Текст книги "The Electrician's Code: An Evans and Blackwell Mystery"

Автор книги: Clarissa Draper

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Forty-Four

A few days later, Theo walked into the incident room and looked at the board. A lot more papers and notes had been added, but nothing seemed worth following up on. They just couldn’t get a break: not from the CCTV footage, not from witnesses, not from forensics. When Theo rang Sharon’s place of work, he’d discovered her team had left on a business trip and wouldn’t return until the next day. Dorland strolled up to the board and stood beside him.

“Coffee?” Dorland asked and handed him the steaming cup.

“What I need is a murderer,” he replied, but still took the mug. He pointed to a circled word on the board—Custom. “What is this, Blackwell? We need to find out what this is.”

“Well, I might have something there. I don’t think it’s the airport but instead a hotel. Look here, I’ve found a hotel listed under the name Custom House Hotel. It’s possible she meant to meet whoever WP is there.”

“That’s brilliant. We’ll go there directly.”

A young woman in her twenties who worked reception at Custom House Hotel, a large glass-front hotel on Victoria Dock Road, greeted the two officers warmly, “Would you like our standard or superior bedroom?”

“What? No, no, we are not here for a room. We’re actually looking for someone who might have stayed here not too long ago.” Theo showed her his warrant card.

“They are not staying here now?”

“No, it would’ve been last week,” Theo replied, standing on his tiptoes trying to see the angled monitor display over the tall counter.

“I see. Well, I can’t really release the names of our guests,” she said, turning the monitor farther from Theo’s view.

“The woman we are looking for is named Sharon Yoder and the man goes by the name Walter. Here is a photo of Sharon. This couple probably frequented the hotel.”

Theo held up the photo to the woman’s face and she nodded with immediate recognition. “I don’t know the woman, but I do know the man. Yes, he is one of our regulars. He uses our large meeting room once a month and receives a hotel room at a discounted rate.. I’m not exactly sure but I believe he’s a sales representative or something. But as for the woman, I don’t remember her. She may have attended the conferences, I’m not sure.”

“This woman has been found murdered in her flat,” said Dorland. “It would be so helpful if you could help us identify the man in this picture. Please.”

“I could get in trouble for this.” She looked from one police officer to another. “All right, his name is Mr. Walter Peters, and he rents the conference room under the company Lakewood Properties, Inc. He really is a great customer, always prompt in payment, I heard our accountant mentioning it last month. Also, he’s neat and keeps the conference room clean.”

“Is it possible to get his home address?”

Chapter Forty-Five

When Theo and Dorland arrived at Mr. Peter’s residence they had difficulty finding a space to park, for cars surrounded the drive and all spots along the street were occupied.

“It looks as if the Peter’s family is having a party,” remarked Dorland. As he said this, another car drove past and parked, partially blocking the street. A husband, wife, and two children, all dressed in dark clothing, walked toward the house.

“I don’t think it’s a party, Dorland, not so early in the day. I think we’ve stumbled upon a funeral. Do you think this is related to Sharon? Would he have a funeral for her?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

They went up to the large house and knocked on the finely etched glass door. They waited for a few moments but no one answered. Theo turned the handle and found it unlocked. Many voices came from within the house. They walked through the grand foyer and into the living room. It was a funeral, but not for Sharon. A large picture of a woman was displayed on an easel. In front, on a small round table, sat papers with details of the deceased—Marjorie Peters. Were they looking at two deaths?

“Excuse me,” Theo asked one of the men standing nearby, “we are looking for Mr. Walter Peters. Have you seen him?”

The man pointed at the fireplace where a man in his forties stood with his arm around a young girl about the age of eleven or twelve. “There he is.”

“Thank you.”

They walked to Walter, who was accepting condolences. Theo joined the line and when he finally faced him, said, “I too am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Peters said without any change in expression. “Thank you for coming. It would have meant a great deal to her.”

“Mr. Peters, my name is Theo Blackwell, Detective Chief Inspector Blackwell. I’m wondering if you had a couple of minutes to answer a few questions.”

He looked at them blankly. “What is it about? Is it related to my wife’s death?”

“We didn’t know your wife had passed away until we arrived. We actually would like to talk to you about another important matter. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

“It’s really not a good time.” His daughter began to cry.

“All right,” said Theo. He took his card from his pocket and handed it to the grieving man. “Please call me as soon as you can. It’s really important.” Theo tapped Dorland’s arm as they walked away. “If he doesn’t ring us by tomorrow, we’ll return.”

On the way from the house, Theo asked the man he had talked to before, “Excuse me, can you tell me how Mrs. Peters died?”

“She had a heart attack.” He seemed shocked that someone would ask.

“And when did this happen?”

“Saturday afternoon.”

“Are you sure?”

The man glared at him. “Of course I’m sure. Who are you?”

