Page 67 of Murder on Harley Street
Since it didn’t directly involve me, I found my attention drifting back to the investigation. Once it was over, I joined Peter, Frank and Goliath as they headed to the staff parlor for a short break. A nice cup of tea would do wonders to help me sort fact from fiction, but going over the evidence with them would be even better.
They wanted to know my personal thoughts on Mr. Pierce first, however. “Do you really think he’ll storm in here and cause a scene?” Peter asked as he handed me a teacup.
“I do, yes. He’s angry, sad and a drunkard. I believe he feels he has nothing to lose.”
“A volatile combination indeed.”
Frank cracked his knuckles. “I dare him to try and get past me.”
Goliath rolled his eyes. “It’s me he won’t get past. No one can beat the giant of the Mayfair.”
“Nobody calls you that.”
“People do.”
“No, they don’t.”
Peter made a good point, however. “You could be elsewhere at the time, Goliath, moving guests’ luggage. You might not be in the foyer when Pierce arrives.”
Goliath looked disappointed at the possibility of missing out on the excitement. “If there’s luggage to move, I’ll send the other porter.” He selected a biscuit from one of the tins and placed it on his palm then dipped his hand back into the tin to get another. “It’s better if I stay downstairs on account of being a big man.” He added another two biscuits to the pile and went to get more.
Frank slapped Goliath’s hand away from the tin. “You’ve had enough.”
“You calling me fat, Frank?”
Frank looked pointedly at Goliath’s stomach region, which seemed flat to me.
“Enough, you two,” Peter growled.
“You’re not in charge of us,” Frank snapped back.
“Actually, I am. Besides, Miss Fox doesn’t want to hear you bickering.”
“That’s true,” I said.
Peter shot me a grateful look.
“I have a question for you all,” I said before the bickering resumed. “Actually, it’s more of an opinion. If I apprise you of our investigation, can you tell me what you think we should do next? We’ve come to a bit of a dead end.”
All three gave me their full attention as I laid out the evidence against Duncan Hamlin. “Although we have other suspects with motives, he has the greatest knowledge of the device, and a motive for revenge against both Dr. IversonandIsabel Kempsey.”
Goliath nodded along, but Frank shook his head. “Being the one to recommend Mrs. Hamlin visit the doctor isn’t a strong enough reason to kill Mrs. Kempsey. Seems to me he should have killed the doctor.”
“Miss Fox said he wouldn’t have known about her heart condition,” Goliath pointed out. “So maybe he didn’t intend to kill anyone, just cause a lot of bother.”
Peter was yet to give his opinion. He studied his biscuit as he dunked it into his cup of tea. When he lifted it out, tea dripped back into the cup, the biscuit forgotten. “The husbands and sisters of both Mrs. Kempsey and Mrs. Hamlin deny a connection between the women.”
“They stated they didn’t know of one,” I said, “but one or more could be lying.”
“I think you need to know for certain if they were acquaintances.”
“The doctor wrote Isabel Kempsey’s name on Mrs. Hamlin’s file, so they must be.”
“Did you see it?”
“Yes.” I sat up straighter. “But we didn’tverifyit. What if Dr. Iverson added it later,afterthe death, to make it appear as though there’s a connection?
“Or someone else did,” Goliath added. “Someone could have faked his handwriting.”
