Chapter 4 #4
She opened a door and smiled. “It feels a little less like sitting in a museum.”
Tennant and his constable followed her into a bright, south-facing room with a large window that afforded a garden view. The inspector and Lady Styles sat in facing armchairs by the fireplace. The young copper stood, waiting for instructions.
The inspector held up his bandaged hand. “With your permission, my constable will take the notes for this interview.”
When Susan said, “Of course,” Tennant nodded to the young policeman who fished a notebook and pencil from his tunic pocket.
“Lady Styles, a constable interviewed the Charter House desk clerk. He described Brigid Dowling, reported her arrival on Monday, and said she left at two in the afternoon on Tuesday. In your own good time, tell me about the girl and Marlborough House’s interest in her.”
Lady Styles began at the Isle of Wight with the discovery of Lizzie Dowling’s body, ending with her sister’s note and failure to keep the appointment.
“We’d arranged to meet on Tuesday, Inspector, so Miss Dowling has been missing for two days.”
“My detective sergeant and two constables are at work on her disappearance. You said you were concerned about the letter she sent. May I see it?”
“The last lines, Inspector.” Lady Styles handed him the note.
Tennant read, I’ll be showing you Lizzie’s last letter, but I’ll not be easy in my mind until you’re telling me it’s nothing. She was always looking after me, and now that she’s gone, I must do the same for her.
The inspector said, “I’ll keep this if I may. The death of the sister … the coroner’s jury reached an open verdict?”
“Yes. I spoke with the doctor who examined the body, and she—”
“She?”
“Yes, Doctor Julia Lewis,” Lady Styles said. “That must sound strange.”
Tennant half smiled and said, “Not as strange as you might think. I know Doctor Lewis. Will you explain her involvement?”
“Doctor Lewis was visiting the Isle of Wight with her family. The local medical man was unavailable, so she stepped in.”
“I see,” Tennant said.
“Might the girl have changed her mind and returned to Ireland?” Susan asked. “Perhaps a telegram to her employer, Lady Browne at Lansdowne House, might—”
“Would she leave without her luggage? She left her carpetbag in her room.”
Susan bit her lip. “I’d forgotten.”
“One obvious line of inquiry is the local hospitals. Miss Dowling may have met with an accident. If not, I may need to return with more questions.”
“I understand, Inspector. Is there anything else?”
“For the present, no.”
“Then I’ll see you out.” She looked over her shoulder at a tap at the door.
“Pardon me, my lady,” the footman said. “A messenger from Scotland Yard is outside with a carriage.”
At the front door, Tennant said, “Thank you, Lady Styles. We’ll keep Marlborough House informed.” He replaced his hat and touched the brim.
A hansom and the messenger waited at the bottom of the steps. “Sir.” He handed the inspector a note from Sergeant O’Malley.
The inspector read it. Then he said, “Take down this message, Constable.” He dictated a brief note and an address in Whitechapel. “Take it to Doctor Julia Lewis at her clinic. I’ll drop you as close as I can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then return to the Yard. Write up your report and have a summary of the interview with Lady Styles on my desk in the morning.”
Tennant and the constable climbed into the coach.
The inspector looked out the window as it turned from Wellington Road.
It was a chilly late morning, but the bright sunshine had tempted strollers along the Mall to defy the cold.
A gentleman handed a lady to a bench across from Carlton House Terrace.
Tennant envied their leisure in the middle of the day.
He had intended to drive to the clinic to see Julia after the interview with Lady Styles.
Instead, he would summon her for a pair of postmortems.
The inspector told the constable, “Two boys found a cab and its dead driver on the wharf off Trig Lane. Sergeant O’Malley believes they also found our missing girl.”
A few minutes before eleven, Nurse Clemmie looked at the watch pinned to her uniform. “Aren’t you supposed to be—”
“Giving evidence at the Kevin Leary inquest,” Julia said, walking past her head nurse and into her office, dropping her medical bag on her desk. “Postponed until Saturday by a local magistrate’s order. Doctor Barnes is scheduled for Saturday, so the delay is just as well.”
“Unusual.”
“The official used the word ‘unhealthy’ to describe the state of local opinion, ‘necessitating a “cooling-off period.”’ Well, ‘unhappy’ describes my state. I had three—count them, Clemmie—three private patients I needlessly rescheduled.”
“Well, that’s looking up.”
“Looking up? That’s practically Piccadilly Circus in my waiting room,” she said, dropping into her chair. “Anyone requiring attention at the start of our rounds? Our blast patients?”
“No signs of infection among them, thank goodness. We’ll need to reorder carbolic solution.”
Julia nodded, glancing at the wall clock. “No … no messages for me?”
“Were you expecting—”
“No, nothing,” Julia said, standing. “Let’s begin.”
Richard’s first day back at the Yard. Of course, he’s swamped.
An hour later, a young constable with his helmet tucked under his arm appeared at the door of the men’s ward. “Doctor Lewis? I have a message from Inspector Tennant.”