“Unusual name,” Lynley noted.
“Greek, like one of his fathers. It means ‘defender of mankind.’ It was apt. He died in Afghanistan.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lynley said.
“Yes. Well,” Dr. Weatherall replied. “Please do sit. There’s no reason for us to stand for this conversation, is there?”
She went to a modern-looking armchair: two cushions and slim arms and legs of chrome. Lynley and Barbara took the sofa, which was nearly buried in brightly coloured decorative pillows. Barbara brought out her notebook and pencil. The surgeon saw this but said nothing.
Lynley said, “We’d like to learn about your relationship to the women’s clinic in Kingsland High Street.”
“Women’s Health of Hackney? It’s been closed,” the surgeon said. “So I have no current relationship to it.”
“But you did have.”
“Yes, indeed. I volunteered there when I was free.”
“You volunteered as a surgeon?”
“No. Your sergeant has probably told you already that I perform my surgeries in a clinic on the Isle of Dogs. In Kingsland High Street, I did exams, mostly screening for cancers: breast, uterine, and ovarian. I did some counselling as well, about birth control, prenatal care, postpartum issues, and the like. Why?”
“Couldn’t women get all that from their GP?” Barbara asked her. “Or from their midwives?”
“They could do, yes. But some of these women are here illegally. Others—too many others, in fact—have male GPs and no wish to be examined intimately by a man. These things cause difficulties, and I try to ease those where I can.”
“None of that seems to apply to Teo Bontempi,” Lynley said.
Dr. Weatherall frowned. “Sorry? What does Teo Bontempi have to do with my volunteering at the clinic?”
Barbara told her. “She’s the reason the place was raided. Only . . . I think you know that. We both think you know that.”
Dr. Weatherall looked from one of them to the other before she said, “How on earth would I know that? She’d come to see me on the Isle of Dogs, but—”
“She confronted you in Kingsland High Street, the very day the place was raided, within thirty minutes of the raid, in fact. It’s on film, by the way. CCTV. You’re speaking to her.”
“Is that why you’ve come to see me at this hour? Because I spoke to her in Kingsland High Street? But why on earth wouldn’t I speak to her? I knew her. She’d come to see me about reconstructive surgery. I did tell you about this, Sergeant Havers.”
“That’s one way to interpret what we saw on the film,” Lynley said. “Two acquaintances happen to come across each other in a part of town entirely unrelated to where they’d met.”
“Is there another way to interpret it?” the surgeon asked. “If, as you say, you have our encounter on film, I daresay you can tell from my expression that I was astonished to see her. At first I didn’t know who she was, by the way. She was dressed ethnically, but when she and I met on the Isle of Dogs, she’d worn . . . what would I call it? Ordinary clothing? British clothing? Western clothing? So suddenly there she was in front of me dressed as an African, saying my name, and it took me a moment to recognise her.”
“Did she ask what you were doing there?”
“I don’t recall. Probably. It would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
“And you?” Lynley asked. “Did you ask her?”
“I hadn’t memorised her home address. For all I knew she lived in the area and wore ethnic clothing whenever she wasn’t on duty.” She stood then, although Barbara and Lynley remained seated. She said, “Now. If there’s nothing else, I’ve patients to see on the Isle of Dogs and not a lot of time to get there.”
“That’s quite a jaunt from here,” Lynley said. “Wouldn’t Twickenham have been more convenient for your clinic?”
“I go by motorboat. I don’t own a car. And no, Twickenham wouldn’t have been more convenient, certainly not for the women I see. But they can get to the Isle of Dogs by the docklands railway. I expect you know this.”
“Kingsland High Street would have been more convenient for them, wouldn’t it? As there’s a clinic in the high street and as that clinic has—or at least had—a small room for surgery, why wouldn’t you do your reconstructive work there?”
She looked at him impatiently. “Obviously because it wasn’t my clinic, Superintendent. And I require a larger operating theatre.”