CHAPTER 18

The consulting rooms of Dr McKinley at forty-two Harley Street were an oasis of privilege and calm. Tasteful flowers were arranged in the waiting room beside the deep chesterfield sofas and the latest editions of London Illustrated News, The Lady and the Tatler were available to read.

“I’m guessing that the good doctor’s patients are mainly female,” Beech murmured quietly to Caroline as they entered. The nurse at the desk looked up in surprise as they approached. Caroline noted that she was wearing a great deal of make-up.

Surely not suitable for the nursing profession, she thought to herself, but then she shrugged as she decided that she had no experience of the hallowed practices of the Three Streets—Wimpole, Wigmore, and Harley.

There were almost four hundred physicians, surgeons, and optometrists in the grand houses of those streets and they were all male. Such a world was closed to a female doctor, no matter how highly qualified. Perhaps it’s a requirement of these “eminent” men that their nurses should look like actresses. The contempt she felt only reinforced her opinion of Dr McKinley. He was no better than a quack, she had decided—a peddler of drugs to keep the upper classes happy.

“May I help you?” the nurse asked, her brows knitted together in concern.

Beech smiled and flashed his warrant. The nurse’s eyes showed alarm.

“Would you be so kind as to tell Doctor McKinley that Chief Inspector Beech desires to speak with him.” Beech was charm personified.

“Is he expecting you, Chief Inspector?” The nurse appeared immune to Beech’s charm and she sounded rather cross.

Beech retaliated. “It is not a common habit for the Metropolitan Police to request an interview in advance,” he answered briskly. “Kindly ask the doctor to receive us. At once,” he added firmly.

That seemed to do the trick and it made the nurse flustered.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Dr McKinley has a patient with him at the moment, and I am not allowed to enter the consulting room unless summoned. If you would be so kind as to wait over there—” she indicated the waiting room “—he will be finished very soon and should be able to see you. He has no further appointments for an hour.”

Beech inclined his head graciously and motioned Caroline ahead of him to the sofas.

“Would you care for a cup of tea while you are waiting?” The nurse had obviously decided to be amenable.

“No thank you,” said Beech, “but perhaps you would care for some refreshment, Miss Allardyce?” He smiled at Caroline but she also politely declined and the nurse retreated back to her desk.

Beech began to take an artificial interest in the Illustrated London News while Caroline continued to surreptitiously watch the nurse. She seemed restless and kept glancing at, presumably, the door of McKinley’s consulting room. After a few moments, it opened and the man himself appeared, dapper and effusive in his farewells to his female patient. Caroline suddenly grabbed the nearest magazine and placed it on her lap, hunching her shoulders, sinking her head almost on her chest and putting her hand up to rest on the side of her face, earning a quizzical look from Beech.

“I know that woman,” she mouthed at him and he nodded. After the woman had passed through the reception and out into the street, he leant over and prodded Caroline’s knee to indicate that she could sit upright again. The nurse, meanwhile, had disappeared in a flurry of starched white apron into the consulting room, whispering in McKinley’s ear as they both retreated into the room and closed the door.

“Who was the patient?” whispered Beech.

“Lady Carson,” Caroline whispered back. “The wife of Sir Edward.”

Beech looked stunned. “The Attorney General?! How do you know her?”

“She’s a patron of the Women’s Hospital. I’ve met her on several occasions at hospital fundraisers. And she’s one of those women who never forgets a face or name.”

“Well,” Beech muttered, “there’s no denying that Doctor McKinley is very well connected.”

“That doesn’t make him beyond the reach of the law,” Caroline murmured.

“No. But he may think that it does.” Beech was rapidly losing confidence and Caroline patted his hand.

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” she whispered confidently. “No Attorney General is going to defend a bad doctor just because his wife is a patient.”

The door opened again and Dr McKinley strode forward to extend his hand to Beech.

“Chief Inspector, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. My nurse tells me you would like a word.”

Beech stood up and raised his bandaged hand. “Forgive me for not shaking your hand, Doctor, but I’m afraid I caught some shrapnel in France and it’s out of action for the moment.”

