She understood. “All right. I will tell Crystal what you told me.”
“Sophia, you can’t get too involved, do you understand? If you do, he’ll come after you. You have to be very careful. He will have no qualms holding a gun to the back of your head and blowing your bloody brains out.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Theo, and for that matter, Dorland, did not have much experience with autopsy. “Experience with autopsy.” What a way to describe it—as if it was something to be desired. The room was sterile except for the naked man that lay on the table. Theo watched Dr. Alfred Waynton lay out all his utensils one by one, picturing what each was used for, imagining the knives slicing through human flesh. His stomach turned over.
“Would you like a glass of water, Theo?”
Theo looked up at Waynton and swallowed sharply. “No. I’m all right. Just tired.”
“Well, don’t fall asleep during the autopsy. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”
Dorland seemed happy in the room, laughing, making jokes. Theo supposed it was his uncle that calmed him. What must family dinners be like? Did they let him carve the turkey? De-bone a ham? One by one, each organ was removed, weighed, and examined.
“The old man was in fine health, save a missing leg,” Waynton said, removing his gloves and donning a new pair. “I can tell you this, the person who murdered him was shorter than him. Can’t tell you if it was male or female, only that it is possible for it to be either sex.”
“What about the wound? Did the killer know what they were doing?”
“I think that they aimed for the heart. Although he was only stabbed once, the knife didn’t go deep. Only half the knife entered the chest cavity. Fortunately for the killer, they struck right on target. The good news is that he was dead almost instantly.”
“As far as you can tell, this murder was not done by a professional?”
“No, well, I suppose it might have been, but it could have been committed by anyone else too.”
“Male or female.”
“Yes. Male or female.”
So, really we have nothing to go on?”
“I’ve collected a few fibers, but unless the killer screwed up and left some mark on the knife I’m not sure you’ll be able to find him or her from the autopsy results.”
“What about the leg? Why was it removed?”
“It’s hard to say. I looked up the man’s health records but all it said was his leg was amputated due to an infection. How he received the infection is unknown. The amputation was done by a doctor in the NHS. Can’t remember the hospital off-hand.”
The tox screen also proved disappointing. Other than a few common medications relating to high blood pressure all in their proper doses, there were no unusual substances found. He had not drunk in days and suffered from nothing life-shattering. If he had not been stabbed, he would probably have lived for years to come. How could the man manage to make someone angry enough to plan this murder? The reason was not apparent to either detective.
Three phone calls to forensics only depressed Theo further, for there were no useful prints other than what belonged to the deceased and the nurse. No footprints, no other blood. Any hopes for useful DNA leading to an arrest of a suspect were unrewarding. It was a standard kitchen knife. No unique brand name.
“The public doesn’t like a senseless murder of a crippled old man just heading out to retrieve his newspaper. It makes the populace afraid and their fears fall on us. It really is important, but I think you know how important it is. Don’t you?” Theo said.
Dorland nodded.
“We must be running backwards,” Theo said, walking toward his office, “because I sure feel like vomiting.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sophia spent the afternoon going through all the files she could find on Gikhrist Stewart. Although there was a lot of information and countless missions, they had always failed to catch him. Sophia stared at the face of the man who killed Liam’s wife.
She laid the picture to her right and piled other papers on top. The papers were the notes from Doc Tipring’s Uncle Earnest. She had forgotten all about them. The events of the last few days completely occupied her thoughts. And she had assured Theo she would get back to him.
Sophia dropped those thoughts and headed for Crystal’s desk instead. “I need you to track Liam’s mobile for me.”
Crystal just stared at her but didn’t respond. That’s why Sophia loved her; she didn’t ask questions. “It’s available on your computer or mobile.” She handed Sophia a paper with some login information.
Sophia preferred to follow Liam privately and chose to use her mobile instead. A small flashing light indicated where Liam was, but he was on the move. A half hour later, the light finally stopped. Where was he? She pulled out her A–Z and looked around. He must be in one of the shops along the street.
Halfway to Liam’s location, Sophia almost turned her car around. He was a grown man and could take care of himself.
The rain turned from drizzle to downpour and the traffic almost stopped. By the time she reached him, he would have moved on. However, after forty-five minutes, the dot indicating Liam’s location still hadn’t moved. The GPS locater wasn’t getting her closer than five hundred meters which left her a large area to search, and Liam’s four-door non-descript surveillance car did not help either. The light turned red. She put her car into park and turned around to look. She couldn’t see anything with the rain running down her windows.
The light turned green and a car honked behind her. She moved on, but she couldn’t slow down enough to examine each car. No, she would have to make a search—on foot. Liam’s car should be parked nearby. At the end of the street she circled around and parked down the street in one of the few spaces available for her larger Merc.
The prospect of getting out of the car wasn’t a pleasant one for none of the men and women who made their way on foot outside her car looked happy. Most stood under the protective cover of the shop’s doorways or inside. She reached in her back seat for her black umbrella and soon realized it wasn’t there so now she would have to tromp through the rain in her leather flats instead of her more practical Wellies. She pulled off her socks and placed them on the passenger seat. She rolled up the legs of her trousers but knew it wouldn’t really matter; she would be drenched anyway.
Her first step from the car landed her in a puddle of frigid water. What was she doing? She ran into an off-license and grocery shop and asked the man behind the counter for an umbrella. The man grunted and pointed toward the front of the shop. She scanned the aisles until she finally saw one umbrella in a bin. One of the arms of the umbrella flopped sideways when she lifted it from the space.
“It’s broken,” she yelled to the owner.
He shrugged. “It’s all we have.”
“How much?”
“A fiver.”
“What, for a broken umbrella?”
He shrugged again.
With a huff, she reached into her handbag and brought out a five pound note from a zipped pocket. “This is thievery, plain and simple thievery. You’re only charging this because it’s raining.”
“Then don’t buy it.”
She bit the side of her cheek to hold her tongue. This wasn’t the time to make a scene. Back in the rain with a limpy umbrella, she scanned each car along the street. She could barely see, but halfway down the street, on the other side, she spotted his car. As she approached from behind, she could see a form in the driver’s seat.
What was he doing? The car wasn’t running and he wasn’t moving. For a split second, panic hit her. He wasn’t depressed, was he? He did yell at her but he wasn’t angry enough to take his own life. She laughed aloud at her stupidity.
The closer she came to his car, the clearer Liam appeared. She saw he wasn’t sleeping but looking ahead, down the street. He didn’t seem to see her but he was focused on something.