels as clean as the church vicar’s conscience. To the Nolan’s he ordered, "Bread, milk, fruits and vegetables - and absolutely nothing else by mouth for the next week. Tea only for drink. One half cup of Epsom’s salts daily. No meats, no fish, no spirits or liquors. One spoonful of honey twice daily. I shall see you again in one week’s time.

Two days later the Gormley’s returned to Christian’s office in a state similar to the Nolan’s. With little delay Christian provided them with exactly the same treatment and instructions the Nolan’s received. On the following day Christian shared coffee with several of the staff physicians of the hospital, Dr. Rush included. Christian presented to them the perplexing histories and physical examination findings of his most recent patients.

I too have encountered several patients with similar stories, Dr. Griffitts offered. In like manner Drs. Hodge, Foulke and Redman related patients’ presentations that were shockingly similar in most respects to what Christian encountered with his patients from the Belden Mansion. Christian cringed, concerned that his worst fear was becoming a reality, that this strange illness was extending beyond the walls of the Belden Mansion. He reviewed with the physicians the treatment he had given his patients and their dietary adjustments.

And were you successful?

Their pains are less, their constipation is resolving but their tremors and weaknesses persist, Christian answered.

You didn’t bleed them enough, Benjamin Rush intoned.

I believe, with so many of the people at the Belden Mansion afflicted, there must be something afoul in the water or the food, Henrietta offered as she and Christian swirled and sipped brandy after their evening meal.

That would have been my bet also Heddy, but with what the other physicians at the hospital shared with me ... Christian allowed the thought to linger.

Yes Kit, a city-wide problem is possible, but keep your eye on the target in front of you. What do we know; what do you know about what is happening in and around the Belden Mansion?

You mean the physical property?

Yes, Henrietta replied. The wells, the cisterns, the privies. The food that is coming in; where is it coming from? How old, how unripe, how tainted? How is it being cooked? Is it being cooked?

We do not know all that much, really, Christian answered.

There you have it.

Christian narrowed his eyes and smiled as he said, You’re like a dog with a bone, Heddy. You don’t want to give up on the food or the drink as being the cause of their problems.

Sometimes the most difficult problems have the simplest answers, she persisted. Think of it as a puzzle. Do your investigation, eliminate what pieces do not fit and move on."

Like music to my ears, you recite my scientific approach to problem solving. Christian poured more brandy into their glasses. You undoubtedly are as smart as you are beautiful. You’ve earned yourself another opportunity to accompany me to the Belden Mansion tomorrow morning.

This time I shall arrive dressed to do dirty work, she said as she nodded her head for emphasis and drained her brandy snifter.

Henrietta Chew Maier, Christian teased, Philadelphia’s finest debutante from the spring season of, what was that, 1770; dressed in workmen’s coveralls.

And I’m still a bloody good looker in 1790, Christian Maier, Henrietta retorted in her best Cockney accent, if I say so meself.

Aye you are, Heddy. Aye you are.

True to her word Henrietta stepped into the one-horse carriage the next morning wearing a denim dress, carrying a pair of work gloves and a clump of work-cloths in her hands. Her hair was stuffed into a bonnet and a scarf was tied lightly around her neck. I too spent a few years on farm property during the war. It wasn’t all frills and petticoats, and the flowers and garden vegetables didn’t get planted by themselves.

Good help is hard to find, Mrs. Maier, and I shall appreciate everything you have to offer me, Christian said as he set the carriage in motion.

Wilson once again met Christian and Henrietta at the front of the Belden Mansion and did a double take at Christian’s assistant. We would like to inspect the grounds and the outbuildings, Wilson. We suspect a possible cause for the Misses Belden’s afflictions may be lying beneath our noses. Christian chose not to mention anything about the Nolan’s or the Gormley’s. We would like to make a thorough inspection, talk with the help and try to uncover something.

Be my guest, sir, Wilson obliged.

Christian narrowed his eyes as he reconsidered the butler. May I ask, Wilson, if you don’t mind? Have you been bothered by any of the complaints Miss Anna and Miss Hannah have been voicing?

No sir. Not at all.

How strange. Four of the employees at the Belden Mansion, in addition to the Belden sisters, share similar medical complaints of abdominal colic, muscle weakness and nerve palsies, but not the butler. Strange and suspicious.

The wells and the privies were at opposite ends of the property. Christian had spent far too many years inspecting such facilities for the British army during the war and recognized adequate facilities when he saw them. They inspected what was left of the vegetable garden and with shovel in hand Henrietta turned over dozens of clumps of soil and saw nothing unusual. On they went to the gardener’s shed, spoke with Mr. Nolan and uncovered nothing abnormal in their search. They met Mr. Gormley at the carpenter’s shed and likewise found nothing queer. They walked back toward the house and met with Mazy, the cook. Root vegetables are in the cellar and corn is in the crib.

But you don’t grow your own corn or potatoes, do you? Christian asked.

No sir. They come from Mister Henry’s farm. Belden Acres is the family farm in Oxford Township, Mazy Gormley replied.

What else comes to you from the farm? Henrietta asked.

Foods that can be dried and stored comes to us in casks and barrels, Mazy replied. Cured hams and sides of beef are hung. Mr. Nolan provides us with fresh produce from the garden; fresh fish is best bought in the markets on High Street. I go there every day and purchase what we need for our day’s meals.

What sort of food comes to you in casks and barrels? Christian asked.

Like I said, food what can be dried: flour, peas, beans, apples.

Apples. What about cider? Christian asked. Belden Acres supplies cider for half of the city.

Yes, we receive many barrels of cider, Mazy replied.

Thinking back to his previous consultation with the Belden sisters he asked, Both fresh and hard cider?