McKinley looked concerned. “My dear chap! Are you being looked after—medically speaking?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Beech brushed it aside. “The army always looks after its own, you know.” He indicated Caroline’s presence and she stood up. “Miss Allardyce, my secretary. I’m afraid I need her to take notes, if you don’t mind.”

McKinley gave a small inclination of his head toward Caroline. She noted with satisfaction that his eyes ran up and down her coat, as if appraising her, and then he turned his head back toward Beech, obviously regarding Caroline as unworthy of any further attention.

“Please, come into my consulting room and we can talk in private.” The affable doctor led the way. “Now, how can I help you?” he asked, once they were all seated and the door was closed.

“It’s about the death of Lord Murcheson, Doctor McKinley,” Beech began and the doctor’s face clouded over.

“Ah yes. Most unfortunate. He was a very tragic young man.”

“May I ask, Doctor, how you were informed of his death?”

“His butler rang me, after the death had occurred,” McKinley said smoothly.

“At what time would that have been, Doctor?”

McKinley reflected. “It must have been mid-afternoon of that day. I know it was after Lady Harriet had been taken to hospital. Most unfortunate affair. I presume the poor young lady stabbed her husband in self-defense? I know that her husband was volatile and prone to fits of rage, alternating with depression. In my opinion, he was suffering from a brain disease. There was little I could do for him, other than provide pain relief. He should have been hospitalized but, of course, he would not agree to that.”

Beech could see that Caroline was writing furiously and he said, “Thank you, Doctor, would you excuse me for a moment while I consult my secretary’s notes? I find that when someone else is taking notes for me, I forget my train of thought.”

McKinley nodded and smiled. Caroline handed over the notebook into Beech’s left hand and he read “ASK HIM ABOUT THE DRUGS!!!” He gave her an impatient look as he handed the notebook back.

Beech resumed his questioning. “You mentioned giving Lord Murcheson pain relief. Could you possibly tell me exactly what you prescribed him?”

“Of course.” McKinley got up from behind his desk and strode to the door. Caroline hastily covered over her notebook before he passed by.

“Nurse!” McKinley called as he opened the door.

“Yes, sir.”

“Fetch Lord Murcheson’s patient notes, if you please.”

“At once, sir.”

McKinley came back and resumed his seat. “I can tell you everything about the medicines, Chief Inspector, but please do not ask me for any further details about the patient. There are notes in the file that relate to intimate matters and I cannot divulge those to anyone. Not even his next of kin.”

“Yes, of course, I understand.”

There was a brief knock at the door and the nurse entered with a brown file of papers.

“Will that be all, Doctor?” she asked. McKinley nodded and she left.

Caroline determined to find a way to get closer to the nurse, to see if the make-up was hiding anything.

“Yes, here we are. I simply provided Luminal, which was for seizures … well, brain excitement generally … as I told you, I suspected that Lord Murcheson had a brain disease, which was causing fits and blackouts. The second was for an opiate preparation to help him sleep. Both were in liquid form. Both to be taken orally. A teaspoon when required.”

Caroline was scribbling again and this time Beech could quite clearly see she had written WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER DRUGS? He resisted the temptation to reach across and rip the page out and merely cleared his throat.

“Doctor McKinley, we found a great many other drugs in Lord Murcheson’s bedroom when we conducted our search. I have a list here in my top pocket, if you would bear with me.” He fumbled awkwardly in his left top pocket, with his “good” left hand and managed, with some difficulty, to extricate a piece of paper. Caroline was impressed that Beech had thought to write down a list of the drugs.

“Forced March tablets, heroin cough mixture, opium pellets, and some packets of powder which our police pharmacist has determined were heroin powder.”

“Good God!” exclaimed McKinley.

“Did you supply your patient with any of these? Or would you have any idea where he might have obtained them?”

“My dear man, I most certainly did not supply any of those to Lord Murcheson.” McKinley sounded impatient. “I would assume that the Forced March tablets were a supply he brought back from France, from when he was in action. The rest of the medicines you describe are freely bought from any pharmacy. If I had known he was taking so many other medicines, I should have refused to treat him any further. I suppose he had his butler purchase them for him, since, as far as I am aware, Lord Murcheson rarely left the house. He was in so much pain from his inoperable war wound that he could barely walk, unless fortified by pain medication. He never came to these consulting rooms. I always attended upon him at home. I suggest you question his butler. I’m afraid that I cannot help you.”

