Chapter 2
I was rather glad the victim’s body had been removed from the crime scene by the time I arrived.
Despite solving several murder cases, I’d not seen many of the bodies, and apparently the effects of electrocution were more gruesome than most people expected.
Discovering the patient died by electrocution in a doctor’s consulting room was somewhat of a surprise at first, until Harry explained that she’d been receiving electric shocks from the Electro Therapy Machine.
The device was supposed to send mild currents through her system, but something had gone wrong in that morning’s session, and a much stronger current had been given.
We stood in the room with Detective Sergeant Forrester, a man I’d worked alongside on previous occasions.
He was relatively young and good at his job, but, most importantly, he had an open mind.
Like us, he was keen to uncover the truth.
He’d recently taken to calling me Cleo and insisted I call him Monty, something that had been noted by several friends, including Harry.
While it wasn’t unusual for men and women to call one another by their first names, it sometimes signaled they were more than friends.
I suspected in D.S. Forrester’s case, that was his hope.
Apparently he’d planned to leave the scene some time ago, but stayed when Harry said he’d telephoned me.
In the meantime, Dr. Iverson had been taken to Scotland Yard for questioning, while the two other staff working at the consulting suite—his nurse and receptionist—had been sent home.
D.S. Forrester had already questioned them, collected enough evidence to satisfy himself that Dr. Iverson needed further interrogation, and was merely extending Harry the professional courtesy of letting him look around before locking up the crime scene.
As a friend and former colleague of Harry’s father, a retired detective inspector, D.S.
Forrester was willing to make such a concession.
I studied the contents of the wooden box positioned beside a daybed.
The industrial-looking device with its wires, brass cylinders and knobs seemed out of place in the otherwise calming room with its tall potted palm in the corner, daybed covered with luxurious maroon velvet and soft leather armchairs.
“Don’t touch it,” Harry said. “While it should be safe now, I’d prefer you not to test it.”
“What does it cure?” I asked, straightening.
I’d addressed my question to Harry, but it was D.S. Forrester who answered. “It improves circulation of the blood and the function of the organs.”
“Apparently,” Harry added.
“You don’t believe it works?” I asked him.
“I telephoned Dr. Garside after learning the victim had died while using this contraption, and he doesn’t think it’s effective.
Although some medical professionals swear electro-therapeutic shocks can help cure all manner of conditions, there’s little evidence to support their claims. Dr. Garside says he wouldn’t personally recommend their use. ”
D.S. Forrester cleared his throat. “Aren’t you on Dr. Iverson’s side, Armitage?”
“I was hired to prove him innocent, not to prove the efficacy of his treatments.”
D.S. Forrester removed his notebook from his jacket pocket and began to flip pages. “You’re wasting your time. He had means, motive and opportunity. He’s probably guilty.”
“Then our investigation will prove it, and I’ll not receive a penny from my client.”
At the mention of ‘our’ investigation, D.S. Forrester looked up from his notebook. His gaze flicked between Harry and me and his lips thinned before he returned to reading his notes.
Harry continued. “The fact that Iverson hired me would suggest he’s innocent.”
“Or it could be a ruse to make himself appear that way.” D.S. Forrester sounded a little terse.
While Harry agreed that was a possibility, I did not. “If Dr. Iverson hired a private detective purely as a ruse, he wouldn’t have chosen Harry. He’s been in the newspaper quite a lot these last few months thanks to solving several cases, some of them rather high profile.”
D.S. Forrester pointed his notebook at me. “Thanks to you, you mean, Cleo. We know you solved them.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Harry. We’re a team.”
D.S. Forrester once again glanced at each of us in turn before frowning at his notes.
Harry handed me a brochure from the device manufacturer, his lips tilting with his wry smirk.
If he was offended that D.S. Forrester gave him no credit for helping solve the cases, he didn’t show it.
Indeed, he was more interested in flirting with me in front of the detective sergeant.
As he passed the brochure, his thumb caressed my fingers before letting go.
