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

Автор книги: Clarissa Draper

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

Liam Foxton dropped his keys and the take-away on the worktop and threw the Carlsberg into the fridge. He went over to his phone but there were no messages. There were never any calls. Even though he didn’t expect Sophia to ring him up, he hoped she would. At least to discuss the car situation. Why did he bother paying for home phone service?

“Make yourself at home,” he told the girl who had just laid her handbag on his sofa. “I’ll dish up supper.”

A pang of guilt hit him as he watched her slowly make her way around the living room, examining his belongings. Every time he brought a girl to his flat, he felt this way. God, he missed Kendra. She was the only woman he felt truly at ease with. When he was married to her, he enjoyed coming home. They would prepare a home-cooked meal together, it didn’t matter what kind of day they had. She understood him and didn’t ask stupid questions. Now he lived in a shell of a flat he hardly recognized. The flat contained things he had brought home from the shops but he wasn’t sure it was really him that bought them.

“This is a really nice place you have here. Have you lived here long?”

“Almost three years.” He had moved to the flat shortly after Kendra’s death.

“Where did you get all these posters on your wall? Do you like them?” the girl asked.

Yes, of course he liked them. Why would he collect things he didn’t like? Liam smiled at the girl before replying, “I collected them from various shops around London. Some are the original but others are replicas.”

His mobile buzzed. A text from Sophia. Don’t come. Will contact you tomorrow about the Merc.

“How many are there?”

He looked up. “Sorry?”

“Oh, I asked how many posters you have.”

He shrugged. “Maybe a hundred or so.”

“Well, I like this one.” She pointed at the Invasion of the Saucer Men. “Aha, and this one is funny too.” She pointed to The Monster That Challenged the World.

“Yeah, they’re great.” He wasn’t really interested in the conversation. He’d had the same one with all his guests. On occasion, he was tempted to take them off his walls. After he dished up the food, he held up her plate.

She pranced to the kitchen in her stockings. “I had to get out of my shoes. After hours in four inch heels, my feet are dead.” She wiggled her toes. “Anyway, the food looks delicious. Where should we eat?”

“On the settee if that’s all right with you.”

It must have been all right for she quickly sat down and happily held the plate of food on her lap. Liam didn’t own a dining room table. He normally ate on the sofa while watching the telly or over his sink. After grabbing two beers from the fridge, he sat down next to her.

“Dig in . . .” He meant to say her name but bloody hell if he could think of it. Sarah? Susan? Something with an S. Or was it a W? Wanda? He shook his head. She had a fine arse; that’s all he remembered about her in the office. He had planned to say no when she asked him for a drink but today she wore that fine red skirt. In the end, she didn’t talk much on their drive home, she just fiddled with the dials on the radio in Sophia’s car and adjusted her lipstick in the mirror.

“Care for a beer?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Liam handed her a beer. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“No, I like it.” With all her might, she tried to unscrew the top.

“You have to use a bottle opener on that one.”

She pranced into the kitchen again. With a quick flip, the top flew off onto the floor. As his guest bent over to retrieve the green top, Liam leaned over to have a look. Perfectly fine. She turned her head to look at him and caught him. He gave her a smile.

“You like what you see?”

So, the woman was not as simple as he made her out to be. She stood and laid the top on the counter with a plunk. “So, why do you like collecting beer bottles?” She pointed to the bottles on the fireplace mantle.

“I suppose it stems from laziness really. I put old ones up there instead of throwing them away and slowly I’ve been adding to the collection. Not sure what I’m going to do with them. The cockroaches have made quite a nest up there.”

She laughed. Yes, of course she would. And he still didn’t know her name.

They ate while watching Creature of the Black Lagoon. On one bathroom break, Liam rummaged through the girl’s bag and found out her name was Sarah. He felt so much better. Now he could sleep with her if he felt like it.

“You haven’t touched your beer,” he said when she returned.

“No, I do like it I just prefer to sip rather than take gulps. Why? How many have you had?”

He looked down at the three nearest his plate. So he drank. He was a man, three was nothing.

“Look, Sarah, I shouldn’t have—”

But she cut him off when she leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

“God, I’ve fancied you for so long,” she said.

