A Case of Doubtful Death (7 page)

There was a brief pause and Frances realised that Bonner felt that he had said all he could.

‘Who was the next person to arrive?’

‘That would have been Dr Darscot,’ said Bonner, readily. ‘He had called to see Dr Mackenzie at his home and had been told the news by Mrs Georgeson. He came knocking at the chapel door in a very agitated state. He viewed the body and calmed down a little, and then he left.’

‘Do you have his address?’

‘I am afraid not.’

‘It may be in Dr Mackenzie’s papers. If you could look through them and let me know, I would be very grateful.’

‘Of course – anything I can do to assist. But how can Darscot help find Palmer? If he knows anything surely he would have come forward by now?’

‘Dr Darscot’s visit to Mrs Georgeson was made only minutes after Mr Palmer left. He may have seen something but not realised its importance.’

‘Ah, I see. Yes, of course.’

There was also the possibility, thought Frances, of Darscot knowing of some concern that Mackenzie had confided in Palmer and not in Bonner, but she decided that there was little to be gained by mentioning it. Dr Bonner, like so many medical men, thought he knew everything of importance apart from those things that no one knew.

‘Could you describe Dr Darscot to me?’

‘Oh – er – quite young, I suppose, about thirty. Respectably dressed. Nothing very remarkable about his appearance.’

Frances glanced at her notebook. ‘As Dr Mackenzie’s executor you must have examined his correspondence,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he kept copies of the letters he sent, I know many professional gentlemen do. And of course there will be the letters he received from medical friends, from his mother and his friends in Germany. You may prefer not to show these to me, of course, and I would understand that, but it is possible there might be some clue in the letters, an observation about Mr Palmer, perhaps.’

‘Oh!’ said Dr Bonner, startled.

‘You
did
find letters amongst his effects?’

‘No, I – I can’t say that I did.’

‘Would you not have expected to find them? Mrs Georgeson told me he regularly received letters.’

‘You are quite right, of course,’ said Bonner, dismayed. ‘I confess that when examining his effects I only concerned myself with what I actually found, and I never stopped to consider what I ought to have found that was not there.’

‘Did you carry out the work alone or with another?’

‘Mrs Georgeson’s maid assisted me. Perhaps she might know something.’

Frances, with the feeling that she would spend the investigation doing nothing but travel up and down the length of Ladbroke Grove Road, could only agree.

‘What happened to Dr Mackenzie’s keys?’

‘You mean the keys to the Life House? They were in his pocket. I have them here.’ Bonner opened a small drawer in his desk and took out a bunch of four keys on a brass ring. ‘The keys to his residence were on here, too, but I returned them to Mrs Georgeson.’ The largest key, he explained, was for the main entrance of the Life House. A smaller one was the chapel door key and there were two internal keys, one for the door that separated the chapel from the ward and one for the door that separated a front office room from the ward. Frances thought that only the main key was of a memorable design, and whether this was deliberate or had been supplied by a humorist she did not know, but the loop of the key, instead of being rounded, was oblong and reminded her of the outline of a coffin viewed from the side. It was engraved along its shank with the name of the locksmith.

‘So there are only five sets of keys,’ she said, ‘one for each doctor and one for each orderly.’

‘That is correct.’

‘And prior to Mr Palmer’s disappearance none have ever been missing?’

‘We are very careful with them. Of course, I assume that Palmer, wherever he is, still has his. When he had been missing for three days we decided to take the precaution of changing the locks.’

‘Are the new keys identical to these?’

‘Very similar.’

‘May I see them?’

He seemed surprised at this request, but pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket. Frances examined them, and saw that the loop of the new main door key was a little more rounded at the corners and less coffin-like than its predecessor. She handed them back.

‘Might someone be interested in stealing a set of keys, a press-man perhaps? Might he even be prepared to try and rob Mr Palmer to obtain them?’