Even though D.S. Forrester appeared to be concentrating on his notes, I suspected he’d seen the exchange.
I lifted my gaze to Harry’s and smiled. He smiled back before dropping his hand to his side. It was good to see him, despite the circumstances, and I hoped my lingering gaze told him so.
When D.S. Forrester cleared his throat, I broke the connection and read the brochure from the manufacturer of the Electro Therapy Machine.
The device was purported to cure backache, headache, rheumatism, dyspepsia, kidney troubles, heart irregularities, sleeplessness, piles, weakness, nervous disorders, hernias and ladies’ ailments.
The brochure was a piece of art, with winged cherubs holding scrolls upon which were written the chief claims of ‘Cures Debility’ and ‘Cures Hysteria’.
A smiling woman and a strongman with bulging muscles stood below the cherubs, alongside a large building radiating bolts of electricity from its rooftop.
According to the print underneath, it was the office for the manufacturer, the Medical Electrical Company, with an address on Oxford Street.
“That’s quite a varied array of ailments,” I said. “If it worked, it would be a wonder cure.”
“A lot of people claim it does work,” Harry said. “Turn it over and you can read the testimonials of some.”
According to the quotes on the reverse of the brochure, several well-known actresses, sportsmen, and a number of medical professionals based in England, Europe and America thought the device a miracle of modern medicine.
Even Dr. Iverson was noted as having called it ‘an exhilarating health-giving current to the whole system.’
“I presume you’ve ruled out a fault with the machine?” I asked D.S. Forrester.
“The device had been tampered with, according to the engineer from the manufacturer who inspected it this morning.” He scratched his sideburns with the corner of the small notebook.
“I don’t really understand the science, but apparently one or more of the wires were disconnected.
He has put them back the way it should be to make it safe. ”
Harry pointed to the offending wire. “I think it’s a little more complicated than that, but essentially this connects to a transformer, here.
When the handle is turned, a safe low voltage current is emitted along these other wires, into the zinc discs which are placed against the patient’s skin.
When that wire isn’t connected, instead of a small electrical shock, the patient receives enough volts to kill her.
Isabel Kempsey’s death wouldn’t have been painless, I’m afraid. ”
“How awful,” I murmured. “It’s a terribly dangerous machine.”
“It is, but the killer had to know what they were doing. I have some knowledge of how electricity works, but I’m not sure if my explanation is correct. I’m not an electrician.”
He may not be, but he had a keen scientific mind.
His interests were in architecture and the engineering of buildings and structures, but his clever mind was capable of understanding many scientific theories.
I wasn’t surprised he had already grasped how the machine worked.
Having Harry involved in the case would be a great help, but D.S.
Forrester didn’t look inclined to ask him for assistance.
Indeed, he seemed satisfied that he already had the right man in custody.
That wasn’t like him. I’d always found him to be willing to accept possibilities other than the obvious. He must know something that we didn’t.
Harry pointed to the cupboard where the machine was usually housed.
“There are extra components, including a corset with these discs sewn into it, as well as a wide belt, and what appears to be trousers. They can all be connected to the machine and the patient will receive mild electric shocks while wearing them as they recline on the bed.”
D.S. Forrester pulled out the accessories from the cupboard and held them up for me to see.
As he held up the trousers, he pulled a face.
“A fellow would need to be desperate to wear this.” He suddenly flushed and quickly returned the items to the cupboard.
“Isabel Kempsey wasn’t wearing any of these, however.
Only those discs in the box you see there were connected to her face, chest, and arms.”
“When was the device last used safely?” I asked him.
“Friday. The patient walked out perfectly well, according to Dr. Iverson, the nurse and receptionist. Mrs. Kempsey was the first patient to use it today. Dr. Iverson didn’t notice the wire had been disconnected from the transformer until too late.
The device is stored in that cupboard when not in use.
He is supposed to lock the cupboard, but thinks it possible he forgot on Friday. ”
“You sound like you don’t believe him,” I said.
“Hence why I want to interrogate him further at the Yard. He’s the only one with a key to that cupboard.”