CHAPTER 20

The day did not start well. Caroline rang to say that there had been an explosion in a munitions factory overnight and she was wanted in surgery.

“Fifteen dead and thirty-five wounded. All women except for one male supervisor. Half of them have gone to the London and the other half have come here,” she explained breathlessly to Victoria on the telephone. “I’m so sorry to let everyone down.”

“Don’t be silly,” Victoria replied with concern. “Even if you had been here, you would have been too tired to do anything. We can manage.”

“Victoria, I need you to tell Peter something for me.”

“Yes, of course. Do I need to write it down?” She searched frantically around for a pad and pencil.

“No, no,” Caroline said, “Just tell him that I was talking to Esme and she let slip that she saw a nurse come to visit Lord Murcheson, one night—not the fateful night, I should add, but on an earlier occasion. Apparently, Dodds used to insist that no one came downstairs after nine o’clock at night but she had a cold and came down to make a hot drink and she saw the nurse arriving. Now it could have been Dr McKinley’s nurse … well, I would think so … and the nurse that Peter and I saw yesterday, I think, was in the second stages of syphilis. She could have been providing … er … extra services to Lord Murcheson, which is how he contracted the disease. That’s all. How is Polly Sutton?”

“She’s fine. We put her up in a room with Esme and I should think she’s still asleep. She didn’t do it, Caroline. She gave us a detailed account of that night. She thought Lady Harriet had done it but her statement pretty much proved that Lady Harriet couldn’t have done it. Also … here’s the thing … it doesn’t seem like Dodds did it either …” Victoria stopped speaking because she could hear Caroline speaking to someone else.

“I’ve got to go now, Victoria. I’m needed. Good luck for this morning.” Then the line went dead.

Beech and Tollman arrived early. Billy was up and about before they arrived and appeared in his civilian clothes. Lady Maud commented, at the breakfast table, on how smart he looked.

“Although I do rather like a man in uniform, I must confess,” she said, winking at Billy, who grinned.

Victoria could see that Beech was fretting over the news that Caroline would not be available for the surveillance operation this morning.

“I’m not happy with you following this woman on your own,” he said in a worried tone of voice.

Victoria was exasperated. “Really! I do wish everyone would stop treating me like cut glass!” She glared at Beech, which caused Tollman and Billy to take an unusual interest in their toast in embarrassment.

“I could take Caroline’s place,” announced Lady Maud in a firm voice, that brooked no argument.

“What!?” Beech was taken aback. “No. That’s preposterous!”

“Do tell me why,” said Lady Maud acidly. “I am perfectly capable of accompanying my daughter on a brisk walk around the West End. If this woman suspect should turn violent, I can always cosh her with my umbrella or my handbag. In fact I shall borrow one of Mrs Beddowes’ flat irons and put it in my handbag after breakfast.”

This made Victoria giggle and Billy grinned again. Tollman allowed a small smile to play around his lips and Beech just looked outmaneuvered. He sighed in defeat.

“Very well. But … Maud … no theatricals please. The purpose of the exercise is to be as inconspicuous as possible.”

“Well, I was hardly going to burst into song in the middle of Piccadilly,” she murmured sarcastically, making Billy choke on his toast and start a coughing fit.

“Cough it up, lad,” said Tollman cheerfully, banging Billy hard on the back. “Take a swig of tea.”

Billy nodded and obeyed, both laughing and coughing at the same time.

“So,” said Beech loudly, trying to assert his authority, “the plan is this—Maud and Victoria will casually walk along opposite the house; Rigsby, you will lounge around in a doorway opposite the house; Tollman … you and I will be on the same side, up toward St James’. When this woman enters, we will wait until she comes out and then we will all follow her at a respectable distance from her and each other. Rigsby, you must never lose sight of the two ladies and Tollman and I will never lose sight of you. And Rigsby, if you see any trouble, you must sprint ahead to aid the ladies. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. Just then there was a knock at the door and Mary entered.

“Beg pardon, Chief Inspector, but there is a telephone call for you.”

“Oh?” Beech looked puzzled and followed Mary out to the hall.