He meant to push her away and tell her that he wasn’t that sort of bloke, but she bit at his lip . . . and she smelled delicious.

The next morning, Liam’s alarm awoke him at six-thirty. He picked up his mobile phone and ran his thumb over the smooth screen. He was about to text a message to Evans when the woman in the bed next to him stirred.

“Don’t get up yet,” she mumbled and pulled the blankets over her head.

“I have to get to work, Sarah. I’m on an important case right now.” He found his clothes in a pile beside the bed and dragged the whole lot with his feet into the bathroom. And what the hell was he supposed to do with the car? Was he supposed to meet Sophia at her flat? He knew he should just ring her but he felt ashamed.

He turned on the shower and climbed in. The cool water jolted him awake. As the water warmed, he quickly soaped up. A few minutes later, Sarah joined him.

“You don’t mind, do you? I should have enough time if you drop me off at home to change and get to work.”

Yes. That would be a bother. He had to make it to Sophia’s flat before she left and he wouldn’t have time if he took Sarah to her flat. And he really didn’t want Sophia and Sarah to meet. How did it take only hours for life to complicate itself? “Actually, I’m not going into the office this morning. I have something to do first. But I can give you money for a taxi if you like.”

He thought he could see her heart sink in her chest. “Yeah, sure, I understand.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “But don’t you worry, I’ll see you later today.”

“Really? You mean tonight?”

“Well, I meant at the office. But, if you want more beer . . .”

Sarah laughed. She hadn’t even got through a third of the first bottle. The liar.

“You can come round my flat. I’ll cook something you like. What do you like to eat?”

“You can cook?”

“Of course, silly. I make a mean stuffed pepper. How about that? I might be able to wrestle up some beer. They have beer stores near my flat too.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “What time do you have to be at work?”

“Nine,” she replied.

“Hmm,” he replied, kissing her neck, taking in the smell of the soap and shampoo. “I think we have time.”

Liam tied a half-Windsor and looked himself over in the mirror. He needed a haircut, and when he rubbed his hand over his chin, he realized he could do with a wet shave as well. An indulgence he hadn’t had in three weeks. More time than money, for his case load had doubled due to cutbacks. Still, he felt he looked presentable and his ability to bring a fine lady home when he cared to only boosted his self-confidence.

His buzzer rang.

Liam went over to the intercom and pressed the talk button. “Who is it?” Sarah came and stood beside him, putting in her earrings.

“It’s Sophia. Can I come up?”

Shit.

“Yeah, yeah, come up.” He pressed the button to open the door and then focused his attention on Sarah. “Sophia’s here. Please stay in the bedroom. I don’t want us to be the talk of the office quite yet.”

“Sophia? Sophia who? Is she one of the . . .” She snapped her fingers trying to remember. “Computer people.”

“Computer people? She’s an analyst.” How was she ever recruited for government work? Turning her round, he pushed her into his room and grabbed the Merc keys off the chest of drawers. “It’ll just be a minute. Please keep quiet.” He shut the door behind him just as he heard a knock at the door.

“Evans.” With all his might, he tried to keep back a smile but she wore a long pink puffer jacket and a knitted hat. “Is it really that cold outside?” Turning to the side, she walked past him into the entrance of his flat. She looked around.

“Not outside, but I’ve been cloistered in a flat that would freeze the North Pole. I’m not wearing blue lipstick; I’m just suffering from hypothermia. Anyway . . .”

“Ah right, you want your Merc back.”

“No. That would mean I would have to drive it back to that neighborhood. No, I came to give you the keys to your car and the code to my underground car park. Please, return my car sometime today. Your car is sitting in space C19.” With another look in the living room, she continued, “I better be going now.”

“Yeah.” He ran his hand across the back of his neck.

A bang came from his bedroom. It wasn’t a loud bang and though Sophia looked toward the wall between her and his bedroom, she didn’t say anything. Why couldn’t Sarah just stay still for a few minutes?

“My neighbor upstairs makes so much noise in the morning,” Liam shot off quickly. “How do you think I rise so early? He’s my morning alarm. Just ignore it.”

