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

Автор книги: Clarissa Draper

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dorie Armes was next on the list of nurses. When Theo rang her bell an older woman, who wore a flowery pajama-dress and leaned on a cane, opened the door. Dorland asked for Dorie but the woman just stared at them curiously. Unsure of what to do, Theo displayed his warrant card. The woman grabbed it and moved the card around in her hand as if she had recently discovered a new artifact and then handed it back. Then, she moved back and shut the door.

Theo looked at Dorland. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

“Do you have a choice? We have to try again.”

This time when Dorland knocked, a much younger woman opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “that was my mother. We don’t usually let her answer the door, but I was in the kitchen with my hands in the middle of a pie. How can I help you?”

“We are looking for Dorie Armes. Are you Dorie?”

“Dorie? I’m Marla. Dorie’s working.” She looked inside. “Mum, stay out of the kitchen right now.” With those words, Marla left the officers at the door and ran after her mother. After seating her mother on the sofa in the living room and handing her a magazine off the table, Marla came back.

“Sorry,” she continued, “my mother loves my baking and will just dip her whole arm into the pie. I have to keep an eye on her. If she gets off the sofa, let me know.”

Theo nodded and asked, “Is Dorie your sister?”

“Yes.”

“We wish to talk to her about a man she used to work for about four months ago, a Mr. Tipring.”

“Oh yes, Dorie knows about it. She heard about his death on the news and was very broken up, turned quite pale. I don’t think she expected it, you know. I mean, who expects someone you know to end up dead and then you have to hear about it that way. It’s horrible.”

“Where can we find your sister?”

“Dorie’s working. She nurses another older lady. I have to stay at home to take care of Mum right now, so Dorie’s working for us. I can give you the address if you like.”

“Please.”

She ran back into the kitchen and came back with a napkin and written with a green marker a street name with house number. They left and Theo took out his map to find the place, which was only a few streets away.

As they approached a small pleasant looking house with a porch and white fence, they could hear yelling coming from the house, “No, no, that’s not how it’s done. Why do you not do it right? I’ve taught you how to do it repeatedly. Why am I paying you what I am if you are not going to do it right? I don’t understand why they send people like you out, I don’t understand.”

“Betty, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you always tell me to calm down. It’s all your doing. If you didn’t spend so much on your stupid card games, we could afford a nurse who did things as she is supposed to.”

The nurse stood by the front door holding a tray with a flowery teapot and two cups. The old couple sat at a wrought iron table, the old man read a newspaper while the old woman wrote a list on a pad of paper.

“Hello,” Dorland called out to the two sitting at the table, while smiling at the nurse at the door. “We’re the police and we are looking to talk to a Dorie Armes. Does a Dorie Armes work here?”

The old woman put her pen down, looked at Dorie, and stood up, “What is it all about?” she pried. Dorie raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“We need to ask Dorie some questions.”

“Is it about the dog? Because if it’s about the dog, I’ve already explained to the other officers that he was returned. There’s no need to enquire further, unless you police have nothing better to do, which I suspect considering the increase in crime we have had in this very neighborhood.”

“Dear . . .” her husband cautioned her to tone it down.

“Don’t dear me. You police need to be more vigilant. I have expensive furniture that I can’t afford to have stolen, where would we sit if it got cold? You would complain to Herald when it got cold and you had nowhere to sit and read your paper, wouldn’t you?” Turning again to look at the officers, she continued, “All I’m saying is, it wouldn’t hurt you to drive up and down the streets every once in a while.”

“All right, we will keep that in mind. Can we talk to Dorie alone?”

“You might as well talk to her in the kitchen while she re-prepares our tea. This time warm the pot up first. I hate nothing more than warm tea.”