“The trick is, ladies,” counseled Tollman, “that when you are following a suspect—undercover like—you must act completely natural. Never get too close to them. Stop occasionally to look in a shop window. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“What do we do if she gets on a bus, or goes down the Underground or hails a cab?” asked Victoria.

“Good question, Mrs E.,” said Tollman approvingly. “That would be the point at which Billy and I would take over. We need a pre-arranged signal if she looks like she’s boarding transport. Then Billy here can sprint after her and, hopefully, get on the same bus or train. I doubt that she’ll get a cab but, if she does, we’ll have to get one to follow it.”

“I could open my umbrella,” volunteered Lady Maud, helpfully.

“That’ll do it,” said Tollman. “That’ll do nicely.”

Beech returned looking flustered. “I’ve been summoned to the Yard,” he announced. “Apparently this wretched munitions factory explosion may have been deliberate sabotage and I have to interview the factory manager. Matter of National Security.”

Everyone looked anxious until Beech said, “Well, there’s nothing for it. Tollman, you’ll have to be in charge of this one. We can’t abandon things now. I know it’s a great deal of responsibility but I’m sure you can cope. It goes without saying that you will be responsible for the care and safety of the ladies.”

“Yes, sir. Don’t worry, sir. Billy and I know what we’re doing.”

“I’m sure you do.” Beech turned to the women. “Ladies, please do exactly as Mr Tollman bids you. Nothing rash. No heroics.”

Mother and daughter assured Beech that they would take great care and be sensible, and he reluctantly left for Scotland Yard.

“Right,” said Lady Maud, “I’m going to get that flat iron and then I will get my hat, coat, and umbrella.”

*   *   *

Everyone was in position in Piccadilly by eight o’clock. Billy was, ostensibly, reading a newspaper in a doorway. Lady Maud and Victoria were taking an unusual interest in the billboard of the Criterion Theatre and Tollman was loitering on the corner of St James’. Despite it being only eight thirty in the morning, there was a considerable amount of traffic. Buses were disgorging shop girls at Piccadilly Circus, delivery vans were weaving their way around the pedestrians and bleary-eyed soldiers were sitting on the steps around Eros, recovering from a heavy night “up West.” Tollman’s only concern was that Victoria and Lady Maud looked a little out of place at this hour of the morning. It was too early for such obvious well-bred ladies to be shopping and he hoped that they wouldn’t be spotted by the suspect.

After about half an hour their patient wait was rewarded. A woman carrying a canvas bag approached the door of the house and knocked. The door was opened and she stepped inside. Billy was just about able to make out the face of the porter as he hustled the woman in. He looked across to Victoria to make sure that she had seen the woman enter and they nodded at each other. He smiled as he noted the determination with which Lady Maud was gripping both her handbag and umbrella. After no more than two minutes, the woman appeared again, this time clutching the canvas bag to her chest. Billy folded his newspaper up and prepared to move. To his dismay, she walked across the road, almost toward him, and stood at the bus stop. He waited for another two or three people to join the queue and then he sauntered over to stand behind them. He looked around and noted with some amusement that Lady Maud was frantically trying to open her umbrella as per the arranged signal.

Bless her, he thought, she’s doing her best.

Tollman casually joined the queue behind Billy.

“Keep your eyes ahead, lad,” he muttered. “And sit well apart from me.”

Billy duly obeyed and when the bus arrived, he sat to the right, two seats behind the woman and Tollman sat to the left, even further back. Billy briefly looked out of the window to where Victoria appeared to be consoling a disappointed Lady Maud and he smiled. Never mind, Your Ladyship … you’ll have better luck next time. The bus drew away. It proceeded up Regent Street, stopping once or twice for passengers, and then turned into Oxford Street. At the first stop, the woman got up. So did Tollman, but Billy waited until the bus was almost about to pull away before he dashed off, which allowed him to be a comfortable thirty yards behind Tollman, who was a similar distance behind the woman. They followed her as she walked up a street off to the right and they stayed in the same positions until she crossed the junction of Wigmore Street and Harley Street. Tollman walked up the steps of the first house and waited for Billy to pass. He indicated that Billy should take the lead now. Billy nodded and quickened his pace and he heard Tollman come back down the steps behind him and begin to match his footsteps. Then the woman crossed the road, stopped outside a house, took out a key, and let herself in. Tollman shouted, “Now, lad! We need to catch her with that money still on her!”

