Chapter 15
Floyd directed the two footmen to remain in the storeroom and watch Mr. Pierce until the police arrived to take him away. He then shook Victor’s hand before sending him back to the kitchen.
I received no praise for my part, nor did I expect any. As far as my cousin was concerned, I’d placed myself in danger. He did, however, advise me to rest in my room with a cup of tea.
I regarded him levelly. “Come now, Floyd, you know me better than that.”
His lips flattened. “Do not tell my father you were involved.” He went to walk off, only to return. I’d never seen him so angry before. My usually blithe cousin looked cross enough to have steam rising from his ears. “And definitely don’t tell Mother.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
He jabbed a finger at Harry. “And you, Armitage…” He lowered his hand to his side and tugged firmly on his cuff. “Your fee will be waiting for you by the end of the day.”
Harry nodded, but he didn’t appear to be listening. I suspected his mind was on the investigation, as was mine.
We didn’t have a chance to discuss it, however. Floyd escorted us both back to the foyer, at which point he said goodbye to Harry. Harry returned the farewell then stood there, waiting for me.
“Cleo is needed here for the rest of the day,” Floyd growled.
“Why?” I asked.
“To make sure Lombardi’s presentation continues to run smoothly.”
“Harmony will ensure that.”
“Your presence is required to show Lombardi and his attendees that the Mayfair Hotel is better than our rivals because of our family values.”
“Pishposh. You and your father are here for that, and Flossy, too.” I indicated his sister, chatting to some guests. “Although keep her away from Lombardi.”
“Cleo,” he ground out.
I gave him a little wave before heading off with Harry. Once we were outside, I glanced back at the door, expecting to see Floyd storming after us. Although Frank held the door open, it was a guest who emerged, not my cousin.
“We now know who the murderer is,” I said to Harry. “We just need to know why Sister Dearden wanted Isabel Kempsey dead and Dr. Iverson blamed.”
Harry clasped my elbow, stopping me. Deep furrows connected his brows and his eyes were hooded. It was as if a mask he’d been wearing until that moment slipped away, no longer necessary now that we were alone. “I was going to lecture you, too, but I think Floyd covered everything I needed to say.”
“Harry,” I said gently. “You know me better than he does and wouldn’t dare lecture me, nor tell me to rest.” I touched his jaw where the muscles tensed beneath my gloved fingers. I didn’t like being the cause of that tension, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped.
He blew out a ragged breath. “A cup of tea would settle my nerves right now.” He took my hand in his.
“Cleo, when I saw that red paint on you…” He drew my hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles before releasing me.
“We’ll take a cab to Sister Dearden’s residence. It’ll be faster than the omnibus.”
According to Miss Wainsmith, we’d just missed Sister Dearden. After my initial disappointment faded, I began to think her absence could work in our favor. Speaking to Miss Wainsmith alone could give us the answers we needed—if she wasn’t a co-conspirator in the murder.
On previous occasions, we’d chatted to the two women in the communal front parlor of their lodging house.
This time, however, the parlor was being used by other lodgers so we retreated to Miss Wainsmith’s room on the second floor.
It worried me to see her face looking waxy by the time she reached it.
Harry took her elbow and guided her to the faded green armchair by the fireplace. He shoveled extra coals into the grate from the tin scuttle, while I retrieved Miss Wainsmith’s shawl from the back of a wooden chair positioned with a small round table by the bed. She accepted it with a weak smile.
“It’s fortunate today is Saturday,” I began. “Otherwise you’d need another day off work.”
She settled the shawl around her shoulders, clasping it tightly across her chest. Like the armchair, it was also faded and some of the fringing was missing.
“I’m fortunate Dr. Iverson is so good to me.
I’ve taken so many days off these last months, yet he hasn’t dismissed me.
He and Mrs. Iverson have been a great support. Sister Dearden, too.”
Seeing her thin frame shrouded in the shawl and sinking into the large armchair made me doubt the theory I’d formed, but I decided to continue on the path Harry and I had discussed in the hansom cab.
We’d agreed it would be better for me to question her.
The matter was delicate. So much so that I’d told Harry he shouldn’t join us, but he refused to leave me alone with someone who could have helped Sister Dearden.
“When we spoke to you this morning, you said you’d gone to Dr. Iverson regarding your illness. We then spoke to him, and he told us he didn’t think you were ill. He thinks you’re with child.”
