Chapter 6 #2
“I thought so at first. But then when she lay down on the daybed to receive her treatment, her wig moved. Usually women wear wigs when they lose confidence in their appearance—when their hair falls out or it goes gray, that sort of thing. But the glimpse of her real hair that I saw was a glorious shade of red, and seemed quite thick, although I admit I only saw a little of it at her forehead.”
My experience of people wearing wigs was a little different to his. Usually they did it as part of a disguise. It was looking more and more likely that the woman calling herself Mary Linton had a reason for seeing Dr. Iverson that day that had nothing to do with her nerves.
Harry was busily writing in his notebook. Without looking up, he asked, “Aside from the red hair, was there anything else notable about her?”
“She was pretty.”
“You already said that,” Mrs. Iverson pointed out. “In what way was she pretty?”
Dr. Iverson shrugged. “In the usual way. Clear skin, large eyes, generous mouth and a slim figure.”
“I’m sure that description will help Miss Fox and Mr. Armitage find her.” It was difficult to tell whether Mrs. Iverson was being sarcastic or not.
Her husband once again cleared his throat. “Are there any other questions, Armitage? It’s just that I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m rather tired and have a raging headache.”
“A pity we don’t keep any of that tonic you like to prescribe in the house,” Mrs. Iverson said. “Shall I send the housekeeper out for a bottle?”
“Don’t bother,” he muttered.
I was tempted to press him about the tonic but Harry quickly changed the subject. “Do either Miss Wainsmith or Sister Dearden have any understanding of electricity?”
For the first time, Dr. and Mrs. Iverson were both shocked by a question. “Are you accusing one of them of tampering with the machine?” he asked.
“We have to consider all possibilities.” Harry poised his pencil above the notebook page, waiting.
Dr. Iverson shook his head. “If they do, I’m not aware of it.”
“Nor I,” Mrs. Iverson added. “Furthermore, we trust them both implicitly. Don’t we, dear?”
Dr. Iverson gave an emphatic nod. “They are excellent employees.”
It seemed on that score, they were united.
Harry flipped the notebook closed. “One last thing. Did Isabel Kempsey ever complain about her heart?”
“As a matter of fact, she did,” Dr. Iverson said. “She once mentioned an erratic beat. I listened to it, but detected nothing unusual.” He leaned forward, his entire focus on Harry. “Are you saying she had a bad heart, and that killed her?”
“The high electrical current in the Electro Therapy Machine killed her, but her instantaneous death would imply her heart was already weakened. Otherwise she’d have taken longer to die. Long enough for you to switch off the machine and perhaps save her life.”
Dr. Iverson rubbed his hand across his mouth. It still trembled. “It was an awful thing to witness. But yes, it was instant albeit not pain free.”
Mrs. Iverson pressed a hand to her throat. “Poor woman.”
After a respectful moment of silence, Dr. Iverson asked Harry if he’d proved the machine had been tampered with. “D.S. Forrester wouldn’t tell me for certain, but he persistently asked me about my understanding of electricity, so I presume it had been.”
“It was,” Harry confirmed.
Dr. Iverson held up his hands. “Then I am certainly not the one who tampered with it. I know how to switch the lights on and off, not how they work.”
“Nor do I,” Mrs. Iverson added. “Just in case either of you were thinking I’m the murderer.”
Harry and I rose to leave, just as two newcomers were shown in by the housekeeper. Sister Dearden and Miss Wainsmith both exclaimed with joy upon seeing Dr. Iverson released.
Sister Dearden gave him a hearty embrace as his wife watched on, her gaze narrowed. “We received your message and came immediately. We are so relieved.”
“So relieved,” Miss Wainsmith echoed, as she also embraced her employer. “We’ve been terribly anxious, haven’t we, Sister Dearden?”
“Very worried indeed. How have you held up, Mrs. Iverson? You look a little peaky, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Mrs. Iverson gave her a curt nod. “I’m quite well, thank you, Sister. We’ve just been hearing a report from Miss Fox and Mr. Armitage. They’re making thorough progress in the investigation. Indeed, I believe they may have one or two questions for you both.”
Harry removed a key from his pocket. “Thank you for loaning this to me, Sister. Mrs. Iverson is correct. I have one question.” He glanced at the doctor. “It’s not an easy thing to ask in a group. Perhaps we can go somewhere more private?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Mrs. Iverson said. “There’s no point being discreet now. Mr. Armitage wants to know if you were aware of my husband and Mrs. Kempsey having an affair. Don’t feel as though you need to hide anything for my sake. I am aware of it all.”