Billy sprinted across to the house and began hammering on the door. The astonished woman opened it, canvas bag in her hand, and before she could speak, Billy stuck his foot in the door, flashed his warrant card and said, “You’re nicked, madam.”

A breathless Tollman arrived and panted, “We are arresting you under The Offences Against the Person Act 1875. And, madam, you are under suspicion of committing so many offences under that Act that I do not have time to list them all now.”

The woman looked shocked and she backed into the house, helpless and unable to speak. Billy and Tollman pushed their way inside and Tollman produced handcuffs from his pocket.

Tollman noted the plush surroundings and, in particular, a telephone mounted on the wall.

“PC Rigsby, kindly telephone West End Central and request a Black Maria. Madam, I must ask you to give me that bag you’re holding and submit to handcuffs, otherwise I shall add ‘resisting arrest’ to your long litany of crimes.”

The woman handed over the bag and Tollman attached the cuffs. He looked in the bag and produced a brown paper bag containing plenty of paper money.

“Constable Rigsby, I am asking you to attest that I am in possession of—” he rapidly counted the large notes “—fifty five pounds.”

“Noted, sir,” replied Billy, as he agitated the cradle of the telephone and raised the earpiece to his ear. “West End Central Police Station,” he ordered in response to the operator’s query. “And make it quick, love.”

Tollman turned back to the woman, who was, by now, sullen and defeated.

“What’s your name, madam?” Tollman enquired briskly.

“Ada Yardley,” her reply was brief.

Tollman looked around. “What sort of place is this, then?” he asked, noting the plush sofas and flowers and magazines. “It wouldn’t be another knocking shop by any chance would it?”

Ada laughed drily. “In Harley Street?” she said sarcastically. “Don’t you know a doctor’s office when you see one?”

“Can’t say that I do, madam. Not having ever had the money to visit a Harley Street doctor. So, why, may I ask, are you here?”

Ada looked sullen again. “I work here … as a nurse.”

“Ah,” Tollman looked interested. “But you don’t get paid enough, I suppose. So you decided to run a few businesses on the side.”

Ada looked at him with contempt. “I’m saying no more. Not to the likes of you. I want to speak to your Chief Inspector. I know things that he’s going to be very interested in.”

“Oh well, it’s your lucky day then, Ada. Because my Chief Inspector is back at the Yard just dying to meet you.”

“Mr Tollman,” Billy interrupted, “the West End boys want to know what the house number is? I didn’t look as we came in.”

Ada answered. “Number forty-two, dear. Forty-two Harley Street. The office of the very well-connected Doctor McKinley.” She gave Tollman a sneering smile of triumph.

*   *   *

Beech was just coming out of a meeting when a constable informed him that Detective Sergeant Tollman had a suspect down in the holding cell and would he please come and interview her. She was asking for him specifically, the constable relayed.

Ada Yardley had been moved to an interview room and was seated at a table, flanked by Billy and Tollman. She looked defiant.

“So, Miss …” Beech looked at Tollman for information.

“Ada Yardley,” Tollman volunteered.

“Miss Yardley,” said Beech, “we have recently met, in Doctor McKinley’s office, as I’m sure you remember.”

“I’m not responsible for anything,” she said belligerently, as Beech sat down opposite her. “I didn’t know there was money in that bag. I was just asked to pick something up. I didn’t know what it was.”

Tollman tutted. “Try again, love” he said. “We have the porter’s testimony that you came regularly every fortnight and asked for the rents.”

Ada glared at him, unsure of how to proceed. “I was made to do it,” she said flatly. “I didn’t want to, I was threatened.”

“By whom?” asked Beech.

Ada looked at him in disbelief. “By McKinley, of course! Who do you think owns all the brothels? Do you think I’d be working for that man every day if I owned such places? I’d be living at the Ritz, drinking champagne, wouldn’t I?” She snorted derisively. “Well, I’m not going to prison for this. I’ll tell you chapter and verse about the good doctor, but I want a deal.”

