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  “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.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Theo sighed and pushed open the door to the autopsy room. The dead looked so foreign in the cold, sterile room.

  “Tell me what you know, doc,” he asked as he entered the room.

  “Cause of death was stabbing. The knife penetrated the heart. The good news is, I don’t think she suffered. The killer caught her unawares and . . .” He made a stabbing motion with his hand. “Reminds me a
lot of the last stabbing case you had.”

  Theo leaned forward. “You’re the second person who mentioned the connection.”

  “Do you think there is a connection?”

  “No, unlikely,” he said.

  “I would have to check my notes, and although they appear to be similar, they are different. If you like, after the autopsy we can compare the case notes on both victims,” Dr. Waynton said.

  After the autopsy was over, he led Theo into his office.

  “Have a seat,” he said and motioned Theo toward a chair. He went over to a filing cabinet and quickly retrieved a file. “Here we are, Maddock Tipring.”

  With both files opened side by side on his desk, he ran his fingers down each page.

  “According to forensics and the knife wound measurement, the knives were different. The one that stabbed Doc was a standard flat edge kitchen knife while the other, while still a kitchen knife, had a serrated edge. Both wounds were not deep but they both hit the mark. Based on the angle of each of the wounds, one killer was taller than the other but not more than ten centimeters. No, it is my opinion that the two victims were killed by two different killers.”

  “All right,” Theo replied.

  “I’m sorry, detective,” he continued. “I would like to tell you that they had the same killer, then perhaps you can solve two cases but, no. I’m sorry.”

  “Is there anything you can give me, anything to help me find Sharon’s killer?”

  “Based on height and force behind the thrust, I would say you’re looking for a woman rather than a man. Now, that’s just a guess.”

  “Really? A woman?”

  “That, old chap, is only a guess. I wouldn’t want to rule out men but this is likely woman’s work.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Theo started out the door but stopped. “One more thing, doc. My prime suspect in Sharon’s murder was a woman, but she died. You’ll not believe this, but she died the day Sharon did.”