The Sholes Key (An Evans & Blackwell Mystery #1) (8 page)

“You’re saying she must have known her killer.”

“Let’s look at it from different angles,” Theo said, starting to pace the room. “First, she never met anyone and just ran off, leaving the boy. That scenario seems unlikely from what her mother says; it’s obvious she loves Stevie. All right, second scenario—someone came to her door that she didn’t know. She let him or her in and… what? She was abducted?”

“Based on your reasoning, that scenario seems doubtful.”

“I agree. Third scenario, someone comes to the door that she knows, she opens it. Either she takes off with him or she has a moment of insanity, leaves the child thinking she’ll only be gone for a few minutes, and something terrible happened. I hate the last two scenarios, but they seem the most likely.”

“If it’s the first, there’s a chance she’ll come home again.”

Theo moved to the front window and looked out onto the street.

“The boy wakes up,” Dorland added, “realizes he’s alone and walks across the hall to his neighbor. He does feel comfortable enough to do that. Or maybe it came down to necessity. One thing’s for sure, there obviously wasn’t a struggle in this flat. Other than misplaced toys, nothing seems out of place.”

“There’s ash on this window, which means she’s a smoker. She smokes out this window. It explains why she has the strong air freshener on the fridge.”

“What are you saying, boss?”

“I have a feeling no one came to her door. She went outside.”

* * *

Number four across the hall was quiet. Seeing the light under the door, Theo assumed the tenant was home. After knocking three times, finally the door opened. A young bearded man in his early thirties stood there wearing nothing but flannel bottoms.

“Mr. Allen Barking?” Theo asked.

“I’m busy, right in the middle of something,” he said, starting to shut the door. Before he could protest, Dorland held his warrant card in the man’s face.

“We need to ask you a few questions about your neighbor across the hall. Can we come in?” Theo made sure it sounded more like a statement than a request.

“This won’t take long, will it? I’m working.” The bearded man opened the door and allowed them to enter.

The decor made them take pause. A panoramic scene from a Japanese outer space cartoon covered every inch of the man’s walls. A battle scene came at them from all directions, with a wide-eyed Japanese girl the main focal point, her laser guns blaring.

Mr. Barking explained, “I draw anime, and that is what I was in the middle of when you interrupted me.” He pointed toward the drafting tables that took up half his sitting room.

“You are very good,” Dorland remarked, heading toward a hand belonging to one of the large caricatures.

“Don’t touch the walls, please.”

Dorland stepped away.

Mr. Barking went back to his tables, took up a beige pencil, and began drawing again. The sketches were only partially colored.

“We want to thank you,” Theo started, “for ringing an ambulance for the boy.”

“What was I supposed to do, let him die on my doorstep? Have you found his bloody mother yet?” Mr. Barking asked as he continued to color.

“Do you have any idea where she could be?” Theo asked. “We’re looking for information, especially on the night she disappeared—Wednesday night.”

“I’m her neighbor, not her guardian. I don’t sit here jotting down her movements on paper.”

“So you don’t like her?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Stop putting words in my mouth. She annoyed me.”

“What did you find annoying?” Theo said.

“Everything about her annoyed me.”

“Did she smoke?” Theo asked. Dorland was only inches away from the Japanese girl’s voluptuous right breast. If he touched it, Theo would kill him.

“Yes. She would tromp up and down those bloody stairs at all hours of the night. Two, three, four in the morning, it drove me insane. Who bloody smokes at that time of night? Go to bed. And the boy, he’d practically have to yell at her to get her attention. Always reading books, everywhere she went, up and down the stairs, her head in the clouds. She would carry groceries and be reading. I don’t know how she did it. I always thought she would fall down the stairs.” He shook his head.

“Have you seen her with anyone? A boyfriend?” Theo asked, checking the books on his tables.
The Making of Origin. Drawing Game Characters. My Neighbor Totoro.

“I haven’t,” Barking replied, grabbing a light blue pencil. “But if she did, I would be the last person she would announce it to.”

“Have you seen anyone suspicious hanging about the building?” Dorland said. Theo noticed he was staring directly at the picture’s cleavage.

