She walked up the white marble steps to the large wooden double doors and saw that there were four dentists listed on the plaque. She was about to press the intercom when the door was opened by a woman in a long camel hair coat making her exit, allowing Jane to slip inside. The interior oak-paneled reception hall was even bigger than Jane had imagined, with two large chandeliers, a grey and white marbled floor, and matching wide staircase with oak banisters to the upper floors.
‘Do you have an appointment, madam?’
Jane looked to her left and saw a smartly dressed lady in her early thirties sitting behind a Georgian mahogany desk, partially hidden beneath the stairs. Jane got out her warrant card, introduced herself, and asked if Helen Matthews worked at the surgery as a cleaner.
‘She does, or rather she did. Helen hasn’t turned up for work this week.’
‘Did you hire Miss. Matthews?’
‘No, one of the dentists did.’
‘Which one?’
‘I think it was Mr. Simmonds,’ the receptionist said vaguely.
‘Do you know if he fitted Helen Matthews’ son with braces?’
The receptionist frowned. ‘I doubt that very much. This is a private clinic, not an NHS practice,’ she added dismissively.
Jane took no notice of her superior tone. ‘Can you check the patient cards for me, please? His name is Simon.’
The receptionist huffed as she pushed her chair back, opened one of the filing cabinets behind her and flicked through the ‘M’ files. ‘There’s no Simon Matthews on record.’
Jane realized it was possible Helen Matthews worked as a cleaner at more than one dentist’s in Harley Street, but a gut feeling told her she was in the right place.
‘I’d like to speak with Mr. Simmonds, please, so I’d be grateful if you could tell him I’m here.’
‘I’m afraid he’s busy with patients all day. If you’d like to leave me your contact details, I’ll speak with him later and get back to you.’
Jane decided it was time to bring the receptionist down a peg or two.
‘I’m here on official police business. Mr. Simmonds can decide whether he wants to speak to me, not you. So please kindly inform him I’m here before I do it myself.’
The receptionist went pale, then quickly scuttled off to speak with Mr. Simmonds.
She returned a minute or two later, all her haughtiness gone. ‘Mr. Simmonds said he’ll speak with you as soon as he’s finished with his current patient. The waiting room is to the left of the stairs. Please help yourself to a hot drink and biscuits,’ She added with an ingratiating smile.
Jane’s curiosity got the better of her. ‘As I was walking here, I could have sworn I saw a friend of mine leaving. Michael Blake? Poor chap looked to be in quite a bit of pain, which is probably why he didn’t see me. Is he all right?’ Jane asked in a concerned voice.
The receptionist leant forward and whispered, ‘I’m not supposed to divulge any information about our clients or their treatment, but seeing as he’s a friend of yours... He had an emergency appointment with Mr. Simmonds for terrible toothache.’ She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. ‘I know it must have been bad as normally he’s quite flirtatious, but today he was in and out without even telling me how gorgeous I looked.’
Jane forced a smile. ‘He’s quite a character is our Michael. Must be expensive, though, being treated here.’ She suspected Blake was taking advantage of his rank getting treatment at a reduced fee, which was against the rules but not uncommon.
‘Any fees for treatment are strictly between the dentist and the patient, of course. Though rates for individual clients can differ,’ the receptionist added with a conspiratorial smile.
Jane nodded. ‘Mum’s the word.’
The waiting room was three times the size of Jane’s lounge, with red velvet curtains, matching Edwardian sofas, armchairs and antique sideboards. Jane poured herself a coffee from a sterling silver pot into a Wedgwood teacup with matching saucer. There were three choices of milk and cream in little silver pourers, and delicate silver tongs for the sugar. She didn’t feel hungry, but the chocolate biscuits looked very tempting. An immaculately dressed couple sat on a sofa by the window, looking as if they were preparing for a night out at the theatre rather than waiting to be seen by the dentist. The woman had a sable coat over her knees and sparkled with gold and diamond jewelry.
Jane put her cup down on the table, beside the neat piles of Tatler, Vogue and Country Life magazines. Deciding those were more suited to the elegant couple on the sofa, she picked up a copy of the British Dental Journal and started flicking through it. The articles seemed mostly technical and rather boring, but one featuring a picture of a handsome, blue-eyed, blond-haired man in a dental coat caught her eye. The subject of the piece was a dentist called David Simmonds, who had been awarded a Certificate of Merit for Outstanding Services to the Dental Profession. Jane thought Simmonds looked familiar, but she couldn’t recall having ever met him. She looked over at the woman with the sable coat.
‘Excuse me, this is my first time here. Do you know if this is the same Mr. Simmonds who works here?’ Jane asked, holding up the picture in the magazine.
The woman smiled graciously. ‘Yes, my dear, it is. He’s a wonderful dentist and exceedingly charitable, too. He does work for the poor people, you know.’
Jane ignored her snobbish remark and started to read the article. Simmonds, she read, was raised in a South London council flat. In the early fifties he passed a scholarship exam for a boys grammar school in Tulse Hill, and when in 1956 the General Dental Council created bursaries for poorer families, Simmonds applied and was accepted to study dentistry at the renowned King’s College Dental School in South London. After qualifying, he applied for a commission in the army as a dentist, was accepted for the Royal Army Dental Corps and posted to a military base in Germany as a lieutenant.
Jane was absorbed by the story of Simmonds’ upward climb, and impressed by what he’d achieved. The receptionist walked into the waiting room and bobbed her head towards Jane.
‘Mr. Simmonds can see you now, Miss Tennison.’
The lady with the sable coat promptly stood up and insisted that she was Mr. Simmonds’ next patient, and didn’t seem at all mollified by the receptionist’s assurance that Miss Tennison would not be long, glaring at Jane as if she’d just tried to steal one of her diamonds.
As they walked up the marble stairs to the first floor, the receptionist apologized for not addressing Jane as Sergeant Tennison, but explained that she didn’t want anyone to know the police were on the premises making enquiries, as it might reflect badly on the dental practice.
Jane forced herself to smile. ‘Oh, I quite understand.’
The receptionist knocked on Mr. Simmonds’ surgery door, and it was opened by a young and very attractive dental assistant. Jane could see a tall blond-haired man in a white medical smock with his back to her, putting some ivory-handled dental implements into an autoclave sterilizer.
‘This is Sergeant Tennison, Mr. Simmonds.’ The receptionist left the room, closely followed by the dental nurse.
Simmonds turned with a smile and put his hand out. ‘Please, call me David.’
Jane shook his hand, noticing he was wearing an expensive gold Rolex watch, and thought he looked younger and even more handsome in the flesh.
‘My receptionist mentioned you were looking for Helen. We’ve been wondering why she suddenly stopped turning up for her cleaning job. Left us in a bit of a pickle, actually. She’s not in any trouble, is she?’
‘I’m sorry to have to tell you, Mr. Simmonds, but Helen’s body was found in an alleyway in Peckham last Friday. I’m afraid she was murdered.’