by Emily Queen
It didn’t surprise any one of them. After everything they had heard about the dead man. Rosemary was beginning to think she wouldn’t care if it had been Dr. Redberry who killed Claude Segal.
“You believe the papers, then? You think the dentist did it?” Vera spoke for the first time, and her voice was just as hard as Charles had expected it to be—hard as diamonds, and just as full of glimmer.
He blushed and shrugged. “Couldn’t say. Saw him at the games, but I wouldn’t have pegged him for it. Not his style. Was always polite, even when he lost, which was frequent. Not his fault, of course. The house always wins, as they say. It wasn’t a front, either. Everyone liked Dr. Redberry. Especially his nurse there, Polly something-or-other. Can’t say I didn’t envy her having a boss she’d go to bat for like that.”
“Go to bat for? What do you mean?” Rose’s heart skipped a beat, and her intuition told her they were onto something.
“Came to the casino, she did. Begged Mr. Segal to let the dentist off the hook. She said she’d repay him in whatever way he wanted if you get my drift. Didn’t realize she wouldn’t get anywhere with that line. She wasn’t the first one who thought she could get out of owing a debt by flaunting her feminine wiles. Went off in a huff, she did. Something not right with that one—mark my words. Hey, you don’t suppose she could have been the one to kill him, do you?”
All of the pieces were starting to fit together too neatly, and she wanted to slap herself on the forehead for not seeing it sooner.
Polly could easily be the killer, though Rose wouldn’t say as much to Charles. She did, however, leave him with quite a lot to contemplate. With a plea to let them know if he remembered anything else that might be of import, the group made their exit with Charles, brow still furrowed, but intent on watching Vera walk away.
“It has to be him, doesn’t it, Rosie?” Frederick pronounced when they were out of earshot of Charles Dupont.
Rosemary shook her head. “No, I don’t see it. He’s capable, of course. Tall enough to reach the key tool, but I suspect if Charles wanted Claude dead, he would have clubbed him in a dark alley and left him there. He doesn’t have the finesse to pull off something like this.”
“She’s right, you nitwit,” Vera railed at Freddie. “It’s obviously Polly, the devoted nurse.”
Rosemary nodded. “Seems so. However, we have to be able to prove it. Just because she wanted to help him out of a jam doesn’t mean she’d resort to murder. Jumping to conclusions won’t help us. Tipping her off won’t either.”
“Well then, what will?” Frederick wondered.
“I’m not sure, but I believe I’ll keep that appointment with Dr. Redberry tomorrow. If nothing else, I’ll get to observe how Polly acts around Martin. There has to be a reason she would try to clear his debt. Perhaps, she simply didn’t want any more of her checks to bounce.” Rosemary’s voice held enough doubt to let her companions know that she didn’t believe that for a second. “Don’t you worry. I won’t be taking any nitrous oxide. I won’t even be sitting in the chair.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Miss, really, I’m perfectly fine,” Anna insisted, her words muffled due to the swelling of her cheek. Rosemary could barely stand to look at her without wincing and was considering dragging her, forcefully, next door to Dr. Redberry’s office. The tooth had begun to emit an unpleasant odor, and Rose simply couldn’t take it anymore.
“You certainly are not fine, Anna. Come now, I will give up my appointment, and Dr. Redberry will take good care of you in my place,” Rosemary said gently.
Anna’s eyes widened, and if possible, she looked even more distraught. “You want me to see the killer dentist?” she whispered.
Rosemary’s brow furrowed, and her eyes turned hard. “I do not believe Martin to be a killer, and you have no need to worry. If you don’t want gas, he can give you a shot of Novocaine. It’s just a little prick, I promise. You will barely feel it, and when he’s done, you’ll feel much better. You cannot travel like that, and you don’t want to miss out on the view of the mountains from the beaches of Cyprus, now do you?”
The thought of not going on holiday was enough to encourage Anna to give Dr. Redberry a chance despite her misgivings, and she bowed her head and followed Rosemary and a sympathetic Vera out the door, whimpered during the entire walk around the corner and into the dentist’s office. It wasn’t as though Rose couldn’t understand her trepidation; what she couldn’t understand was for what reason Anna thought she might become a target for Dr. Redberry even if he had killed Claude Segal.
