Chapter 9
Armed with the information learned from Mr. Chapman about the Café Royal, the first task for the day was clear—find out if Dr. Iverson had affairs with men as well as women.
Harry informed me over coffee in his office that he’d heard the rumors about the Café Royal after Oscar Wilde’s arrest five years prior.
“He used to hold court there. I thought it had changed after his arrest in ninety-five, when it suffered from the extra attention in the press, but apparently not. Did this information come from Chapman?”
I’d promised Mr. Chapman that I wouldn’t divulge the source of my information, but Harry already knew about the steward’s proclivities, so I didn’t feel as though I was breaking that promise when I nodded.
“He told me he saw Mr. Lombardi there, and suggested I use the information to blackmail him into paying his hotel bill. The news would be damaging to his business.”
“I think his business is already financially damaged, but I see Chapman’s point. So will you use it against him?”
I lowered my coffee cup to the desk. “It doesn’t feel right. Not to get him to pay his bill.”
“But for uncovering a murderer?”
“I wouldn’t hesitate. If Dr. Iverson has withheld pertinent information, he needs to be confronted about it.
It’s a motive. His practice would suffer if such proclivities were made public, so if Isabel Kempsey wrote that letter to him—or he thought she did—he might believe his only recourse to silence her was to murder her.
If she was angry with him for ending their affair, she might have decided to get her revenge by anonymously drawing him to the Café Royal where he’d be exposed. ”
Harry wasn’t entirely convinced with the theory, however.
“I didn’t get the feeling Iverson was hiding anything like that from me.
I admit I could be wrong, though, and it’s worth following up.
Besides, I want to return to the clinic and find out more about the late Mrs. Hamlin’s treatment.
Both Duncan Hamlin and Rose Bolton could have been angry enough with Iverson’s failure to diagnose her cancer to want to harm his practice. ”
We finished our coffees and returned the cups to Luigi.
On the way to Dr. Iverson’s rooms, we discussed ways to discover more about Dr. Iverson’s possible proclivities, but none felt satisfactory.
We settled on the direct approach. If asking him if he had affairs with men offended him, then so be it.
We didn’t get the chance to ask him, however, as he wasn’t there. According to Miss Wainsmith, he still hadn’t returned to work after his ordeal.
She indicated the telephone on her desk.
“I’ve just been notifying those patients who are due in today and also have telephones, but so few do.
” She sighed heavily. “I’ll have to tell them when they arrive for their appointments.
Some will agree to see Sister Dearden without the doctor present, but those who insist on seeing him will have to make alternative arrangements. ”
“That sounds inconvenient,” I said.
“It is, particularly when Sister Dearden is more than capable.” Miss Wainsmith pressed a hand to her chest. “Not that I’m complaining about the extra work, you understand. I’d never do that.”
“Why not?” Harry asked.
“This is an excellent position. Sister Dearden and I are fortunate indeed to be working here.”
“Dr. Iverson pays well?”
“Very well, but it’s more than that. He’s kind, and he doesn’t demand I stay back at the end of the day.
He and Mrs. Iverson were patient with me when I was still learning.
Sister Dearden is happy here, too. As an advocate for women’s health, she finds the work fulfilling.
She’s such a generous person when it comes to giving her time and expertise to women in need. ”
The consulting room door opened and Sister Dearden ushered a patient out, thanking her for keeping the appointment.
“Will Dr. Iverson be in again before my next appointment in two weeks?” the patient asked.
“I’m quite sure he will be,” Sister Dearden said.
The patient looked pleased. “That’s good to hear. Although you are an excellent substitute, Sister, I do miss the doctor’s cheerful face. Please pass on my regards.”
“We’d be happy to.”
The patient left without paying, so presumably she had an account.
Sister Dearden greeted Harry and me as she stopped by the desk to pick up a pencil. “Miss Wainsmith has informed you the doctor isn’t in?” she asked as she made a brief note in the patient’s file.
“She has,” Harry said. “We have some questions for the both of you, if you have a few moments to spare.”
Sister Dearden looked pointedly at the empty chairs in the waiting area.
“Alas, we do. The patients prefer the doctor, despite my best efforts.” The two women exchanged subtle glances, which I took to mean the patients preferred the doctor because he flirted with them.
If either of them was jealous, the look was too subtle for me to tell.