Just as Beech was about to consider making some concession, a constable knocked and came in with a message. Beech opened the note and it read,

Didn’t get a chance to tell you this morning. Caro rang and said Esme saw a nurse, one night, at M’s house.

Beech passed the note over to Tollman, who read it and, in turn, passed it to Billy. They looked at each other.

“Unfortunately,” Beech said in his firmest voice, “the Metropolitan Police does not do ‘deals’ with murderers.”

“What?!” Ada looked terrified. “I haven’t murdered anybody!”

“You were seen,” Beech added, “by a maid, at Lord Murcheson’s house.” He carefully didn’t mention when.

Ada’s expression showed that she was trapped. “No! No! It was self-defense,” she admitted in a whisper, “the man was crazed. He was trying to kill me. Look!” and she clumsily, with her hands cuffed together, pulled off the scarf she was wearing to reveal livid marks around the base of her neck, that were turning into ugly bruises. Beech realized that when he saw her, at the doctor’s office, her high starched collar would have covered them up. “Murcheson was trying to strangle me. He’d already done something to his wife. She was lying on the floor in a dead faint. I … I had to do something! I grabbed the scissors and stabbed him—in the chest. I didn’t know what else to do! As God is my witness, I never meant to kill him!” She was beside herself with fear and anger now, although there were no tears forthcoming. Ada Yardley was a very tough woman and not given easily to tears.

“Tell us exactly what happened that night,” said Beech, “and everything you know about the doctor’s little businesses and we will ensure that you do not hang. I can’t offer you more than that.”

Ada nodded, defeated, and began to explain, while Tollman took copious notes.

“McKinley used to send me to Murcheson’s house with drugs—sometimes powdered heroin—sometimes, if Murcheson had had a bad week, he would send me round to give him an injection.”

“Of what?”

“A cocaine solution, into the vein.”

“How many times did you go round to Lord Murcheson’s house?”

“Twice a week, no more.”

“Did Dodds know about this arrangement?”

“Who?” she seemed genuinely confused.

“Er …” Beech tried to remember Dodds’ aliases.

“George Sumpter,” offered Billy helpfully.

“Oh, him!” Ada was bitterly scornful. “He set it all up! Him and the doctor are thick as thieves … well, that’s what they are, aren’t they? Thieves and criminals, the pair of them.”

Beech noted Yardley’s use of the present tense when discussing Dodds/Sumpter but he let it pass for the moment.

“So Sumpter arranged for you to call on Lord Murcheson?”

“Yes, he told the doctor that I should never come before nine o’clock, to make sure that the household staff were in bed. I never got paid any extra for these out-of-hours visits!” she said, in an aggrieved tone.

“So that’s why you decided to offer Lord Murcheson some extra ‘personal services,’ was it?” Beech was guessing here, based on Caroline’s deductions about the syphilis, and realized he had hit the mark when the seemingly tough Ada flushed under all her make-up.

“So what if I did?” she said sullenly. “His Lordship was offering to pay handsomely for … certain things. I’d have been a fool not to take him up on it!”

Beech nodded. “Now tell us about the night you allege he attacked you. Tell us exactly how everything happened.”

“I arrived about nine thirty. Sumpter was waiting, as usual, outside the front door. He told me never to ring the bell; he would always be waiting. Then he took me into Murcheson, who was in the ground-floor parlor. He was three sheets to the wind already. I don’t know what Sumpter had been giving him but he’d been drinking as well. He told Sumpter to clear off and he would call for him when he wanted him. Anyway, Sumpter went and Murcheson asked if I had the syringe with me. I said yes and I gave him the injection. Then … he wanted personal favors from me but he was so boozed and drugged up that he couldn’t … perform … if you get my drift. Well, that sent him into a rage … like I had never seen before … and he went crashing out of the room. I stayed where I was because I wasn’t supposed to be seen by anyone, on Sumpter’s orders. Then I heard all the screaming—two women it sounded like—and Murcheson yelling like a madman.”

“And you still stayed in the parlor?”

