The Electrician's Code Page 18

  “Do you know what she did for work?”

  “Yes, that I know. She worked in insurance for a company called Legal Direct Financial Planning, or LDFP, she called it for short. Try there, they’ll know more. Can I show you something?”

  He reached in the back pocket of his trousers and pulled out his wallet. From inside he produced a photo. “This is Sharon and I when we were younger. I believe I was eight and she was three—we had five years between us. Look at the smile on her face.”

  “It looked like she loved you a lot. She’s clinging to your left arm.”

  “At that age, we worshipped the ground our parents walked on. Now, when raising my little boy I always ask ‘what would my parents do,’ and do the opposite.” Brian stared at the photo. Theo could tell he was trying to hold himself together.

  “I know this may seem like a difficult thing to do, but would you be willing to come in and formally identify the body?”

  He looked up at Theo. “Yes, I would. This job can wait.” He stood up, ready to go. “What happened to her? How was she murdered?”

  “Someone stabbed her.”

  “Did she suffer?”

  “I don’t think so, death would have been quick.”

  Brian stroked the hair of his sister in the photo.

  Theo brought Brian back to the medical examiner’s office after assuring the body was available for viewing. Brian kept hesitating, not wanting to see the body. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned to Theo. “She looks like she’s just sleeping right?”

  “Many think that. You’ll be okay. A lot of people say it gives them closure.”

  When the sheet was finally lifted off her face, he stared at her. Not moving, not blinking. Sharon looked very pale and although she lay there with her eyes closed, Theo didn’t think she looked like she was sleeping. She looked dead. All the bodies he had ever seen looked dead.

  “She’s not there anymore,” Brian finally uttered.

  Theo turned to him. “What? It’s not your sister?”

  “No, it’s the body of my sister, but she’s not there anymore. I suppose she’s gone to heaven.” He chuckled. “My parents might disagree. They probably feel she deserves to go to hell, but she looks so peaceful. Like all the anger has gone, all the stress, the worry. That’s heaven, I guess. No, I’m glad I’ve come.” He turned away from her. “I hope you catch the man that did this.”

  “Why do you say a man did this?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Was it a woman?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Well, I hope you catch whomever did this.”

  Brian followed Theo from the room and Theo asked one of the officers to take him home. As Brian was walking out the door, he turned and said, “She really did look lovely; she looked at peace. I think that helps a lot, when you see them like that, you know.”

  “I will work as hard as I can to find your sister’s killer.”

  “I know.” He walked away silently.

  Theo watched him go.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Sophia arrived at Crystal’s flat. The tiny flat had only one room, a kitchen, and a bath. Sophia pressed the bell. She heard nothing but knew the button didn’t release a sound but a blinding light. From inside, she heard a chair scrape across the floor and feet shuffle toward the door.

  “You’re early,” she signed as she looked at her watch. She tapped the face of it. “Is this really the hour?”

  “You do remember asking me to come?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  As Crystal replied, her cat ran between her feet and out of the flat. Sophia made a feeble attempt at catching it, but the gray and white creature scurried down the hall and up the stairs at the end. Just what she needed, to chase something for the next hour.

  Crystal tapped her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s gone to an old lady’s flat upstairs. She has three other cats and lots of catnip toys. The cat will return in about an hour. Hell, if it pees up there, less for me to clean down here. Come in but watch the wires.”

  Crystal took the bottle of gin her friend was holding and motioned her inside with it. When Sophia entered the flat, it smelled horrendous: cat litter and moldy bread. The living area held Crystal’s bed, but Sophia couldn’t see it under cables and wires and opened books on programming. Across the length of the room, two cables at knee height connected computers sitting on either side. The cheap framed prints from the local IKEA were actually guides for wires leading to shelves that sat near the ceiling.

  While Crystal sat back down at her computer, Sophia entered the kitchen and opened the window. When was the last time she cleaned? A large bin of garbage sat full of paper plates and disposable cups and cutlery. She found the smell of mold sitting on the worktop—what used to be bread could now be turned into penicillin.

  Crystal came and stood behind her.

  Sophia picked up the bagged bread very carefully and signed garbage.

  “Oh yeah,” Crystal signed back.“Sorry, meant to clean before you arrived but got distracted by a new algorithm. I’ll have to show you, it’ll blow your mind.”

