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

by Clarissa Draper

  “How did he get into the house?” asked Theo.

  “Back door. He entered through the kitchen. Smashed a small window and turned the lock. Neighbors heard nothing. He pulled the vehicle further up the drive and dragged the body through the dark into the house. He must have staked out the house to make sure it was suitable enough. We did find a shoe print and a small tire mark. We are running them through, looking for a match. Hopefully we turn up something.”

  “There were no cameras in the area?” Theo asked, writing down notes as fast as he could.

  “No. Unfortunately not.”

  “What about the substance made to look like blood? Did we find out what it was composed of?” Deveau asked.

  Shields said, “The blood-like substance consisted of corn syrup, corn starch, water, and food coloring. What progress have you made with the code?” he asked Theo.

  All eyes were on Theo now. “It’s not an easy code,” he said. “Even our technical team is having a hard time. Have we cracked it yet? No. Is it crackable? We believe it is. The fact that he leaves very specific clues all around his crime scenes seems to suggest the code clue would not just be a red herring. This clue—a harder one—is testing our skills, our savvy; or it’s a way to prove we’re idiots.”

  “What do you think the messages will say?” asked Shields.

  “I don’t think they will say my name is so-and-so and I live at this address, but I believe it will be a clue to why he’s killing. And maybe a key to his personality,” Theo suggested.

  “What kind of code do you think it is? They’re all numbers,” said Shields.

  “Cryptogram,” said Theo. Some in the room stared at him uncomprehendingly, so Theo explained. “It’s a code where you substitute a number or letter for another. This is not a simple cryptogram though. There seems to be a few other elements to it. Unfortunately I’m no Turing, so I’ll have to use what intelligence I have at my disposal.”

  “What about the woman?” asked Deveau.

  “What woman, sir?” asked Theo.

  “The killer sent a letter to a woman, a woman named Evans. He knows where she lives and what she does for work. What does she think of all this?”

  “She’s trying to cope.” Theo looked down at his notes. Why should he care what she thinks? As far as he knew, she could take care of herself. She had caused him enough problems.

  “I understand that,” Deveau said, “but what I’m asking is what is being done about the code. Isn’t she a code cracker?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she working on it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?” Deveau paused. “How’s she getting on?”

  “I don’t know exactly.”

  “It might be a good idea to find out now, wouldn’t it? And I don’t want her to become a target. When I was a sergeant—a long time ago, that was—my team received a brutal murder case. A man had chopped a woman’s head off with an axe. A few days into the investigation, my gov, John Roscoe, do you remember him, Winters?”

  Winters nodded.

  Deveau said, “John received a letter at his home. It was not a code, just a mocking letter with details of the murder. The killer taunted us. Though we eventually caught him, I remember it scared John—it scared all of us.” He paused. “What I mean by this story is if she wants an officer for protection, just ask. One will be provided straight away.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Theo replied.

  “Don’t wait until it’s too late,” Deveau said, wagging his finger. He turned to Winters and asked, “What sort of profile have you done up?”

  “We think he’s male, probably under the age of forty, organized and intelligent enough to come up with a code like those ones.”

  Theo nodded and said, “He’s obviously forensically aware, based on the fact he has left no evidence at the crime scenes. The killer typed the code on a computer and printed it out, meaning he has access to one.”

  “Could he have typed and printed the code at a public location?” Deveau asked.

  “He could but why risk it?” asked Theo. “It’s a code that stands out. Someone might see the code and come forward. Especially if we ever decided to show the media, someone would remember seeing it. Personally, if I were the killer, I would spend what it costs to do it at home. Buy a cheap generic so it’s virtually untraceable. Why use a printer we can trace back to a public location? That would be stupid, and I don’t think he’s stupid.”

  “Have you found any relationships between the two women?” Deveau asked.

  “Not yet,” answered Shields.

  “Oh,” added Theo, “and we’re not looking for a creepy monster with a deformed face either. He probably looks normal, harmless, if not somewhat attractive. The women went voluntarily with him.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Deveau.

