Chapter 9

Nine

The police report that had arrived with Mr. Dooley was quite thorough.

It stated the approximate time two constables were dispatched from their area to investigate a body found in St. James's Park by an individual named Edgar Peabody.

Mr. Peabody, a London wine merchant, was returning from a late delivery to one of the residences at the edge of St. James's Park, and might have run over the body of the young woman if one of his horses hadn't shied away.

No one else was seen in the area at the time, which indicated that Margaret Cameron might have been abducted and killed at another location.

Other information in the report included the single knife wound that had obviously killed the victim almost immediately, and a note regarding a flower, later said to be a red rose, laid across her body.

"What do ye know of the two constables who were called out when the body was found?" Brodie asked Mr. Dooley.

"Good men, both. I've walked the street with John Hix. The other one is young but has good reviews from his superiors.

"Where is the young woman's body at this time?" he then asked.

"The family requested that it be taken to their private physician in Westminster."

"We will want to see the body, even though the report appears most thorough."

"I thought you might, Mr. Brodie. I've already sent word to the physician's office that you would be calling on him in the matter."

Brodie nodded. "How was the young woman originally identified?"

"There was a post with her name on it in the lady's bag she carried. With that information, the family was notified."

"Was there anything else found in the young woman's handbag?" I asked.

"There were several coins along with a comb. She was wearing a watch pin on her jacket as well, but no other jewelry."

Several coins and a watch pin, none of it taken by whoever had attacked and killed Margaret Cameron. It appeared that robbery was not the motive.

"Any indication of an assault of an intimate nature?" Brodie asked.

Color appeared on Mr. Dooley's face. "There was no mention of it by the police surgeon on his examination of the body."

Brodie looked over at me. "We will want to see the body as well."

"What can I do to assist?" Mr. Dooley inquired.

"Best see what you can learn about the wine merchant, Mr. Peabody. His reputation, any other encounters with the police, the reason he was making that late delivery, and if he saw anyone else about before the constables arrived."

"There might be something to learn about the location he made that delivery," Mr. Dooley added. "I'll see to that as well."

"I ask that ye not discuss anything with anyone at this time. Not even the chief inspector."

"He's a good man," Mr. Dooley replied.

Brodie nodded. "However, two young women have been murdered. One is the daughter of a Judge of the Court, the other is the daughter of a prominent barrister. For now, we keep everything we learn private until we know more."

"You have my word, sir. I'll be off then. I will let you know as soon as I have information."

Brodie stopped him at the door. "We dinna know wot this is about. However, with two murders involving two prominent families, best watch yer back."

Mr. Dooley nodded and then left.

"Wot are ye thinkin'?" Brodie asked after he had gone.

"It would seem that robbery was not the motive. Then there is the rose that was found on the body. And now a second murder once again with a rose left behind. I assume it is not a coincidence?"

"Aye, verry likely not a coincidence. We should call on the Mallory family's physician this afternoon, before the young woman is buried."

"Might Mr. Brimley be able to assist?" I asked.

"I'll put through a call for him to meet us there."

In spite of the late time of the afternoon and the usual London traffic on the street that often made navigating the city that time of day quite difficult, we made the trip to Westminster in good time. Mr. Brimley had arrived just prior, and met us on the street.

"Another murder?" He looked at the brass nameplate beside the door in the main entrance. Discreet, tasteful, with the name Alan Cameron, Physician. Otherwise, the brownstone building, with tall street-side windows and that dark green door with a brass bell beside, might have been any fashionable residence found in Westminster, or Mayfair for that matter.

Brodie and I looked at each other. Cameron—not an uncommon name. Still, was it possible the physician was a member of the young woman's family?

That would explain the reason her body had been released from the Yard so quickly and brought here rather than a mortuary.

"I know the man," Mr. Brimley explained. "I studied with him at King's College. Seems to have done well for himself."

A woman in a starched black dress met us at the door. Brodie gave her our names. She showed us into what was a waiting room that could have been someone's formal parlor.

"I will let the doctor know that you are here."

Dr. Cameron eventually appeared. He was of average height, approximately fifty years of age, I would guess. He was clean-shaven except for side whiskers, with light brown hair that was beginning to gray.

"I was told to expect you," he said with a brief glance at Brodie. "I'm certain you understand this is a very difficult time. You are with the Metropolitan Police?"

Brodie didn't bother to explain that it was a private inquiry which might have been a bit confusing.

"We appreciate your assistance in the matter," he replied. "You may be acquainted with Mr. Brimley," he made the introductions.

