The Sholes Key (An Evans & Blackwell Mystery #1) (17 page)

“I’m sure you’ll be able to sort this out, if anyone can. Hopefully I can get into Margaret Hill’s post-mortem within the next few days and gather leads from our enquiries.”

“Theo, I would like a copy of these case files. I would like to write down anything in the files relating to numbers. For example, birth-dates, addresses, phone numbers, anything.”

“Height and weight?” he asked as he sat down and finished his meal.

“Whatever.” Sophia watched him down his last morsel with a gulp of wine.

He pushed his bowl away. “What?” he said. “You want to say something, so say it.”

“All right. Don’t take this the wrong way—”

Theo groaned.

“What?”

“Well,” Theo replied, “whenever one starts out that way, it’s always bad.”

“This flat is Spartan, but it sits empty most of the time. There’s a bed. You could come here when you want a break.”

“When I want a break from what?”

Sophia shrugged. “From anything. From work. Home. Life. You look like you need a break.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You know, with your wife. I couldn’t imagine my spouse not knowing who I was.”

“How did you—?”

“I have a great assistant. I know everything.”

“I don’t believe,” he said, raising his voice, “that my personal life is any of your business. What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“I—” she began.

“You what? Spy on people? I know that’s what you do, but you can’t spy on my wife or me. It’s none of your bloody business.” He grabbed his coat and his papers and walked toward the door. “If you want access to these files, get your assistant to steal them.” He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

“Damn,” she said. She retrieved her mobile and texted Crystal:
I will need a copy of those files.

An hour later, she backed away from the code-covered white-boards and headed toward her flat. Her legs ached, her back ached, and her brain ached. Two things she desired: a hot shower and a hot cup of coffee. She dragged her feet down the hall that seemed to go on forever. Suddenly, she stopped. Her other door was open a crack. Did she forget to shut it? Theo was the last one out. Did he forget to close it behind him? A banging noise came from inside.

Chapter 15

Helena Smithwick sat back and watched the blinking cursor. The sun had gone down; the room was dark. Since breakfast, she hadn’t left her chair, but she had written five thousand words, a fine job. She gave herself a mental pat on the back. Turning her head slightly to the left, she looked out into the night. The moon and the glare of the computer screen shone off the window, casting an orange-green glow into the room.

Her publisher would be happy with this one—another bestseller. A pro now, she could easily finish a book in a month. True, she had received criticism because of the switch she made in genre, but she liked romantic fiction. The time she saved on research was invaluable. She knew romance. She had love. She knew what passion and longing for a man felt like. Her husband of twenty years could verify that fact.

Now he wasn’t here, and she missed him. She missed the cuddles after a long day of writing. Making love to match the steamy scenes she wrote. Only three more days, she told herself, and his scheduled European physics lecture route would be over. She promised to make up for missed time when he returned home. Soon, she would be the one leaving England for the book circuit through America. This time her husband would accompany her.

She heard a noise and looked up from the screen. Had she locked the door? Did she even shut it? She tended to forget details like this when she was writing, always in some other world. Looking toward the corner of the room, she heard her old Basset hound whimpering. “Oh, Maxwell, did I forget to feed you? I think I forgot to feed myself, too.”

Getting up, she turned off her monitor and turned on the room light. “Come on. Let’s go see what we can eat.” He followed her down the hall, sauntering slowly behind her. Eleven years old and partially blind, he never did well with the stairs, so she had moved her writing room downstairs. That way he could keep her company while she wrote.

Checking the front door before she entered the kitchen, she saw it was unlocked. “Look at me, I forgot again. Anyone could come in and steal my things.” She laughed and shook her head.

Peeking into the dark drawing room, everything seemed in order. She looked down at Maxwell sniffing furiously into the room from the doorway. “What do you smell?” she asked him. “Sorry Maxi-baby, there’s no food in there. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. You must be starving.”

In the kitchen, Maxwell lopped toward the patio doors. “Do you need out?” she asked, following behind him. “You can do your business while I get your bowl.”