She didn’t look impressed. “If I were you, I would’ve ignored the sound instead of making the excuses of a guilty man. Besides, the pair of woman’s heels are a dead giveaway. Unless there’s something I didn’t know about your kinky extracurricular activities.”

“Look—”

Sophia patted him on the cheek. “Liam, do something that surprises me. I expect this of you.” With that, she left.

Shit. He was a bastard.

“Is she gone?” Sarah whispered and poked her head from behind the bedroom door.

“Yeah. You can come out now.”

“How did she know I was here?”

“Because you couldn’t keep quiet in the bedroom.”

“I didn’t make a sound. I swear! The noise came from upstairs.”

“Then she’s smarter than either of us put together.”

Chapter Sixteen

The bloody bastard.” Sophia slammed her hand down on the steering wheel of her Fiat 500. She really couldn’t blame him for sleeping with other women. How the hell did he find time to meet women? Must be someone from the office. The only person she could think of was Sarah. Sophia knew that woman had her eye on Liam for a long time. She made it apparent by her frequent stops at his office for the most trivial reasons. But Sophia felt so stupid. Why did she have to walk in on them?

Her mobile phone rang. Liam. She threw the phone on the seat beside her. She had a job to do, and she was determined to get it done and done fast.

What she needed was a boyfriend.

A text message came through on her mobile and although tempted to ignore it, she couldn’t resist reading what Liam had to say. Only, it wasn’t Liam. It was from the last person she expected to hear from: Theo Blackwell.

I could use your professional opinion. Would it be too much bother?

Theo had moved up from Detective Inspector to Detective Chief Inspector after their last case together. She had wanted to congratulate him but couldn’t gather her nerves. On the one occasion she stopped by his house, he was just leaving with his wife. They looked happy and she didn’t want to interrupt, but in the end, she never returned.

Now he wanted her help. Her professional opinion. What could that mean? She knew he was working on the Tipring case, and she knew the name sounded familiar. Perhaps there was something she missed in her search. She had the day to delve deeper.

Where shall we meet? she texted back.

He texted an address and a time—eight.

Chapter Seventeen

Theo had agreed to pick Dorland up from his flat, his new flat, and arrived at nine on the dot. The flat wasn’t much better than his last poorly managed building. Paint peeled off the exterior walls and screens, perhaps torn open in attempted burglaries, flapped in the wind.

From the moment he pressed send, he regretted texting Sophia. What was he thinking? What information could she possibly provide? It would become clear he was only trying to find a way to meet her.

Theo had never met his partner’s step-sister, Jady, even though Dorland had mentioned her on numerous occasions. He had many brothers and sisters but as far as Theo knew, he was closest with step-sister Jady. Theo knew she worked as a swimming instructor at the local youth center.

As expected, his fellow inspector wasn’t ready and before Theo could respond to the intercom, the door into the building clicked open. Theo turned his head to look at his car, trying to decide whether to walk the two flights of stairs or just return to the car. He pushed open the door and entered.

When he knocked at the door to flat 31, the door just swung open.

“Dorland?” Theo called into the flat.

“Come in,” Dorland replied. “I’m running a bit late this morning.”

“You’re always running a bit late. What’s wrong with your car this time?”

“Oh, must be something major, the engine won’t turn over.” He came out of his bedroom, tying a thin and shiny silver tie. “Jady will get it looked at today, won’t you, Jady?” Dorland looked behind him into his bedroom.

Jady squeezed behind him and ruffled his hair. She wore a full-piece red bathing-suit, gray flip-flops, and nothing else. She pulled her blond hair up into a ponytail.

“I told you I was, didn’t I?” she replied. “Does this suit make my butt look fat?”

Theo turned away. This was a question he didn’t want to answer even if his wife was asking.

“No, you look beautiful in it,” Dorland replied, poking her in the stomach.

“I may be home late,” Dorland continued.

“You work him so hard,” she complained..

The law office was only a twenty-minute drive from Dorland’s flat so before they knew it, the detectives were standing at the reception desk. The receptionist for the large firm of over twenty solicitors held a receiver to her ear, pressed a blinking button, and repeated, “Please hold while I transfer you.”

