“I was thinking about the case. What do you know about syphilis?”
That wiped the smile off his face. “Nothing! I swear.”
“I hoped you might know more than me.” I lowered my voice. “Do you recall that one of our suspects is Lord Wrexham, Pearl’s former lover? He has the disease.”
He pulled a face. “Horrid business, syphilis. I don’t know much about it, but Peter might. His neighbor had it, so he once told me.”
Peter was poring over the guest register at the check-in desk. There was no one at the counter, although a few guests lingered in quiet conversation at the post desk.
“Miss Fox wants to know about syphilis,” Goliath said. “I told her you were the one to see about that.”
Peter nodded, not embarrassed like Goliath had been. “My neighbor had it. He’s dead now. The disease got him in the end.”
I told him about Lord Wrexham’s visit to Dr. Martin, including on the afternoon of Pearl’s death, and the likelihood that he had syphilis. “I know there’s no cure, so why would a man with the disease visit a doctor? What’s the point?”
“It’s often treated with mercury, but it doesn’t work. At least, it didn’t for my neighbor. He took mercury pills and just got sicker and sicker until he died.” He leaned on the counter, his arms folded. “If that’s why Wrexham is visiting the doctor, it won’t do him any good. The doctor’s just taking his money and giving him false hope, if you ask me.”
“Wrexham doesn’t seem particularly ill to me, except for the sores.”
“Illness will come later. Maybe not for some years yet. It can be a long, slow, cruel death.”
Goliath passed a hand over his mouth and jaw. “With disfigurement in the meantime.”
“What’s this got to do with the case?” Peter asked.
I tapped my finger on the counter, thinking. “If Lord Wrexham blames Pearl for the disease, then perhaps he killed her in anger or revenge. Could she possibly have had it but bore no sores or other outward signs?”
“I don’t know, but I do know she didn’t give it to him. Not unless they were, er, together, in the last couple of months.” At my confused frown, he added, “The sores appear a few weeks after the disease is caught. If they ended their relationshipyearsago then she didn’t giveit to him.”
“What if they didn’t end it then?” Goliath asked. “Or what if they resumed their relationship recently?”
It was a possibility. She had been to see Lord Wrexham after Christmas. Could she have been asking him for money to treat the disease she’d caught from him? Or he from her? “There were medical bills in her flat. They don’t say what she was being treated for, but it’s not the sort of thing you’d write on a bill, is it?”
“Isn’t Wrexham’s visit to the doctor’s clinic his alibi for the time of the murder?” Peter asked.
“We don’t know the exact time he was there.”
Goliath clicked his fingers. “What about his wife? What if she also has the disease? If she blames Miss Westwood, she could have killed her out of anger.”
According to Thomas Adams, Lady Wrexham was ill, yet I’d seen no signs of that illness. If she’d caught syphilis from her husband, the disease might not be as advanced in her as it had been in him. Her sores might come later, or perhaps she had them now in places where they could be covered up with clothes.
If my husband had given me such a terrible disease as syphilis, I think I’d want to kill someone too. I’d certainly want to scream at the person who gave it to me. I’d probably scream at my husband, however, not his lover.
But I wasn’t Lady Wrexham.
“Thank you both.” I leaned across the counter and pecked Peter’s cheek. Even when I stood on my toes I was still too short to kiss Goliath’s cheek so I settled for patting his arm. “You’ve been a marvelous help.”
Peter blushed and smiled.
Goliath followed me to the door. “Where are you going now?”
“I can’t confront Lord and Lady Wrexham with this information. They’ve told me very little so far and are hardly going to tell me anything more now. I’m going to call on Detective Inspector Hobart at Scotland Yard. It’s time for the police to take over.”
He looked disappointed. “But it’s your case. You should get the glory of solving it.”
“I’ve progressed as far as I can on my own.”
“So you’re just going to waltz into Scotland Yard and hope he’ll see you?”
