The Electrician's Code (8 page)

Chapter Sixteen

T
he bloody bastard.” Sophia slammed her hand down on the steering wheel of her Fiat 500. She really couldn’t blame him for sleeping with other women. How the hell did he find time to meet women? Must be someone from the office. The only person she could think of was Sarah. Sophia knew that woman had her eye on Liam for a long time. She made it apparent by her frequent stops at his office for the most trivial reasons. But Sophia felt so stupid. Why did she have to walk in on them?

Her mobile phone rang. Liam. She threw the phone on the seat beside her. She had a job to do, and she was determined to get it done and done fast.

What she needed was a boyfriend.

A text message came through on her mobile and although tempted to ignore it, she couldn’t resist reading what Liam had to say. Only, it wasn’t Liam. It was from the last person she expected to hear from: Theo Blackwell.

I could use your professional opinion. Would it be too much bother?

Theo had moved up from Detective Inspector to Detective Chief Inspector after their last case together. She had wanted to congratulate him but couldn’t gather her nerves. On the one occasion she stopped by his house, he was just leaving with his wife. They looked happy and she didn’t want to interrupt, but in the end, she never returned.

Now he wanted her help. Her professional opinion. What could that mean? She knew he was working on the Tipring case, and she knew the name sounded familiar. Perhaps there was something she missed in her search. She had the day to delve deeper.

Where shall we meet?
she texted back.

He texted an address and a time—eight.

Chapter Seventeen

T
heo had agreed to pick Dorland up from his flat, his new flat, and arrived at nine on the dot. The flat wasn’t much better than his last poorly managed building. Paint peeled off the exterior walls and screens, perhaps torn open in attempted burglaries, flapped in the wind.

From the moment he pressed send, he regretted texting Sophia. What was he thinking? What information could she possibly provide? It would become clear he was only trying to find a way to meet her.

Theo had never met his partner’s step-sister, Jady, even though Dorland had mentioned her on numerous occasions. He had many brothers and sisters but as far as Theo knew, he was closest with step-sister Jady. Theo knew she worked as a swimming instructor at the local youth center.

As expected, his fellow inspector wasn’t ready and before Theo could respond to the intercom, the door into the building clicked open. Theo turned his head to look at his car, trying to decide whether to walk the two flights of stairs or just return to the car. He pushed open the door and entered.

When he knocked at the door to flat 31, the door just swung open.

“Dorland?” Theo called into the flat.

“Come in,” Dorland replied. “I’m running a bit late this morning.”

“You’re always running a bit late. What’s wrong with your car this time?”

“Oh, must be something major, the engine won’t turn over.” He came out of his bedroom, tying a thin and shiny silver tie. “Jady will get it looked at today, won’t you, Jady?” Dorland looked behind him into his bedroom.

Jady squeezed behind him and ruffled his hair. She wore a full-piece red bathing-suit, gray flip-flops, and nothing else. She pulled her blond hair up into a ponytail.

“I told you I was, didn’t I?” she replied. “Does this suit make my butt look fat?”

Theo turned away. This was a question he didn’t want to answer even if his wife was asking.

“No, you look beautiful in it,” Dorland replied, poking her in the stomach.

“I may be home late,” Dorland continued.

“You work him so hard,” she complained..

The law office was only a twenty-minute drive from Dorland’s flat so before they knew it, the detectives were standing at the reception desk. The receptionist for the large firm of over twenty solicitors held a receiver to her ear, pressed a blinking button, and repeated, “Please hold while I transfer you.”

Who are you looking for?
the woman behind the desk mouthed to them as she half-listened to an extremely loud male voice shout obscenities in her ear over the phone, but before Theo could give the name, she spoke into the phone, “Yes, yes, I understand, but unfortunately there is nothing I can do for you. He is in a deposition and cannot be disturbed. I can transfer you to his voicemail and you can leave another message.” She looked at Theo and rolled her eyes as he continued his boisterous tirade.

