The waiter arrived with their food and she stopped. When everything was arranged and he had departed, Emily said, ‘Go on. About that day – the incident.’
‘Oh, yes. Well, it was one of Mr Rogers’s patients – a Mrs Lescroit. Young – in her twenties – and very pretty. I’d seen her go past my office when she came in – I always kept the door open and my desk faced the hall, because I had to sign for deliveries. And Dr Freeling liked me to know who was going in and out. Anyway, I saw Mrs Lescroit go up. She was slim, gorgeous legs. Made-up regardless and very well dressed – well, all the patients were well off. You don’t run a Harley Street consultancy on low fees.’
‘What had she come in for?’ Emily asked. ‘It said in the papers “a minor procedure”, whatever that was.’
Ros wrinkled her brow. ‘Do you know, I can’t remember. Or perhaps I never knew. Something like the removal of a mole, was it? Anyway, it was after the procedure, and she was lying on the daybed in the ante-room, recovering.’
‘She’d been anaesthetized?’ Emily queried.
‘Not a general, of course. She’d had a local anaesthetic, and an injection of Valium to keep her happy, so she was woozy but not unconscious during the procedure. Well, when the rumpus started my Dr Freeling told me to run upstairs and see what was happening. I dashed up and came into the middle of it. Mrs Lescroit said she’d been dozing lightly, and woke to find someone was touching her – you know, her down-theres.’ She nodded, closed-lipped, to emphasize the awfulness of it. ‘The vertical blinds were closed so it was dim in the room, and she was only half awake, and apparently she said, “What are you doing, doctor?” And he murmured to her, “Oh, call me David.” Then she started struggling and he got up and hurried out, and she woke up properly and started making a hullabaloo. When I got there Eunice, Mr Rogers’s nurse, was in there with her. Mr Rogers was standing in the corridor outside the room, and Mr Webber came out from his office, grabbed his arm and sort of bundled him into his room – Mr Rogers’s room – and slammed the door. Seconds later he’s out again and in the ante-room calming Mrs Lescroit down. It was amazing to watch him in action,’ she added. ‘He seemed to be everywhere at once, handling everything, talking to everyone, smoothing it all over. I got sent down to tell Dr Freeling it was all under control and to fetch some brandy.’
‘For Mrs Lescroit?’ Emily surmised.
Ros smiled. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t for Mr Webber. Anyway, Dr Freeling went up and there was all sorts of confabulation, but Mrs Lescroit insisted the police must be called and even the brandy wouldn’t change her mind. So Mr Rogers got taken away. He looked terribly shocked. Claimed it was all a mistake. Well, he would, wouldn’t he?’
‘There must have been a terrible scandal,’ Emily suggested.
‘Well, there was and there wasn’t. Of course, everyone in the business knew about it, and there was some stuff in the papers, but not nearly as bad as it might have been. In the end Mr Webber got it all hushed up, Mrs Lescroit agreed to a large lump sum and there were no charges. We were all sworn to secrecy – not that we’d have talked anyway. You don’t keep your job in Harley Street if you’re thought to be a blabber. There had to be a GMC enquiry, of course, but Mr Webber was very well in with them and he squared it so that in the end Mr Rogers wasn’t struck off, provided he didn’t work with patients any more.’
‘What can a doctor do that doesn’t involve patients?’
‘Oh, lab work, research, lecturing, that sort of thing. Pharmacology. Pathology,’ she added with a twinkle. ‘I’m pretty sure Mr Webber fixed him up with something – they were great friends after all. I have an idea he became a rep for a pharmaceutical company, but I’m not sure,’ she finished vaguely. ‘He left our building and I didn’t really keep up with him. And not long after that Mr Webber left as well. We got new people in, but I think the upset had been too much for my dear old Dr Freeling because he decided to retire – but not until he’d got me an interview for another job, round the corner in Devonshire Street. That was the sort of man he was, bless him. A real old-fashioned gentleman.’
‘So everyone came out of it all right,’ Emily mused. ‘Quite an operator, your Mr Webber.’
‘Not my Mr Webber,’ Ros objected. ‘But yes, he’d have made a great diplomat. He was the great fixer. Probably still is – don’t know why I’m talking about him in the past tense. Not like poor Mr Rogers. What a terrible thing – have you any idea why he was killed? One of those drug-crazed burglars, I suppose. You hear about it all the time these days, though somehow you never expect it to be someone you know.’
‘So were you surprised at what Mr Rogers had done?’ Emily asked, avoiding the question. ‘He was a bit of a ladies’ man, I gather?’
‘Well, yes,’ she said cautiously, ‘but you couldn’t help liking him. And it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d expect of him. I mean, he was so attractive he could have had anyone he wanted – he didn’t have to resort to groping patients. I know he was married, but there was plenty of talk about him having lady-friends. In fact –’ she lowered her voice and her head and looked at Emily from under her eyebrows – ‘there was a rumour going round that he was having an affair with Eunice, his nurse, at the time, though I don’t know if that was true or not.’ She straightened up. ‘Given what a tartar his wife was, it was hard to blame him.’
‘You knew her?’
‘Oh, not really – only seen her once or twice, but she didn’t look the sort to enjoy a cuddle and a giggle. Terribly high-nosed and haughty. Always looked down her nose at us mere minions. Though I suppose she had other qualities he married her for.’ She sipped her water. ‘But still, I was surprised that he messed about with Mrs Lescroit like that. He wasn’t a bottom-pincher, in the usual way of things. At least, Eunice and Anthea, his secretary, had no complaints about him. Mr Webber was the one you didn’t want to get in a lift with on your own. He was one of those people who always managed to accidentally brush against you as you passed, you know what I mean?’
‘All that sort of thing’s illegal now,’ Emily pointed out.
‘Oh, I know, but consultants are different. They’re so powerful, and they all stick together like one big club. You’d have to be very brave to stand up to one of them, if you’re just a lowly nurse or secretary.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, it was a bit ironic, really, for Mr Rogers to get caught like that on the very day his wife’s in the building.’
‘She was?’ Emily said in surprise.
‘Yes, she’d come to see Mr Webber about some charity thing she was involved with. Stephanie told me. Hoping to touch him for some money for it, apparently. I saw her go up just before it happened.’
‘So she was with Mr Webber when it started?’
‘She was waiting for him in his office – or in Stephanie’s room, rather. Mr Webber had gone to the gents or something. He was on his way back when the fuss started.’ She sighed. ‘Poor Mr Rogers. His wife divorced him not long after that, and I suppose that was what triggered it. I know it was a terrible thing for him to do, and that he was lucky not to have been struck off, but I must say, I’ve always wondered whether Mrs Lescroit made a mistake – she was only half awake, and a bit dopey from the Valium. Maybe she saw him leaning over her and just imagined the touching. And because of her Mr Rogers lost pretty much everything, his wife, his house, his career, everything.’