Yes sir, she replied matter of factly. We have several barrels of each in our storage shed.

Where is this shed? Christian asked as he looked to Henrietta.

Just over there, Mazy pointed to an outbuilding behind the carpenter’s shed.

Many a barrel of dried food has become tainted over the years, Christian said as he walked with Henrietta toward the storage shed. Black spotted wheat blight can be deadly and kills by the dozens. Worms in the peas, weevils in the flour, maggots in the beans...

Wouldn’t you think an experienced cook like Mazy would be keen enough to recognize a problem? Henrietta challenged.

Black spot is half the size of a speck and one has to know what to look for, he replied.

True to her word the storage shed held no less than two dozen casks and barrels of various sizes. Markings on the sides of the barrels identified their contents. PEAS, BEANS, APPLES, CIDER FRESH, CIDER HARD, and so forth. Christian noted several of the lids of the barrels had been loosened. He opened one and saw it was half filled with dried peas. He reached in, pulled up a handful and he and Henrietta agreed they looked reasonably normal. He replaced the contents and the lid and continued inspecting the other open casks and saw nothing unusual. He poured cider from the two casks that had been tapped with spigots and tasted nothing out of the ordinary, again noting the marked difference between the two varieties.

Christian took a deep breath and sighed. Nichts. They gazed at the other barrels and casks. No sense rummaging through casks that haven’t yet been opened.

Look here Kit, Henrietta said. Something peculiar. She rubbed her fingers across the top of a barrel of hard cider. Gray granular material adhered to her fingertips. She stepped into the sunlight, extended her hand and noted the granules reflected a dull sheen.

Metallic, said Christian. He returned to the shed, rubbed the barrel top again and more shiny, granular particles stuck to his fingertips. He searched the shed and found a metal cup. He used one of Henrietta’s work-cloths to clean it. He scraped the granular particles off his fingertips into it. He held the cup toward Henrietta and she did likewise. He searched additional barrels and recovered metallic granules from two other cider barrels.

All of these barrels are marked hard cider, Henrietta said.

Looks like metal filings, Christian said as he looked down into the metal cup that contained nearly an ounce of the material. I think it nigh time to visit the farm where the apples grow and the cider is made.

Christian rode with William Bingham in the coach and four as they traveled along the old King’s Highway en route to Oxford Township. As Bingham was the business counselor for the Belden’s, Christian asked him to arrange for a visit to Belden Acres. William immediately agreed to accompany Christian to the farm and within the hour they were on their way. Belden Acres is more than a square mile in size, Bingham said. Originally farmers from the Western Midlands bought the property from the Penn family, shipped over boatloads of saplings and seed and turned rolling pastures into apple orchards, wheat fields and serviceable farmland. Captain Belden bought them out but kept on many of the farmhands. His son learned how to make a product that people wanted: hard cider. Belden is a bit rough around the edges but he knows his way around a vat of cider. He ferments and brews the stuff personally.

William Bingham was true to his word. They found Henry Belden busy at work in what looked like a barn from the outside. In reality it was the building where he made his much-coveted apple cider. Vats, tubs, barrels and casks were everywhere. Four wagons loaded with bushel baskets of apples were lined outside the building and a continuous stream of men carried the filled baskets inside. In the center of it all was a short, stocky, broad shouldered man who wore a heavy woolen suit over a sweater, suitable for the cool autumn weather. Boots rose above his knees and atop his head he wore a slouch hat. The pipe that jutted out the corner of his mouth looked like it was a permanent fixture. Bingham made the introductions, explaining the intent and purpose of Christian’s visit.

The girls are under the weather you say, Henry said in a voice that was coarse and hard. Harrumph. Too bad. Did you spend much time talkin’ with ‘em?

I spent an hour with them, Mr. Belden, Christian replied.

Hah! Henry Belden croaked. You talked with ‘em for an hour and didn’t become daft yourself? You’re quite the man, Dr. Maier.

Christian towered over the shorter man and craned his neck to look him in the eye. He saw a face that was creased and weathered like tanned cowhide. His eyes were narrow slits and his eyebrows were as bushy as a squirrel’s tail. Christian was unsure how to respond.

You must admit, Doctor, Belden added, Anna and Hannah are a bit flighty. Have been since they were girls. Years ago, they scared away most gentlemen suitors who were in their right minds. Bingham here scared away the rest who thought they might endure and survive one of them for a piece of the family money. William placed their holdings into protective trusts. But they are my sisters, I love ‘em to death and am obliged to take care of ‘em and protect ‘em as best possible. Just can’t live with ‘em.

My concern is not limited to your sisters, said Christian. Several of the employees and house staff share similar ailments. I was concerned some form of contamination may exist. In our efforts to investigate the Mansion, its food and its water, we performed a thorough inspection of the grounds. Because you and your farm provide much of the food they consume, we thought it appropriate to extend our inspection to your farm.

’Tis a good thought, Doctor, Henry Belden replied.

Christian chose not to tell him about the patients of the other physicians at the hospital who also exhibited symptoms of abdominal colic and nerve palsies. Before I take a walk about the property, could you talk me through the process of how cider is made, both fresh and hard cider.

Aye, can do, Belden replied. Start with apples. There are many varieties of apples and we have many varieties here on the farm. Reds and goldens and pippins and russets. ‘Tis best to mix the varieties, blend them. Fresh cider is easier. Take a look here.

Belden led them to a large tub of water filled with floating apples. They saw a man scrubbing the apples with a brush. Apples must be clean of dirt and insects. Each is common in the orchard. Into the washing tub they go. When cleaned they go back into a bushel basket. The next step separates the two processes. We core and cook the apples to make fresh cider. Belden walked them to a cauldron that rested on irons atop a small fire. Beside the