Beech nodded. “Thank you, Doctor McKinley, You have been most helpful.” He rose and motioned Caroline to do the same. “Please don’t bother to show us out. Thank you so much for your time.”

Once outside the room, Caroline whispered, “Wait a minute. I just need to check something,” and she walked over to the nurse, leaving an anxious Beech wondering what she was about to do.

“Excuse me,” Caroline said, affecting a timid tone of voice. “I have such a headache. Do you think I could have a glass of water?”

“Yes, of course, Miss, please follow me,” and the nurse led the way into a small sluice room filled with medical equipment lined up by the sink awaiting a scrub. The other side of the room had wall-mounted cupboards filled with medicines and a long table in front, covered in trays of prepared packets of medicine. The nurse poured a glass of water and handed it to Caroline, who took a sip.

“Would you like an aspirin powder in that water?” she asked, walking over to the medicine table.

Caroline shook her head. “No thank you. I find water usually does the trick. Besides, aspirin powders taste so awful!”

The nurse smiled. “They do rather,” she said sympathetically.

Caroline drained the glass, handed it back to the nurse, expressing her thanks and left to join Beech.

Once in the taxi, Beech said “What was all that about?”

Caroline smiled grimly. “I wanted to get closer to the nurse so that I could see if the excessive amount of makeup she was wearing was hiding anything. When I got up close to her, I could see that the glands in her neck looked slightly swollen above her starched collar. I would have to feel them to be sure. But, finally, when she gave me the water, I could see that the palms of her hands were red and blotchy.”

“So? What does that mean?” Beech asked in a frustrated tone of voice.

“It means she is very likely in the secondary stages of syphilis.”

“Again, I ask, what is the relevance of that? Apart from the fact that Doctor McKinley must be a very bad doctor if he employs a nurse displaying the signs of syphilis.”

“Quite,” Caroline agreed, “but perhaps you might be interested to know that, in the room where I was given my glass of water, there was a medicine table, upon which there were dozens of prepared packets of medicine that were the same size and folded in the same unique way as Lord Murcheson’s packets of heroin and the packets of heroin on display in Maisie Perkins’ brothel.”

“Good Lord! Caro, that’s a jolly useful piece of information! Perhaps Dodds was supplying the good doctor with the drugs.”

“Or—” Caroline paused for emphasis “—the good doctor was supplying Dodds with the drugs. I’m willing to bet it was that way round. That McKinley is a nasty oily man and a terrible doctor! Did you notice that cologne he was wearing?”

“Not really,” Beech confessed.

“Well, I did! And that’s a terrible thing for a doctor to do.”

“It is?” Beech sounded unsure.

“We were taught in medical school that we should never wear perfume or pomades or anything that would dull your sense of smell. Sometimes it’s quite important for a doctor to be able to detect quite faint odors about a patient in order to come to a proper diagnosis. Like, for example, a fruity odor on the breath that can denote diabetes. That man is a terrible doctor.”

“So it would seem.” Beech marveled at Caroline’s deductive powers. “You’ve done a good morning’s work, old thing! Once we find out what the rest of the team have dug up, we may be able to add more pieces to the puzzle. I have to say that after Dodds’ death last night, I was beginning to think we had reached a dead end.”

*   *   *

Caroline and Beech arrived home about five minutes before Tollman and Victoria.

“Where’s Rigsby?” asked Beech.

“Taken a witness to the hospital,” replied Tollman.

“Oh? Would you care to enlighten us as to how your morning has progressed, Tollman? It sounds a good deal more eventful than ours.”

“Oh it was!” enthused Victoria, before Tollman could open his mouth, and she began relaying the tale of how they had performed an examination of the back alley behind the pub and how she had spotted that a door had been opened.

