“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 w
orked 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 sto
od 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.”
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