“I’m not sure how we can help any more than we already have, but we’ll try,” Sister Dearden went on.
Miss Wainsmith clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. “Yes, of course we will. What is it you wish to know?”
On the way in, we’d decided I should be the one to ask the question, but now that it came time for it, I hesitated. It was a terribly awkward topic.
Sister Dearden noticed my reluctance. In a brisk, no-nonsense manner, she urged me to continue. “I can see you’re embarrassed, but I assure you we’ve heard all sorts of things here.”
“Speak for yourself,” Miss Wainsmith joked, somewhat nervously.
I cleared my throat. “Do you recall the anonymous letter we mentioned? The one Dr. Iverson threw out that was found in Isabel Kempsey’s things after her death, along with love letters from the doctor?”
Both women nodded, giving me their full attention.
“The note said to meet at a particular address on Regent Street,” I said. “Mr. Armitage and I went there at the appointed time, but no one showed up. It later came to our attention that the address was directly opposite a venue where men can meet in private.”
“Do you mean a gentleman’s club?” Miss Wainsmith asked. “The doctor belongs to one. What of it?” She blinked innocently back at me.
“It’s not a gentleman’s club.”
The more worldly Sister Dearden understood my meaning. “Are you suggesting Dr. Iverson has relationships with other men?”
Miss Wainsmith gasped and her cheeks pinked. “What utter nonsense! Miss Fox, I can assure you, he is not that way inclined. Is he, Sister?”
“Indeed not. Not that I am aware of, at least.” There was a note of amusement in Sister Dearden’s response.
Not Miss Wainsmith’s, however. She was furious on her employer’s behalf.
“That is a most offensive suggestion, Miss Fox. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for even thinking it. You’ve met him, after all.
He is very masculine, and very popular with women.
Indeed, I’ve never even seen him look at a man in the sort of way you’re implying.
Not even Mr. Armitage here, and he is a particularly handsome man.
If the doctor were interested in men, Mr. Armitage would certainly be worthy of a longing gaze, but I didn’t see anything of the sort. ”
Was her denial too vehement for a mere employee? Could she be defending her lover?
Harry cleared his throat. Suddenly realizing she’d exposed her own thoughts on Harry’s looks, Miss Wainsmith flushed even redder. She busied herself with the paperwork on the desk.
A somewhat amused Sister Dearden turned to the filing cabinet to slip the last patient’s file into a drawer.
Miss Wainsmith’s protest may have been vehement, but I tended to agree with her.
If Dr. Iverson liked men, he would have taken particular notice of Harry.
Harry was a man worthy of more than one look.
But there’d been no lingering gazes. Was the meeting place’s proximity to the Café Royal important at all?
More importantly, who had written the letter?
Miss Wainsmith had claimed not to have seen it, but if the note was delivered to the clinic, it would have passed through her hands and into the doctor’s, so perhaps it wasn’t sent to the clinic at all.
I was about to press Miss Wainsmith again when Harry brought up the subject of the missing key. “You were right and it was the woman you saw return later claiming to look for her missing glove.”
Sister Dearden closed the filing cabinet drawer with a bang. “I knew it! Did she make a copy?”
I removed the key Mr. Reid had given me from my bag. “She did, then returned your original key while pretending to search for her glove.” I set the key on the desk.
Miss Wainsmith flipped the pages back through the appointment book. “Mary Linton, her name was. Very suspicious of her, we were. Weren’t we, Sister? She just wasn’t the typical sort of patient we get here.”
“Have you informed the police?” Sister Dearden asked.
“Not yet,” Harry said.
“Why not? She stole my key and must have come in and tampered with the Electro Therapy Machine before Mrs. Kempsey died. You’ve solved the case, Mr. Armitage.”
“But why would she kill her?” Miss Wainsmith asked. “Was she in love with Dr. Iverson, too? Was it jealousy?”
“That would be my guess.”
“It would be an incorrect guess,” I said. “The woman’s name is not Mary Linton and she wasn’t having an affair with the doctor, or wanting to start a relationship with him. She may blame him for the death of her sister.”
“He hasn’t killed anyone!” Miss Wainsmith cried.
Sister Dearden didn’t deny it, however. “Who was her sister?”
“Mrs. Edith Hamlin,” Harry said.
“I’ve never heard of her,” Miss Wainsmith said.
“She died last year.”