Her nostrils flared. It was the most irritation she’d shown toward him, or anyone.
“He asked me during my initial consultation if that could be true, and I told him it’s impossible.
I’m still…” A blush pinked her pale cheeks and I got the distinct feeling she was trying very hard not to glance in Harry’s direction.
“I know how babies are made, and I can assure you with absolute certainty that I’m not carrying one.
I wondered if he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t let on. ”
With that part of my theory shattered, I only had one aspect left, and I’d doubted its veracity all along. Even so, I broached it with her. “Did Sister Dearden have any friends or family who were treated by Dr. Iverson?”
“Not that I am aware.”
“Has she ever blamed him for the death of a patient?”
She frowned. “No.”
Edith Hamlin had been a patient before Miss Wainsmith worked for him, but there was one other patient who’d died more recently, and her husband blamed the doctor. “What about Mrs. Pierce?”
She blinked at me. “The wife of the man who shouted abuse at the doctor? No, of course not. Unfortunately, not every patient can be saved. No one knows that better than a nurse, Miss Fox.”
“Have you ever heard Sister Dearden and the doctor clash? Perhaps over a patient’s treatment. Perhaps over yours.”
“No!”
“But she was the one who told you to take the tonics and powders, not him. He thought you were with child, but she realized something else was causing your illness and went behind his back.”
The fingers clasping her shawl at her chest tightened, bunching the knitted wool in her fist. “What are you implying?”
“Mr. Pierce informed us that Sister Dearden told him the doctor would ‘get what he deserved.’”
She gasped. “Surely that’s a lie to throw suspicion onto someone else. He blames Dr. Iverson for the death of his wife; Sister Dearden doesn’t. She has no reason to kill Mrs. Kempsey or ruin him.”
“We think she blames him for persistently misdiagnosing patients,” Harry said. “She wants to harm his business in retaliation.”
“That’s absurd. And if it is true, why would she kill Mrs. Kempsey to punish him?”
“That may have been a mistake on her part. Mrs. Kempsey complained of a heart condition, but the doctor found nothing wrong. If Sister Dearden also believed there was nothing wrong, she may have merely intended to injure her, not kill her, to punish the doctor.”
Miss Wainsmith’s features pinched, either in pain or horror, or perhaps both.
She didn’t protest again, however. Was that because she believed her colleague capable of murder?
Having lived and worked in the same building together for a year, she must know the nurse very well.
It was a positive endorsement of our theory that Sister Dearden was guilty, but we still lacked a strong enough motive.
“Where is her room?” I asked.
Miss Wainsmith pointed at the wall to her left. “Next to mine.”
Harry and I exchanged glances. I could tell he was thinking the same thing as me. The problem was the woman in front of us. She wouldn’t allow us to break into Sister Dearden’s room and I doubted we could sneak in without her realizing.
I was still considering how to proceed when Harry spoke up. “I hope she isn’t guilty. Helping poor women with their medical needs is an admirable thing to do, and we’d like her to continue her work. But she won’t be able to unless we prove her innocent. I think we can do that here and now.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You want to look through her things, don’t you?”
“You can be there the entire time, watching us. We’ll be careful and put back everything we touch. She’ll never know we were in there. She’ll never know we suspected her.”
Miss Wainsmith seemed to be wavering, so I added my weight to Harry’s argument. “If we can’t rule her out, I’m afraid we’ll have to report everything to the police. They won’t be as discreet when they search her room.”
She gave in with a sigh. “I’ll fetch the spare key from our landlady.”
“There’s no need,” Harry said, most likely because he didn’t want the landlady involved. It would only require further explanations and delays.
Miss Wainsmith followed us into the corridor and kept watch with me as Harry picked the lock on Sister’s Dearden’s door. She was quite amazed when he had it open in moments, and bent to inspect the lock to ensure it wasn’t damaged.
Harry and I wasted no time. The room was identical to Miss Wainsmith’s in size, although it wasn’t as sparsely furnished and the furniture was of better quality and in newer condition. There was something missing, however.
“You told us Sister Dearden sees patients in here,” I said to Miss Wainsmith.
“Yes.”
“But there’s no table long enough for a patient to lie on, just the small round one.” The table was hardly large enough for two people to enjoy a cup of tea and slice of cake, let alone conduct a medical examination.