Page 44 of Murder on Harley Street
“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 hethoughtshe 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.
