The Sholes Key (An Evans & Blackwell Mystery #1) (28 page)

“No, sir.”

“Do you deny being involved in illegal activities in your past that would involve such tools?”

“No, sir.”

“I ask you again. Does this tool belong to you?”

“No, sir.”

“How do you explain how it got in your closet?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Ivan.” The boy’s father spoke now, as he had followed DI Hardcastle through the house. “Son, what is it doing in your closet?”

Shifting on his feet, Ivan looked at his father and then quickly down toward the floor. The father waited for a response. “Son, you’re not involved in this sort of activity any longer, are you?”

“No, sir.”

These few words seemed to satisfy his father.

Sophia stepped back.

“What?” Theo asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” she replied.

“I want to know, is it pertaining to this?”

Sophia tilted her head.

Theo grabbed her jacket and dragged her out of the room and into the privacy of the upstairs toilet. “What?”

Sophia related to Theo the movements she had witnessed in the middle of the night. “I don’t know what sort of evidence he was getting rid of, but it might be important to your investigation. I doubt Ivan will prove to be our serial killer. He just doesn’t fit. He’s too young, and just because he’s interested in police books, doesn’t make him a murderer.”

They rejoined the team back in the boy’s room just as Hardcastle asked the father, “Does your son have a computer?”

“Used to, but we removed all of them from the house. It’s just better that way. He can use computers at school, and we can use the computers at work.” Hardcastle nodded and wrote something down in his notebook.

An officer found a box in the boy’s closet that he passed down to Hardcastle. It contained a book —a book by Helena Smithwick. Inside the cover was written,
I enjoyed our conversation, I hope your mother enjoys the book, Helena.

“Ivan, when I asked you if you had met Helena Smithwick before, you were lying.” Theo said.

No answer.

“Well, perhaps you’ll be more willing to talk at the police station.”

The boy still said nothing. The father raised his hand in protestation as Hardcastle placed handcuffs on the boy’s wrists.

“I’m going to call our solicitor. This is a huge misunderstanding, and you’ll be sorry.” The father stormed out of the room. Theo could hear the mother asking questions as her husband bounded down the stairs, and the faint cry when he told her.

Grabbing Sophia, Theo gave her two sets of instructions. Garbage picking and car searching, he called it.

“This is premature speculation,” warned Sophia. “Ivan ignored me.”

“Why is that important?” Hardcastle asked her.

With a raise of the eyebrow, Sophia replied, “One would think the killer would pay more attention to me—especially if he walked into my building and dropped off codes for me.”

DI Hardcastle only shrugged. “We questioned him. We know he was near the scene of the crime on the night of her murder. The car is nondescript, the boy has a record, and he has met one of the victims. What more do you want?”

“He doesn’t fit the profile.”

“What profile is that? The one you read in a book? The boy acts guilty, he most likely is.”

Theo stepped in now. “He is most likely guilty of something. But multiple murders? He’s a petty thief, and he had sex with one of his classmates. What of it? You don’t progress from that to premeditated, multiple murders, not without good reason. Ivan is young. He’s not the mastermind behind all these elaborate codes.”

“Theo,” DI Hardcastle said, “you’re just frustrated because our team is pulling him in.”

“Are you bloody kidding me?” Theo replied. “You’re saying I’m upset because you caught the petty thief? No, I’m upset because you’re wasting precious time pursuing this child. While the kid stands there answering our questions in two word sentences, our real murderer could be out there stalking his next victim, ready to pounce, while we’re here sitting with our thumbs up our arses.”

DI Hardcastle said, “If you don’t think he’s guilty, then let’s sit him down, question him and confirm it. I think he’s guilty of something, don’t you? Let’s go find out what that is, then we can get on with other lines of inquiries. What do you say?”

Theo just shook his head.

* * *

A parade of officers lined the hall to the interview room, patting DI Hardcastle and Theo on the back as they passed.