Gathering every bit of patience she could muster, Rosemary made soothing noises and kept a comforting hand on Anna’s back until they entered the waiting room.
“Mrs. Linley, I do apologize for the confusion.” Polly maintained a facade of composure, but the irritation in her eyes didn’t escape Rosemary’s notice. “I have you down for eleven o’clock, not ten.”
Mrs. Linley scowled. “You must have made a mistake then, girl, because I have a standing appointment at the hairdresser every other Monday morning. I assure you, I made my appointment for ten o’clock so that I could come straight here afterward.” Petite and wizened to the extreme, Mrs. Linley still managed to appear formidable, though she didn’t shake Polly.
Rosemary hoped that if she lived to the ripe age of eighty and some, she retained half as much sass as Mrs. Linley possessed. Obviously, the woman didn’t buy into the killer dentist story that had been perpetuated by the paper, because she had rescheduled her cleaning even though Dr. Redberry’s office echoed with emptiness these days.
“I can try to get you in as soon as possible, but Dr. Redberry does have another patient on the schedule,” Polly explained.
Rosemary saw an opportunity and seized it with both hands. “Miss Calahan, might I have a word?” she said, smiling at Mrs. Linley with an apology in her eyes. “My appointment is for ten o’clock, but I would be happy to wait until eleven.”
The elderly woman didn’t exactly smile, but she did cast Rosemary a grateful look and followed up with a steely glare in Polly’s direction.
“Of course, Mrs. Lillywhite. I think that would suit everyone just fine. Please wait a moment while I fetch your paperwork. Mrs. Linley, please have a seat. Dr. Redberry will be right with you.” She bustled off with a smile, though Rosemary could imagine her thoughts were far less charitable.
Mrs. Linley settled down beside Vera and Anna, took one look at Anna’s swollen face, and stood back up. When Polly reentered from the back room, Mrs. Linley stalked over to her desk. “I’ve changed my mind. This poor girl requires immediate attention. I will wait.”
Polly sighed. “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Linley, however, I don’t believe she has an appointment.”
“She’ll be taking my slot,” Rosemary interrupted. “I am in no pain and am more than willing to wait to be seen. This is Anna Watson, but please put the bill under my name. I will take care of it.”
Anna gasped and protested. “Oh, thank you, Madam!” she exclaimed. “Please, take it out of my wages.”
“Absolutely not,” Rosemary replied. “Don’t you worry about a thing, dear. We can’t have you walking around feeling like this, and you’ve more than earned it.”
Nodding, Anna sniffed back a few tears that might have been the product of gratitude, or of fear. “I shall do my best to live up to your regard.” In a lower tone Rosemary had to strain to hear, Anna added, “If I live through the day.”
“Vera, I think I should accompany Anna for her treatment. Can you keep Mrs. Linley company? I’m sure you will find something in common to while away the tedium.”
Taking her cue, Vera said, “Why, there’s nothing I would like better.” She turned a sunny smile on the elderly woman. “You go on ahead; we’ll be just fine.”
“It seems the office is full of kind hearts this morning,” Polly commented. “Most employers wouldn’t do what you just did for her, believe you me.”
�
�Not even Dr. Redberry?” Rosemary inquired. “I have heard he’s quite generous.”
Polly smiled, genuinely for once. “Yes, you’ve heard correctly. Dr. Redberry is one in a million.” Her eyes went a little dreamy, and it struck Rose that Polly might feel some deep personal sentiment towards Martin.
“Anna Watson. Come with me, please.” The man in question appeared, and Rosemary followed dutifully behind her maid, whose eyes had widened yet again with trepidation and fear.
“Hello, Rosemary,” he said as the three of them trooped to the examination room. Rose looked behind her, noted the way Polly stared after Dr. Redberry and cast Vera a meaningful look. The ball was in her court now, and it would be up to her to garner whatever information she could get Mrs. Linley and Polly to offer up.