“Yes. I thought the whole household would be awake because of the noise and I stayed where I was. I heard one of the women come running down the stairs, sobbing and screaming some man’s name out—it sounded like ‘Mr Hobbs’ …”

“That would be Dodds—Sumpter’s alias.”

“Well, I didn’t know. Murcheson was still yelling upstairs. Then Sumpter appeared in the parlor and said Murcheson had gone crazy and I should go upstairs and calm him down with something. He meant more drugs but I knew that would only make things worse, so I ran upstairs and tried to reason with him. His wife was in a dead faint on the floor—her hair was all a mess and her nightdress was up around her knees—I thought maybe he’d tried to force himself on her. Anyway, Murcheson had gone truly mad. He was almost foaming at the mouth and that’s when he tried to strangle me. I struggled but he was very strong. I felt the scissors on the bedside table and I let him have it. He looked rather surprised for a moment and then dropped to the floor.”

“And what state were you in?”

“I could hardly breathe, my throat hurt so much, and I had blood all over my apron. Anyway, I staggered out and met Sumpter on the stairs. I told him what happened and he told me to get out of the house as fast as possible, he would sort everything out. So, I grabbed my bag and ran out of the front door.”

“What did you do with your bloodstained apron?”

Ada looked confused for a moment and then said, “I took it off and threw it down the basement steps and then I ran until I reached Park Lane, and then I got on a bus.”

“Yes, we have that apron,” confirmed Beech, “Dodds … er, Sumpter, had put it in one of dustbins.”

“Bloody fool!” She almost spat the words. “Cared more about his own neck than mine.”

“So, when did you next meet Sumpter?”

She looked surprised. “I didn’t! I haven’t seen him for a week or more. In fact, he should have come round to the doctor’s office yesterday to get more drugs but he didn’t turn up.”

Beech and the others exchanged glances.

“Did you have any telephone communication with him?”

“No,” she said flatly. “I never do. Sumpter only ever rings Doctor McKinley. I’m nothing to him. Just a go-between. McKinley’s the man with the money and he and Sumpter work everything out between themselves.”

Beech again noted the use of the present tense. Yardley was seemingly not aware that Dodds was dead.

“So who told Doctor McKinley that Lord Murcheson was dead?”

“Me. The next morning, when I went into work. I said he’d have to give me some money so I could go away and he said he needed to speak to Sumpter first. So he tried. He couldn’t get hold of him by telephone in the morning but then Sumpter rang in the afternoon. Then McKinley came to me and said it was alright. The police thought either Lady Harriet or her maid had done it and I was to carry on as normal. No one knew I had been there. I was safe. But, obviously, he was wrong,” she added bitterly.

“Right. Have you got all of that, Detective Sergeant?” Tollman nodded. Beech continued. “Now, Miss Yardley, I want you to give us ‘chapter and verse,’ as you called it, about Doctor McKinley’s business dealings but, first, I wonder if Constable Rigsby might not go and get us all some cups of tea. I sense that this may be a long business.”

“Yes, sir,” said Billy and he went off in search of refreshments. As he was organizing the making of the tea, he saw two detectives come along the corridor, toward the holding cell, with a suspect in tow. One of the detectives was Carter, who gave Billy a quizzical look as he passed.

“Where’s your uniform, son?” he growled.

Billy flashed him a smile and said cheekily, “In the wash, detective,” which made Carter scowl at him. A moment later, seeing Billy carrying a tray of tea things into interview room one made him scowl even more.

When Billy set down the tray on the table, he took Tollman to one side, “Carter’s on the prowl,” he murmured in a warning tone of voice.

Tollman nodded and asked to be excused for a moment. Carter was loitering in the corridor and immediately buttonholed him.

“What are you up to, Tollman?” he asked menacingly, “and what’s Rigsby doing out of uniform? Wouldn’t fancy himself as a detective, would he?”

“What makes you think that anyone is ‘up’ to anything, Carter?” answered Tollman, assuming an innocent air.

“You’re interviewing a suspect—some woman—in there. You and Rigsby were seen bringing her in. If you’re treading on our toes, I might have to complain to the Chief Commissioner that Rigsby has been promoted to detective without any proper authorization …”

Tollman smiled grimly and lowered his voice, “And I might have to tell the Chief Commissioner that I saw you in the Tango Club the other night.”