Who are you looking for? the woman behind the desk mouthed to them as she half-listened to an extremely loud male voice shout obscenities in her ear over the phone, but before Theo could give the name, she spoke into the phone, “Yes, yes, I understand, but unfortunately there is nothing I can do for you. He is in a deposition and cannot be disturbed. I can transfer you to his voicemail and you can leave another message.” She looked at Theo and rolled her eyes as he continued his boisterous tirade.

Theo held up a paper with the name Nick Garner written in neat block letters. The receptionist pointed to the chairs behind them. Theo listened as the receptionist cut off the rude client with a “hold please.”

Nick Garner met them within minutes of being paged and offered them coffee. Theo had to refuse when he heard that it was made from instant coffee powder. He loved coffee, but only when it came from what resembled beans. What solicitor’s office served instant coffee?

Nick looked to be in his forties and was dressed sharp with the exception of the large square glasses that took up half his face.

“Thank you for meeting us. We’re here about Doc Tipring. He was found murdered two days ago. I suppose you know him as Maddock Tipring,” Theo said when they were seated in his office.

“I figured it was only a matter of time before the police came. It was unimaginable. I couldn’t believe it, and I pulled his file just to compare the spelling of the names to make sure I got it right. But how many people are named Maddock?” Nick lifted the opened file close to his face to read it. “I’m sorry, this morning on the way to work I broke my glasses and have had to use this antiquated pair that I found in my desk drawer. It’s quite an old prescription and so I have had a terrible headache all morning.”

Theo squinted at him and asked, “When was it Mr. Tipring did up his Will?”

“Oh, seven years ago now. He came into the office without an appointment and I was the only one available to see him. Usually we prefer our clients to make an appointment but he hobbled in with only one leg . . . Well, I couldn’t turn him away.”

“Did he ever say why he decided to make up his Will?”

Nick leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “While it’s true most people don’t just decide to make their Will, he never expressed a danger or urgency about it. I told him it could take up to a week to prepare it and he seemed fine with that. He didn’t ask for me to rush or anything. And seven years have passed since he first made his Will.”

“Was that the very first Will he had ever made? No preceding Wills?”

“Yes. I asked him if he had written a Will before and he replied no.”

“Has he made changes to the Will in seven years?”

“Only minor changes. Add this person, take this person out, nothing really unusual.”

“Did you know he came from a wealthy family?”

“Really? No. Was he left an inheritance?”

“We’re not sure. We were hoping you could tell us if he thought he was.”

“Why don’t I just go over what his Will entails.” Nick flipped through the pages of Doc’s file. “He received some disability money when he lost his leg. How much of that money is left, I will have to determine but it’s probably not too much. It wasn’t much to begin with.”

“Did he tell you how he lost his leg?” Dorland asked.

“Not in so many words, said it was due to an infection. Apparently he injured himself on a building project—he was an electrician, you see. The company he was working for at the time gave him some money—probably to keep him quiet—but when the injured leg became infected and eventually had to be amputated, he received compensation and help from the government. Enough to live comfortably and I think it was enough to pay for the nurses he hired full time.”

Nick read over the pages of Tipring’s Will to himself. “If he did receive anything from his family, he didn’t mention it here. I’ll have to contact them to confirm. Also, it doesn’t look like Mr. Tipring left any money to any of his family—no one with last name Tipring anyway. He did leave money to the nurse he came in with that day. I remember thinking it was his wife; he treated her kindly, very respectful. She cared for him almost like a husband. Until, that is, when I called them in and he asked her to wait in the hall.”

“How would you describe him, his personality?”

“He was a really nice man, though quiet.” He rubbed his eyes again and when he had finished, his eyes were red. “I’m glad you told me he came from a wealthy family. It explains why he spoke as someone well educated. With such a background, why did he become an electrician, I wonder?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure but his sister seems to think it was because Mr. Tipring and his father didn’t get on. What I’m interested in most is his art. Have you seen his art?”

“I’ve not seen any, but they must have be amazing. Mr. Tipring spoke of them like they were people and called them by name, like my Susan or my Caroline. Maybe they were names of his old fancies.”

“Are the art pieces worth money?”

“I don’t know because, as far as I’m aware, he never sold any of them. I asked him when he made the Will, what would happen if he did choose to sell some; his answer was a very firm ‘I won’t sell them, not while I’m alive.’ But, I do know that he did give some away. I’m not sure to whom but he said he made some others.”