“Well done, Victoria!” Beech was effusive in his praise, something that Caroline noted with a small pang of jealousy. I bet he doesn’t call Victoria “old thing,” like he does to me. She decided to brush away her childishness by being equally admiring of her friend.

“So what did the door lead to, Victoria?” she asked brightly.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you a description because, at that point, Mr Tollman banished me to the safety of Lyons’ Corner House. Over to you, Mr Tollman.”

Tollman sighed and divested himself of his overcoat. This was going to be a tricky one. Beech looked expectant.

“Well, begging the ladies’ pardon, but there is no other way of telling this, Billy and I discovered that the door led to a male brothel.” Beech’s eyebrows rose a little in concern. Tollman continued “… and not just your average brothel but one filled with youths between the ages of eighteen and twenty, some of whom seemed to have clients with extremely perverted tastes.”

Caroline and Beech made a collective noise of distaste.

“Quite.” Tollman took another breath and proceeded to tell them the story of Billy patching up the boy and the information they gleaned from the older youth and the porter. He decided, for the moment, to leave out the arrangement he had come to with Michael about freedom from prosecution. He wasn’t quite sure if he could keep that end of the bargain and he didn’t want to debate ethics with Beech.

“Sounds like Billy did a first-rate medic’s job,” commented Caroline, full of admiration. “It’s exactly what I would have done myself in the circumstances.”

“Nasty, nasty business,” muttered Beech. “But did you get any further with the murder of Dodds?”

“Well, sir,” Tollman explained. “This piece of vermin who is the boy’s ‘patron,’ was there at the time of the murder and he obviously sounds like a man who is capable of anything. The porter, who is under instructions never to come out of his room after seven, no matter what he hears going on, reported to us that he heard someone running from the back door and out of the front door at the time of the murder. Then there is this mysterious woman who flits in and out on a regular basis to collect the rents on behalf of her ‘boss’ …” he paused, uncertain how to proceed, uncertain of what words to use, then he continued with some feeling, “You know me, sir. I like to lock villains up when I have a good body of solid facts to convict them with. This business in the molly shop has got my head spinning round. It’s like London fog. Nothing you can grasp hold of. Yet I’m convinced it’s all connected.”

Beech nodded. “Go on.”

“My feeling is that if we can apprehend both this woman and the sadistic ‘patron,’ all the pieces will fit into place. It just so happens that the woman is due to collect rents tomorrow morning and the ‘patron’ is expected tomorrow night. If we were to lay in wait for the woman and then Billy and I could go back in the evening to catch this piece of filth … excuse my language ladies … we might find out something more useful.”

Beech was about to speak when Caroline butted in. “I think Victoria and I should be involved in the morning caper.” Beech began to protest when Tollman agreed.

“That would make sense, sir. Because we actually want to follow this woman to see if she will lead us to her boss and the two ladies could follow her at short distance, while you and I follow behind, in case of any trouble.” To counter any of Beech’s objections, Tollman added, “After all, they can go where we cannot—if the woman should go into a ladies’ convenience or a ladies’ garment shop.”

Caroline turned to Beech with a triumphant smile and Beech reluctantly agreed.

Just then, there was a knock at the door and Lady Maud poked her head around.

“Victoria, my dear, there’s a telephone call for you from Barnardo’s.”

Victoria looked startled. “Polly!” she said excitedly and sprinted out to the telephone.

“How is everything progressing, Peter?” Maud asked conspiratorially.

“I think we are just about to find out, Maud,” he answered. They waited in silent anticipation for a couple of minutes, and then Victoria burst into the room.

“We’ve found Polly. She’s not at Barnardo’s but they received a request for a reference from The Grove Fever Hospital, Tooting. Apparently, Polly is working there, on a trial basis as a cleaner!”

“Excellent!” Beech was overjoyed. “Now, finally, we may get some answers!”

“May I suggest that Mrs Ellingham and I go and fetch her, sir? We don’t want to go mob-handed,” Tollman advised.

“No, we don’t want to frighten the girl. Yes, you do that Tollman. I have to put in an appearance at the Yard, anyway, and Doctor Allardyce starts her shift after lunch.” Beech turned to Lady Maud. “Maud, is it alright if we bring the girl back here? Only I don’t want her intimidated by being taken to Scotland Yard. We can question her here, while plying her with some of Mrs Beddowes excellent tea and scones or something.”