Carter’s face froze and there was a silence.

Ah, so he is bent, thought Tollman.

“I was undercover,” said Carter but they both knew that the silence had been too long between statement and reply.

“So, here’s the arrangement, Carter,” Tollman continued, in a soft but determined tone of voice, all the while looking Carter straight in the eyes, “you keep your nose out of our business and we’ll keep our nose out of yours—providing you don’t break the law, of course. Understood?”

Carter didn’t say or do anything; he just looked at Tollman, his face burning with resentment. Tollman cupped a hand over his ear, as though he were deaf and said, “Sorry, I didn’t hear your reply!”

“Understood,” muttered Carter and he walked swiftly away. Tollman gave a grim smile and thought, round one to me, I think … but he’ll be watching us a lot more now.

*   *   *

Lady Maud was aggrieved that her very first piece of undercover police work had been a damp squib and she was irritable all the way home. The umbrella was pronounced “useless” and given to Mary to dispose of. Once in the maid’s hands, it immediately opened up of its own volition, thereby causing Lady Maud to say “Now we shall have bad luck, all day! As if we haven’t had enough already!” as she stomped into the study and poured herself a consoling brandy.

Victoria decided to divert her mother’s attention by delving into the case notes she had been keeping on the team’s work and producing a sheet of headed notepaper. She held it under the nose of Lady Maud, who promptly said, “What am I looking at, dear?”

“This the list of the Board of Trustees at Doctor Barnardo’s Homes, mother. I was wondering if you knew any of them?”

Maud peered intently at the document. “Mm. I think I know three of the gentlemen reasonably well and two of them I would regard as no more than passing acquaintances. Why do you ask, dear?”

Victoria then explained about her visit to the Girls’ Village in Essex and her concern about the fact that all the girls were only being trained for a career in domestic service.

“But, Victoria, what on earth is wrong with that? I know several aristocratic households that positively seek out Barnardo’s girls. They are very well trained. Particularly those that train as nursery nurses.”

“Yes, but just think, mother. The world is changing. We have women undertaking all sorts of clerical and industrial jobs nowadays and I am genuinely concerned that some of these girls may be going into households where the husband comes back from the Front severely damaged, like Lord Murcheson. I’m concerned that these girls should be trained in something other than domestic service.”

“Well, Victoria, I can see your point but you must remember two things. One is that domestic service provides a roof over a girl’s head which otherwise they would have to pay for themselves. Not easy in the big cities. And secondly, all the young men are rapidly volunteering for the war and leaving households desperately short of domestic staff. I’m not sure that this is the time to suggest an alternative training for these young girls. However, I shall plan a dinner party in the coming months and invite the three gentlemen on that list, and their wives, and I shall ask their opinion on the matter. Would that help?”

“That would be wonderful,” Victoria beamed and she could see that her mother had almost totally forgotten about this morning’s debacle and her irritability had quite disappeared. All Lady Maud needed was to feel useful again.

*   *   *

Beech was concerned that Ada Yardley would be missed by Dr McKinley and this would raise an alarm but she told them that he did not work on Tuesdays and Thursdays and those were the days she was instructed to go and collect rents. Furthermore, Ada was refusing to co-operate any further until she had some food and a rest, it now being lunchtime, so she was taken back to the cells.

“In any event,” said Beech, “we can’t arrest McKinley until we have all the facts and I can obtain warrants to search his premises and seize records. So we shall just have to adjourn for an hour, while Miss Yardley has some food. By the way, I expect you have noticed that Ada Yardley seems to have no idea that Dodds is dead. So there is, in my view, no point in questioning her about his murder. I feel that we should try and get as much information out of her about the man this afternoon, however.”

Billy and Tollman agreed and the three of them went about their various tasks. Tollman used the time to find a typewriter and formulate Ada’s confession from his notes. Beech had not wished to give the work to a general clerk in the Yard. Billy went back to the police hostel to change into his spare uniform, ready for the arrests that he and Tollman were hoping to make back at the molly shop that night. Beech grabbed a bite to eat at his desk while dealing with yet more paperwork.