Bonner raised his eyebrows. ‘That is possible, I suppose. Press-men have tried to get into the Life House – never with any success, and one can never know to what levels of criminality they will stoop.’

‘And before you changed the locks, no one attempted to gain entry?’

‘No, we were alert to the possible danger and were most vigilant that no unauthorised person should be able to enter the premises.’

‘On that subject, Dr Bonner, I would like to arrange a visit to the Life House.’

He stared at her blankly. ‘I am sorry, I do not understand you, Miss Doughty.’

‘I am trying to trace Henry Palmer’s movements on the night he disappeared. Clearly they started from the Life House. I wish to tour the premises.’

Bonner was sufficiently taken aback that it was a moment or two before he could form a reply. ‘But
clearly
he was seen after he left. In any case, the Life House is private property and it is an inflexible rule that apart from the chapel room, only medical men may enter.’

‘And medical women?’ asked Frances pointedly. ‘They do exist.’

He laughed. ‘I have never been approached by any such. No, Miss Doughty, if you wish to enter the Life House you must first obtain a medical degree, and then, and
only
then will I consider your application.’

Frances returned to Mrs Georgeson’s house to find that the landlady was busy showing a gentleman the vacant apartments, while Mary Ann was making an ineffectual attempt at scrubbing the kitchen floor. It was not hard for Frances to persuade the housemaid to leave her work and sit down in the parlour to talk.

‘I understand that you assisted Dr Bonner when he dealt with Dr Mackenzie’s effects?’ asked Frances.

The girl nodded. ‘Yes, not that there was a lot of effects.’

‘Do you recall seeing any letters about?’

‘Letters?’ Mary Ann thought for a moment, her gaze wandering about the room as if the letters might be found on the wall or the ceiling, but seeing none, she added, ‘No.’

‘But Dr Mackenzie did receive letters?’

‘Oh yes. Not a great many, but some. All letters that come here get put on the table in the hall and the tenants help themselves.’

‘Did you clean the doctor’s room?’

‘I clean all the rooms, when asked. He didn’t ask very often.’

‘And did you ever see letters lying about?’

She frowned and chewed her lower lip. ‘There’s that little desk in there. There used to be letters lying on it sometimes, and he said he didn’t want it tidying or he’d never find anything, so I left it alone.’

‘And there’s a wastebasket. I suppose you emptied that when you cleaned.’

‘Yes, all what was in there got burned up.’

‘Were there letters in there?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘So – letters on his desk and letters in the basket. On the last day, the day he died, when Dr Mackenzie went out did he leave the room locked?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. All the gentlemen have keys and lock their doors. Mrs Georgeson is very insistent on that.’

‘Does anyone apart from Dr Mackenzie have a key?’

‘Mrs Georgeson.’

‘And did Dr Mackenzie’s room stay locked until Dr Bonner came to deal with all his things?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you helped him?’

‘Yes.’

‘I want you to think carefully about what happened on that occasion. Try and imagine what was in the room. Were there any letters on the desk or letters in the wastebasket?’

Mary Ann thought so hard it made her eyes bulge, then she shook her head. ‘No, none at all.’ Frances was just digesting this information when the maid added, ‘There was something else – or at least
not
something else. Oh I don’t know how to say it – something that wasn’t there. I was looking about and I just thought to myself, there’s something that’s gone that ought to be here only I can’t quite think what it is. And do you know, I still can’t think what it was.’

‘Well if you remember, you must be sure to inform me. It could be very important.’

Mary Ann nodded eagerly. ‘Will I be in one of the stories, Miss?’

Frances smiled encouragement. ‘I can’t promise that, but you never know.’

As Frances was on her way out she encountered Mrs Georgeson in the hallway bidding the prospective new tenant farewell. He was an odd, creeping little man with a forlorn looking hat. Frances felt sure that he would suit the house perfectly.

‘You’re back soon, Miss Doughty,’ said Mrs Georgeson. ‘Has Mr Palmer been found?’

