William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

ugly before it was finished. It was painfully apparent in their faces that they did not know whether he was guilty or not, or wherethey should nail their colors to avoid sinking with a lost cause.
    From Mrs. Flaherty he got tight-lipped silence and a total refusal to offer any opinion at all or to testify in court should she be asked. She was frightened, and like many who feel themselves defenseless, she froze. Monk was surprised to find he understood her with more patience than he had expected of himself. Even as he stood in the bleak hospital corridor and saw her pinched face with its pale skin and bright spots of color on the cheekbones, he realized her vulnerability and her confusion.
    Berenice Ross Gilbert was entirely different. She received him in the room where the Board of Governors normally met, a wide gracious chamber with a long mahogany table set around with chairs, sporting prints on the walls and brocade curtains at the windows. She was dressed in deepest teal green trimmed with turquoise. It was expensive, and remarkably flattering to her auburn coloring. Its huge skirts swept around her, but she moved them elegantly without effort.
    She regarded Monk with amusement, looking over his features, his strong nose, high cheekbones, and level unflinching eyes. He saw the spark of interest light in her face and the smile curve her lips. It was a look he had seen many times before, and he understood its meaning with satisfaction.
    “Poor Sir Herbert.” She raised her arched brows. “A perfectly fearful thing. I wish I knew what to say to help, but what can I do?” She shrugged graceful shoulders. “I have no idea what the man’s personal weaknesses may have been. I always found him courteous, highly professional, and correct at all times. But then”—she smiled at Monk, meeting his eyes—“if he were seeking an illicit romance, he would not have chosen me with whom to have it.” The smile widened. He knew she was telling both the truth and a lie. She expected him to decipher its double meanings. She was no trivial pastime to be picked up and put down; but on the other hand, she was a sophisticated and elegantwoman, almost beautiful in her own way, perhaps better than beautiful—full of character. She had thought Prudence prim, naive, and immeasurably inferior to herself in all aspects of charm and allure.
    Monk had no specific memories, and yet he knew he had stood in this position many times before, facing a wealthy, well-read woman who had found him exciting and was happy to forget his office and his purpose.
    He smiled back at her very slightly, enough to be civil, not enough to betray any interest himself.
    “I am sure it was part of your duties as a governor of the hospital, Lady Ross Gilbert, to be aware of the morals and failings of members of the staff. And I imagine you are an acute judge of human nature, particularly in that area.” He saw her eyes glisten with amusement. “What is Sir Herbert’s reputation? Please be honest—euphemisms will serve neither his interest nor the hospital’s.”
    “I seldom deal in euphemisms, Mr. Monk,” she said, still with the curl of a smile on her lips. She stood very elegantly, leaning a little against one of the chairs. “I wish I could tell you something more interesting, but I have never heard a word of scandal about Sir Herbert.” She pulled a sad, mocking little face. “Rather to the contrary, he appears to be a brilliant surgeon but personally a boringly correct man, rather pompous, self-opinionated, socially, politically, and religiously orthodox.”
    She was watching Monk all the time. “I doubt if he ever had an original idea except in medicine, in which he is both innovative and courageous. It seems as if that has drained all his creative energies and attentions, and what is left is tedious to a degree.” The laughter in her eyes was sharp and the interest in them more and more open, betraying that she did not believe for an instant that he fell into that category.
    “Do you know him personally, Lady Ross Gilbert?” he asked, watching her face.
    Again she shrugged, one shoulder a fraction higher than the other. “Only as business required, which is very little.I have met Lady Stanhope socially, but not often.” Her voice altered subtly, a very delicately implied contempt. “She is a very retiring person. She prefers to spend her time at home with her children—seven, I believe. But she always seemed most agreeable—not