Chapter 8 #2
Given his concern, it may have been a good plan for Harry to interrogate Mr. Hamlin and use some of that worry to intimidate him.
Harry seemed to have a different idea, however, and encouraged me with a nod.
Meanwhile, he browsed the workshop, inspecting tools, spare parts, and the drawings. Mr. Hamlin’s watchful gaze tracked him.
I cleared my throat to get his attention. “Why didn’t you tell us you hired a private investigator to find where Dr. Iverson kept his Electro Therapy Machine, so you could break in and sabotage it?”
Mr. Hamlin showed no surprise at my question.
Miss Bolton must have telephoned him after we left her, although I couldn’t see a telephone in the workshop and there hadn’t been one in the front office.
“I know how it looks, but I assure you I didn’t go through with it.
I never sabotaged the device. I’ve never even entered the premises, with or without a key.
” He sat heavily on a stool near the door. “I’m a coward.”
“Or sensible.”
He opened a drawer and plucked out a key. “You should take this and give it back. I don’t want it.”
I placed the key in my bag. “Has it been in that drawer the entire time?”
“Yes.”
“Does anyone else have access to this workshop?”
“Just me nowadays.”
Harry bent to study a framed photograph on the workbench. “You may not have gone through with it, Mr. Hamlin, but you planned to tamper with the machine in order to kill.”
Mr. Hamlin leapt off the stool. “No! I never wanted to turn the machine into a weapon. I was going to damage it in such a way that it simply failed to work at all. I wanted the doctor to think it was faulty. I certainly wasn’t going to increase the voltage the patient receives.
” He pressed his palms together, pleading. “You must believe me, Mr. Armitage.
Harry seemed not to be listening. He was intent on the photograph. “Why did you hire the R. Bolton Detective Agency?”
Mr. Hamlin blinked. “You already know the answer. To find out where the machine was kept and find a way to get into the premises after hours.”
“But why that agency specifically? He’s not local to you.”
Mr. Hamlin studied the floor at his feet, which caused his spectacles to slip down his nose.
“Why did you hire Mr. R. Bolton?” Harry asked again. “Did you use that agency because you wanted to hire Miss Madeline Bolton?”
I wasn’t sure why Harry persisted with that line of questioning, but I knew he must have a reason. Indeed, from the guilty look on Mr. Hamlin’s face, I suspected he not only knew the reason but was also about to give in. A little more stern prompting from Harry had him finally surrendering.
“There is no Madeline Bolton. The R in the agency name stands for Rose. She’s Rose Bolton, and the agency is hers. I hired her because I knew a woman would more easily get an appointment with Dr. Iverson.”
I understood Miss Bolton’s reason for pretending her father owned the agency. It gave it a legitimacy that a young woman would struggle to gain on her own. I’d probably have done the same thing, if I were in her position.
Harry turned the photograph around. It was of the same woman from the photograph in the office we’d seen during our first visit, except this time it wasn’t in black and white. The photographer had meticulously painted it to add color. The woman’s hair was the same shade of red as Rose Bolton’s.
“Is this your late wife?” Harry asked.
Mr. Hamlin snatched the photograph off him and pressed it against his chest. “It is.”
“She bears a resemblance to Miss Bolton. Are they sisters?”
“They are. I have no reason to hide that fact.”
“Miss Bolton clearly thinks she has a reason to hide it,” Harry said. “Not only did she lie about her name and the agency’s ownership, she failed to mention that you are her brother-in-law.”
Mr. Hamlin returned the frame to the corner of the workbench, adjusting the angle twice before being happy with the position. “I never asked Rose to lie to you. She must have her reasons.”
Murder would be a valid reason. Did she blame Dr. Iverson for the death of her sister? Perhaps she believed he should have cured her of her cancer.
Harry moved so that he blocked Mr. Hamlin’s exit to the office door while I remained near the back door. “Whose idea was it to sabotage the machine? Yours or Rose’s?”
Mr. Hamlin swallowed audibly. “I can’t recall now.”
“It was hers, wasn’t it?”
Mr. Hamlin adjusted his spectacles. “I told you, I can’t recall.”
“You shouldn’t protect her, Mr. Hamlin. She could be a murderer.”
“She’s not! She believes in justice, not revenge.”
“What happens when there is no way to get justice for the death of her sister?” When Mr. Hamlin didn’t respond, Harry continued to press him.