Theo didn’t reply. He didn’t want to say too much until he had a chance to speak with Mr. Peters.

The man stood there, open-mouthed, as they walked away.

Mr. Peters did not call the detectives back the next day, so Theo and Dorland returned to the house. Only two cars sat in the drive. Theo pulled in behind them. An old woman opened the door when they rang the bell.

After making introductions and showing ID, the woman replied, “Let me see if Mr. Peters is available.”

A few minutes later she returned and escorted them to his library. Mr. Peters sat alone on the sofa looking through cards of consolation.

“Mr. Peters,” Theo started, “we’re sorry to have to come at a time like this, and you may find our questions impertinent.”

“Does any of this have to do with my wife’s death?”

“No. We’re here about a young woman named Sharon Yoder. Have you heard of her?”

Mr. Peters sat there quietly. “I know her. She has come to a few of my lectures,” he whispered. “Why do you ask?”

“So you didn’t know her well.”

He didn’t reply.

“The reason we’re asking is because we found a picture of you on her bedside table. We’re sure it’s you in the photo.”

He took a deep breath. “Yes, that’s me. Why are you asking these questions?”

“We found Sharon dead in her apartment earlier this week. She had been stabbed.”

He dropped the cards onto the floor. “I don’t understand. How could this have happened? I don’t understand.” He kept shaking his head repeatedly. “I don’t understand. Is this your idea of a sick joke?” He rose and went over to the patio door that led from the library into the back garden. “When did she die?”

“On Saturday.”

“That’s the day my wife died. How can this have happened? No, this isn’t happening.”

“How did your wife die?”

“She had a heart attack,” he replied slowly, rubbing his head, trying to take it all in. “I mean, she’s always had problems with her heart. Are you saying she’s been murdered too?”

“We haven’t considered the possibility that these two deaths are connected. But, we need to know, has there been any sort of threat against you or your family or Ms. Yoder?”

“No. This is all ridiculous.”

“Were you having a relationship with Ms. Yoder?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone know about it?”

“No, we were very careful.”

“How long have you been seeing each other?”

“Almost eight months.”

“Are you sure your wife never suspected?”

He remained quiet for a few minutes in contemplation. “I don’t think so. She never said anything to me. We were having problems—that’s not why I started the affair, but it contributed to the continuation of it. My wife, she never . . . she worked a lot. It was one source of angst between the two of us. I wanted her to work less, she worked more.”

“We saw you yesterday with a young girl, was that your daughter?”

“No. She was the daughter of my wife’s brother, but we’re very close. He will often stay here with us, he’s currently going through a nasty divorce and he takes refuge with us here. My wife and her niece got on well. Why do you ask?”

“Will your wife undergo an autopsy?”

“No, there was no reason to. She had a heart attack at her office, in front of one of her patients. Her last words were, ‘I’m having a heart attack.’”

Theo sighed. There was a part of him that wanted the two deaths to be linked. It would provide more to go on. “I’m sure the two deaths were unrelated, but we may need to perform an autopsy in the future. Will she be buried or cremated?”

“Buried. Tomorrow.”

“Well, then. I may have to ask you to hold off on the burial for a day or two.” He instructed Dorland to take down the information as to where the body was being held. Dorland left the room to use the phone. “It’s too much of a coincidence that they both died on the same day.”

Mr. Peters nodded.

“What were you doing when your wife and Ms. Yoder died?”

“You think I murdered them?”

He sat back stunned. It was like it was the first time he had considered the fact.

“I was at work all day,” he finally whispered. “We had to work Saturday and none of the employees were happy about it. They can verify.”

“Thank you,” replied Blackwell. “Before we go, we need to know: was Sharon the only person you were having an affair with? There were no other women?”

“No. Only Sharon and she was my first.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.”

Chapter Forty-Six

The ninth floor of the office complex where Sharon Yoder worked was extremely busy. People were coming and going, and everyone was talking. Talking to co-workers, talking on their mobiles, and talking to themselves. Theo shifted uneasily at the reception counter. He had stopped in for a haircut before coming, and both short and long pieces of hair were sticking out from his olive-colored dress shirt. He wished he’d stopped by home and changed before trying the workplace.

Reception referred Theo and Dorland to a room three doors down the hall, an office with three desks and a large boardroom table in the middle. Two men, who stood over the oval table in the middle of the room, stared at Theo and Dorland as they entered.

Theo approached a man with long black hair that was tied back with a thick yellow elastic.

“Do you work with Sharon Yoder?”

“Yes, but she hasn’t arrived yet. I’m Mackenzie, Ralph Mackenzie, and this is Eduardo Demas. We have just come back from an overseas trip to Ohio. Is there something I can help you with?”

Eduardo, who had two pencils sticking out from behind his ears, came forward and shook their hands.