  Theo explained, “In all the cases, we have no witnesses, no struggle or screaming, and the baby in the carriage did not wake up. Meaning he lured them away quietly, then knocked them unconscious or killed them. He may be very well-spoken, well-read, and normal. On the outside, that is.”

  “Well, let’s keep things progressing. Work on that code, Blackwell,” Deveau said as he stood in the doorway ready to leave the room.

  “Yes, sir,” Theo replied. “And if I may ask, what exactly was said at the press conference?”

  “Shields?” Deveau looked to him for an answer.

  “Not wanting to worry the populace, we never mentioned the words serial killer or multiple murders. Only that we found the body of Margaret Hill and an investigation was in progress, etcetera, etcetera. Why?”

  “Just curious. Did you talk about the code?”

  “No, did you think it’s important?”

  Theo turned abruptly and left Deveau’s office. He heard someone tromping after him down the hall. Dorland grabbed his arm.

  “Are you angry?” Dorland asked.

  “Angry about what?” Theo tore his arm away and walked on.

  “Not being included in the press conference.”

  “Look, Dorland, I’m past angry to the point where I don’t care. Do me a favor and find out when the autopsy’s scheduled. I want to be in on that.” Theo walked into his office and shut the door behind him. He didn’t bother turning on the light; he’d rather sit in the dark because it suited his state of mind. As he plopped down on his chair, he caught sight of a small package wrapped with a gold ribbon.

  “It’s pastries.”

  Theo nearly jumped from his chair. “Sophia, what are you doing hiding in the corner?”

  “Can’t hide in the middle of the room, can one?” She stepped into the dim light and sat in a chair opposite him. “Open the box.”

  “I won’t blow up, will I?”

  “Hopefully not. Although you may blow out,” she said and mimicked his stomach growing.

  “Why are you here?” He slowly released the ribbon on the box and unclasped the cardboard flaps to reveal macaroons. “Come to ask for my forgiveness?”

  “Yes.” She leaned forward. “Can I have one?”

  “My forgiveness or a macaroon?”

  “Both would be nice.”

  “Yes, but that’s still not why you’re here.” He popped a piece of heavenly goodness into his mouth and garbled, “Let me guess, you solved the code. You’ve come to tell me whose door I can knock down.”

  “I saw the press conference this morning,” she said. “And it worries me.”

  “Why? What’s worrying you?” Theo asked. He wiped the crumbs onto the floor. “We didn’t mention multiple murders or that the killer is providing us with codes. We didn’t mention you at all.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.” She rose from her chair and began to pace in the dark. “I reckon we’ll see another body soon. I think he’s angry with us because nothing was mentioned that matched his grandiose scheme. He wants attention. That’s why he goes through all this elaborate planning, for the attention. We gave him no glory, an
d I suspect he’s angry. He’ll go out and do something that wakes us up. Maybe he’ll give us Lorna. I hope he gives us Lorna. What worries me most is if he chooses another victim, one that’s still alive as of this morning.” She sat down again. “I should’ve bought my own box of macaroons.”

  Theo held out the box and she took one. “What do you suggest we do?”

  “I don’t know,” Sophia replied. “That’s sort of your expertise, not mine.”

  “All right, how’s it going with the code? Close to cracking it?”

  She let out something that resembled a laugh. “Maybe. I have a few ideas.”

  He waited for her to elaborate but she didn’t. “Are you afraid?”

  “I’ve never failed to decipher one before; I don’t think this code will be too difficult. I only have to find the key. And I believe it’s at my fingertips.”

  “I meant, are you afraid of the killer? Are you worried he’ll come after you?”

  “Should I be worried? I don’t know. I don’t think he’ll come after me…not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “When I got the code, my first fear was that it belonged to one of my other cases, one of the assignments. But I think not. I hope not, at least. The killer is not one of my contacts.” Sophia let out a sigh, almost as if she was trying to convince herself. “Besides, if I die, what fun will that be? That would be too easy. Not worth trying for. The police…” She waved her hand in the air. “It’s like play ing with children.”