‘I regret not, but I am continuing to make enquiries. I am wondering if Dr Mackenzie had some concerns, maybe of a personal nature, that meant he asked Mr Palmer to go on an errand for him, and Mr Palmer needed to honour that request even after the doctor’s death. I don’t suppose you know of anything that might have been troubling Dr Mackenzie?’

Mrs Georgeson shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I don’t. He never confided anything in me, and I never ask my gentlemen personal questions.’

‘Do you know what happened to Dr Mackenzie’s letters? Only there were none found in his room. Did you go into his room after he died?’

‘No, I left that to Dr Bonner. If there were no letters then Dr Mackenzie must have disposed of them himself. Speaking of letters, I don’t know what to do with this one.’ She took a letter from her pocket. ‘It came this morning, from abroad. Funny stamp and strange writing. He’s had them like this before.’

Frances looked at the envelope. ‘It may be from one of Dr Mackenzie’s medical friends in Germany. Why don’t I take it to Dr Bonner? He’ll know what to do with it.’

Mr Georgeson hesitated, then handed Frances the letter. ‘I don’t suppose it makes much odds now.’

Back home, Frances, in a dilemma, showed the letter to Sarah. ‘It doesn’t seem right to open another person’s correspondence, even when that person is dead. I have no authority to do it; in fact the only persons who do are his executors. Perhaps I should take it to Dr Bonner and let him open it and then ask him to show it to me.’

‘He might say no,’ observed Sarah.

‘Yes, he might, as he would be entitled to.’

‘Well,
I
think you should open it and read it.’

Frances struggled with her conscience. ‘That would be very dishonest.’

‘Suppose there was something in it, something important that might save Mr Palmer’s life? What then?’

The struggle weakened. ‘Yes, that is a very good point. Perhaps, under the circumstances …’

‘And then you can give it to Dr Bonner afterwards.’

‘But, won’t he notice it’s been opened?’

Sarah gave a curious little smile and held out her hand for the letter. ‘He’ll be none the wiser.’

Frances was not sure what mysteries Sarah was about to perform and decided it might be best not to know. She gave her the letter.

Five minutes later the letter was back in Frances’ hands and she found that the envelope had released its gum and the paper could be slid out and unfolded.

‘Oh how stupid of me,’ said Frances as she stared at the dark spiky handwriting. ‘It’s in German. I suppose I thought – but then if Dr Mackenzie lived there all those years – oh dear!’

As far as she was aware none of her acquaintances could speak German, and she felt unwilling to employ a stranger in case awkward questions were asked as to how she had come by, and indeed opened, a letter that was clearly addressed to another person. The prospect of purchasing a German dictionary and grammar and trying to translate it herself was neither appealing nor likely to ensure a quick or accurate answer.

‘Mr Garton has travelled a lot,’ said Sarah. ‘He often says he has been to every place in the world worth seeing. He might know someone who could help.’

‘And I hope I may rely on his discretion,’ said Frances. She knew Cedric Garton well enough to do without the formality of a note and, since his apartments were only a minute’s walk away on the same street, she decided to call and discover if he was at home.

While Frances always enjoyed the company of that man of refined and sometimes unusual tastes, she felt less pleasure at the thought of encountering his manservant, Joseph, who, while undoubtedly devoted to his master, always made Frances feel as if she was being examined for those qualities he might best desire in Cedric’s intimate friends, and was always found badly wanting. To her surprise therefore, when Joseph saw her on the doorstep he looked almost pleased at her arrival, and admitted her to the house with some alacrity.

‘Miss Doughty, you have come at a moment when I fear you are greatly needed. Mr Garton has met with a – well there has been a small – well, you must see for yourself. Your assistance would be most valued.’

Frances was shown into Cedric’s delightfully appointed drawing room, and Joseph knocked on a side door, opened it cautiously and peered in.