"From King's College," Brimley provided.

"I'm sorry, I do not remember. You are a physician?" Dr. Cameron inquired.

"My work took me in another direction, sir—research. However, from time to time I assist as I can."

I thought his answer quite clever—considering the small laboratory at the back of his apothecary shop. And truth be known, I would have trusted his medical skills over any other, and had. The bullet wound in my shoulder had healed most excellently.

"I asked Mr. Brimley to accompany us for his expertise in certain matters that could be helpful," Brodie explained and left it at that.

Dr. Cameron nodded somewhat distracted, I thought.

"We will need to see the body," Brodie told him and presented the card that the chief inspector had given him.

"Of course," Dr. Cameron replied, still quite distracted it seemed. Or was it something else?

"If you will come this way."

We followed him down a hallway past what appeared to be his private office, past another room with door closed, then toward the back of the brownstone.

"This is a most dreadful situation."

We had finally reached a set of double doors at the rear of the building.

"You must understand. The victim is my brother's daughter. He asked that her body be brought here rather than the police morgue."

Brodie and I exchanged a look. This was a development we had not anticipated. But what did it mean?

"I assure you we will make our observations as quickly as possible and not cause any undue difficulty," Brodie assured him.

I was not at all certain what that was supposed to mean. But it seemed to address Dr. Cameron's concerns, as he led us into the large room that appeared to serve as a surgery, with overhead lights, a variety of instruments on a metal side table, and of course, an examination table with a sheet drawn over.

"We appreciate your concerns and your assistance in this," Brodie told him, by way of excusing him so that he and Mr. Brimley could conduct their own examination of the body without the accompaniment of Dr. Cameron.

"I see. Yes, well I do have an appointment to prepare for. I will be in my office. You will let me know when you have completed your observations?"

Brodie assured him that he would.

Viewing dead bodies was never pleasant, but over time I managed to steel myself accordingly. It was the unexpected discovery that very definitely had a way of unnerving me. That first shock that eventually gave way to sympathy and the curiosity when we were investigating a case.

My first encounter had been that body in the Nile River on one of my travels, covered in flies.

I reminded myself this was not the Nile, and the body under that sheet was not some poor nameless soul who, it was later discovered, had been a river pirate gone afoul of others.

This was a young woman at the beginning of her life, cruelly murdered and then left at the edge of St. James's Park like so much refuse tossed away.

I prepared myself in the usual way, with the thought that the most important thing now was to find the murderer, as Mr. Brimley reached for the edge of the sheet that covered her body and drew it back.

Margaret Cameron wore a badly stained blue walking skirt with a short jacket over. Her dark blonde hair was tangled with leaves and twigs.

Her shirtwaist was stained with blood as was to be expected given the circumstances of her death.

"How long would you estimate that she's been dead?" Brodie asked.

"Perhaps three to four days. You say she was found at St. James's?" He proceeded to carefully open the front of her jacket.

"The wound is here." He gently probed the cut fabric of the jacket and the shirtwaist underneath.

"A knife wound, just there under the ribs. Here is something interesting."

He retrieved an instrument from the side table and gently probed the wound.

"The blade was approximately five to six inches and there was just the one wound. It would have severed a major artery, and very likely internal organs. Death would have been very quick with the loss of so much blood. It's difficult to determine anything more, as there has been loss of some tissue, creatures in the park perhaps," he explained. "Animals and other things, worms and such."

Yes, of course, I thought as I listened. Worms.

"Three to four days," Brodie commented. "Then, she would have been murdered very soon after Charlotte Mallory."

"There is this as well," Mr. Brimley drew our attention once more as he examined Margaret Cameron's fingers.

"There appear to be some sort of small puncture wounds."

I looked at Brodie.

"Could it be the sort of puncture wounds that might come from the stem of a rose?" I asked.

"Perhaps or possibly from something as she reached out and then fell."

According to Mr. Dooley, a rose was found on Margaret Cameron's body, the same as Charlotte Mallory. However, in looking about the doctor's examination room, there was no sign of it. Nor had Dr. Cameron made any mention of it.

I found her handbag that had been set aside. According to the police report, it contained substantial coins, the same as Charlotte Mallory.

Once more, a young woman murdered, and robbery apparently was not the motive.

"Is there anything else?" Brodie asked. "Anything found under her nails that might indicate a struggle with her attacker?"

Mr. Brimley shook his head. "Such a pity. So young and those out there that would do such a thing."

