Page 64 of Murder on Harley Street
Harry wasn’t there, so I ordered a cup of tea and sat at the table by the window. After a moment, I got up again and approached the two elderly men on their stools. I greeted them and inquired after their health in Italian. I didn’t remember much from the lessons my father had given me, but I did remember that.
The leathery faces of both men folded into twin winces as they shrugged. The movement encompassed more than just their shoulders, making the answer clear without a single word being uttered. Like most men their age, the years were taking their toll.
I indicated the newspapers on the counter within their reach. “Have either of you read anything more about Mr. Lombardi’s Bella Vita Company since I was last here?”
They may not have understood the entire sentence, but they repeated the company name and its owner clearly back to me. They spoke over each other in Italian, but it was the shake of their heads that gave me the answer I was after.
Luigi set a teapot and two cups on a tray on the counter. “Your muddy water is ready, Miss Fox. Just in time.” He nodded at Harry as he entered. “Would you like me to bring you pasta? I made a large batch.”
Harry and I ordered a bowl each, then he picked up the tray and carried it to our table. “You look like you stumbled upon a clue,” he said. “Did you recognize a patient name in the appointment book for the day the letter arrived?”
“No, although Ihaverealized something. But you first. Did you speak to the postman already? That was fast.”
“I intercepted him on his rounds not far from Harley Street. He’s adamant no one has ever directly handed him a letter to deliver to Dr. Iverson’s clinic.”
“Could he have accepted an unofficial payment to do it and keep quiet about it?”
“Possible, but I don’t think so. He seemed offended that I’d even suggest he’d deliver an unstamped piece of mail.”
I sighed into my teacup.
“You seem disappointed,” Harry said.
“If no one handed him the letter then it could be a patient, and I was hoping not to have to call on them all.”
“Tell me the thing you’ve realized.”
Luigi brought over bowls of pasta and placed them in front of us. It smelled delicious, and I was momentarily distracted as I picked up my fork.
“Cleo?” Harry prompted.
“The anonymous note wanted the rendezvous to occur on Regent Street, opposite the Café Royal. We’ve been wondering if the location had any significance, and I believe it does. Mr. Chapman told me men meet men at the Café Royal, but he also saidwomenwho dress as men go there. Although my experience of these things is limited, I believe women who dress as men often have sapphic tendencies.”
Harry lowered his fork and met my gaze. “You think Mrs. Iverson was the intended recipient then, not Miss Wainsmith or the doctor?”
“She is sapphic. If the postman didn’t accept a bribe to deliver the anonymous note then it must have been placed with the other mail by someoneinsidethe clinic. They’d see Mrs. Iverson working there and know she would sort through the mail before anyone else saw it. Therefore ithasto be meant for her. Given we know she likes women, and the rendezvous was near the Café Royal, it’s very likely the note was written by another woman.”
“Excellent deduction, Cleo. Dr. Iverson’s patients are almost all women. Any one of the patients in the waiting room that day could have placed that note there. I know it’s a long list, but at least it’s a definitive one.”
We mulled that over as we ate our pasta, discussing which women in our investigation may have written the note to Mrs. Iverson. The victim was among them, but not Edith Hamlin. She’d died a year ago, and the letter had been received only last week.
We’d just finished eating when the door opened and one of those women rushed inside, her face flushed and carrying her hat. She didn’t carry her usual bag, however. Spotting us, she rushed over.
“They’ve arrested him,” Rose Bolton blurted out. “They’ve arrested Duncan!”
Chapter13
Harry agreed that I should be the one to speak to D.S. Forrester on the telephone. While the sergeant may no longer be bruised from my obvious preference for Harry, he was still likely to tell me more than he would Harry.
After waiting several minutes, Forrester’s voice finally crackled down the line. “I wondered how long it would be before you telephoned, Miss Fox, although I admit I didn’t think it would be this soon.”
“I heard about Mr. Hamlin’s arrest from a member of his family,” I said. “We met him as part of our investigation. Do you have evidence that points to him?”
“Of course I do.”
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to imply you would arrest a man with no evidence.”
“You know I can’t tell you anything.”