They all reconvened after an hour and Ada was summoned back from the cells. Tollman handed the typed confession to Beech, and Ada was given a pen to sign her name.

“You guarantee that you won’t be charging me with murder?” she said, pen poised above the confession.

“No,” said Beech firmly. “I’m afraid the law is such that we will have to charge you with murder …”

She protested but he continued, “The way it works is that you sign your confession alleging self-defense, all of us here will attest in court that you gave us detailed evidence that the act was self-defense. We have various other documents, like Lady Harriet’s confession to his murder and her maid’s initial confession to the murder, which all muddies the waters. We have statements from the household staff that Lord Murcheson was mentally unstable and we will supply your solicitor with all the material necessary for your plea of self-defense. The likelihood is that you will be convicted on the lesser charge of manslaughter and we will ask the judge for reduced sentencing in the light of your co-operation on other matters. But I cannot, I’m sorry, guarantee anything. However, we shall endeavor to get you the best legal representation that we can and co-operate fully with all enquiries. You have my word.”

Ada knew she had to be satisfied with that and she signed the paper. Then began several long hours of extracting as much information as they could from Ada Yardley.

It transpired that Dr McKinley owned and operated four brothels—three female and one male. To Tollman’s surprise, Ada told them that Maisie Perkins’ establishment was owned by McKinley. She also gave them the addresses of two others in the Paddington area of London. Every Tuesday and Thursday she collected rents from these establishments and sometimes delivered drugs. She would return to Harley Street after each collection, “I don’t want to be carrying that sort of money around on the streets,” she said firmly, and she would lock the money away in Dr McKinley’s desk. She said that she knew that several of his male patients had been referred by the doctor to these brothels for “therapeutic” reasons. Billy snorted and Tollman raised his eyebrows.

McKinley owned a house in Chislehurst in Kent, where he sometimes spent the weekends. He also had a small flat above his consulting rooms. Ada gave them his bank account details—he banked at Coutts in the Strand.

“Does he, by God!” exclaimed Beech, knowing full well that Coutts only accepted customers who had very substantial amounts of money. Ada said she sometimes put money in the night safe of the bank, when asked to do so.

They discovered that Dodds/Sumpter obtained large quantities of drugs via his criminal connections that he then sold to the doctor. McKinley then required Ada to adulterate the heroin with other substances and to package them up into single doses. These were given to patients for a variety of ailments and they were charged ten times the actual cost of the drugs. Ada could not verify how much Dodds/Sumpter was involved in the day-to-day operation of the brothels but she suspected that he had, on occasion supplied new girls. She said he was “a slippery customer.” She knew he had a record for petty crimes and she said that it was McKinley that recommended him for the job as Lord Murcheson’s butler. How the doctor and the petty criminal originally formed a relationship was a mystery to her. Beech asked her if she knew of any particular places that Dodds/Sumpter frequented—he was wondering if she might slip up and mention the pub in Piccadilly—but she said no. “I have never associated with him outside of the doctor’s surgery or Lord Murcheson’s house. Nor do I wish to.” Again, to Beech it was plain that she did not know that the man was dead.

It took at least an hour for Ada to write down the names of all of McKinley’s patients that she could remember. With dismay, Beech noted that the list contained a great number of eminent politicians and their wives and families.

This will never get to trial, he thought despairingly.

Finally, Ada could give no more information and, as it was nearly five o’clock and Beech had warrants to obtain, they wrapped everything up and Ada was sent back to her cell.

“We will arrest the good doctor first thing in the morning, Tollman,” ordered Beech, “Meanwhile, I know you have this business in Piccadilly to wrap up tonight so you’d better go and get something to eat.”

“Yes sir,” said Billy with feeling. “I’m looking forward to nabbing old Bay Rum.”

Beech looked quizzical. “Who?”

“Sorry, sir,” replied Billy, “Just my little nickname for the bloke, on account of one of the lads we interviewed said the man smelt strongly of the Bay Rum he put on his hair.”

“Ah.” Beech smiled faintly. “Well, good luck then and keep me informed.”