In the room, Ivan sat with his father. He still looked straight ahead, not making any sort of facial expressions. The father spoke, “What is my son being charged with?” Ivan’s eyes, which had remained stoic in the comfort of his own home, now became uneasy.

“We have a picture of your car on tape, Mr. Richards, placed near the scene of a very bad crime, at the time in question. We’re hoping you’ll help us clear up—”

The father interrupted. “There’s no way our car was found there.”

There was a knock on the door. A solicitor entered and the room went silent.

Theo’s mobile went off with a text message from Sophia. It contained two lines:
Bins emptied early this morning as per schedule. Car belonged to a neighbor.

“Ivan, I’m going to tell you a few things about life,” Theo said. “First of all, I’m not a big fan of military schools. Why? Because often well-meaning parents enroll their children hoping to change unruly behavior; however, in the end, they leave knowing more about the trade they were put there to correct. I believe that may be the case here.”

Mr. Richards shook his head.

Theo continued, “It’s apparent your father knows this to be true. Listen, you’re young, you have your whole life in front of you. I see one of two scenarios: you can either be suspected of committing an extremely brutal series of crimes or face up to what crimes you are guilty of.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” the solicitor asked. “What is my client being accused of?”

DI Hardcastle spoke up now. “Like we have informed your clients, their car has been recorded by CCTV cameras at the time and location of a very brutal murder. They may deny it, but this we have proof of…” He took out the picture, car, and registration plate, clearly seen in the photo. The father looked carefully at the picture before looking at his son.

“If I may continue,” said Theo. “If you were not involved in that murder, it would be wise to let us know what you were really doing there that night.”

Ivan just stared at the wall in front of him, not blinking.

“There’s no proof of any of this. My son was driving, and there’s no crime against driving around.”

“You’re right, Mr. Richards. There’s not even a crime against climbing out of your bedroom window in the middle of the night with a bag and driving to your place of employment.” The boy turned his head to look at Theo. “We can’t even prove he stole the neighbor’s car. But can I tell you what is funny about lorries? They break down. Every week you come in on a certain morning and the bins are empty, you expect them to be. Dustcarts are usually so dependable.”

“Blackwell…” DI Hardcastle began.

“But, sometimes, when you least suspect it, dustcarts break down. And, they don’t get fixed before the officers in my team arrive to find a black bag. Now, because you’re young, I don’t want to see your life ruined more than it needs to be.”

“Blackwell, I would like to speak to you outside.” DI Hardcastle pushed away from the table and headed toward the door. He stopped when he realized Theo didn’t follow him.

“The choice is yours. We can pretend we never ever found that bag, bye-bye bag, and you can take the rap for a murder both you and I know you never committed. Alternatively, you could explain to us what the bag means, and what you were really doing that night. I will leave that with you to decide.” That said, Theo followed DI Hardcastle out.

DI Hardcastle punched his fist into the wall when they left the room. “What are you up to, Blackwell? What bag are you talking about?”

Theo explained the events of the early morning.

“What are you playing at? Are you trying to make me look like an idiot? Why would you keep this from me until now? I deserve—”

“You deserve what? First, I never knew the reason he left his house so early in the morning, and I still don’t. It might not mean anything. I don’t have the bag, and if he realizes that, he may not talk. Second, it was only just confirmed that the neighbor did not give Ivan permission to drive his car. You’re receiving the information as I am. You can’t seriously believe the boy is guilty of multiple murders?”

“We found a scarf in his closet along with a lock pick, who knows what was in his black bag. He could have got rid of all the evidence he collected from the four murders this morning.”

“He doesn’t own a computer, and I doubt he did code on the computer at school. The scarf will probably be given to his mother. He’s a petty thief. That doesn’t make him a murderer.”

“If you screw this—” Hardcastle was stopped by the door to the interview room opening, as the solicitor beckoned them back in.

“Ivan wants to make a confession about the stolen items,” the solicitor said. “He had nothing to do with the murders.”