Dorie never said a word to either of them until she entered the kitchen, she placed the tray down on the table and dumped a whole steaming pot of tea down the drain. She ran the hot water and rinsed the pot out, “When I first started, Mrs. Barmy taught me how to make tea, and for the most part, I follow those instructions because it’s how I make my tea at home for my mother, but some days she catches me making the tea my own way and not hers. It’s then she complains. She does not complain when I make it my way as long as she believes I am making it hers. Old people are like that though. I had made that observation soon after I started nursing, and you can’t allow it to affect you. So, what do you want to talk to me about?”

“It’s not about that dog or whatever Mrs. Barmy was going on about. We actually want to talk to you about a previous employer, Mr. Tipring. Do you remember him?”

She stood looking at them for a moment before she spoke, she almost looked ill. “I’m sorry,” her voice cracked. “I heard about that—I saw it on the news. Why are you asking me about it? I worked for him many months ago and only for a few days.”

“We understand. We have some questions about a pair of earrings actually. I know that sounds odd, but a pair of earrings has gone missing. A nurse—a Mrs. Hathaway—I don’t know if you know who she is, but she was fired from her post because Mr. Tipring thought she had stolen a pair of earrings.”

“And you think that it was me? You think I stole them?”

“Not necessarily. We just wanted to ask you if you knew about them.”

“I remember seeing a box of jewelry on Mr. Tipring’s . . . somewhere in the bedroom but other than a quick glance . . . I don’t know if I gave it much thought. How often does one pay attention to other people’s jewelry? The earrings didn’t look very expensive. Does it really matter that they’re missing? I doubt they were stolen; most likely he dropped them on the floor. Why would someone want to steal a cheap pair of earrings? Why not steal something of more value in the house, like maybe his art?” She looked at them calmer now, whatever was bothering her she seemed to have under control.

“Do you think his art would have been worth more money?”

“Yes, compared to the earrings, any art would be worth more.” The kettle started whistling on the stove. Dorie took the pot and refilled it with more tea.

“We’ve been asking everyone that knew him where they were on Wednesday around seven in the morning.”

“I was dropping off dry-cleaning last Wednesday before coming to work. My mother had spilled sauce all over her dress and some sheets on her bed. I have the receipt, if you would like, from the dry cleaners near my house, two streets away. They know me there. Because of my mum, I bring in many items. You can confirm with them, if you like.”

Mrs. Barmy yelled to Dorie to bring their tea.

“I hope you find out why Mr. Tipring was murdered,” Dorie said to the officers before she headed outside again.

Theo looked at his partner. “It’s funny that she wants to know why and not who, don’t you think?”

“It is indeed.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

The solicitor met them with the same glasses he’d worn the last time they met. Theo chose not to bring it up. He carefully took the bag with the box from Theo’s hands and brought it into his office. Almost like it was delicate crystal, he removed the box from the bag and carefully opened the door of the case, revealing the pieces of jewelry.

“Unbelievable,” he said, staring at them intently.

From the way he spoke, Theo thought he had it all wrong. “Are they valuable?”

“Oh no,” he said looking over his glasses, “but they match the pictures exactly.”

Dorland rolled his eyes and said, “Apparently one of the pieces were stolen. We were hoping we could compare the pictures you have in the file with what is here.”

“Someone stole one of the pairs?”

“Apparently,” Dorland confirmed.

“Just one?”

“We hope,” replied Theo. The solicitor took the first photograph from the pile and together they searched the box. When they found the item, the picture went to a designated pile on the right. One by one they matched a set of earrings with the picture. When they had reached the ninth or tenth picture, long dangling silver with emerald teardrops, they could not find them.

Slowly the solicitor placed that photo to the left, glancing at it two or three times while he shook his head, and finished the rest of the photos. “Obviously those are the ones. It looks like they were the only ones stolen.”

“Why those? I mean, there are these.” Dorland pointed to gold with larger ruby centers, “Why not pick them? They seem to be worth more.”

“Maybe,” suggested Theo, “one of the nurses had to go to a wedding or event and she had a green dress, it had to match, so she took those ones, then she forgot to return them after the regular nurse came back, so she just kept them.”