Theo held up a paper with the name Nick Garner written in neat block letters. The receptionist pointed to the chairs behind them. Theo listened as the receptionist cut off the rude client with a “hold please.”

Nick Garner met them within minutes of being paged and offered them coffee. Theo had to refuse when he heard that it was made from instant coffee powder. He loved coffee, but only when it came from what resembled beans. What solicitor’s office served instant coffee?

Nick looked to be in his forties and was dressed sharp with the exception of the large square glasses that took up half his face.

“Thank you for meeting us. We’re here about Doc Tipring. He was found murdered two days ago. I suppose you know him as Maddock Tipring,” Theo said when they were seated in his office.

“I figured it was only a matter of time before the police came. It was unimaginable. I couldn’t believe it, and I pulled his file just to compare the spelling of the names to make sure I got it right. But how many people are named Maddock?” Nick lifted the opened file close to his face to read it. “I’m sorry, this morning on the way to work I broke my glasses and have had to use this antiquated pair that I found in my desk drawer. It’s quite an old prescription and so I have had a terrible headache all morning.”

Theo squinted at him and asked, “When was it Mr. Tipring did up his Will?”

“Oh, seven years ago now. He came into the office without an appointment and I was the only one available to see him. Usually we prefer our clients to make an appointment but he hobbled in with only one leg . . . Well, I couldn’t turn him away.”

“Did he ever say why he decided to make up his Will?”

Nick leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “While it’s true most people don’t just decide to make their Will, he never expressed a danger or urgency about it. I told him it could take up to a week to prepare it and he seemed fine with that. He didn’t ask for me to rush or anything. And seven years have passed since he first made his Will.”

“Was that the very first Will he had ever made? No preceding Wills?”

“Yes. I asked him if he had written a Will before and he replied no.”

“Has he made changes to the Will in seven years?”

“Only minor changes. Add this person, take this person out, nothing really unusual.”

“Did you know he came from a wealthy family?”

“Really? No. Was he left an inheritance?”

“We’re not sure. We were hoping you could tell us if he thought he was.”

“Why don’t I just go over what his Will entails.” Nick flipped through the pages of Doc’s file. “He received some disability money when he lost his leg. How much of that money is left, I will have to determine but it’s probably not too much. It wasn’t much to begin with.”

“Did he tell you how he lost his leg?” Dorland asked.

“Not in so many words, said it was due to an infection. Apparently he injured himself on a building project—he was an electrician, you see. The company he was working for at the time gave him some money—probably to keep him quiet—but when the injured leg became infected and eventually had to be amputated, he received compensation and help from the government. Enough to live comfortably and I think it was enough to pay for the nurses he hired full time.”

Nick read over the pages of Tipring’s Will to himself. “If he did receive anything from his family, he didn’t mention it here. I’ll have to contact them to confirm. Also, it doesn’t look like Mr. Tipring left any money to any of his family—no one with last name Tipring anyway. He did leave money to the nurse he came in with that day. I remember thinking it was his wife; he treated her kindly, very respectful. She cared for him almost like a husband. Until, that is, when I called them in and he asked her to wait in the hall.”

“How would you describe him, his personality?”

“He was a really nice man, though quiet.” He rubbed his eyes again and when he had finished, his eyes were red. “I’m glad you told me he came from a wealthy family. It explains why he spoke as someone well educated. With such a background, why did he become an electrician, I wonder?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure but his sister seems to think it was because Mr. Tipring and his father didn’t get on. What I’m interested in most is his art. Have you seen his art?”

“I’ve not seen any, but they must have be amazing. Mr. Tipring spoke of them like they were people and called them by name, like my Susan or my Caroline. Maybe they were names of his old fancies.”

“Are the art pieces worth money?”

“I don’t know because, as far as I’m aware, he never sold any of them. I asked him when he made the Will, what would happen if he did choose to sell some; his answer was a very firm ‘I won’t sell them, not while I’m alive.’ But, I do know that he did give some away. I’m not sure to whom but he said he made some others.”

“So now that he’s dead, what did he plan to do with them?”