  Sophia nodded. She threw the bread into the bin and whatever other trash was left on the worktop and tied up the bag. Crystal had reached under the sink for a new bag. “Place it in the bin while I get rid of this.”

  While Crystal removed the smell from her flat, Sophia wiped down the rest of the kitchen. Inside the cupboards were only disposable items. The only metal thing Sophia found was a corkscrew and a spatula.

  “You alone, my friend, are the reason we have no ozone layer,” Sophia said when her friend had returned.

  “But I save water.”

  Sophia laughed. “I’m so hungry. What did you have in mind for dinner?”

  “Ah, well, I’m not a complete failure as a host. Dinner is almost ready.” She opened the fridge and pulled out cardboard containers from the nearby deli. She lit the oven and threw two pieces of pre-made Chicken Cordon Bleu and a few chips onto a disposable baking dish. Again she went to the fridge and took out a bottle of tonic water. “Gin and tonic to start? Oh, and crisps.”

  With drinks in hand, Crystal led her guest into the other room and dropped the cups onto what small space she had available beside a pile of used hard disks. “What did you do today? You didn’t go into work, did you?”

  “I did, for about an hour. Then some friends of my father rang me to see a house. I’ve already shown them the same house multiple times. I have never met more indecisive people. I think I’m going to take my business cards away from my father. I swear, if they don’t buy the house, I’m going to . . . the man counted all the lights in the house so that he could estimate the electricity charge. Wait until he receives his council tax bills. Well, the good news is, if they do buy the house, it will be a nice paycheck at just the right time.”

  “Why are you still showing houses? Are you short of money?” Sophia didn’t talk about her other line of work much. Mostly because she didn’t sell many houses. It was a cover. A way to keep from her friends and family what she really did for work. She received her qualifications to become an estate agent relatively easily, and only needed to attend a few conferences and meetings a year. Her father’s wealthy friends, with a constant desire to upgrade, provided her with an income higher than her government salary per year.

  “No, it’s not that. I was thinking of taking a holiday.”

  “Oh, where?”

  “To see my mum.”

  “Is she still in Canada?”

  “Yeah, and recently my aunt wrote me an email and said my mum’s not doing as well as she was. I’ve been neglecting her and I think it’s time I made a trip.” Sophia put her face into her hands. “I don’t want to go, but I suppose I’m obligated in some way. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just drink instead.”

  “Is Liam assigning you more cases?”

  “No, that’s the odd thing. He’s been staying away, as far as he can. He doesn’t act
angry at me, he doesn’t act like I’m a concern of his at all. It sort of hurts.” She leaned forward. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

  “Me, tell him? That’s not going to happen.” Suddenly, her head popped up. “I smell burning. Do you smell burning?” She rose and went to the oven. She threw her hands up in the air. Reaching in, she pulled out a disposable plate that had managed to stick itself to the bottom of the metal pan before being placed in the oven. It sagged and dripped down between the grill. With a spatula, Crystal scrapped the black chemical goo from the bottom of the oven. “What a stink. Should I throw the whole thing away?”

  “No! Just keep cooking it. You took out most of it, it should be fine.”

  The fire alarm went off and the light in the room was blinking and blinding. Sophia grabbed a hand towel and waved it at the alarm in the ceiling. Crystal precariously crossed the wires and opened the living room windows. “It’s so bloody cold today.”

  Eventually the lights and noise stopped.

  “You have a microwave, perhaps we should use it.”

  Fifteen minutes later, dinner was ready and they sat down to eat. Crystal said a quick prayer to herself before she ate. Sophia always felt guilty that she didn’t thank God for the burned, chemically infused food so she hoped that Crystal said that prayer for her too.

  Halfway through eating, Sophia looked up her friend and asked, “Have you ever been to an auction before?”

  “No, why?”

  “Remember the artwork that the one-legged man created? The rest of those pieces are coming up for auction soon and I may go pick one up.”

  “Really? They’re hideous to look at.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t get them out of my mind. They speak to me. I don’t know how but they do. Whatever it is that Doc found interesting about it, I might see.”

  “I think you’re going blind, my friend.”

  “Perhaps.” She shrugged. “The offer stands, if you want to attend with me. I’d love it.”

  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 ho
use. 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?”