The Plague Doctor by E. Joan Sims Page A

the alley and go in through the back entrance. That is, if this lock-picking set I bought at the Spy Factory works.”
    I patted my pocket where I had hidden the nifty little set a locksmith friend had told me about for one of Leonard’s heists.
    â€œI understand, Paisley. Good luck, and please be careful. It would be a shame to tarnish the Sterling family name with a police record.”
    â€œYou should have thought of that earlier. Go, Cassie!”
    We opened the doors as quietly as we could and slid out of the car. Cassie pulled her turtleneck up over the lower part of her face so that only her eyes could be seen in the dark. I hunched my shoulders down and pulled the collar of my black denim jacket up. It was the best I could do.
    We scurried across the street and hid for a moment behind a big holly bush at the corner of the dentist’s office.
    â€œOw!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPrickles.”
    I crouched down as low as I could and ran across to the alley. Two large garbage cans next to Doc Baxter’s back entrance afforded the perfect hiding place while I tried my hand at picking the lock.
    * * * *
    Five minutes later I was cursing and sweating like a longshoreman.
    â€œDamn! It wasn’t this hard when Jimmy did it.”
    â€œLet me try, Mom.”
    â€œDid you go with me to the Spy Factory? Did you see how it was done? Do you even know Jimmy? I think not!”
    â€œLet me try while you rest a minute.”
    I let Cass take the lock-picking tools and slumped down on the cold, hard cement of the doorstep, wiping the sweat out of my eyes. My hands were trembling and my heart was pounding.
    â€œI want my money back, that’s what I want. Forty dollars for nothing but three broken nails, a skinned knuckle, and…”
    â€œAnd an open door! Come on, Mom, we don’t have all night.”
    Unpleasant childhood memories of the measles, mumps, and chicken pox came back in a rush as the medicinal smell of alcohol and ether filled the darkness.
    â€œDoc Baxter’s private office is in the back, down that hallway.” I stepped in front of her. “Here, follow me, and pull your sweater back down off your face or you’ll sweat to death.”
    We made our way cautiously down the hallway past four examination rooms, two on each side. The old-fashioned leather examining tables were now covered with white disposable paper. I remembered crisp white sheets which I had held onto for dear life while I wailed in terrified misery as my sore throat or aching ears were probed and poked.
    There was a small dispensary on the left at the end of the hall, its shelves crammed with boxes of pharmaceutical samples, cotton balls, and gauze bandages of all sizes. Large bottles of different-colored liquids balanced precariously on a shelf sway-backed with age. I wondered how long it would be before it all came tumbling down. After only three weeks unattended, the office already looked abandoned and forlorn.
    Edgar Baxter had started his professional life in this office when he was a young doctor straight out of medical school. His wife, Julia, had been his nurse and receptionist for the first few years until they had “made it,” then Julia quit working and started trying to have babies. She never succeeded. Bored and bitter, she finally found solace in alcohol and the drug samples she took from the office. She’d died almost eighteen months ago of chronic liver disease. And though no one ever acknowledged it out of respect for Doc Baxter, she had been an alcoholic, plain and simple.

Chapter Fifteen
    The private office Edgar Baxter had occupied for over four decades was much neater than I had expected. It was situated in a large interior room with no windows to distract him. There were two doors: the door from the hallway and another one which opened to a bathroom. The bathroom had another door as well, that opened into the dark pharmacy. The facilities were apparently