1

The last wasn’t difficult to accomplish. Sophia answered on the second ring.

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your busy day, but could I see you after work?”

“No worries, I needed to think about something else. Did you look into the case? What did you find? Did you talk to Dorie Armes? What did she say?”

Theo smiled as she spouted off all the questions at him. He couldn’t decide if she was nervous or impatient.

“Well, yes,” he replied, not sure which of the questions he answered. He explained what he had found out and his interview with Dorie.

“Perhaps the other pieces of Tipring’s art holds the key.”

In the meantime, Theo wanted to watch the footage more carefully. He found another instance of Dorie arriving at the flats, and she did have an envelope with her. When she arrived, her hair was up and she wore dark trousers under a dark rain coat. She held a handbag over her shoulder that could have contained a knife, but any woman, including his wife, had a handbag that could conceal a weapon or two. The only difference between Dorie when she arrived and when she left was that her hair had come down. But Theo often knew his wife’s hair came down by the end of a visit to a friend. It looked like her alibi would check out. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he solve what seemed like a simple murder?

Dorland entered his office and slumped down in a chair across from him.

“Have you found anything?” Theo asked.

“If our Dorie didn’t commit the murder, it’s going to be impossible to narrow down who did from the footage alone. I hope forensics can come up with something. Anything.”

“I’ve been re-watching the tapes and it does look like she came with the envelope like she claimed, but it doesn’t mean she didn’t commit the murder. She could have done that as well.”

“Why do you suspect her of committing the murder? We haven’t found any connection between her and the victim, Sharon Yoder. Coincidences do happen.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Theo. “But right now, it’s all we have. Besides, there are just too many coincidences in this case. Remember, we also have the coincidence of Sharon Yoder and Marjorie Peters dying on the same day.”

“Oh, that’s true. But perhaps we’re overlooking a suspect or two. Maybe Sharon’s parents killed their daughter. To rid the world of their demon child,” Dorland said sarcastically. “They don’t have an alibi. Praying at home doesn’t count. I doubt God’s going to vouch for them. Besides, we haven’t seen any dark clouds entering and exiting the building—only humans.”

The two laughed.

Theo leaned forward seriously and said, “It’s mind numbing that a previous suspect from a prior murder is at the crime scene and the actual suspect, the one who would have the greatest motive—Walter Peter’s wife—dies on the same day.”

“It is,” replied Dorland. “And Mrs. Chu did re-confirm Ms. Armes’ alibi. I’m sorry, sir.”

Theo’s mobile beeped and he retrieved an email from Sophia. Attached was a photo of one of Tipring’s artworks.

I found another of Maddock’s tiled art. This time it was in one of the meeting rooms here at MI5 . Apparently, Maddock sent it to his uncle. I decoded it and the poem reads:

Can you find them

I think not

Buried forever

There they rot

I believe he created this one before the others. Bloody hell, he’s been taunting us for years. How he must have laughed at us and our stupidity. No wonder Earnest started a file on his nephew. I never suspected this to be a code, and even though I seem to look for codes in everything and I know it wasn’t my fault, I feel guilty. Guilty. I hope we can find the missing bodies.

Theo messaged her back, What do you think we should do next?

She replied, I think we should visit Mandy Ford.

Who is Mandy Ford?

Not a who, a where. It’s a small town. It’s near where Maddock Tipring grew up.

What’s there?

More tiled art.

What? Why did he send one there?

Apparently charity?

Charity, my arse.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Sophia drove around the roundabout on High Street six times before she spotted the old brick town hall in Mandy Ford. It sat nestled between an office of solicitors and a gent’s hairdressing shop. By then, all three of them were feeling ill.

Parking was another matter. Although there was a designated car park of three small spaces, they were all occupied. Sophia let Theo and Dorland out and found a space for her car two streets over.

Theo and Dorland stood at reception. Dorland tapped the little silver bell. No one came forward from any of the rooms behind closed doors.

“Does anyone even work here? Perhaps it’s a show-yourself-around sort of place,” said Dorland.

“It’s not that sort of place,” said Theo.

A woman finally came out from a back room, turning her skirt around her hips as she walked. She pushed a bobby pin back into the loose bun atop her head.

“My name is Olivia. How can I help you?”

The men held up their warrant cards. She glanced at them briefly then walked behind the reception counter and hid the bell in a drawer of the desk.

“I’m not doing any tours today. Although, I can’t imagine that’s why you’re here. I expect it about the Mrs. Chambers scandal. I gave the other officers my statement and really, nothing has changed.”

A small bell above the door rang, and Sophia walked in.

“Well,” said Theo, “I can’t say much about that affair. We’re just looking for a certain piece of artwork.”

“A tile work,” Sophia said, and explained what it looked like.

“Tile? You don’t mean the fountain do you?”

“Well, we won’t be sure until you show us,” Theo replied.

“All right, come this way,” she said and motioned them toward the back. She led them through a door out to a small garden. A half fountain, empty save a few leaves, stood at one end with Doc Tipring’s contribution as an odd backdrop.

“Shit,” said Sophia.

“What’s wrong?” asked Theo.

“The bottom half of the message is covered by the blasted fountain.” She turned to the woman. “Why would someone cover the art?”

“What art?” the woman replied. “The garden was like this when I started here. I would never allow them to ruin a priceless piece of art.” She cocked her head toward the wall, like it was a hidden picture. “That awful tile concoction, is it worth something?”

“Some people find it fascinating,” Sophia said and took out a notepad. She started working on the code. When she was done, she handed Theo what she had.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

You held me captive

Promises, promises

I watched, I waited

Briefly, briefly

Signs of love

Taken aback

Down on your knees

Then taken from you

Buried, buried

Mary, Mary, quite contrary

Look how you made my garden grow

Iris stand guard

Your dream still

Like the water above

I hunt no more

Oh dear, no de . . .

“The rest of the tiles were hidden from view behind the fountain,” Sophia finally said and handed Theo the decoded message.

He read it carefully and handed it to his partner. “What does it mean?”

“I suppose it tells us what he’s done. I think the poem is pretty obvious. He’s killed and buried them somewhere. Do you think he’s disclosed the whereabouts farther down?”

Sophia shrugged. “There’s no way to know without breaking apart the fountain. I’m not sure it would be a good idea to do that. Not yet, anyway.” She pointed her head in the direction of Olivia.

“What do we do now?” Dorland asked.

“I think it’s time for a drink,” Sophia replied and walked back through town hall and down the street toward the pub, leaving Theo and his partner to say their polite good-byes.