Chapter 4 #3
“Perhaps it was faulty,” he said as he absently slid Harry’s business card around on the counter. “If you compare it to another, you should be able to tell. Or bring it to me. I can take a look and give an honest opinion.”
Harry pressed his fingertips down on the card, halting the movement. Mr. Hamlin finally looked up again. He swallowed.
“You don’t believe it was faulty.” Harry released the card. “The police will have an independent electrician check it, but I think we both know they’ll find it couldn’t have killed anyone unless it had been deliberately tampered with.”
Mr. Hamlin swallowed again. “Perhaps you are right. It’s been some time since I looked at one, I can’t remember how it worked.”
“I’m sure it would quickly come back to you. In fact, as someone with an excellent understanding of electricity, as well as knowledge of that particular machine, plus a motive—"
“Motive! For murder! Are you mad?”
“A motive for sabotage. It seems likely the victim had a heart condition, something you couldn’t have known. You merely wanted to shock her badly—or any unfortunate patient who happened to be first to use it yesterday.”
The rather awkward inventor became a different person as he vehemently denied sabotaging the device. He even thumped his fist on the counter. “You’ve already been to see Reid, haven’t you? He put into your minds that I sabotaged his machine, because I’m a disgruntled former employee.”
“Who stole his ideas,” Harry finished.
“I did not! I’ve developed a superior machine through my own ingenuity.
That man is a liar and fraud. You can’t believe a word he says.
If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t even have the Electro Therapy Machine.
That was my invention. He bought it from me, then hired me as his chief engineer.
I continued to refine it, making it more portable, while all he did was pay doctors with famous patients to say it worked wonders.
Any monkey can do that.” He pointed to his chest. “Without me, he would be nothing. When I finish refining my newest invention, he’ll be nothing once again.
Mine will become the more popular product on the market, because it will actually work. ”
His pale face had become quite red by the time he finished.
I was worried he was overdoing it, so decided a calmer, less accusatory tone was required.
“Perhaps someone can vouch for your whereabouts. Your wife, perhaps?” I indicated the framed photograph on the wall of a doe-eyed young woman seated beside Mr. Hamlin.
He looked down at the card again. “My wife died last year. As to my whereabouts, I worked late in the workshop.” He indicated the door leading to the back room. “I went to bed about two or three. I live upstairs, alone.”
“What about other employees?” Harry asked.
“I have no employees. It’s just me. A small factory in Shoreditch assembles my device to order.” He picked up Harry’s card and tucked it into his pocket. “Hardly a serious rival for Reid, am I?” He gave us a pointed look. “Is there anything else?”
“Just one more question,” Harry said. “Why did you leave Mr. Reid’s employ? You mentioned you were disgruntled.”
He glanced at the photograph. “I was grieving my wife, but Reid wouldn’t allow me more time to…
compose myself. I decided I’d had enough of working with him.
My wife always said I should never have sold my idea to Reid, and I suppose it took her death for me to realize she was right.
” He lowered his head, causing his glasses to slip down his nose.
“Thank you for your time,” Harry said. “Please telephone if you think of anything further.”
“Actually…” Mr. Hamlin cleared his throat. “I think I ought to tell you, my wife was a patient of Dr. Iverson’s before she died.”
Harry and I glanced at each other.
“I know how it looks,” Mr. Hamlin said. “But I want to assure you, I don’t blame him for her death. Not altogether.”
“What did she die from?” Harry asked.
“Cancer of the breast.”
“We are truly sorry for your loss, Mr. Hamlin,” I said.
“Thank you. I know what you’re thinking now, but I assure you I didn’t tamper with the machine to ruin Dr. Iverson. As I said, I don’t blame him. Nothing could have saved her.” He looked down at the counter as his eyes filled with tears.
“I do have another question for you. Did you know the victim, Isabel Kempsey?”
His head jerked up. “No! I’ve never met her, heard of her, or know anyone named Kempsey.”
I felt his gaze bore into my back as we left.
“What do you think?” Harry asked as we walked away.
“I think Hamlin is still angry with Reid.”
“So much so that he was prepared to harm a woman he has never met to get revenge on his former employer? He may not have known about her heart condition and that the machine would kill her instantly, but he must know that electrocution—even for a mere few seconds—causes terrible injuries.”