“So now that he’s dead, what did he plan to do with them?”

Nick reached into the top drawer of his desk, pulled out eye drops, and dripped two drops into each eye. Chemical tears streamed down his cheeks as he grabbed a tissue from a box by his desk. “Sorry,” he said, “I hope to get my new glasses today. I can be so clumsy. Forgive me.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Theo replied.

“The art,” he looked down at the folder and was quiet for a few moments while he read.

Theo watched as his eyes scanned the pages, only inches from them. He sniffled and wiped more liquid from his eyes.

“Would you like me to read the file,” Theo suggested.

“Oh, no. At the point of his death, he would like all his art auctioned off. All proceeds will go to the,” he read further, “Action for Amputee Foundation. I don’t know much about that foundation but I assume it’s to support those who are missing limbs. Children, the like.”

“Yes, I suppose. Is that where all his money is going? What about his nurses?”

“His nurses? I believe he left them a little allowance; it was not much, just a few thousand pounds each. I don’t have the exact figure, it is a percentage, a small percentage, of the total profits after all his outstanding debts, or costs, have been paid out. Which I assume will depend on what he makes on his art at the auction. I know when he had the Will drawn up, the nurse with him, I don’t think she believed she would be in the Will at all. Just doing her job. I doubt if most nurses believe they will be in the Will, especially ones that are paid by only pension and severance. Do you?”

“It really is difficult to say, I guess we are most interested in finding out who would have a motive, and in most homicide cases, money is often a motive. So, if someone, anyone had something to gain by Mr. Tipring’s death, we were hoping you could provide that information.”

“I don’t know much about motive but I don’t think money is a motive. Not in this case. I’m sorry.”

“And the earrings? What about the earrings? Did he want to sell those?”

“The earrings?” asked Theo.

“Yes, remember the earrings we saw on the man’s chest of drawers?” Dorland said.

Again, Nick continued reading the fine print. “Yes, the jewelry, he has asked that they be buried with him. He wanted to be buried, not cremated. He even gave me photos of each earring.” He pulled from the back of the file some enlarged sheets of photographic paper. “He brought those in himself, gave them to me for the file. I guess that way we would know what was to be buried from what wasn’t. Do these look like the pieces of jewelry to you?”

He held the pictures up.

“It’is difficult to tell. I only had a quick glance at the earrings at the house, I really couldn’t say. What about you, Dorland?”

“No, sorry, I also did not study the jewelry that well, and as a man, it’s difficult to tell the difference.”

“Did he ever tell you why the earrings were so important?”

“I assumed they were family heirlooms. Perhaps they belonged to his mother or sister—sentimental value.”

Theo thought about this. “I doubt they’re from his family. As far as I know, he didn’t get on with his family and so any jewelry wouldn’t hold sentimental value.”

“Perhaps.”

Theo turned to the solicitor and asked, “And there’s nothing else, nothing in the Will that we will find interesting? What of the house and his belongings?”

“The house also goes to charity, and a percentage of the amount received will be split among the nurses. It is all really simple with only three requests, one, that his art be auctioned off, two, that he be buried with his jewelry and three, the rest of the money be given to charity.”

“Among who? Did he name the nurses?”

“Yes, one of the nurses was a Ms. Megan Perkins. She was recently added, only a month ago. Mr. Tipring had rung to add her and to take another nurse off his list.”

“Really? Who was taken off the list?”

“Um, a Mrs. Hathaway, Heather Hathaway.”

“Did Mr. Tipring say why he took her off the list?”

“No, all he said was that he was taking her off and adding Ms. Perkins, he didn’t sound angry about it, just matter of fact.”

“Who was the other nurse?”

“A Ms. White, Camilla White, I believe that she was the one that Mr. Tipring brought in with him when he first had the Will drafted.”

“Do you know where Ms. White lives?”

“I have her address, but I don’t know if it’s still correct.”

“I would be extremely grateful if you write out the names of those nurses and their addresses, if you have them.”

Nick complied.

“And if you’re done with the earrings, I will need to get them from you,” Nick said.