“Not at all,” Maud said graciously. “Only too pleased to be of assistance.”

Just as Victoria and Tollman were putting their coats on, Billy came through the front door.

“Hello, lad, how’s things?” Tollman asked.

“He’ll be alright. They’re looking after him at Charing Cross Hospital. They reckon he’ll be in for about a week. I’ve spoken to him about keeping his mouth shut and everything. He’s good at that, he says, and he won’t be any bother. Where are you both going?”

“Polly’s been found, safe and well,” said Victoria brightly. “Mr Tollman and I are going to collect her and bring her back here.”

“Oh, that’s good news, Miss!” Billy seemed to brighten up.

Beech and Caroline appeared, at the sound of Billy’s voice and they both congratulated him on his morning’s work. Caroline even hugged him, which made him blush.

“Rigsby—” Beech patted Billy’s back “—there’s no more can be done until this afternoon. Why don’t you go and visit your mother and aunt. We won’t be questioning Polly until she’s been fed and watered and feeling safe. I shall come back here at about three o’clock. Doctor Allardyce will be working, of course.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Billy grinned happily, then he noticed Beech’s bandage. “What have you done to your hand, sir?”

Both Victoria and Tollman expressed concern and apologized for not noticing it earlier. Beech laughed and waved the bandaged hand in the air.

“There’s nothing wrong with my hand! It was a subterfuge Caroline and I adopted for our trip to see Murcheson’s doctor and we don’t have time to tell you about it now.”

And with that, everyone, except Caroline, left the house. She went back into the study and looked at her notes from the meeting with Dr McKinley and decided to go down to speak to Esme.

In the kitchen, everyone was quietly preparing lunch. Cook, Mary and Esme looked up as she opened the door.

“Hello, Doctor,” said Mrs Beddowes breezily. “What can we do for you?”

“I’m afraid that it will be just myself and Lady Maud for lunch, Mrs Beddowes. Everyone else has had to go out.”

“Oh dear … well, never mind.” Mrs Beddowes seemed unconcerned.

“There is one piece of good news, however—of particular interest to Esme,” Caroline continued and Esme looked up, intrigued. “Polly’s been found.”

There was a chorus of approving comments and Esme burst into tears. “Oh, thank the Lord! Is she alright, Miss?”

“Yes, she’s perfectly fine and working in a hospital as a cleaner. Mrs Ellingham and Mr Tollman have gone to fetch her and bring her here. You will be able to talk to her later but I’m afraid Mr Beech has to question her first.”

Esme nodded happily, dabbing away her tears with a handkerchief.

Caroline turned to Mrs Beddowes. “Cook, do you mind if I borrow Esme for five minutes? I just want to ask her a few questions.”

“No problem, Miss,” said the affable Cook. “I just need her back to serve lunch up, that’s all.”

Caroline assured her that it would only be a few minutes and signaled to Esme to follow her upstairs. Once they were in the study, she picked up her notebook and pen again.

“Sit down, Esme. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about Doctor McKinley. Mr Beech and I went to see him this morning.”

Esme’s face darkened. “Evil man he is. Sorry, miss, I shouldn’t have said that!”

“It’s quite alright Esme. To tell you the truth I’m not that fond of him myself. Now, when we saw the doctor, he said that Mr Dodds telephoned him to tell him the news that Lord Murcheson was dead. Do you know anything about that?”

“Well, I did hear him making a telephone call to someone, just after you had taken Lady Harriet off to hospital but I was in such a state—I fainted you know—that I didn’t hear who he was talking to. I can’t believe it was the doctor, though, because Mr Dodds didn’t sound very respectful. I did hear him say, ‘I’m not dealing with this on my own …’ like he was very angry. I mean a butler wouldn’t talk to a doctor like that, would he, Miss?”

“No, I suppose not. Do you remember anything else about the telephone conversation?”

