Chapter 4
Harry was on the telephone when I arrived at his office the following morning.
The recently installed device was a boon to his business, saving him a great deal of time, but it was also a testament to his agency’s success since installing it must have been expensive.
Although I suspected he could afford new furniture now, I was glad he hadn’t replaced the secondhand desk, or the old leather armchair worn smooth from years of use.
They gave the office—and therefore his business—an air of comfort and steadiness, both desirable traits for a detective agency.
He hung up the receiver as I placed two coffee cups on the desk.
I’d stopped in at the Roma Café downstairs where Luigi, the owner, informed me that Harry had guessed I’d do just that and prepaid for the coffees.
I slotted my umbrella into the holder by the door and hung up my coat on the stand then took a seat at the desk opposite him.
He sipped his coffee before telling me he’d just had a conversation with D.S. Forrester. “He’s refusing to allow me to see Dr. Iverson.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say, but he seemed cross.”
I lowered my cup without taking a sip. “Do you think he’s punishing us because I chose you over him?”
“I don’t think he’s that petty.”
I hadn’t thought so either, but why else would he be blocking Harry’s investigation? “So you haven’t had a chance to ask the doctor why he didn’t tell us about his affair with the victim?”
“Or whether anyone else had access to the cupboard where the Electro Therapy Machine was kept.”
“Ah,” I said, realizing what he meant. “If it was locked, just like the front door, the killer would have needed both keys. But we’ve only been asking about the key to the clinic, not the one that locked the cupboard door.”
“Precisely.”
“The killer may have picked both locks.” It was a consideration we’d overlooked earlier. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of that immediately.”
“To be fair, we were distracted.”
“By what?”
“I was distracted by you, and you by me.”
“You don’t distract me that much, Harry.”
He smiled into his coffee cup.
I cleared my throat and took a sip of my coffee, too, while avoiding looking directly at him.
He lowered his cup to the desk. “I had another look at both doors when I went back yesterday. There were no signs of forced entry, and no scratches around either lock, but that doesn’t rule out the use of lockpicking tools altogether.
” He passed me his notebook, opened to a page showing a list written in his neat hand.
“What do you think of the plan of attack for today?”
“I think it’s a good idea to start with the manufacturer. The more we know about the device, the better armed we’ll be when we question the suspects.”
We finished our coffees and Harry pocketed the notebook. As he assisted me into my coat, his fingers lightly brushed the back of my neck. Then he kissed the bare skin there. I turned and tipped my head back to receive a kiss on my lips.
When we drew apart, our fingers remained twined together. As we were both wearing gloves, it wasn’t as intimate as it could be, but the touch still felt as thrillingly improper as the kiss. If my family knew what Harry and I were doing in the privacy of his office, they’d be shocked.
I quickly withdrew my hand and retrieved my umbrella while he collected the empty cups.
Harry seemed to guess the direction of my thoughts. “What excuse did you give your family for being out all day?”
“I haven’t. I didn’t see any of them before leaving the hotel. I’ll have to think of something by the time I return, though. There’s an exhibition at the Tate Gallery. I could say I was there.”
“All day?” He opened the door for me. “I think you should say you’re helping me with this case. Sir Ronald hasn’t forbidden you to see me if we’re investigating. And it is the truth.”
“But he loathes me investigating murders. He thinks a lady detective should limit herself to finding missing puppies.”
“Perhaps it’s time he knew just how many murders you’ve solved. You did his friend an enormous favor last time. I think he can overlook your penchant for murder cases now as thanks.”
I wasn’t so sure. My favor for Lord Kershaw had been repaid by Uncle Ronald when he allowed me to continue to see Harry at all.
Harry locked the office door and followed me down the stairs. “Is the Tate open on Sundays?”
“Are you going to take me to the exhibition? That would be lovely. I do want to see it.”
“I was thinking you could use it as an excuse when you join us for lunch. My parents asked me to invite you.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder as we descended the staircase to street level.
“All right, unless your mother plans to interrogate me.” Harry’s adoptive mother was very protective of her only son.
Although she seemed to have forgiven me for getting him fired from his job as assistant manager at the hotel, I often wondered if she had, deep down.
“I doubt she will. She wants to mark the occasion with joy.”
“What occasion?”
He flashed his dimples. “You’ve forgotten.”
