Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #238
… “Doc Campbell! Doc Campbell!” Sara pounds frantically on the mammoth oaken door of the huge house at 324 Virginia Street…
“I have one hem to finish and I will be right behind you,” she tells her favorite customer with a sweet smile, very much looking forward to getting home…
… which is exactly what she does, with a slight detour down the path that Olla probably took to Virginia Street, where the older woman stays with Doc Campbell and her daughter. Unfortunately that means she flirts with the fringe of a Frenchtown that is better traversed in the light of day.
Sara is no more than ten minutes behind, when she sees four or five white men scrambling into the bushes, laughing away as they scamper, one of them carrying the same satchel Olla had with her at the shop. She quickens her pace, all the while checking for further danger, ultimately coming upon a body covered with a bloody shroud of her finest rayon. It is apparent that the proud Olla did not give up easily and her attackers did not take kindly to that resistance. Seeing that she was no doctor, Sara did head straight for the closest one.
“Doc Campbell! Doc Campbell!” Sara pounds frantically on the mammoth oaken door of the huge house at 324 Virginia Street. There are no lights on inside, so she continues to bruise her hands in an attempt to stir A.O. into action. There is no time to waste.
Finally she can hear footsteps added the erstwhile quiet of the night. The heavy door swings open, creaking under its considerable weight. She did not know what the doctor looked like, only that he was a Negro and he lived in the biggest house in town. At 5′ 8″ she towered over the smallish man with a receding hairline and silk pajamas.
“Is someone ill Madame? Perhaps it can wait ‘til mornin’?”
“NO! It is Laura Bell. She was at my shop less than an hour ago and on her way home, she was attacked by a band of thugs…………she is badly injured.” Sara’s behest is taken to heart. The doctor retreats for a robe and follows her to the reported scene of the crime.
Suddenly, the mad rush turns into confusion. Sara Fenwick had believed she could revisit it easily, surely as she can guess any given woman’s dress size. Instead, that familiar spot, out in the open, which is why the attackers ran for the bushes when they saw her, is empty. There is no sign of a body on this dimly lit side street. They both walk over the bloodstained patch of cobblestone road where she had laid, now unawares.