While Crystal sat back down at her computer, Sophia entered the kitchen and opened the window. When was the last time she cleaned? A large bin of garbage sat full of paper plates and disposable cups and cutlery. She found the smell of mold sitting on the worktop—what used to be bread could now be turned into penicillin.

Crystal came and stood behind her.

Sophia picked up the bagged bread very carefully and signed garbage.

“Oh yeah,” Crystal signed back.“Sorry, meant to clean before you arrived but got distracted by a new algorithm. I’ll have to show you, it’ll blow your mind.”

Sophia nodded. She threw the bread into the bin and whatever other trash was left on the worktop and tied up the bag. Crystal had reached under the sink for a new bag. “Place it in the bin while I get rid of this.”

While Crystal removed the smell from her flat, Sophia wiped down the rest of the kitchen. Inside the cupboards were only disposable items. The only metal thing Sophia found was a corkscrew and a spatula.

“You alone, my friend, are the reason we have no ozone layer,” Sophia said when her friend had returned.

“But I save water.”

Sophia laughed. “I’m so hungry. What did you have in mind for dinner?”

“Ah, well, I’m not a complete failure as a host. Dinner is almost ready.” She opened the fridge and pulled out cardboard containers from the nearby deli. She lit the oven and threw two pieces of pre-made Chicken Cordon Bleu and a few chips onto a disposable baking dish. Again she went to the fridge and took out a bottle of tonic water. “Gin and tonic to start? Oh, and crisps.”

With drinks in hand, Crystal led her guest into the other room and dropped the cups onto what small space she had available beside a pile of used hard disks. “What did you do today? You didn’t go into work, did you?”

“I did, for about an hour. Then some friends of my father rang me to see a house. I’ve already shown them the same house multiple times. I have never met more indecisive people. I think I’m going to take my business cards away from my father. I swear, if they don’t buy the house, I’m going to . . . the man counted all the lights in the house so that he could estimate the electricity charge. Wait until he receives his council tax bills. Well, the good news is, if they do buy the house, it will be a nice paycheck at just the right time.”

“Why are you still showing houses? Are you short of money?” Sophia didn’t talk about her other line of work much. Mostly because she didn’t sell many houses. It was a cover. A way to keep from her friends and family what she really did for work. She received her qualifications to become an estate agent relatively easily, and only needed to attend a few conferences and meetings a year. Her father’s wealthy friends, with a constant desire to upgrade, provided her with an income higher than her government salary per year.

“No, it’s not that. I was thinking of taking a holiday.”

“Oh, where?”

“To see my mum.”

“Is she still in Canada?”

“Yeah, and recently my aunt wrote me an email and said my mum’s not doing as well as she was. I’ve been neglecting her and I think it’s time I made a trip.” Sophia put her face into her hands. “I don’t want to go, but I suppose I’m obligated in some way. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just drink instead.”

“Is Liam assigning you more cases?”

“No, that’s the odd thing. He’s been staying away, as far as he can. He doesn’t act angry at me, he doesn’t act like I’m a concern of his at all. It sort of hurts.” She leaned forward. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Me, tell him? That’s not going to happen.” Suddenly, her head popped up. “I smell burning. Do you smell burning?” She rose and went to the oven. She threw her hands up in the air. Reaching in, she pulled out a disposable plate that had managed to stick itself to the bottom of the metal pan before being placed in the oven. It sagged and dripped down between the grill. With a spatula, Crystal scrapped the black chemical goo from the bottom of the oven. “What a stink. Should I throw the whole thing away?”

“No! Just keep cooking it. You took out most of it, it should be fine.”

The fire alarm went off and the light in the room was blinking and blinding. Sophia grabbed a hand towel and waved it at the alarm in the ceiling. Crystal precariously crossed the wires and opened the living room windows. “It’s so bloody cold today.”

Eventually the lights and noise stopped.

“You have a microwave, perhaps we should use it.”

Fifteen minutes later, dinner was ready and they sat down to eat. Crystal said a quick prayer to herself before she ate. Sophia always felt guilty that she didn’t thank God for the burned, chemically infused food so she hoped that Crystal said that prayer for her too.

Halfway through eating, Sophia looked up her friend and asked, “Have you ever been to an auction before?”

“No, why?”

“Remember the artwork that the one-legged man created? The rest of those pieces are coming up for auction soon and I may go pick one up.”

“Really? They’re hideous to look at.”

“Yeah, but I can’t get them out of my mind. They speak to me. I don’t know how but they do. Whatever it is that Doc found interesting about it, I might see.”

“I think you’re going blind, my friend.”

“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “The offer stands, if you want to attend with me. I’d love it.”

Chapter Forty-Four

A few days later, Theo walked into the incident room and looked at the board. A lot more papers and notes had been added, but nothing seemed worth following up on. They just couldn’t get a break: not from the CCTV footage, not from witnesses, not from forensics. When Theo rang Sharon’s place of work, he’d discovered her team had left on a business trip and wouldn’t return until the next day. Dorland strolled up to the board and stood beside him.

“Coffee?” Dorland asked and handed him the steaming cup.

“What I need is a murderer,” he replied, but still took the mug. He pointed to a circled word on the board—Custom. “What is this, Blackwell? We need to find out what this is.”

“Well, I might have something there. I don’t think it’s the airport but instead a hotel. Look here, I’ve found a hotel listed under the name Custom House Hotel. It’s possible she meant to meet whoever WP is there.”

“That’s brilliant. We’ll go there directly.”

A young woman in her twenties who worked reception at Custom House Hotel, a large glass-front hotel on Victoria Dock Road, greeted the two officers warmly, “Would you like our standard or superior bedroom?”

“What? No, no, we are not here for a room. We’re actually looking for someone who might have stayed here not too long ago.” Theo showed her his warrant card.

“They are not staying here now?”

“No, it would’ve been last week,” Theo replied, standing on his tiptoes trying to see the angled monitor display over the tall counter.

“I see. Well, I can’t really release the names of our guests,” she said, turning the monitor farther from Theo’s view.

“The woman we are looking for is named Sharon Yoder and the man goes by the name Walter. Here is a photo of Sharon. This couple probably frequented the hotel.”

Theo held up the photo to the woman’s face and she nodded with immediate recognition. “I don’t know the woman, but I do know the man. Yes, he is one of our regulars. He uses our large meeting room once a month and receives a hotel room at a discounted rate.. I’m not exactly sure but I believe he’s a sales representative or something. But as for the woman, I don’t remember her. She may have attended the conferences, I’m not sure.”

“This woman has been found murdered in her flat,” said Dorland. “It would be so helpful if you could help us identify the man in this picture. Please.”