“I don’t know,” said Dorland, “they all worked for the same temporary agency. If one of the nurses was fired over a stolen pair of earrings, the nurse could have easily returned them and at least cleared the other nurse’s name.”

“Maybe she was afraid of being fired herself.”

“It just seems so petty,” said Theo, and turned to face the solicitor, “We’re sure these earrings are not worth any money?”

“No, because he just wanted to be buried with them. I never saw a need to have them appraised, but I doubt they’re worth much.”

“Can we take a copy of this photo when we interview the other nurses?”

“Glad to make a copy, in fact three copies.”

They thanked him and made their way back to the incident room. Theo was determined to find out the cost of the earrings. Trying first an Internet search, he quickly came across similar types of earrings. Nothing was outrageously expensive, not that he could tell anyway. He was beginning to think that this lead would turn out to be nothing but rubbish.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Theo, prompted by Dorland’s insistent pestering, finally stopped for Fish Supper off of Old Street. Dorland ordered fish and three large gherkins. Dorland shovelled the food into his mouth. Theo just gnawed on a chip. He didn’t feel much like eating. The case was going nowhere. Two of the three nurses they interviewed had alibis. With really few suspects or in fact a single motive, he was worried the case would eventually stop without success. He hoped Sophia Evans could come up with something on her end.

“So, what do you think?” Theo asked, then placed a small piece of battered haddock into his mouth.

“About our witnesses? I think it’s impossible, the case, just impossible. I don’t know. I doubt Mr. Tipring’s death was a random murder. I don’t see where we go next. I suppose we can go to different shops to see if anyone has tried to sell the earrings but do you think it likely?”

“No. We could be barking up the wrong tree with these earrings. Perhaps the old man gave the set of earrings away and forgot to tell his solicitor. I will be so angry if the killing turns out to be a senseless murder and our killer, probably some juvenile on a dare, walks away.”

1

Mrs. Chu, who owned the dry cleaners, did know Dorie Armes. “I like that girl, she is very good girl. She take care of her mother, like nice girl. Girl should take care of their mother.”

“Do you remember if Ms. Armes came in on Wednesday?” Theo asked.

“Wednesday, last week? I don’t know, hold on, I check. My son say ‘Mum, buy computer that way you know who the shirt belong to.’ I never lose shirt, you know how many shirt I lose and I work here twenty-two year, I lose none. Why? Because I know where shirts are, they are all here, in my brain.” She tapped on her temple and then continued punching keys on the computer, Dorland took a wrapped mint from the bowl near the cash register.

Finally, she replied, “One dress, three shirt no starch, trousers two. She came in Wednesday morning, yes.”

“Does it say what time?” Theo asked.

“Yes, it say seven-oh-three, it need say time because I do one-hour dry cleaning and people complain, they say to me, ‘I drop off trouser eight in morning and now it nine, where my clothes?’ Now I can tell them no, you drop off eight-thirty so keep your trouser up.” She laughed.

“What time do you open in the morning?”

“Seven. Oh that right. There she was, Dorie was waiting as I opened, five other people were there too, I very popular that morning. I very popular girl.”

They left directly from the dry cleaners to the next witness. Yet another possible dead end.

The last substitute nurse, Gina Victor, lived north near the edge of the city and they arrived at her residence near on nine at night. The light was on in the front room when Dorland knocked and a man dressed in neat shirt and trousers promptly came to the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“We’re looking for Gina Victors.”

“Ginny,” the man yelled up the stairs. He motioned them into the house. “My wife was in the bath but I believe she’s out now.” He called her name again.

A woman, young, early thirties came down the stairs, she had on a silk bathrobe and slippers, “Oh, I didn’t know there were people here.” She gave a stern look to her husband.

“Sorry, dear.”