Dorland took out his warrant card and showed the two men. Mr. Demas took the card from Dorland and looked closely at it. “I have never seen one of these before, not in real life that is. Why are you looking for Sharon?”

“We have some sad news,” replied Theo. “Ms. Yoder was stabbed to death last Saturday in her flat.”

“What? No, that’s insane. That’s not possible. Who did it?”

“We’re still investigating. We were hoping the two of you would have more information.”

The two men looked at each other but didn’t say anything. Mr. Mackenzie sat down.

“What does Ms. Yoder do here?” asked Theo.

“She managed our insurance bonds policies. It is much more complicated than that but it was nothing dangerous. She never even dealt with the clients. In fact, as far as I knew, she really liked her job, worked here six days a week, including some Sundays; she liked to get a jump start on her week.”

“But she didn’t work here this past Saturday?” asked Theo.

“No, because we were traveling. She had to put in some long hours before we left so I think she was looking forward to the few days off.”

“So, in general, she got on with her co-workers?”

“Yes,” replied Mackenzie.

“Could she have discovered something that could have put her life in jeopardy?”

“No, there is nothing of that here. Everything has to be above board for our shareholders. I mean, of course she could have stumbled upon something. Maybe she caught two co-workers in some sort of extracurricular activity, if you know what I mean. But really she came to work, did work, and went home.”

“That being said,” Theo remarked, “There must be a reason why someone would stab her at her door.”

“Do you expect me to know this? What makes you think that it had anything to do with this company? She could have had problems with a boyfriend or lover or spouse, whomever she chose for company. I have seen her in the hall; she never seems to be unhappy about work. If you think that you will find the answer here, in this company, I think you are mistaken.”

“You don’t mind if we take surveillance camera footage of the last two or three days before her death?”

They took the footage, three days’ worth, and Dorland dropped Theo at his house so he could shower and change clothes. While he did this, Dorland sat down in front of Theo’s television and started watching the movements of hallway one.

When Theo finished, Dorland showed him Sharon’s first appearance on screen—Wednesday at 8:30—and she smiled at two men who passed her. As he sped through day one, he caught sight of her in her short skirt and tight top entering and exiting her office repeatedly. Three times with a coffee cup, twice with her mobile, once empty handed, and with her briefcase at the end of the day.

If she had an enemy at work, it wasn’t apparent from the footage.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Theo ran his hand over his tie as he looked in the mirror. He was getting thinner and his wide tie made him look like a toothpick. For the life of him, he didn’t know why he was attending. An auction? He didn’t know the first thing about auctions.

“Why are you so dressed up?” his wife said behind him.

“The auction, remember I told you about it?” He looked at her through the mirror. He had invited her but she turned him down. She thought it would be boring.

“Are you angry I didn’t want to go?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Are you going to be buying one of those weird . . .” she searched for the word.

“No, dear, I don’t think my mother would appreciate the gesture. She’d insist on taking it apart and re-working the bathroom sink with the tiles. ‘It’s just wasteful to see tile on the wall of the living room,’ she would say. Besides, where would she hang it? There are enough framed family portraits on the wall already.”

He pointed into the mirror. “What do you think of my tie?”

“I like your light green one,” she offered. “This one makes you look like you’re going to give a lecture at a university. Would you like me to get your tie?” She didn’t wait for his response, walking to the closet and rifling through his clothes. “Where do you keep them?”

Theo pointed to his sock drawer. “I just roll them up and put them in there.” She opened the top drawer and pulled out the green tie.

“So what are your plans for the evening?”

“Your sister is taking me shopping,” she replied. “I’m taking the card you gave me to buy things. I’ve practiced my old signature, so I’ll be able to use it.”

“I should just get you a new one and you can re-sign it.”

“Nah, that’s all right, I don’t mind.”

He walked into the auction house about four. There were many people already gathered in the small room filled with chairs and a small podium at the front. He was handed a booklet and a number He considered refusing it because he knew he wasn’t going to buy anything. He looked around the room for anyone he knew but chances were slim.

He wandered to the viewing area. The most popular pieces were surrounded by people. Apparently another dead artist that worked with bronze was the main attraction of the night. Tipring’s art sat in a corner. No one even gave them a glance.

In the very last row, he chose a seat between two empty chairs and placed his booklet on a seat beside him—few came alone so he figured it was the best way to have a spot by himself. People were relatively quiet. There were a few whispers about various paintings and other collectibles placed in lots. He smiled at the older woman that sat two seats down. Her book was open and she lightly tapped the picture of a lamp. He supposed that was what she planned to bid on. She did not smile back.

Tipring’s paintings were near the end of the auction. He was hoping some of Doc’s family or friends would come and support his work. So far, he didn’t recognize anyone. Perhaps if someone he hadn’t interviewed did take an interest in the paintings, it could shed light on his now cold case.

