Page 73 of Murder on Harley Street
“You ruined everything!” Mr. Pierce spat at me. “I was going to destroy Lombardi’s life like he destroyed mine. Now he’ll get away with murder because of you!” He directed a string of expletives at me until Victor threatened to punch him in the mouth.
“Disrupting Lombardi’s presentation won’t achieve anything,” I said.
“It will draw attention to the poison in that tonic he peddles. The newspapers will get wind of it and print the truth about his so-called medicines. He’d be ruined by the time I finished with him.”
“You’d be in prison, Mr. Pierce.”
“I don’t care,” he snarled. “What does it matter anymore?” He lowered his head and his shoulders slumped. “If the doctor got what he deserved like she promised, I wouldn’t have to come here and punish the tonic maker.”
The footman returned carrying the rope, then Harry rushed in behind him.
“Cleo! You’re hurt!” He grasped my shoulders, his worried gaze scanning my face.
I took his hands in mine. “It’s just red paint. The only thing hurt is my coat and my skirt.” I squeezed his hands then released them.
I stepped back as Floyd entered with Peter and Goliath. I signaled for them to stay near the door but was ignored. Goliath stood over Mr. Pierce as Victor tied his hands behind his back with the rope.
“Cleo?” Floyd asked. “Why weren’t you in the foyer like you were supposed to be?”
“Someone who knew what he looked like needed to be at the service entrance.”
He scowled, but fortunately didn’t scold me further.
Peter indicated the paint on my skirt. “Whose blood is that?”
“It’s paint. There’s quite a lot of it in the corridor just beyond the kitchen. It should be mopped up before someone slips.”
He departed to find Mrs. Short, the housekeeper.
“Has someone telephoned the police?” I asked.
“Mr. Hobart is doing it now,” Floyd said. “They’ll come to the service entrance.” He glared at our captive. “You’ll pay for the cleaning up.”
Speaking of paying for things…
Victor had tied Mr. Pierce’s hands together behind his back and was in the process of tying his legs to the stool, so I felt comfortable getting close. The angry man who’d spat nasty things at me was nowhere in sight. Instead, Mr. Pierce looked utterly defeated. He must feel as though he had nothing left now. Even his revenge had been taken from him.
I spoke gently but firmly. “What did you mean when you said, ‘If the doctor got what he deserved like she promised?’ Who promised to ruin the doctor, and how?”
“I won’t say another word.”
He didn’t have to. I’d worked it out. “It was Sister Dearden, wasn’t it?”
Mr. Pierce’s head jerked up in surprise. It was the only answer I needed.
“Cleo?” Harry prompted.
“Do you remember when we were told Mr. Pierce caused a scene at the clinic? He calmed down only after the nurse spoke to him. We all assumed she merely had a soothing way about her, but perhaps her words were more of a warning not to ruin what she had planned for the doctor.”
Harry turned to Mr. Pierce. “Did the nurse tamper with the machine that killed Dr. Iverson’s patient?”
“I don’t know,” Mr. Pierce mumbled.
“You could be charged with being an accessory to murder.”
“I don’t know! All I know is she must have failed because he’s still treating patients, and no doubt still advising them to take Lombardi’s poison. That’s why I had to come here. Seems Iverson can rebound from an assault on his reputation, but Lombardi has further to fall. It’shistonic, after all.”
Mr. Pierce may not be able to confirm whether Sister Dearden had tampered with the Electro Therapy Machine, but I was now quite sure she had. I suspected I also knew why she wanted to ruin Dr. Iverson. What I didn’t know was why she wanted to kill Isabel Kempsey.