“We’re the police, Gina,” Theo said, taking out his warrant card, “We just have a few brief questions about your previous employer, a Mr. Tipring. Do you remember him?”

“Yes, I believe I do, did he only have one leg?”

“That’s right.”

“Yes, I remember. I thought of him not as Tipring but as Tipping, you know with the one leg, it would be easy for him to tip.” The man groaned at his wife’s joke, she punched him in the arm and then said, “Oh, I guess I shouldn’t do that, eh, spousal abuse and all that. Could go to jail for that. Wouldn’t you be happy, dear?” She led the officers into the front room and shut off the television.

He followed her in and immediately turned on the television again, muting the sound. Theo noticed that he was watching a match, a match that Theo may have watched if he ever had a day off. His team was winning, by one point. He watched the ball being kicked and passed around the pitch.

Dorland broke the silence with an extra loud, “The reason we’re here is because Mr. Tipring, I don’t know if you heard or not, but he was murdered. Last week, last Wednesday. Have you heard?”

It was obvious that she had not, she stood there stunned, even her husband stopped watching the game to ask, “What happened?”

“He was stabbed,” Theo explained. “Someone walked by his house as he was fetching the paper and stabbed him.”

“Why the hell would anyone do that?” she finally said. “He was an old man. My God! What the hell is this world coming to? People can’t even go out to pick up their newspapers. I’m sorry, what does this have to do with us? I haven’t seen the man in months.”

“Oh yes, we know. This is the dilemma: the nurse you were substituting for at that time came back from her vacation and was almost immediately fired because she was accused of theft.”

“What did she steal?”

“Well that’s the thing, she never stole this item. She said it might have been one of the nurses substituting for her, and although we are not accusing you, we have to ask all the nurses if they might have noticed seeing this pair of earrings.” Theo took out the photo from his pocket and handed it to the nurse. The husband came and stood by his wife to look at it. But Gina had never seen it before.

“I only worked at his house for two days, and then I got sick. A substitute had to substitute for me, I’m afraid. I don’t remember any jewelry in the house. Why would he have any jewelry?”

“They belonged to his mum,” Dorland explained. “If you have no idea what happened to the earrings, maybe you could tell us if you know why anyone would want to murder him.”

“Why anyone would want him dead? Now that is a question, isn’t it? I don’t get on with a few people, especially my in-laws, but I would never harm them or kill them. You would need a good reason why before you risk your life or someone else. Sorry, I don’t know enough about the man but in the two days that I spent with him I saw nothing unusual, he didn’t seem to be worried or in fear of his life, if that’s what you are getting at. Stabbed. Wow, I can’t believe it.”

Theo and Dorland returned to the incident room. Theo’s team went over the evidence, every piece of it: from the insurance, to the alibis, to the earrings, to the motives. They had nothing. No one had motive or opportunity. If the killer was amongst the suspects, they managed to cover their tracks well.

“No one has any idea who killed our Mr. Tipring. No one?” asked Theo.

Everyone in the room sat there silently.

“We’re missing something,” he continued, “Something important. There has to be a motive in this mess somewhere. No one just approaches an old man fetching the paper and stabs him in the heart. Come on, people.”

Still no one moved.

He needed a second opinion.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sophia arrived at the campus and searched around for the lecture theater. She found it with twenty minutes to spare but when she pulled the door open, the room was dark. This didn’t bode well for the evening. She couldn’t even remember if she had posted her lecture on the board. Oh well, she could always set it up for another night. She was exhausted anyway.

She moved her hand up and down against the wall, searching for the light switch and when she finally found it, the room was flooded with light. The theater wasn’t too big but daunting enough when, as she saw it, only a handful of students would arrive to hear her. It wasn’t nerves, for years of ballet had conquered her fear of the stage, but Sophia didn’t want to waste her time. One thing she could have done with the evening was catch up on some much needed rest. She had spent the day searching a computer that contained no information because it had been erased, most likely remotely. She couldn’t get out of her mind the look of shock on Elaine’s face.

