“Well, if it isn’t little Dorley. I guess you’re not so little anymore.”

“No, no, not so little anymore.” Dorland flexed his arm muscle for his uncle. “However, it looks like you’ve lost weight.”

“You know your aunt Laurie. She has me on a diet of salad and other useless vegetables.” He paused and took a deep breath. “How was your move? How’s your sister? I hear she lives with you now.”

Dorland gave Theo a quick glance and quickly replied, “Good, good. All moved in. She’s my step-sister, you know.”

Theo hadn’t been aware Dorland had moved. He hadn’t taken a day off work. Where did he move? When had he moved?

“So they’ve got you on the case, have they?” Waynton asked. “Good on you. Sorry I’m late, by the way. Bloody traffic. Did you know a lorry flipped on the M40?”

Dorland nodded.

“Have you ever met Detective Inspector Blackwell?”

Al lifted his gloved hand and reached for Theo’s. “Yes, how are you?”

Theo took his hand and received a firm handshake.

Turning back to Dorland, Waynton continued, “Heard you’ve made detective.” He slapped Dorland in the stomach. “How the hell did you manage that? Your mother must be so proud. How’s the old bird?”

“I hate to interrupt your fun,” said Theo, “but we are standing over a dead body and sadly he is getting colder by the second. Before he turns to dust at our feet, could we find how he died?”

Both Dorland and Alfred turned to face Theo. “Well, I suppose you’re right. To work.” The pathologist listened as Theo related the details of the case to him. Then, he knelt down but his suit wouldn’t let him so he spread his legs as wide as possible in order to get closer to the body. “Let’s see what we have here.”

“What we’re looking for is cause of death,” said Theo.

Waynton did a quick examination of the body. He opened the black bathrobe and carefully unbuttoned the deceased man’s pajama top. The blood had left a large red stain on the shirt. “It looks like he’s been stabbed,” said Waynton.

“Did you say stabbed?” asked Dorland.

Waynton’s voice when leaning over a body barely rose above a whisper due to the fact his large paunch folded over multiple times while in a stooping position and prevented him from catching his breath. “Yes. I can only see one entry wound but it seems to have hit his heart. And it pumped the blood from his body. Have you found a knife or any other type of weapon?” He looked up at Theo, his eyes were extremely large and magnified by his large round glasses.

Theo called Borders over. “Has SOCO found a weapon?”

“I don’t think so, sir.”

“Dorland, help me look for a weapon. I can’t imagine the killer got far with a bloody knife.” Theo stepped back from the gate and carefully examined where he was standing for any drops of blood. The bush, working its way between the wooden boards, made it difficult to see anything. He couldn’t see anything on the pavement. He knelt down to study the white fence more closely. “I didn’t notice any blood here before but look, here’s a drop on the fence.” He pointed left of the gate. Then he noticed another and another. “Search in the bushes on the other side of the fence. Will someone fetch me a torch?”

Dorland got down on his hands and knees and searched under the bushes. “I don’t see anything, sir. Perhaps the killer took the weapon with him, hid it in a bag.”

Theo walked around the other side of the fence and started looking. He sent other officers down the street and ordered them to check for a weapon in any of the neighbor’s gardens. An officer handed him a torch and he shone the light into the bushes. He was determined to cover the bushes down the length of the street inch by inch if he had to, but within a minute, a glint shone.

“Found it,” yelled Theo.

Pushed down into the bushes was a standard kitchen knife. After photographs, a crime scene officer cut the knife out of the bush, bagged it, and handed it to Theo.

“Could this be the murder weapon?” Theo asked.

The pathologist examined the murder weapon. “I can’t say for sure but it does look like it could cause the wound. That and the fact it was found in a nearby bush with blood on it. I will have more for you after the autopsy.”

“Dorland,” said Theo, “now that we know this is murder and not just an accident, we have our work cut out for us. Who the hell kills an old man with one leg?”

Chapter Seven

As Theo headed toward the house, he asked Dorland to fetch the nurse and bring her. The front hall led straight into the kitchen. To his left was the drawing room with hardwood floors and a faux fireplace. There was no television, no radio, and no framed photos of family or friends on the mantle only a medal encased in glass. A comfortable leather recliner and a wooden side table with one lamp were the only pieces of furniture in the room. However, lining three of the white walls were rectangular framed sets of multi-colored tile.

“That’s one way to tile a wall,” Theo remarked to himself. He went up to the art to take a closer look. “What is this? So this man, for relaxation, would not turn on a match on the telly or play chess or scrabble but would sit in this chair and stare at these? Did Mr. Tipring create them?”

“He did. He called this room his gallery.”

The nurse stood in the doorway with Dorland. Her pale face, white nurse’s uniform, and clean white shoes made her look like a ghost.

“Thank you for coming in,” said Theo. “I know this day has been traumatic but I’m hoping you can answer some questions. But before that, could we possibly go through the flat and see if anything has been stolen. Ms . . . Mrs . . .” Theo fished for a name.

“Perkins, Ms. Perkins. Megan is my first name. I’m Mr. Tipring’s nurse, I mean, I was. I work here every day, weekends included, from nine until five. I cleaned for him, cooked his meals, made sure he took his pills. Anything he needed.”

“Wow, every day.” Theo remarked.

“I have no family so I don’t mind. I knew what I was taking on when he hired me, and he paid me well. I just don’t understand. Why would they stab him? What possible reason . . . ?”

“That’s what we hope to find out. Did Mr. Tipring live alone?”

“Yes.”

“Did he have family?”

“I’m sure he did. However, I’ve yet to meet any of them.”

Theo gave her a pair of gloves and led her through the rooms—bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen—and she quietly looked over Mr. Tipring’s things.

In the bedroom, Theo went through the man’s belongings. When he reached the chest of drawers, he motioned Dorland over.

“What do you make of this?” he asked pointing to a large shadow box sitting atop the drawers. The box had neatly arranged earrings in rows. “Why do you think he has all this jewelry?”

“Those belonged to his mother,” the nurse said, coming to view the jewelry with them. “He loved those. I believe they are the only thing in the house that belonged to his mother.”

Theo nodded and opened the top drawer. The socks were not folded. Instead, they lay flat, one on top of the other. Almost new. He reached under them—nothing. “Did he have a desk?”

“No. He did all his correspondence at the kitchen table.”

Theo stepped through a doorway at the back of the kitchen that led to a tiny bathroom with a plain bathtub. The bathroom was white, clean, and simple, the towel was blue, even his toothbrush, which lay parallel to the toothpaste on the sink, was white.

“He was a very particular man. He had a place for everything and if it were missing, he would notice. Many of my friends thought it would make me crazy because if you saw my house four months ago, well, it was in no particular order, if in any order whatsoever. However, I prefer things neat now. I don’t believe anything in the house was touched.” She sat down at the kitchen table. “He didn’t have many belongings and never bought more than he needed. One day I went to the shops with his list and just added a small box of biscuits thinking he would like them . . .” She walked over to the cupboard beside the fridge and opened the door. “He never touched them.” She pointed to the box of digestives.