Doctor Cameron had returned. "Will that be all then?" he asked.

"Was there anything else found about the body when it was brought here?" Brodie inquired.

"No, nothing," the doctor replied. "If you are quite finished, I am expecting an appointment that I must prepare for."

An appointment? This late in the day?

"Of course," Brodie replied as we prepared to leave. He turned back at the door.

"Ye are Judge Cameron's brother, are ye not?" he asked.

"Yes," he replied. "My brother was drawn to the law, while I preferred the practice of medicine."

"And you have been most successful it would seem," Brodie commented, with a slow look about the examination room and then a look into the outer office, with its expensive furnishings usually found in the front parlor of someone of some means.

"I have been most fortunate. As Mr. Brimley can attest, I received the finest education at King's College, as well as four years of study at the medical school in Edinburgh."

"That would include research as well?" Mr. Brimley inquired.

"Yes, the finest in research and new treatments."

It was then the woman in the black gown appeared at the entrance to the examination room.

"If there is nothing else, I will be leaving now, Dr. Cameron."

"Yes, of course, Miss Phipps," he replied.

"May we see you home, Miss Phipps?" I inquired with a sudden thought. "It is quite late of the afternoon, and one can never be too careful." The body on the examination table, case in point, I thought.

I caught the look Brodie gave me at the offer to accompany her. She was obviously surprised.

"Thank you, no," she cordially replied. My flat is only a short way from here. No need to trouble yourselves. Good evening."

I made a mental note of that.

I caught a glimpse of her through the open doorway to the front office, slipping on a long coat and then tucking an umbrella under her arm.

"We will be leaving as well," Brodie told the doctor. "I thank ye for yer time."

Out on the street Brodie waved down a cab for Mr. Brimley, then held back.

"And good evening to ye, Mr. Brimley."

He nodded. "And you as you well, Mr. Brodie. Miss Forsythe."

When he had gone, Brodie took me by the arm and pulled me away from the light of the streetlamp and into the shadows just beyond, as the lights in the doctor's office were extinguished. We waited. In very short order, a coach arrived.

"That is convenient," I whispered. "Particularly when one is expecting the arrival of someone for an appointment?"

The doctor came out of his office, set the lock on the door, then climbed into the coach.

"And private coach at that," I commented. "And perhaps time enough to put through a call to someone beforehand?"

"My thoughts as well," Brodie replied. "It would seem that the good doctor was in somewhat of a hurry," he added.

"Come along, before the good doctor returns." He left our hiding place there in the shadows and retraced our steps back to the entrance of the doctor's office.

He handed me the hand-held light he always carried.

The lock took some effort, but eventually we heard the faint click of the tumblers and he pushed the door open. I stepped past him into Dr. Cameron's darkened office.

We relied on the hand-held light rather than turn on the electric, so as not to draw suspicion by anyone who passed by.

As I moved about the office in the beam of that light, I asked myself, where might someone dispose of something?

Brodie went to the examination room and closed the door. There was a sudden sliver of light at the bottom of the door as he turned on the electric. I continued the search with the hand-held in the outer office.

There was a table and four chairs, a set of wood cabinets against one wall, and the desk Miss Phipps obviously occupied. Atop the desk was a desk calendar, an ink pen in a holder, and a leather-bound book that turned out to be an appointment book.

Most interesting, there was no appointment shown for that time of the afternoon, in spite of what Doctor Cameron had told us.

I searched the drawers of the desk and found nothing unusual other than the doctor's stationary, appointment cards, a card file with what appeared to be patient names, many whom I recognized, and other items that might be found in a business office.

After searching all the drawers, I searched under the desk and found the rubbish container. I pulled it out.

"There was nothing in the examination room or in a private room beyond where the doctor might stay over late at night with a patient who needs care."

"I seem to have found something." I held out a thick wadded piece of paper.

I unfolded it and the contents spilled out onto the desk—a badly crushed red rose.

"Aye," Brodie replied. "So ye have. Bring it along… we're finished here."

I carefully folded it in that piece of paper then slipped it between the pages of my notebook.

The question was, what did it mean that a single rose had been found on the bodies of both Charlotte Mallory and Margaret Cameron. Furthermore, what did it mean that Doctor Cameron chose not to disclose the rose I had just found, even though it was noted in the police report?

"He wouldn't have known that," Brodie pointed out. "But the question remains, why was it thrown out?"

"And," I added, "where was the good doctor going after he said that he was expecting a late appointment?"