“How are you, Martin?” She asked once the door had closed behind them.
“I’m just fine,” he replied, giving Anna a reassuring smile. “Let me take a look. I can tell you’re in pain, but I promise you’ll feel better soon. Open wide.”
Polly was right; Dr. Redberry was one in a million. Rosemary recalled the last time she’d visited the dentist—too long ago, she knew—and how much of an ordeal it had been. London could use someone like Martin, and Rosemary felt her resolve to clear his name and solve Claude Segal’s murder strengthen even further.
“Unfortunately, two of your teeth are impacted, and it’s caused an abscess,” Dr. Redberry explained. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to perform an extraction. Please don’t worry, it’s your back tooth, and you won’t even be able to tell it’s gone once it’s healed over.”
Anna cast a panicked glance in Rosemary’s direction. “I’m not vain enough to care about that. It’s the pain that concerns me.”
“I’ll give you a shot of Novocaine, drain the abscess, and send you off to the chemist for an antiseptic. I know it’s scary, but it’s perfectly safe, I assure you.” Martin kept his tone soothing and his eyes sympathetic as he asked Polly to fetch his instruments.
Finally, Anna took a deep breath and calmed down. After seeing the size of the Novocaine needle, Rosemary did advise her to close her eyes, and she did so without argument. A little prick numbed her gums, and within a few minutes, Martin had pulled the tooth and stuffed a piece of cotton into the hole. Anna eyed the extracted tooth with more curiosity than concern, and Rosemary suspected her fear of the dentist wasn’t nearly as concerning as it had been before.
“Now, no sucking on anything for a few days, and you’ll want that antiseptic. Come see me again when you get back from your holiday, and I’ll make sure you’re healing properly,” Martin instructed.
“Thank you,” Anna mumbled through the numbness and the cotton, returning his smile as best she could.
Rosemary asked Polly to escort Anna out to meet Vera in the waiting room and hung back to speak to Martin in private. As soon as she was gone, he asked, a note of apprehension in his voice, “Were you able to find Charles Dupont?”
“I did,” Rosemary hedged, “and I believe I might be on to something.” She was hesitant to reveal too much too soon. While Rose no longer Martin had anything to do with Claude Segal’s death, she couldn’t say as much for his nurse, and the last thing she wanted to do was tip him off to Polly’s possible involvement.
Martin didn’t press her for information, for which she was grateful, and instead led her back out into the waiting room where Vera was chatting with Mrs. Linley. Her expression was stormy, and the breath caught in Rose’s throat. It hitched a second time when she noticed the withering glare Polly cast in her direction before watching Martin retreat towards his office.
“You have a nice day, Mrs. Linley,” Vera said, following Rosemary and Anna out of the office.
Once she had settled Anna in and sent Wadsworth to the chemist, Rosemary and Vera retired once again to the downstairs parlor where Frederick and Desmond were lounging.
“I know I expressed my undying love for you, Rosie, and a willingness to engage in a little heavy sleuthing,” Frederick said, fanning himself with a piece of folded paper, “but this heat wave is enough to make even me feel like swooning. Have you finished wrapping up this case so we can get the hell out of London?”
“And go where Frederick? A tropical island?” Rose retorted. “You do realize it’s going to be sweltering in Cyprus, don’t you?”
Frederick snorted. “Yes, sister, I do realize that. Did you forget that islands are surrounded by water? If I’m going to die of heat stroke, it might as well be while watching scantily clad women sunbathe.”
“You are a pig,” Rosemary declared and turned her attention towards Vera, who appeared ready to burst. Her face had turned a less than delicate shade of red, and steam threatened to pour out of her ears. “Now, let poor Vera tell us what she discovered during her conversation with Mrs. Linley before she implodes.”
“I have only broken this case wide open, but please, let us continue to discuss the effects of bathing costumes on Frederick’s libido instead. I am all ears.” Chin at a haughty angle, eyes blazing, Vera refused to spill until Freddie groveled to her satisfaction.
“Our Miss Polly is something of a dark horse,” she announced in a dramatic tone. “The astute Mrs. Linley noticed our perky receptionist wearing the pin of her alma mater, and you’ll never guess what school it was. Not in a million years.”