Miss Wainsmith’s face flushed scarlet as she avoided everyone’s gaze. “I was aware, as you know,” she murmured, so softly that I doubted anyone other than me heard her.
Sister Dearden didn’t look surprised. She merely gave Mrs. Iverson a grim smile. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.
Mrs. Iverson folded her arms and inclined her head in a nod. Her husband patted her shoulder in what seemed to be a test to see if she would flinch or pull away. She did not, and he rested his hand there, a look of relief on his face.
“Miss Wainsmith, may I ask one more question?” Harry asked.
Miss Wainsmith looked like a startled rabbit as she nodded.
“Do you recall seeing a letter arrive at the clinic last week? It was written in all capital letters and had no recipient or sender on the letter itself. We’re not sure if it arrived in an envelope. Do you remember it?”
She blew out a long, relieved breath. “It doesn’t ring any bells.”
“Does the postman hand the post directly to you?”
“The first delivery of the day is already there when I arrive. Either Sister Dearden or Dr. Iverson collects it and places it on my desk for me to sort through. For the other mail deliveries throughout the day, I’m there. What was the letter about?”
“It was found in Mrs. Kempsey’s possession after her death, but Dr. Iverson says he saw it at the clinic days before her death. Are you sure you never saw it?”
“No. Never. Sister?”
Sister Dearden shook her head. “I haven’t either. How did it come to be in Mrs. Kempsey’s possession if Dr. Iverson saw it at the clinic?”
Everyone turned to look at him. Throughout the exchange, he seemed to be pretending he was elsewhere and hadn’t overheard a single word.
Now that he was being directly addressed, he shrugged, proving he had been listening.
“She must have taken it out of my wastebasket. We may never know now. Perhaps it’s not even relevant to the investigation. ”
“Perhaps not,” Harry agreed with a reassuring smile.
As we took our leave, Dr. Iverson once again complained of being tired due to lack of sleep. The ladies got the hint and they, too, gave their leave.
As the Iversons walked us to the front door, Miss Wainsmith mentioned cooking a hearty broth for the doctor’s health. “Our landlady has an excellent recipe that she claims does wonders for a strong constitution. I’ll bring some tomorrow.”
“We’ll be at work tomorrow,” Sister Dearden reminded her.
“Not so soon, surely.” Miss Wainsmith appealed to her employer.
Dr. Iverson gazed longingly at the exit and sighed. “I think I need another day to recover.”
“Miss Wainsmith and I will go in to rearrange appointments and set everything to rights.” Sister Dearden held up the key Harry had just returned to her then took Mrs. Iverson’s hand and regarded her warmly. “Do come and see us if you need anything.”
“Yes, do,” Miss Wainsmith echoed, blinking large eyes at the doctor. Large, pretty eyes, in a pretty face, with clear skin and a slim figure. Just the doctor’s type.
We walked out with the two women, then went our separate ways. Thanks to the long omnibus journeys between our destinations across London, it was growing late. Harry suggested we return to the hotel.
“I’ll speak to Sir Ronald and warn him about Mr. Pierce’s threat, then I’ll return to Islington and watch the area at the intersection of Linton and Mary Streets.” When I didn’t respond, his little finger touched mine. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“Did you think the exchange between Dr. and Mrs. Iverson strange?” I asked.
“Do you mean the fact that she wasn’t particularly upset about her husband’s infidelity? Perhaps Isabel Kempsey wasn’t the first and there was a long line of lovers before her. Mrs. Iverson’s caustic comments implied she knows what he’s like.”
“I agree, but it was more than that. Mrs. Iverson drew attention to me from time to time. It was a little unnerving. Why would she do that? Was it a ploy to trick her husband into flirting with me? But he wouldn’t; not in front of you.”
“They don’t know we’re together.”
That was true, although I suspected the more intuitive people we met guessed. “It was odd,” I said again.
“All I saw was a woman who greatly admired you for your career, Cleo.”
“If you think that’s all it was, I won’t read any more into it.”
The finger that touched mine now hooked around it. “She isn’t the only one who admires you for your skill as a detective.”
“Thank you, Harry. That is very sweet.”
“I do admire you for other reasons, too,” he quickly added. “Not just because you’ve helped my business.”
I laughed at the panic in his voice as he tried to clarify his response.
“There are many, many reasons I admire you,” he went on. “Your kindness, bravery, insight into the human character…”
“You’d better stop there. It’s starting to rain, and an omnibus is coming.” We could have walked back to the hotel, but at least we’d keep dry on our journey and it would get us there faster.