“No.” Barking hesitated. He looked up from his drawing and asked, “Why? Do you think some crazed lunatic is coming in the building and kidnapping people? Am I in danger?”

Theo wanted to tell him that if he were looking for lunatics he should look in the mirror but instead said, “These are just routine questions, Mr. Barking.”

“When the police came to look for Mrs. McCauley,” Dorland asked, “how did they get into her flat? Did the landlord come?”

“I don’t know. When the boy came to me, he left his door open. I went in looking for his mum, but I didn’t lock the door behind me when I left. I only shut it. Probably the police found it unlocked and walked in. Later, Lorna’s mum came by. When I heard footsteps up the stairs, I thought it was Lorna. I went to give her a right bollocking for leaving her son alone only to find I called her mum a few really nasty words instead.” He smiled. “She locked the door on the way out; I saw her. She had a key.”

“Yeah, we have it now,” Theo said.

“Good for you,” Mr. Barking replied sarcastically. “You must be so proud. Anything else?”

“Not for now,” said Theo. “Here’s my card, in case you remember something important.” He threw it down on one of his drawings.

“I probably won’t,” Mr. Barking said and moved the card to his back trouser pocket. “Let yourselves out.”

Once outside the building, Dorland said, “It’s possible that she ran into trouble outside. Mr. Barking confirms she goes outside to smoke.”

Theo picked up some cigarette butts with a tissue he had in his pocket.

“Picture this,” Theo said. “I’m Lorna, I need a smoke, so I stand here.” He leaned against the doorframe amongst the butts. “I live in the middle of the street. From this spot, I can see a man walking towards me from either end. If I feel scared, I have plenty of time to throw away my cigarette and run inside.”

“What if she wasn’t scared?” Dorland asked. “What if she knew her attacker?”

“Okay, let’s say I know the man who approaches. If he tries to attack me, I can scream. Someone would wake up and look out their window.”

“What if he hit her on the back of the head?” Dorland asked, mimicking the action.

“If the attacker knocked her out and dragged her down the street, it would put him at a lot of risk. Anyone could have walked or driven by and seen them.”

“Maybe he pulled her into this building or one of the buildings on this street. We should search the building and canvas the neighborhood. Maybe someone saw something.” Dorland paused, slapping himself on the head. “No. I’m wrong. What am I saying? That’s definitely not what happened, because I don’t want to visit everyone on this street.”

Theo laughed. “Personally, I doubt the perpetrator is stupid enough to drag a woman down the street. More likely he or she had a car. But why would Lorna get in? Even if she knew him, I doubt she would leave her son alone to drive off with anyone.”

“And if she’s dead?”

“I don’t know, Dorland,” he said quietly. “I don’t know. Murder’s another story. They’re a lot more complex, most of them. Sometimes the motives aren’t as clear. If she knew the killer, he or she will be much easier to catch.”

“We hope.”

Chapter 7

Everyone did exactly what he expected of them, and they didn’t even know they were doing it. He knew where she was going, and the route she would take to get there. Twenty-seven turns, he had it memorized. A woman after his own heart.

Her Mercedes was easy to follow, a bright silver beacon. A beacon that urged him on. He pulled closer to her. She never looked back to see him following. Instead, her head swayed, rhythmically, enticingly. Enya, her favorite. He knew.

He was relieved she did not accept an invitation from Marcus Masters. Marcus Masters. The name repeated in his head over and over. He felt his anger rising. No, he must calm himself. She was in all ways Marcus’s superior. Sophia needed a strong man, an intelligent man. She needed him.

She told him so. He saw her looks, her eyes, how they pleaded with him to make the pain stop. They thought alike. She was the only one; he picked her. She was perfect.

He watched Sophia enter her sanctuary. Living on the third floor of a Sands End apartment block, he knew she enjoyed the luxury her family wealth afforded her. He would keep her secret; he was so happy she had it. From his car, he watched her exit the underground car park door and push the button for the lift in the brightly lit lobby. No one would see him, no one ever saw him.

You must not tire yourself out, my dear, he thought when she opened her mouth wide, yawning. You need to be at the top of your game. The next few days will be trying on you. You must not fail me.

