Page 75 of Murder on Harley Street
With that part of my theory shattered, I only had one aspect left, and I’d doubted its veracity all along. Even so, I broached it with her. “Did Sister Dearden have any friends or family who were treated by Dr. Iverson?”
“Not that I am aware.”
“Has she ever blamed him for the death of a patient?”
She frowned. “No.”
Edith Hamlin had been a patient before Miss Wainsmith worked for him, but there was one other patient who’d died more recently,andher husband blamed the doctor. “What about Mrs. Pierce?”
She blinked at me. “The wife of the man who shouted abuse at the doctor? No, of course not. Unfortunately, not every patient can be saved. No one knows that better than a nurse, Miss Fox.”
“Have you ever heard Sister Dearden and the doctor clash? Perhaps over a patient’s treatment. Perhaps over yours.”
“No!”
“Butshewas the one who told you to take the tonics and powders, not him.Hethought you were with child, but she realized something else was causing your illness and went behind his back.”
The fingers clasping her shawl at her chest tightened, bunching the knitted wool in her fist. “What are you implying?”
“Mr. Pierce informed us that Sister Dearden told him the doctor would ‘get what he deserved.’”
She gasped. “Surely that’s a lie to throw suspicion onto someone else.Heblames Dr. Iverson for the death of his wife; Sister Dearden doesn’t.Shehas no reason to kill Mrs. Kempsey or ruin him.”
“We think she blames him for persistently misdiagnosing patients,” Harry said. “She wants to harm his business in retaliation.”
“That’s absurd. And if it is true, why would she kill Mrs. Kempsey to punish him?”
“That may have been a mistake on her part. Mrs. Kempsey complained of a heart condition, but the doctor found nothing wrong. If Sister Dearden also believed there was nothing wrong, she may have merely intended to injure her, not kill her, to punish the doctor.”
Miss Wainsmith’s features pinched, either in pain or horror, or perhaps both. She didn’t protest again, however. Was that because she believed her colleaguecapableof murder? Having lived and worked in the same building together for a year, she must know the nurse very well. It was a positive endorsement of our theory that Sister Dearden was guilty, but we still lacked a strong enough motive.
“Where is her room?” I asked.
Miss Wainsmith pointed at the wall to her left. “Next to mine.”
Harry and I exchanged glances. I could tell he was thinking the same thing as me. The problem was the woman in front of us. She wouldn’t allow us to break into Sister Dearden’s room and I doubted we could sneak in without her realizing.
I was still considering how to proceed when Harry spoke up. “I hope she isn’t guilty. Helping poor women with their medical needs is an admirable thing to do, and we’d like her to continue her work. But she won’t be able to unless we prove her innocent. I think we can do that here and now.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You want to look through her things, don’t you?”
“You can be there the entire time, watching us. We’ll be careful and put back everything we touch. She’ll never know we were in there. She’ll never know we suspected her.”
Miss Wainsmith seemed to be wavering, so I added my weight to Harry’s argument. “If we can’t rule her out, I’m afraid we’ll have to report everything to the police. They won’t be as discreet when they search her room.”
She gave in with a sigh. “I’ll fetch the spare key from our landlady.”
“There’s no need,” Harry said, most likely because he didn’t want the landlady involved. It would only require further explanations and delays.
Miss Wainsmith followed us into the corridor and kept watch with me as Harry picked the lock on Sister’s Dearden’s door. She was quite amazed when he had it open in moments, and bent to inspect the lock to ensure it wasn’t damaged.
Harry and I wasted no time. The room was identical to Miss Wainsmith’s in size, although it wasn’t as sparsely furnished and the furniture was of better quality and in newer condition. There was something missing, however.
“You told us Sister Dearden sees patients in here,” I said to Miss Wainsmith.
“Yes.”
“But there’s no table long enough for a patient to lie on, just the small round one.” The table was hardly large enough for two people to enjoy a cup of tea and slice of cake, let alone conduct a medical examination.
