Page 36 of Murder on Harley Street
“Dr. Iverson told us that his affair with your wife came to an end before her death because you became aware of it, sir. Yet we were led to believe you only found out afterward, when you discovered the letters.”
“Don’t say anything, Ian! It’s a trap!” Miss Rowbottom’s loud outburst proved that first impressions could often be misleading. She may appear to be a timid spinster, but there was a fiercely protective side to her. She glared at Harry. “My brother-in-law is grieving. Please leave this instant!”
Mr. Kempsey stared wide-eyed at Miss Rowbottom. Perhaps he’d never seen this side of her either. “If I don’t answer, they’ll think me guilty. I’ve done nothing wrong.” He tried to move away, but she tightened her grip on his arm. “It’s true,” he told Harry. “My sister-in-law brought the affair to my attention some weeks ago. I was angry. Isabel and I had a row about it, at which point she promised to end the liaison. I had no reason to doubt her and we spoke no more about it. I didnotkill my wife.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kempsey,” Harry said. “Again, we apologize for the intrusion.”
I wasn’t prepared to leave yet, however. Not without more answers. “How did you find out about the affair, Miss Rowbottom?”
Miss Rowbottom lifted her chin, defiant. “Isabel told me.”
Being an only sibling, I could never truly understand the relationship between sisters, but I doubted I could ever betray my two cousins, and I’d not even known them an entire year. For Miss Rowbottom to break that trust and tell her brother-in-law about the affair meant she must have disliked Isabel, perhaps even hated her.
Or she wanted what Isabel had for herself.
Miss Rowbottom jutted her chin even further forward. “I can see what you’re thinking, Miss Fox, and I’d like to point out that my sister was boastful about her affair with the doctor. She enjoyed rubbing my nose in the fact that she was able to get a wonderful husbandanda lover, and I had no one. I couldn’t let her get away with it.”
Mr. Kempsey extricated himself from her grip, all the while blinking at his sister-in-law as if he’d never seen this side of her before.
Miss Rowbottom reached for him, but he moved away. Her eyes filled with tears as she appealed to him. “Isabel showed no guilt or remorse, because she knew she could get away with it. So I did the only thing in my power to make her pay for her crime.”
We waited, holding our breaths, hoping for a confession.
When she realized the implication of her words, she quickly shook her head. “I didn’t kill her! I simply meant I told Ian what she’d done, to bring it all out into the open.”
Mr. Kempsey flexed the fingers that clutched the head of his walking stick. “You did the right thing.”
Miss Rowbottom sucked in a shuddery breath of relief.
“An affair is not a crime,” Harry pointed out.
“It should be, when the injured party is a decent man and good provider.” Again, she reached for Mr. Kempsey. This time he didn’t step away.
“If you’ll excuse us,” he intoned.
They walked off, arm in arm like a married couple.
“I wonder what the future holds for them,” I said. “It’s illegal for him to marry his sister-in-law, but perhaps she’ll keep house for him.”
“Is that a euphemism?”
I simply smiled.
He offered me his arm and we departed on the path leading to the cemetery gates. I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder at our suspects, mingling with the few remaining mourners near the gravesite.
“Miss Rowbottom may have denied killing Isabel, but I’m not ruling her out,” I said. “There was no sisterly love between them. In fact, I’d say Miss Rowbottom loathed Isabel. She certainly envied her life.”
“I’m not ruling Kempsey out either,” Harry added. “He may not show much emotion, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t furious underneath the cool facade.”
“Where to now?” I asked.
“Back to Mary and Linton Streets. I want to show you something.”
After warningmy uncle of Mr. Pierce’s threat the previous afternoon, Harry had left the Mayfair Hotel and returned to Islington to watch the intersection of the two streets that had given Mary Linton the inspiration for her fake name. He’d kept watch until darkness fell, for a woman matching the description given by Dr. Iverson and his staff. He’d not seen her, but a sign on an office door had caught his attention.
It was that office we now watched. Positioned several doors down from the pub, we’d not passed it the day before, having approached the area from a different direction. But I agreed with Harry. It may be where Mrs. Mary Linton worked.
According to the sign on the door, it was the office of R. Bolton, Private Detective Agency.