Nick reached into the top drawer of his desk, pulled out eye drops, and dripped two drops into each eye. Chemical tears streamed down his cheeks as he grabbed a tissue from a box by his desk. “Sorry,” he said, “I hope to get my new glasses today. I can be so clumsy. Forgive me.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Theo replied.

“The art,” he looked down at the folder and was quiet for a few moments while he read.

Theo watched as his eyes scanned the pages, only inches from them. He sniffled and wiped more liquid from his eyes.

“Would you like me to read the file,” Theo suggested.

“Oh, no. At the point of his death, he would like all his art auctioned off. All proceeds will go to the,” he read further, “Action for Amputee Foundation. I don’t know much about that foundation but I assume it’s to support those who are missing limbs. Children, the like.”

“Yes, I suppose. Is that where all his money is going? What about his nurses?”

“His nurses? I believe he left them a little allowance; it was not much, just a few thousand pounds each. I don’t have the exact figure, it is a percentage, a small percentage, of the total profits after all his outstanding debts, or costs, have been paid out. Which I assume will depend on what he makes on his art at the auction. I know when he had the Will drawn up, the nurse with him, I don’t think she believed she would be in the Will at all. Just doing her job. I doubt if most nurses believe they will be in the Will, especially ones that are paid by only pension and severance. Do you?”

“It really is difficult to say, I guess we are most interested in finding out who would have a motive, and in most homicide cases, money is often a motive. So, if someone, anyone had something to gain by Mr. Tipring’s death, we were hoping you could provide that information.”

“I don’t know much about motive but I don’t think money is a motive. Not in this case. I’m sorry.”

“And the earrings? What about the earrings? Did he want to sell those?”

“The earrings?” asked Theo.

“Yes, remember the earrings we saw on the man’s chest of drawers?” Dorland said.

Again, Nick continued reading the fine print. “Yes, the jewelry, he has asked that they be buried with him. He wanted to be buried, not cremated. He even gave me photos of each earring.” He pulled from the back of the file some enlarged sheets of photographic paper. “He brought those in himself, gave them to me for the file. I guess that way we would know what was to be buried from what wasn’t. Do these look like the pieces of jewelry to you?”

He held the pictures up.

“It’is difficult to tell. I only had a quick glance at the earrings at the house, I really couldn’t say. What about you, Dorland?”

“No, sorry, I also did not study the jewelry that well, and as a man, it’s difficult to tell the difference.”

“Did he ever tell you why the earrings were so important?”

“I assumed they were family heirlooms. Perhaps they belonged to his mother or sister—sentimental value.”

Theo thought about this. “I doubt they’re from his family. As far as I know, he didn’t get on with his family and so any jewelry wouldn’t hold sentimental value.”

“Perhaps.”

Theo turned to the solicitor and asked, “And there’s nothing else, nothing in the Will that we will find interesting? What of the house and his belongings?”

“The house also goes to charity, and a percentage of the amount received will be split among the nurses. It is all really simple with only three requests, one, that his art be auctioned off, two, that he be buried with his jewelry and three, the rest of the money be given to charity.”

“Among who? Did he name the nurses?”

“Yes, one of the nurses was a Ms. Megan Perkins. She was recently added, only a month ago. Mr. Tipring had rung to add her and to take another nurse off his list.”

“Really? Who was taken off the list?”

“Um, a Mrs. Hathaway, Heather Hathaway.”

“Did Mr. Tipring say why he took her off the list?”

“No, all he said was that he was taking her off and adding Ms. Perkins, he didn’t sound angry about it, just matter of fact.”

“Who was the other nurse?”

“A Ms. White, Camilla White, I believe that she was the one that Mr. Tipring brought in with him when he first had the Will drafted.”

“Do you know where Ms. White lives?”

“I have her address, but I don’t know if it’s still correct.”

“I would be extremely grateful if you write out the names of those nurses and their addresses, if you have them.”

Nick complied.

“And if you’re done with the earrings, I will need to get them from you,” Nick said.