I gasped, then followed it with a groan. “It’s your birthday. Sorry, Harry. I did forget.” I placed a hand to his chest and stood on my toes to kiss him. “I’ll make it up to you by buying you a special gift.”
He circled his arm around me and gently pulled me against his body. “More of this is gift enough.”
“But you can’t unwrap it in front of your mother.”
I kissed him thoroughly, causing him to drop the coffee cup that was balanced on top of the other. Neither of us hurried to pick it up.
The headquarters of the Medical Electrical Company on Oxford Street was brightly lit, as if warding off the darkness of midnight, not an overcast morning.
The owner of the company and inventor of the Electro Therapy Machine, Mr. Reid, refused to see us at first. We overheard him ordering his assistant to throw us off the premises.
Going by the way he shouted the order, he wasn’t in a good mood.
The assistant emerged from his employer’s office with a sheepish expression on his face. “I apologize, but Mr. Reid is busy.”
The door opened again and a bearded gentleman with bushy black eyebrows appeared. “On second thought, they can come in.” The eyes beneath the brows skewered us with a sharp glare. “They could be useful.”
“Thank you for seeing us,” Harry said as we sat at the desk. “I’m not sure your assistant adequately explained why we’re here.”
The office was as large as my suite in the hotel.
Indeed, it was part office, part inventor’s workshop.
Although the desk where we sat was limited to paperwork, a second one and a long bench were occupied by all manner of interesting devices, tools and machine parts.
Another wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with books.
Harry’s gaze kept moving to the devices, but I couldn’t stop staring at the picture of a life-sized skeleton made up of several X-ray images pinned to the wall.
“He said you’re private detectives hired by Dr. Iverson to prove my machine is faulty,” Mr. Reid said, those ponderous eyebrows still severely drawn together.
Harry shook his head. “That’s not correct. It’s true that we’ve been hired to prove him innocent, but that doesn’t necessarily follow that your machine is at fault. It may have been sabotaged.”
Mr. Reid pointed a stubby finger in the air.
“Yes! That’s what I think happened. Good man.
We are in agreement.” He picked up a newspaper from his desk and showed us the front page.
The attention-grabbing headline declared WOMAN DIES USING MEDICAL DEVICE.
“Will you go to this newspaper and tell them? I’ve demanded a retraction, but the editor refused.
Until the police prove she didn’t die on an Electro Therapy Machine, he stands by the article. ”
“I read that this morning,” Harry said. “It doesn’t blame your machine for the murder.”
“But it’s mentioned! It’s murder by association.”
“Not really.”
Mr. Reid sniffed. “Murder of my reputation. Sales of the device will slow after this.” He shook the newspaper at us.
Harry took the paper and set it down to one side on the desk. “Mrs. Kempsey did die on one of your machines. That is a fact. What we think happened, however, is that someone tampered with it to lay blame on Dr. Iverson.”
Mr. Reid seemed satisfied that we were still on his side.
He crossed the room to the bench where a similar wooden box to the one in Dr. Iverson’s consulting suite sat.
“I was called to the doctor’s clinic by a Detective Sergeant Forrester yesterday morning.
It was I who informed him the machine had been tampered with.
According to this paper, Dr. Iverson is the main suspect.
Would you both care to join me and I’ll prove it can’t harm anyone, let alone kill, unless it’s been sabotaged? ”
We joined him at the bench and watched as he removed the zinc discs.
“I believe I know how it works,” Harry said. “May I run my knowledge by you and you can tell me if I’m correct?”
“By all means.”
Harry explained that the transformer should ensure a safe low voltage of electricity was passed along the wires into the zinc discs that are placed on the body, but instead, a high voltage was transmitted because a wire had been disconnected.
Mr. Reid tapped one of the wires. “You are essentially correct. However, this other wire must also be disconnected. It acts as a secondary safety mechanism in case the first wire is accidentally dislodged.” He held up two discs. “Would you care to try it on your hand, Miss Fox? It’s quite safe.”
I removed my gloves. “Certainly.”
Harry leaned over the box and gave the device inside a thorough inspection. “Perhaps I should go first.”
Mr. Reid placed one of the discs on the back of my hand. “If she is electrocuted, you may prosecute me and take all my money, Mr. Armitage. Does that set your mind at ease?”