The lights of her flat went on above him. The blinds were shut, but he could see her silhouette fading in and out of view within. She wouldn’t sleep, not for another hour or so. He knew she wouldn’t. He could watch her; imagine what she was doing inside. If only she knew how much he cared for her, for her career.

Someday, she would know. Someday, she would thank him.

Chapter 8

Liam Foxton walked into Sophia’s building, stood at the intercom system and looked up at the CCTV camera. He knew this one action would cause him grief, but he had to appear to live there. He punched in a five-digit code, and when he heard the door buzz, entered the lobby.

Although he had wished to visit Sophia’s flat, this was his first time—Sophia hadn’t wanted him there. Ever. He had rung his team to confirm Marc was at home and, to be on the safe side, he drove around her block of flats three times. Marc’s car wasn’t parked anywhere within walking distance. That should count for something.

It didn’t. Sophia didn’t even smile when she opened the door. Or say hello.

“You better have a good reason to be here,” she said between her teeth.

“I thought you might like to know how I got on today.”

That didn’t appease her.

“Can I come in?” he said, looking behind her into the flat. She might have slammed the door in his face if it hadn’t been for the neighbor returning home that very minute. Instead, she stomped off into her kitchen.

He entered and shut the door behind him.

Her house was immaculate and modern in a sixties sort of way.

“I love the yellow and brown design scheme you have here,” he said and followed her into the kitchen.

“It has its problems.” She reached under the sink for an almost full bucket of water and dumped it into the sink. “What have you come to tell me?” she asked. She poured herself a cup of coffee then lifted the pot to him. He nodded. She poured him a cup. Even when she was mad and standing there in her lilac linen pajamas, she looked gorgeous.

Best get to the point, he thought. “Do you have sugar?”

Sophia reached into a top cupboard and pulled down a tin and from a drawer, a spoon.

“How was your day?” he asked her.

“Do you know why I don’t want you coming here?”

“Because you hate me?” he said.

“Because you have put my family, my mother and my father, at risk. Your job may be a game to you, but it’s not a game for me. It’s not a farce. It’s not lackadaisical. It’s dangerous. It’s—”

“I won’t stay long. I just wanted to tell you what happened today.”

“You couldn’t have done that by email or phone or mobile or text?” Sophia looked like she was on the verge of punching him in the face. She took a deep breath and said, “All right.” She led him to her sofa and they sat down. Crossing her hands in front of her on her lap, she smiled. “Tell me about your day, Liam.”

“Our team had a busy day trying to gather information about Lorna McCauley. We bugged her flat, followed a DI Blackwell and his sidekick, He-Man, throughout London. Almost got discovered at an Italian restaurant but managed to get away in time.”

“And?”

“They still view it as a missing person’s case, not a murder.”

“What did they say when you showed them the photo?” Her soft brown eyes examined his. He could hide nothing from her. “You didn’t tell them?”

“We wanted to gather more information first.” He placed his hot mug down on her coffee table. She handed him a coaster.

“Who? Who needed more information? We need to work with the police. How are they supposed to find a murderer if they don’t even know that’s what they’re faced with? When do you plan to show them what we have?”

“Soon.”

“When?”

“Soon. As soon as I get permission to involve them, we’ll join forces.”

“What have you found out about the men who chased me though the forest? They were men from your McFee case, weren’t they?” She stopped and stared at him. “You’re a bloody idiot. You invited me for lunch at the Moran last week, but you didn’t realize they were following you.” She stood. “And the bloody file. While we were eating, you indiscreetly handed me a file—you nearly had me killed.”

He didn’t reply but looked at her computer instead. Flashing images caught his eyes as pictures raced through a recognition program. He stood up and went to the computer. A bowl of pretzels sat on the desk, and he grabbed a handful. Busy on the prowl, he never had a chance to eat. “I ordered three meals today, ate none.”

“Good for you,” Sophia said. She moved in front of her monitor and blocked his view.

“What are you working on?”

“This is not your case.”

“True, but maybe I can help.”

She crossed her arms. “I’ve had a busy day helping Marc dust his library. I found nothing and I’m exhausted. I need to get this work done, and I need to be alone to do it.”