* * *

When Sophia arrived at Theo’s office later that morning, he told her what had happened in the interview room. “Ivan didn’t murder anyone but has been charged with theft,” Theo said.

“I don’t know what frightened me more, the thought of rifling through piles of rubbish to find the bag or finding the bins empty,” she said as he poured her a cup of coffee.

“Sorry about the quality of that brew,” Theo said as she took a big gulp of the black liquid. “You were brilliant to spot him leaving the house. If you hadn’t noticed, who knows how long we would be wasting our time with that boy.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t suppose we would have waited long. The real killer would have done something to attract our attention again.”

Theo took Sophia to the incident room. Dorland held up the
Guardian
he was reading when they entered the room. Sophia ignored them both and went over to the whiteboard. Pictures lined the board, and she ran her finger along them slowly, examining every inch of the photos.

Theo moved beside her. She had her finger on one of Margaret’s crime scene photos—the picture of the door covered in the letter H. She turned around to face him. “Have you got anywhere with the H’s? Has anyone thought of what they may mean?” She tapped her finger on the picture, causing it to break loose from its magnet and fall to the floor. As she bent over to pick it up, she stopped. Kneeling down beside it, she cocked her head to the side and stared at it.

“What do you see?” Theo asked.

“I see eyes.”

“Eyes? Where?” He grabbed the picture from her and held it close to his face—searching.

“Not eyes to see with. It’s not the letter H but the let ter I. The killer painted the letters on the door and then took it off, placing it on its side. On its hinges they would be the letter I, not the letter H.”

“What does it stand for?” Theo asked.

“I do think it may give us the motive.” Sophia looked at the photo again. “Let me think aloud. Why would he just take down this door, the closet door?”

“Perhaps he hates the closet because he was locked in it as a child.”

She paced the room. “This is just speculation, of course, but don’t most serial killers have some sort of traumatic childhood? Where they are often severely punished or confined in some way? Most likely, our killer was locked away in the closet. That’s why he took the door down. This is his little way of sharing his motive. This is his way of telling us why he did this.”

She sat down and placed her head in her hands. Theo sat on the edge of a table and watched her. Sophia jumped up quickly. “They are eyes. Not the letters, but the ones on our faces. He didn’t just paint one I, he painted several, and they are eyes. Eyes that see.”

“See what?”

“All right, let’s say we are children locked in the closet. Now make sure you take into account the eyes. What do you think that means?”

“Most likely they relate to the child looking out of the closet,” came a voice from the corner.

Sophia stopped and smiled at Dorland. “Thank you. That was my thought exactly. Now let’s take it a step further. What do you think the child would have been looking at? Take into consideration that a closet door is usually found in a bedroom, what do you think he saw?”

The room became still.

Finally, Theo spoke up. “Are you saying he saw his mother lying there like that as a child?”

“That may be the case, but I doubt it. See if this makes any sense. If the boy was in the closet when he saw his mother like that… let’s say she was murdered and this is revenge, on whom would he take his revenge? It would most likely be against the person who committed the crime, not the women who resembled his mother. I think he saw his mother in the position that we found Margaret, but she was alive and he hated her because of what she made him witness.”

“You think she was a prostitute?” Dorland asked. He put the newspaper away.

“If she wasn’t, she was probably very promiscuous,” Sophia replied.

“She could be a single mother trying to support herself. What about the father?” Dorland asked.

“You think the mum locked him in the closet and made him watch her have sex with other men, so he is killing women who resemble his mother? That seems a little far-fetched,” Theo said.

“It may not be as cut and dried as that,” Sophia said. “The mother may have been very demanding and critical of him because she hated his father, maybe even to the point of being abusive.”

“Why did he kill the author? Did she remind him of his mother?”

“I actually think that she was different somehow. She represented another group that he hated.”

“He had something against writers?”

“Only some, I guess.” Sophia looked at the code on the board. “We will have to crack the code. We could come up with all the reasons behind why he did those murders, but until we know who he is, there’s no way of catching him.”

“That is easier said than done,” Theo said.