With that, she settled back and refused to answer until her compatriots made their guesses. Eventually, she offered a clue.
“Mrs. Linley and I share a common interest. An interest which she has expressed by becoming a patron of the arts and hosting students of a certain academy in her home. One of those students is someone we all know and despise.”
Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place for Rosemary, though Freddie and Desmond appeared perplexed.
“Both Polly and Jennie Bryer went to Guildhall.” Putting the two side by side in her mind, Rose calculated their ages. “At the same time.”
“Ding ding. Rose wins the prize, but there’s more to tell. Frederick, be a dear and see if Wadsworth has a tea tray at the ready. I’m positively parched. Mrs. Linley practically talked my ear off. The woman is an inveterate gossip.”
A few minutes later, Vera grinned over her teacup and continued her story. “Now, according to Mrs. L, Polly gives Abigail the evil eye whenever she thinks no one is looking, but she smiles at Martin like he’s the cat’s particulars. What do you think of that?”
“I saw some of that for myself today,” Rosemary mused. “If you ask me, she’s completely gone on the man.”
“Enough to bump off old Segal for him? But she’s a woman.” Unaccustomed to seeing the seedier side of life, Desmond had trouble picturing any woman as a killer. “Do women kill so easily?”
Vera spared him a sympathetic look, then added to her story. “Now, for the pièce de résistance, Polly was the last person to see Claude Segal alive. Mrs. Linley saw Martin cross into the storeroom.”
“Yes.” Frederick set his cup down with a rattle. “If I remember correctly, he said he turned off the gas, then called Polly into the storeroom to show her how to set up the tray with the proper implements because she’d left something off. This isn’t news, Vera,” he chided.
“If you’re quite finished, what I was going to say was that Martin had already specified what he wanted on the tray, and in great detail when he sent Polly to the storeroom the first time.”
Apparently, the distinction was lost on Freddie for he interrupted again, and argued, “And she forgot to add one of the doodads he uses to torture the innocent, and when the lack was discovered, he turned off the gas and called her in to show her the error of her ways.”
“Frederick Woolridge will you please shut up for once in your miserable life. Mrs. L. swears she saw some sort of metal device sticking out of Polly’s pocket.”
Several minutes of discussion followed, most of which flowed past Rosemary as she turned everything she’d learned over and over in her mind. Even
tually, she came to herself and asked Vera to repeat everything Mrs. Linley had said about Polly and her connection to Guildhall.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” she said when Vera finished.
Even when she grimaced as she did now, Vera couldn’t look less than lovely. “It means,” she sighed loudly, “that you want me to make nice with Jennie Bryer.”
Chapter Nineteen
Vera had never looked quite so contrite or quite as irritated as she did when she agreed to make peace with Jennie Bryer. Nonetheless, she agreed with Rose that an amount of groveling was in order If they were going to discover what sort of skeletons were hiding in Polly Calahan’s cupboard.
She was even more chagrined when the address she’d wheedled out of one of her contacts at the theater turned out to be a dank, dark flat just a little too close to the wrong side of town.
“Jennie Bryer lives here?” Vera asked, her voice breathy. “I suppose I shouldn’t have given her such a hard time.” Admitting she was wrong wasn’t one of Vera’s strong suits, though when forced to do so, she rose to the occasion admirably.
As they wound their way up a battered, somewhat shaky staircase to the third floor, neither Rose nor Vera said anything. Their thoughts, on this occasion, took the same serpentine route from pity-lined sympathy to thankfulness for their good fortunes. The last, they’d keep to themselves, recalling the heat with which Jennie had delivered her comeuppance speech to Vera the night of the show.
“Well, here goes nothing.” Vera took a deep breath as she raised her hand to knock on Jennie’s door. “I almost hope she isn’t home.”
She was, and they heard a loud thump, the sound of something crashing to the floor, and an unladylike expletive before the door opened to reveal a disheveled and irritated Jennie. An irritated and thoroughly shocked Jennie, who gaped at Vera before pulling the door closed behind her.