Heading to the front row, Sophia pushed down one of the theater seats and sat down. She had to set up her computer for the presentation but decided to wait until the first student arrived. Above her, she could hear the hum of the lights and behind her, one of the fluorescent bulbs flickered.

Someone knocked on the door. A petite woman, dressed in an old, gray trouser suit stood in the doorway.

“Ms. Evans? Hello, my name is Lucy. I meant to ring you, but I got busy this afternoon. We moved your lecture to another room upstairs. Follow me.”

“A smaller room I hope.”

“It’s a bit smaller but I think it will do.”

Sophia followed her up two flights of stairs to a room at the end of the hall. The lights were on in that room and she could hear the din of people talking. When the woman opened the door for her, Sophia counted about twenty students milling about the stage.

“Everyone, our speaker is here.” Lucy turned to Sophia. “I hope this suits you.”

Sophia looked around. Much better. It was almost a classroom instead of a theater and more personal. The students looked so young. She didn’t recognize any in the group. Well, at least young people were still interested in math. She turned toward a young man close to the podium and asked, “Would you be able to help me set up the cables?” She pulled her laptop and various devices from her bag.

Five minutes after the time she was supposed to start, she finally pressed the button and a white screen came down from the ceiling. She looked up and was about to start when the door to the classroom opened and about five more students trickled in. She waited until they settled into their desks.

“Today, we’re going to be discussing the Huffman Compression Function and Linguistic Stenography—Its Use in the Real World. If you didn’t understand what I just said, you’re probably in the wrong lecture room.”

A few students laughed. The door opened again and a few more entered and took their seats.

Page by page, Sophia discussed the topic she had been preparing for over a year. She had meant to give the speech months ago but with all her cases, she kept pushing back the date. For a time, she was worried she would have to change the title from Real World to Ancient World.

When she received blank stares, she would ask if anyone had questions. That was when she saw Liam, hiding in the back.

Why was he here? She knew he wouldn’t understand anything she said. In fact, he was reading a car magazine. Sometimes he made her so angry.

When the lecture had finally ended and the students had asked their questions, she breathed a sigh of relief. Students approached her, shook her hand, and on occasion asked her an unrelated question or two. She hoped her facts were correct on a variety of theories. It had been ages since she looked into some of them and she knew some were being expanded and revised.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Liam when he finally approached her.

“I have always found math fascinating.”

“Hardy-har. How about being a dear and helping me pack up all my things?”

He helped her tidy her papers as she unhooked her computer and cables.

“So why are you really here and not in some cubby hole staring at a steel box filled with wonderful weaponry? Isn’t that your idea of a perfect evening?”

“Yes, well, I have to visit the watchers in about two hours but in the meantime—”

“In the meantime you spend the evening listening to a boring lecture instead of sleeping? I don’t buy it. You’re here to check up on me. To make sure I don’t bring home any crazy fans.”

“I’m an asshole but you, my dear, have too high an opinion of yourself.” He tapped her on the cheek with his hand. “You know what you need?”

“Sleep?”

“No. You need a nice chocolate brownie with a dollop of vanilla ice cream on top.”

“Oh, I don’t want that.”

“Do you want another assignment?”

“No, not that either.”

“Well, you choose. Delectable dessert with me now, or watcher duty tonight?”

“If I go with you, will you promise never to put me on assignment ever again?”

“I can’t make that promise.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re an asshole.”

Sophia followed Liam into the coffee shop. She didn’t know what she was doing there. What was she thinking? Sometimes he could be so nice and the next minute, he completely changed into an insensitive luddite. She didn’t understand him at all.

The coffee shop was busy even at ten at night. Couples filled all the tables and for a few minutes, while she stood in line, she considered telling Liam they should call it off on account of the lack of seating. However, Liam looked around the room nervously and the reason behind it intrigued her.