Unlocking the door, he squeezed between her legs and went over to his favorite spot to lift his leg. A nice breeze met her face. She noticed a light coming from the house next door. The neighbor’s son was up in his room. The boy’s head bobbed up and down. He must be listening to music, she thought.

It reminded her of her son Scotty when he was that age. It was records then, not all this mp3 business. Scotty lived in Chicago, married to an American; they had three beautiful children. Her grandchildren were in their teens now, amazing how time flies. She had added Chicago to one of her tour stops. Almost a year now since she had seen them. Sending money wasn’t enough anymore. She planned to purchase two outfits each for the three girls, but her son had told her to give them money instead. Apparently, the girls’ taste in clothing changed faster than they could say Banana Republic.

After she slid the door shut, she went to the cupboard beside the fridge and pulled a can of dog food from the shelf.

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” she said aloud, “if I didn’t have to plan dinners every night? I could just enjoy the same thing every night with a wag of the tail. Lamb stew. Yum, I can’t remember the last time I ate lamb stew.”

Glancing out the window above the sink, she watched Maxwell wandering about the yard. Buying him bones was useless. He immediately took them outside and buried them. It didn’t matter how many she gave him, it was always the same. Unfortunately he could never find them again. He dug and dug and only came away with muddy feet.

With her fingernail, she squeezed under the tab and pulled the metal lid back. When she looked up at the window again through the slight reflection, she almost didn’t see the man standing behind her. It didn’t matter anyway. She didn’t have a chance; not a chance to turn around, not a chance to react, not a chance to scream.

The man had wrapped something around her neck and pulled it tight. She dropped the can into the sink, and dog food flew everywhere. It splattered onto the worktops, the cupboards, and the window. Her fingers clawed at her neck. He was too strong. She reached back and tried to scratch him. She didn’t know if she did. She was getting weaker; her head, everything, was going black. Her arms fell loosely as her legs collapsed beneath her.

Chapter 16

Sophia stood motionless in the hall, listening to the commotion inside her flat. She bent down and gently set the dishes on the floor. Different scenarios ran through her mind. Theo, in anger, could be searching her house. She discarded that notion almost immediately. He would never do something to jeopardize a relationship vital to a case, would he? What about Marc? How would he get into the building? Could it be the killer?

She dialed Theo’s mobile number first.

“What?” Theo said. “Did you ring to apologize?”

Loud music blared in the background. “Where are you? You’re not in my flat?”

“Why would I be there?”

“There’s someone inside, Theo,” she whispered and peered through the crack in her door.

“Are you sure?”

“Just stay on the line while I enter.”

“No, wait. I’m coming over!” he yelled. “Don’t go in. Sophia, don’t go in.”

Sophia approached her door and called out, “Hello? Who’s here?” She heard voices and said, “I can hear you in there. Who is it? My friend and I are in the hall.” Sophia placed the mobile’s speaker on. Theo’s shouting reverberated down the hall.

Suddenly, a man poked his head from the kitchen.

“Stanley!” shouted Sophia. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Scaring me.” She rang off on Theo. “Why are you in my flat?”

“Your sink,” he replied. “Don’t you remember saying it needed repairing?”

“Right, and the plumber is here at this hour? It’s late.”

“Yes, in your kitchen as we speak. I’m sorry about the late hour. The problem under your kitchen sink has leaked to the flat below, causing damage. I rang you and knocked and assumed you were out.”

Sophia followed Stanley into the kitchen. Plumbing items littered her floor. The doors under her sink were open, and the legs of a man appeared from it. He was yanking on a pipe with a wrench. When finally it let go, water poured down onto him.

“Shit,” he said and quickly crawled out from the small space. “Do you have some bath towels?”

Sophia grimaced. All she had were her fluffy white ones. As she pulled three large towels from her shelf, her mobile rang.

“Why the hell did you ring off?” Theo asked. “Are you all right?”