Esme thought for a moment and then said, “I didn’t hear much of the conversation after that but he did raise his voice at the end and he almost shouted to whoever it was ‘sort it out or I’ll take measures.’ He did sound very angry, Miss.”

Caroline noted this down in her book. “So, Esme, the doctor said that Lord Murcheson never, or rarely, left the house and that the doctor always visited him. Is that true?”

Emily made a disapproving face. “I only ever saw the doctor come to the house once in the whole three months His Lordship was back from the war. I suppose he could have come when I was out on errands for Her Ladyship but that was only once a week. No one ever mentioned to me that he had visited while I was out and Cook would have told me. She loved to gossip. I did see a nurse once, though …”

“Oh?” Caroline’s interest was piqued. “When was this?”

“Late at night. Must have been about ten o’clock. I had a cold and my throat was so sore. I snuck down to the kitchen to make myself some hot lemon and honey. We weren’t supposed to come downstairs after nine at night—Mr Dodds’ orders. He said His Lordship would be on the prowl and it would be safer if we stayed in our beds …”

“What about Polly?” Caroline interrupted her. “How did Polly manage to overcome Mr Dodds’ orders?”

Esme smiled. “She could be really stubborn, could Polly. When he found her, the first time, and told her off, she said ‘My Lady asked me to be near her at night, Mr Dodds. Are you going to go against the wishes of Lady Harriet?’ He just sort of growled at her and left her alone after that. She said to me that if he complained again, she would ask him why he wasn’t the one protecting Her Ladyship. I’d like to have seen him answer that one.”

Caroline went back to Esme’s previous narrative. “You said you saw a nurse one night? I’m sorry I interrupted you. Can you tell me more? You said you came down to get some hot lemon and honey …”

“Oh, yes. So I’m creeping down the back stairs to the kitchen when I hear a taxi drawing up, so I looked up from the stairwell window and I see this nurse get out of the taxi, carrying a bag and Mr Dodds must have been waiting for her, because he came down the front steps to meet her. He probably didn’t want her to ring the bell and wake everyone up.”

“I see. And where was Lord Murcheson at that moment?”

“Probably sleeping in the downstairs drawing room, Miss. He didn’t sleep upstairs much, unless he was very drugged. He was in a lot of pain with his back and he didn’t like to go up and down the stairs. But, sometimes, he would be so fired up, Polly used to say, that he would take those stairs without any bother and come looking for Her Ladyship. Polly said that he was very drugged when he had those episodes.”

“Did he ever attack Polly, in order to gain access to the room?”

“Not that she ever said, Miss. She would just tell him that Her Ladyship was ill and he would go away. Without a murmur, she said. Although, sometimes Mr Dodds would come and get him and take him back downstairs. Mind you, Polly had only been guarding the mistress for the last month. Lady Harriet had started being sick in the mornings and not feeling quite right and that’s when Polly decided to guard her.”

The pregnancy, Caroline thought. Polly started guarding her when Lady Harriet found out she was pregnant.

She asked Esme one last question. “So, you don’t know how often this nurse visited?”

Esme shook her head. “No, Miss. The doctor should have come more often in my opinion. Toward the end, Lord Murcheson was having one of his violent rampages practically every two days, according to Polly. She was worn out with it all.”

“Thank you, Esme. You can return to the kitchen now.”

Esme stood and curtsied. “Thank you, Miss.”

Caroline sat and mulled over her notes. To her analytical medical mind, it seemed to her that Lord Murcheson’s night-time rages becoming more frequent were perhaps a sign that someone had been giving him stronger and stronger drugs. Dodds? The nurse? Or the doctor? Or perhaps all three. Then there was the question of Lord Murcheson being infected with syphilis. He could have contracted it in some French brothel but the pathologist said that he was in the primary stage, which meant he had most likely contracted it after returning to England. As the man barely left the house, the disease must have been brought to him. Caroline smiled to herself with satisfaction. She was pretty sure that the nurse at McKinley’s practice had displayed the signs of syphilis in the secondary stage. It seemed to Caroline that the nurse had been offering services to Lord Murcheson above and beyond the medical. Frustratingly, she would have to wait until tonight to tell Peter.