“You’ll love the coffee. I put a dash of cinnamon in mine. And, if you’d prefer, the lemon tart is also worth trying.”

“I think coffee will be fine, Liam.”

“Are you watching your weight?”

“I’m just not that hungry, all right?”

He threw up his hands as if to surrender. “Well, thanks for coming with me anyway.” When they approached the counter, Liam ordered a mushroom soup and two coffees.

“I really can’t imagine you come here. You seem like a pub man.”

“Yeah, I am, but you don’t seem like a pub girl.”

A couple stood up from a small table in the corner and Liam rushed to grab it. An elderly woman, holding a coffee, stomped off in protest.

“I think she had been waiting for this table,” Sophia said when she sat down.

“Nonsense. She was nowhere close to it.”

“The job has marred your conscience, I think.”

“You’re saying that because I wouldn’t let her sit here? That’s a bit insane.”

“You’re calling me insane?” This was such a mistake.

“Look, if it will make you happy, we’ll give up our seat. Is that what you want?”

Sophia looked around for the woman but she had found another seat on the opposite side of the shop. “Forget about it.”

A young girl wearing an apron approached the table with their order.

“Look, Evans,” Liam said, placing his hand on her arm briefly, “I don’t want to fight. Let’s just drink our coffees and you can go home.”

She poured a drop of milk in her coffee and took a sip. Liam didn’t look at her, instead he fished around his soup for pieces of potato and mushroom.

“How long have you been seeing . . . whoever it was in your flat? Is it that Daintry woman that works on the second level?

“Daintry?” He gave her a blank stare.

“Really, you don’t ever know her name?”

“Ah, Sarah.” He looked back down at his soup.

“Oh, Liam. If she is who I think she is, she’s been into you for weeks. She even asked me if it was all right if she asked you for a drink. I guess she thought we had some sort of relationship. I assured her it was perfectly all right.”

Liam still didn’t look up from his soup.

“Do you fancy her even a bit?” she continued. “Because if you don’t, you should tell her straight away; she’ll be less hurt. Another girl in the office—Anita—though you probably won’t know who she is either, gave Sarah the advice to be forward with you. God, why can’t people stay out of each other’s business?”

“I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“What?”

“If that’s what you’re implying, I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“I’m not implying that. I just don’t want you to get the wrong reputation in the office.”

“What do you care what my reputation is?” He dropped his spoon and it landed with a crash against the bowl.

“I bloody care because we work close together on cases. I don’t want everyone to assume you sleep with all the girls you work with.”

“Oh, I don’t give you a bad reputation. You proved to everyone that you’ll open your legs to whoever you work with when you carried on with Masters.”

Sophia raised her hands to slap him but he was too quick and grabbed her arm.

“Don’t you dare assume you know me at all,” continued Liam. “You think it’s up to me who I put on cases? You think I like having analysts following high target criminals or go undercover, having to worry that they’ll think with their bloody heart and get team members killed that I have known and served with for years? I’m trying to be nice to you, I’m trying to build your confidence in me and vice versa so we can work together in the future. I’m sick and tired of you treating me with disrespect.”

With that he pushed her arm away and walked out.

She sat there stunned, starring at the wall, too embarrassed to acknowledge the faces that must be staring at her. What the hell just happened? How could she have completely misread him? Could he really hate her as much as he appeared to? She tightened her coat around her and walked out of the cafe.

He said he was trying to make it easier for them to work together but she didn’t know how they could work together from now on. Not after this. She walked toward her Fiat and when she got in, sat watching the couples walking along the pavement. One couple laughed and held hands. Why couldn’t she live a life like that? Why the hell did she ever agree to work for the government?

I just had a fight with Liam, she texted Crystal.

What about?

I have no idea.

What are you going to do about it?

I’m going to go home and calm down. I need to think.

Don’t do anything rash. Text me before you do anything.

Good night, Crystal.