Page 17 of Murder on Harley Street
“But you can’t unwrap it in front of your mother.”
I kissed him thoroughly, causing him to drop the coffee cup that was balanced on top of the other. Neither of us hurried to pick it up.
The headquartersof the Medical Electrical Company on Oxford Street was brightly lit, as if warding off the darkness of midnight, not an overcast morning. The owner of the company and inventor of the Electro Therapy Machine, Mr. Reid, refused to see us at first. We overheard him ordering his assistant to throw us off the premises. Going by the way he shouted the order, he wasn’t in a good mood.
The assistant emerged from his employer’s office with a sheepish expression on his face. “I apologize, but Mr. Reid is busy.”
The door opened again and a bearded gentleman with bushy black eyebrows appeared. “On second thought, they can come in.” The eyes beneath the brows skewered us with a sharp glare. “They could be useful.”
“Thank you for seeing us,” Harry said as we sat at the desk. “I’m not sure your assistant adequately explained why we’re here.”
The office was as large as my suite in the hotel. Indeed, it was part office, part inventor’s workshop. Although the desk where we sat was limited to paperwork, a second one and a long bench were occupied by all manner of interesting devices, tools and machine parts. Another wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with books. Harry’s gaze kept moving to the devices, but I couldn’t stop staring at the picture of a life-sized skeleton made up of several X-ray images pinned to the wall.
“He said you’re private detectives hired by Dr. Iverson to prove my machine is faulty,” Mr. Reid said, those ponderous eyebrows still severely drawn together.
Harry shook his head. “That’s not correct. It’s true that we’ve been hired to prove him innocent, but that doesn’t necessarily follow that your machine is at fault. It may have been sabotaged.”
Mr. Reid pointed a stubby finger in the air. “Yes! That’s what I think happened. Good man. We are in agreement.” He picked up a newspaper from his desk and showed us the front page. The attention-grabbing headline declared WOMAN DIES USING MEDICAL DEVICE. “Will you go to this newspaper and tell them? I’ve demanded a retraction, but the editor refused. Until the police prove she didn’t die on an Electro Therapy Machine, he stands by the article.”
“I read that this morning,” Harry said. “It doesn’t blame your machine for the murder.”
“But it’s mentioned! It’s murder by association.”
“Not really.”
Mr. Reid sniffed. “Murder of my reputation. Sales of the device will slow after this.” He shook the newspaper at us.
Harry took the paper and set it down to one side on the desk. “Mrs. Kempsey did die on one of your machines. That is a fact. What we think happened, however, is that someone tampered with it to lay blame on Dr. Iverson.”
Mr. Reid seemed satisfied that we were still on his side. He crossed the room to the bench where a similar wooden box to the one in Dr. Iverson’s consulting suite sat. “I was called to the doctor’s clinic by a Detective Sergeant Forrester yesterday morning. It was I who informed him the machine had been tampered with. According to this paper, Dr. Iverson is the main suspect. Would you both care to join me and I’ll prove it can’t harm anyone, let alone kill, unless it’s been sabotaged?”
We joined him at the bench and watched as he removed the zinc discs.
“I believe I know how it works,” Harry said. “May I run my knowledge by you and you can tell me if I’m correct?”
“By all means.”
Harry explained that the transformer should ensure a safe low voltage of electricity was passed along the wires into the zinc discs that are placed on the body, but instead, a high voltage was transmitted because a wire had been disconnected.
Mr. Reid tapped one of the wires. “You are essentially correct. However, this other wire must also be disconnected. It acts as a secondary safety mechanism in case the first wire is accidentally dislodged.” He held up two discs. “Would you care to try it on your hand, Miss Fox? It’s quite safe.”
I removed my gloves. “Certainly.”
Harry leaned over the box and gave the device inside a thorough inspection. “Perhaps I should go first.”
Mr. Reid placed one of the discs on the back of my hand. “If she is electrocuted, you may prosecute me and take all my money, Mr. Armitage. Does that set your mind at ease?”
“Hardly,” Harry ground out.
Before Harry could protest further, Mr. Reid cranked the handle on the side of the box. A small jolt at the site of the disc tingled my skin. It continued for some time, even though Mr. Reid no longer cranked the handle.
“Is that it?” I asked.
Mr. Reid removed the disc. “That was merely a simple demonstration. When all discs are placed on a particular area of the body and the device is connected to an electrical switch, or the handle is cranked several times, the patient enjoys an invigorating sensation that awakens the blood, muscle, and bones. Many women find it rejuvenating, restoring youthful vitality that has been lost.”
“Only women,” I said wryly.
“And weak men.”