“Mr. Hamlin didn’t seem cruel enough to do it,” I admitted, “but I’ve been wrong about people before.”
We decided to call on Mr. Pierce, since we were closer to his house than any of the other suspects.
He was the fellow who’d accused Dr. Iverson of malpractice after he’d prescribed what we suspected was Nerve Elixir to his now deceased wife.
He’d made quite a scene in the waiting room, shouting and carrying on until Sister Dearden calmed him down.
Mr. Pierce lived in a respectable neighborhood, if not an affluent one. We thought he might be at work, but fortunately he was home. He met us at the door and did not invite us inside.
Harry handed him a card and explained that he’d been hired by Dr. Iverson. He’d hardly finished getting the words out when Mr. Pierce went to shut the door. Harry muscled it back and forced his way inside.
“I wouldn’t try that again,” he said. “It makes you look guilty.”
Mr. Pierce rubbed his stubbled jaw and mumbled something under his breath.
I caught a whiff of alcohol and cigarette smoke, but I wasn’t sure if it was coming from him or the depths of the house.
“I know you want to blame someone for what happened to that woman, but it wasn’t me.
Yes, I want Iverson to suffer, but I wouldn’t kill a woman I’d never met. ”
“Where were you over the weekend?” Harry asked.
“Here, drinking myself into a stupor.”
“Can anyone vouch for you?”
“My dead wife’s ghost.” Mr. Pierce pressed his thumb and finger into bloodshot eyes. “Apologies. No. No one can vouch for me. I was alone.”
“No servants?” I asked.
“Do I look like I can afford live-in servants? I used to have a charwoman come, but I dismissed her. I’m not wealthy. It was a stretch to afford that damned doctor’s fees.” He put up a hand. “Sorry for my language, Miss, but talking about him aggravates me.”
“I understand.” I hesitated then decided to use a weapon that could be effective in this instance.
“I have a close relative who was prescribed the Nerve Elixir by Dr. Iverson. She became addicted to the cocaine in it and is now suffering the ill effects of that addiction. Is that what your wife was taking?”
Mr. Pierce suddenly grasped my hand. Harry took a step toward him, but I shook my head and he stayed back.
“Yes! Then you do understand.” Mr. Pierce squeezed my hand.
“You know how terrible it is to watch your loved one waste away while continuing to pay more and more money to that charlatan. I couldn’t help my wife.
She believed Iverson was right, that the tonic would cure her.
But it did the opposite. Not only did it slowly kill her, but before her death, her character changed entirely, and I blame that blasted tonic.
She used to be good and gentle, but she became angry, cruel.
The last few months were unbearable. What did you say your name was? ”
“Miss Fox.”
He squeezed my hand again, rather too firmly, and I winced. He started to say something but stopped himself, then released me. He raked his fingers through his hair, which didn’t improve its already disheveled state.
“It’s gloomy in here,” Harry noted, looking around the dark hallway.
“I keep the curtains closed. There’s no point opening them when you just have to close them again at the end of the day.”
“Why not put the light on in here?” Harry indicated the single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling.
“There’s something wrong with it.” Mr. Pierce shrugged. “No idea what.”
I mentally struck Mr. Pierce off our list. Clearly he had no electrical knowledge.
Harry thanked Mr. Pierce for his time and invited me to leave ahead of him.
“Miss Fox, wait.” Mr. Pierce angled himself between Harry and me, blocking Harry out of the conversation.
Mr. Pierce leaned close. I held my breath against the stink of alcohol and smoke that clung to him.
“Miss Fox, you may be interested to know that there is a way to punish the man behind the tonic.”
“I think Dr. Iverson is already suffering.”
“Not Iverson. The manufacturer of the Nerve Elixir, an Italian by the name of Lombardi. He’s here in London to present to pharmacists and doctors at a fancy hotel on Saturday.”
I held my breath again, but not because of the stench this time.
“I’m going to cause a scene at his event, something that will draw the interest of all the newspapers. They’ll be forced to listen to me, and then the whole world will find out Lombardi’s tonic is as dangerous as poison.”
Suddenly feeling ill, I pressed a hand to my stomach. “What sort of scene?”
“I don’t know yet. But I can assure you, it will be something spectacularly disastrous for Lombardi.”
For Lombardi, and by association, the Mayfair Hotel.