  Theo raised his eyebrows. “You’re heading farther away from my forgiveness.”

  “I often say what I think before I actually do…think.”

  He shrugged. “You’re probably right, nonetheless.”

  Sophia pulled her mobile from her bag. She pressed a few buttons and put it away. “My assistant Crystal is studying all the footage from CCTV near my old house. She thinks she’ll be able to find something, fingers crossed.” She held up her fingers. “I shouldn’t stay too long.”

  “All right.” He felt sad she had to go, and that bothered him.

  She pulled a card from her coat pocket. “This doctor, he’s a neurologist, a good one.” She handed him the card. “I talked with my father and, if your wife would like, she can make an appointment with him. Normally it takes months to see him but I’ve pulled some strings. Just say Dr. Evans referred you when you ring him. He’ll see her straight away.” With that, she left his office.

  Theo studied the card and studied the macaroons. Why was life so complicated?

  * * *

  Dr. Nevega called Theo and Dorland into the autopsy later that afternoon. Though surrounded by death, the mortuary was full of life. A radio exuded gleeful chatter. Dr. Nevega’s two assistants laughed and joked while they examined cadavers. Dr. Nevega and Shields stood by Margaret Hill, pointing to various parts and didn’t notice Theo coming over to meet them.

  Shields’s large body blocked Margaret Hill’s lifeless corpse, but Theo heard water dripping. A bucket collected water at the coroner’s feet.

  “Be careful,” said Dr. Nevega without looking up. “The floor may be slippery. Our girl here is still thawing.”

  Theo found a spot around the table and looked at the body. Margaret glowed under the lights, water dripping off her. Why did life have to end this way? A violent death, photographed naked, and four strangers closely examining her body. Would that be him someday?

  “Took longer than we had hoped for her body to thaw,” said Dr. Nevega. “Difficult to determine time of death, a body can last in a freezer for quite some time. Decomposition is accelerated upon thawing. My estimate as to time of death would be just that, an estimate.”

  “We know when she was taken, when she went missing. Death probably followed soon afterwards,” said Shields. “Would you say about two months sounds like a proper estimate?”

  “Yes, anywhere between a week and about fifty years sound good to me,” Dr. Nevega replied. “She’d been frozen shortly after her death. Putrefaction has not had time to start.” He pointed to her abdomen. “Notice the grayish color of her skin. Although it’s not a normal fleshy color, it doesn’t have the greenish or purplish discoloration that would have appeared had decomposition had time to start on the body.”

  Theo and Dorland stood quietly while the post-mortem took place. Theo made mental notes of everything, only asking questions that could help his investigation of Lorna’s death.

  “She’s been hit on the head, as we suspected. It seems to be with an instrument in the shape of a five-inch diameter round ball,” Dr. Nevega said.

  Theo held up his hands in that shape. “What is it? Maybe a softball or shot-put? Wouldn’t that cause massive hemorrhaging and blood loss?”

  “No. Notice here, he cracked the skull but not the skin.” Dr. Nevega pointed to the dissected skull laid out before him. “Look here also, intracranial bleeding on the other side of her head, almost 180 degrees on the other side. In my opinion, the killer hit her with some sort of hard ball which caused her to fall forward and hit her head on the other side.”

  “We had suspicions that she at one point got into the vehicle with the killer, but one thing confuses me—” Shields started.

  “Just one thing? Wow, impressive.” Dorland said, opening his eyes wide and giving him a face.

  “Funny,” Shields said. “What I wonder is how he got the power to do it? I mean, let me demonstrate here on Dorland. Have a ball I can use?” He gave him a cunning grin. “See, if I’m driving, and I have to hit someone in the head, it’s difficult. I don’t have much power to hit someone in the head at that angle.”