“Miss Bolton seemed like a formidable and capable woman. I can’t imagine she liked seeing the doctor who failed her sister continue to practice without repercussions.
Did it gall her to see his clinic thriving? ”
“Rose didn’t kill that poor woman!”
Harry seemed to accept the answer—or accept that Duncan Hamlin wasn’t going to give in—but I thought of one more point to make before giving up completely.
“She telephoned you, warning you that we were on our way here to question you. At the very minimum, that call makes it appear as though you’re colluding. ”
“I don’t have a telephone.”
“I’m sure one of your neighbors does. Are you aware the police can obtain call records from the telephone exchange company?” At his small gasp of surprise, I added, “Now, I’ll ask again—are you very sure Rose Bolton isn’t the killer, and you’re not an accessory to murder?”
Mr. Hamlin’s face became pale and waxy, and his hand began to shake.
“Please, tell the police I had nothing to do with this. It’s true that Rose telephoned me to warn me that you would be on your way here.
She also told me not to say anything about our connection.
She said it would look bad. But you’re right, I have to admit the truth.
Secrets just make us look guilty and we’re not.
I am quite sure Rose had nothing to do with the murder.
She may be headstrong and rather cunning, but she had nothing against the deceased woman.
She’d never even met her. If Rose blamed the doctor for my wife’s death, she’d have killed him, not an innocent patient.
Besides, I told you. Edith died of cancer.
There was nothing he could do to save her. ”
“Perhaps she finds it difficult accepting that,” I said gently.
His point about not knowing Isabel Kempsey was a good one, and it put an end to further questions.
Without a solid motive to murder Mrs. Kempsey, it was unlikely Duncan Hamlin or Rose Bolton were the killer.
While it was possible she was merely an innocent victim with a weak heart who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the killer had intended to punish Dr. Iverson with an elaborate plot to sabotage his clinic by sabotaging his machine, it was unlikely. It seemed overly complicated to me.
We left the workshop via the front office. Once outside, Harry asked me whether I’d been taken in by Rose Bolton. He sounded annoyed.
“I believed her entire story,” I admitted as we walked.
“The details were convincing, as was her behavior. Her father, the real agency owner, only hiring her because this job required a woman, and his reluctance to believe a woman capable of doing as good a job as her brother… It was all very plausible.”
“I believed her when she spoke about the brother,” he said. “She seemed genuinely sad.”
“I think she was, but over the death of her sister, not a brother. She played us for fools, Harry.”
“She told us what we wanted to hear. She flattered me by mentioning my successes, and even asking to join my agency.”
“Her struggle as a young woman trying to be taken seriously in a man’s profession had me sympathizing with her,” I added.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe I fell for her act. Am I so self-absorbed that a little flattery has me hoodwinked?
“You’re not in the least self-absorbed, Harry.
Don’t blame yourself. We all like to be flattered sometimes.
Besides, you told her that I solved the cases alongside you.
Those are not the words of a self-absorbed man.
Rose Bolton is simply a very good actress, and an expert at deflecting attention away from the truth. ”
“She certainly is,” he muttered. “Do you want to return to Islington and confront her with what we know?”
“Not yet. She’ll be expecting us to confront her again, so let’s do the opposite. She can stew while she waits. It’s unlikely she’s the murderer anyway. I agree with Mr. Hamlin on that score. There’s no strong motive for Rose to have killed Isabel Kempsey.”
“It could have been an accident, given she couldn’t have known about Isabel’s heart, but I agree. We should wait. So, what next?”
I removed my watch from my coat pocket and checked the time. “I ought to get back for the meeting at the hotel. We’re going to discuss what to do about Mr. Pierce’s threat.”
“Then I’ll leave you here. I have another case that requires my attention, and I have to travel in the opposite direction. Until tomorrow, Cleo.”
I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. “Until tomorrow, Harry.”
I was somewhat surprised, and a little alarmed, to see Flossy talking to Mr. Lombardi in the foyer of the hotel upon my return.
No other members of my family were present, although Mr. Hobart hovered nearby.
Upon seeing me, he quickly approached. His usually cheerful countenance was nowhere in sight.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hobart. Is everything all right?”
“I don’t think so. Mr. Lombardi waylaid Miss Bainbridge a few moments ago, even though they haven’t been introduced. It is most inappropriate. I wasn’t sure what to do, but thankfully you are here now.”