Theo’s watch told him there was two minutes until the auction would start. He wished he had bought a hat, so he could close his eyes until the paintings arrived. Suddenly, someone picked up his booklet on the seat beside him and sat down. He turned to say the seat was taken but then he recognized who it was.

“Ms. Evans,” he said, leaning away from her.

She wore a short velvet green dress and black pumps.

“Detective, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“You didn’t expect me? You were the last person I expected. Are you here for the Tipring art?”

“Thought I might see what they go for. I haven’t been able to get them out of my mind, did you know that? I mean, they really are the most hideous things but they really speak to me. Sounds ridiculous, I know. Perhaps it’s the mathematician in me, but the orderliness of the tiles . . .” She laughed. “Well, that’s why I’m here. Why are you here?”

Theo was about to answer but right on time, the auction started. Lot after lot of various art and household furnishings appeared, were bid on, and then taken away. Sophia followed along carefully in her book as each item passed. On occasion she would nod and state what a good deal it was or shake her head and complained the bidder paid too much.

“You can tell who has been to auctions before and who has not,” she leaned over and whispered into his ear.

“Have you been to many?”

“My father used to drag me to them as a child but as I grew, I started bidding and the excitement of the chase got me hooked. On occasion, and don’t tell anyone, not that you would and who would care, I would bid up an item for fun.” She covered her wide-open mouth and then smiled at him. “Have you been to many?”

“I once bought a car from an auction. Art? No. Couldn’t afford that.”

The lamp came up and the lady on the other side started bidding. Sophia raised her number twice before not bidding anymore.

“You want that lamp?”

“No. It’s wouldn’t match a thing in my flat.”

“Then why did you bid on it?”

“I don’t like the look that old woman keeps giving us. Now she has to pay more.”

“That’s terribly mean.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Perhaps she will get me back by bidding on the Tipring paintings. Though, I can’t think of anyone here wanting those. Has any of his family or friends arrived?”

Theo hadn’t searched the room since Sophia had arrived. She had the ability to mesmerize him. He went up and down the rows with his eyes.

“Yes, there’s the nurse,” he said, motioning with his eyes.

“Oh, perhaps she wants some of his work. I hope she doesn’t try to buy them all. I know I can outbid her but I wouldn’t want to take all of it away from her.”

“Let her bid on some.”

“Good idea.” She flipped a page in her booklet. “Is she upset that you didn’t solve his murder?”

“I haven’t spoken to her in a long time. I feel bad that all the leads went cold.”

“Is that why you’re here, hoping to uncover something?”

He stared at her in wonderment. “Maybe.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, not all cases get solved. You’re still the detective I like most.”

“How are things with you? Did you ever crack Tipring’s uncle’s coded shorthand?”

“I did actually, but the pages were filled with vague notes. Lots of numbers. I tried to trace them but couldn’t find anything. The word blocks was underlined but again it meant nothing. Some odd verses. I really couldn’t make heads or tails of it and because he’s dead I can’t ask him about it. Sorry. I hoped it could help your case. What are you working on now?”

“Nothing that would interest you. I’m currently investigating the death of a woman—stabbed in her flat. We’re hoping to find the killer among the CCTV footage.”

“Another stabbing. Just like Doc, is it? Maybe they have the same killer.”

He smiled. “Highly unlikely.”

The Tipring art came up for bid and Sophia waited until she was assured the nurse didn’t intend to bid on the first lot. She didn’t have to worry—no one bid at all. The first lot went to Sophia and so did the second, third, and fourth. She bought all of them. The nurse turned to look at her. She was beaming.

“What the hell am I going to do with all that tile?” she asked him, grabbing his arm. “I’m going to have to store it in my other flat for now.”

After two more lots, the auction was over. Sophia went over to her purchase and ran her fingers over the top of the tiles. Theo followed behind.

The nurse came over.

“I just want to thank you,” she said to Sophia. “I didn’t think anyone would buy it and yet here you went and bought it all. Thank you. It would have meant a lot to him. He cherished each one of those.” She reached out and touched one of the pieces of art. “I was never allowed to touch them. Not even to dust. He was odd that way.” She looked at Sophia. “I’m glad you recognized his talent.”

Without another word, she walked away, clutching her handbag tightly under her arm.

“Who receives the money?” Sophia asked him.

“The proceeds go to charity—animals or something like that. Perhaps cancer research.”

She laughed. “Those two things are not related at all. I won’t be able to take these home with me tonight. I suppose I best sort out the payment and transport of my precious new artwork. I am surprised none of his family came. Did they even attend the funeral?”

“They were not a close family. It’s sad really.”

Theo had asked her for coffee but she refused. He wanted to ask her for a reason but she had turned to go before he could.