  “It’s probably why it slightly cracked the skull but not the skin,” Theo said. “The combination of forced trauma in both locations knocked her out or stunned her. I don’t think he meant to kill her by doing this, just knock her out. He may have asked her to look at something outside the window or straight ahead. At this angle it’s apparent the victim didn’t know she would be hit in the head. She would then make no effort to stop the blow or cushion the impact by raising her hand to stop her head hitting the window or whatever.”

  “The killer’s a sick bastard,” said Dorland. “He only knocked her unconscious so she would still be alive to strangle later.”

  “Speaking of strangulation,” Dr. Nevega said, “he strangled her not with his hands but with a cloth, perhaps a scarf. I’ve sent all fibers found on her body to forensics. You’ll have to check with them for details. Also, I sent along all blood and urine and whatever else I could collect from her. I don’t think she was in bad health since she was young, probably in her thirties or early forties.”

  “She was thirty-nine,” Shields said.

  “What about the marks on her back? How did he make them, and were they done pre- or post-mortem?” Theo asked.

  “Ah, the marks are interesting.” Dr. Nevega paused. He nodded at Dorland across the table from him. “You look strong. Help me turn her body over.”

  “I—uh…” said Dorland. He looked down at his hands and his dress shirt and then at the body.

  “Oh, please,” said Theo, reaching toward the body.

  “No, I’ll do it,” Dorland said, taking in a deep breath. Within three seconds, they had Margaret turned on her side. He saw his shirt now stained with water from the body and groaned.

  “I found the marks unusual,” Dr. Nevega said. “Notice how clear they are. We have no doubts as to what the numbers and symbols are. You will be happy to know, she was dead when the killer made these marks.”

  “What were they made with?” Shields asked.

  “At first I thought a scalpel because of the fine incisions but after a closer inspection,” Dr. Nevega paused, turned to all of them, and motioned them closer to a wide number inscribed halfway down. “Do you see where the two curves at the top?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Notice how clean and perfectly round the curve is. I opened the incision carefully and measured all the way around the cu
rve, and found it to be of equal depth.”

  “What does that mean?” Shields said.

  “It means,” said Dr. Nevega, “the killer made the mark all at once, pressed down from above, not sliced. So I ask you, what tool do you think our killer used?”

  “Pastry cutter?” suggested Theo.

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Dr. Nevega. “I mean pastry cutters come in a variety of shapes—round, square, SpongeBob SquarePants. Most likely he took a cutter and made himself the shape he needed to fit the numbers, lines, and curves. When he pressed down the numbers nine, six, and zero, some of the flesh came up with it, as you can see.”

  “That’s disgusting,” said Shields. “I’m not sure I will be able to keep down any dinner tonight.”

  “However,” Dr. Nevega continued, “I do have good news. I examined her for signs of rape and there were none. She may have been found naked, but I don’t think he did any sort of sexual act on her. I sent off the kit to be tested; you’ll know soon enough.”

  With that, Dr. Nevega dismissed them.

  Theo was relieved to be out of the mortuary and on the way to the solitude of his office. Halfway there, he received a text from Deveau.

  “What is it?” Theo asked when he poked his head in Deveau’s office.

  “We have another body.”

  Chapter 20

  At the Sainsbury near her flat, Sophia examined the spaghetti marrow in her hand. “What do I do with it?”

  “You eat it.” Marc laughed then dodged away as she attempted to pinch his side.

  “That I gathered. How does one cook it?”

  “I know a delicious recipe with these ingredients: butter, cinnamon, and the key ingredient—the Granny Smith apple.” Marc took the marrow from her and pressed down on various parts of the yellow skin.

  “Sounds scrumptious. Are you going to make it or shall I, then you can miss that dinner as well?” The moment the words left her lips, she regretted it.

  “How many times do you want me to apologize for that?”

  “Forget I said anything.” She waved her words off. Her mobile indicated a text message. The caller was Theo, otherwise known as Client Blackwell.