Page 24 of Murder on Harley Street
I knew Harry was more experienced than me when it came to relationships. I’d even met one of his former lovers during a previous investigation. But I decided not to delve any further into his past. It would change nothing between us.
As much as I wanted to loop my arm through his as we walked, I kept my hands by my sides. We were much too close to the hotel to risk it.
Harry had obtainedthe address of Mrs. Mary Linton from her file at Dr. Iverson’s clinic. She lived quite a distance from Harley Street, in a short street lined with two-story row houses. The street was so short that it quickly became obvious the address was wrong. It had been listed as number twenty, but there were only twelve houses. We walked up and down twice before giving up.
“Perhaps it was noted down incorrectly,” I said. “Miss Wainsmith may have misheard.”
“Or Mrs. Linton gave a false address.”
A woman and little girl emerged from number twelve. The woman clutched the girl’s hand tightly as Harry smiled at them. He removed his hat and politely asked if she knew anyone named Mary Linton.
The woman frowned, glanced at me, then looked at Harry again. “If this is a joke, I don’t understand it.”
“It’s not a joke,” Harry assured her. “We’re private investigators looking for Mary Linton. She gave her address as number twenty, but we can see it doesn’t exist.”
The woman apparently did understand the joke this time. “Seems to me someone’s pulling your leg, sir.” She pointed to the adjoining road where another street met it on the opposite side. “That there is Mary Street. Follow it and you reach Linton Street.”
Harry thanked her and we did just that—followed Mary Street until we arrived at the intersection with Linton Street. The coincidence was too great to ignore. The patient who’d claimed to return to the clinic to look for her glove had given a false address located near to two real streets of the same names as her own. Her own equally false name, that is.
“Miss Wainsmith called the patient young, pretty and confident,” I reminded Harry. “Not their typical patient, she said.”
Harry looked around at the buildings near the intersection. “Sister Dearden said Mrs. Linton wanted to use the Electro Therapy Machine in that session, even though it was her first appointment, and the doctor hadn’t yet diagnosed her.” He sighed up at the sign for Linton Street. “We’ve been led on a wild goose chase.”
“Not necessarily.”
Like him, I studied the buildings. On two corners were houses, each one at the end of a row of identical houses. They were bigger than those located at the address Mrs. Linton had given us, although not as large as those found in Mayfair. The occupants coming and going were well dressed, and there were basement service rooms accessible from the pavement. Arlington Square Gardens occupied a third corner of the intersection, and a pub stood on the fourth.
I pointed to the houses. “I think she used Mary and Linton as her name because she sees these street signs every day. Perhaps she often walks through this intersection, or perhaps she lives in one of these buildings, either as a resident or servant.”
Harry didn’t agree, however. “If I were choosing a false name and address to disguise my identity, I wouldn’t choose them based on real places near where I lived.”
“Not everyone is as smart as you, Harry. Most people would say whatever came to mind.”
“In that case, we need to find out what the woman who calls herself Mrs. Linton looks like. Then we’ll return here and watch the vicinity. But first, shall we eat a late lunch?”
After lunch Harryused a silence cabinet in a local pharmacy to telephone D.S. Forrester and update him on our progress. The troubled look on Harry’s face when he emerged from the booth worried me.
“They released Dr. Iverson,” he said as we exited the pharmacy.
“That’s good news! So why are you frowning? Do you think the doctor will cancel the contract he has with you now?”
“He may, but it’s not that. Forrester wasn’t interested in hearing about our progress. He was curt on the telephone, cutting me off mid-sentence.”
“That’s not like him,” I agreed. “Should we go to Scotland Yard and insist he listen?”
Harry placed his hand at my lower back as we walked. It was comfortably reassuring. “Not yet. Not until we’ve solved the murder. He won’t be able to ignore us then.”
I leaned into him a little, and he shortened his strides to match mine. “Where to now, lead investigator Armitage?”
“We call on the doctor. He has a lot of questions to answer.”
Chapter6
For a man who’d just been released from a Scotland Yard holding cell, Dr. Iverson didn’t look particularly pleased to be home. Indeed, I suspected he and Mrs. Iverson had been having a tense discussion moments before our arrival, going by the strained faces.
Although signs of exhaustion circled his eyes, Dr. Iverson was still a very handsome man. The flecks of gray through his thick brown hair suited him, and the lines across his forehead did nothing to detract from the strong planes of his face. The way he looked at me when Harry introduced me made me feel as though I was important. Where most men tended to treat me like Harry’s assistant, even when I wasn’t described as such, Dr. Iverson gave me his full attention.
As did his wife. She rose from the sofa and offered me her seat. “May I say, I am pleased to see you still working with Mr. Armitage, Miss Fox. It’s refreshing to see women take on traditional male roles.”