“It’s the plumber. I’m fine. No need to come over. I’ll tell you what his bum crack looks like tomorrow.”

Sophia excused herself and went to hide in the other flat while they fixed her pipes. She went back to Lorna’s code, but it kept reminding her of her argument with Theo. Exhaustion made her want to cry. Only a few months ago she’d been on track with her life and her career. Now, she was involved in not only one mess but perhaps three. She had pried into Theo’s life when he was someone who needed to trust her. Yet, she had no issue asking Crystal for the information about him. She deserved the reaction she got.

She pushed Lorna’s code away and instead took out the items relating to Yuri’s code—all the items found in the forest. She taped the code to the whiteboard then laid out the Bible. Yuri was counting on her to solve it and soon. Up to this point, she didn’t have the time, with her life full of complications. Tonight she needed to focus.

The photo of the ship came first. Liam had informed her it was the
Thomas Nelson
. She still had no idea what that meant. Based on previous codes, the photos would be clues to the title, author, or publisher of a book. An Internet search revealed Thomas Nelson to be a publisher. She would start there.

Next, she opened the Bible and took out the three lines of numbers.

10.5.9
15.8.27
3.27.21s

Fortunately, she had received a Bible from Yuri before. Last time the numbers had pointed to scriptures. The first number would be the Bible book, the next the chapter, and last the verse.

The first verse was from the Second Book of Samuel, chapter five, verse nine:

       “So David dwelt in the fort,
       And called it the city of David.
       And David built round
       about from Millo and inward.”

The second was from Ezra, chapter eight, verse twenty-seven:

       “Also twenty basins of gold,
       Of a thousand drams;
       And two vessels of fine copper,
       Precious as gold.”

The third was from Leviticus, chapter twenty-seven, verse twenty-one:

       “But the field, when it goeth out in the jubilee,
       Shall be holy unto the LORD,
       As a field devoted;
       The possession thereof shall be the priest’s.”

Now she would have to take all the words from all three verses and try to match it to a title printed by Thomas Nelson. The first word from the first verse, the second from the next and so on.

After trying combination after combination, it finally hit her.

“Yes. He is quite a good fellow,” Sophia said. She looked at the clock. How did three hours pass? After she placed all the related code items in the bedroom’s hidden safe, she locked up the second flat for the night.

Chapter 17

Damn that woman, thought Theo. Damn all women. How did Sophia manage to sneak into his life? One day he’s existing, and the next she arrives to add a completely new dimension of pain. To top it off, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He slammed down his mobile and car keys on the table beside his bed. Without undressing, he crawled into bed and threw the covers over his head.

“You’re home late,” he heard a woman utter in Greek.

He poked his head out from under the blankets. “Did I wake you?” he asked. He sat up in bed and brought his knees to his chest.

Agneta stood in the doorway, in pajamas. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah,” he said, “of course you can.”

She walked into the room and sat on the edge of his bed, at his feet. Her dark frizzy hair draped her face, lighting up her eyes. “Why didn’t we have children?” she asked him in Greek. “Didn’t we want children?”

He put his fist to his mouth to regain his composure. The one thing he was glad she never had to remember again was Adrian. He looked deep into her eyes. Did she remember? “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. We were married six years, no?”

He nodded.

“Why did we never have children?” she asked again.

At the door, his mother listened with her head down. They had decided as a family never to mention the topic of Adrian, a topic that had caused Agneta so much pain. They never had.

“Can I have children?”

“Yes,” he finally uttered, “yes, Agneta. Yes.” He grabbed her hand. “We tried. It just didn’t go as planned.” It wasn’t a lie. They had tried; for five years, they’d tried. Four miscarriages before she finally carried for eight months. That was when they lost the fifth. That was when they lost Adrian.

They had a photo taken of him at the hospital before the nurses took him away. Agneta cried for days and blamed her every action. If only she hadn’t taken that walk. If only she’d eaten the liver. If only she’d prayed more.