Chapter 9

The sobbing of the husband had faded and was replaced by sniffles as they entered the living room. Sergeant Donovan asked him questions which he answered calmly. His face was swollen and he ran his hands through his hair constantly. "I was working today. She should have picked up the kids from the kindergarten. It was after four o'clock as the kindergarten teacher called me. Darren and Chris, our twins, were still there," Mr. Kyle sniffled. A small mountain of used tissues was building up next to the teacup on the coffee table.

"And so you fetched the children." It was a statement, no question, as Sherlock took over the survey."After that you went home - to find out why your wife had not done her job as usual." The husband nodded.

Donovan shot a dirty look at the trio that stood in the passage to the hall. Lestrade was just peeling out of the overalls, but he looked up as Sherlock took over. He shook his head slightly to indicate to Sally to let Sherlock do the interrogation. He should ask his questions.

Sherlock rushed into the living room and sat down on the chair opposite to the couch. John followed him on his heels and stood at his side.

"Your wife was a housewife, I assume, and it was her job to pick up the kids from the kindergarten. But why didn't you bring the children into the house directly, but sent them into the garden to play? I reckon that you weren't willing to let your wife get away with this blunder and you did not want the children as witnesses to your little lesson. Then, you went up to the bedroom to change from your working clothes to casual wear. You are still wearing two different shoes and your shirt is buttoned up messily. You found your wife naked and dead on the bed. After the first shock you dressed her and then you called the police. You did not want her to be seen naked by strangers and in the progress you destroyed most of the evidence on the body. Really annoying." Sherlock fell silent. Mr. Kyle's mouth hung open and he was obviously outraged and even forgot to sniff.

Lestrade drew his eyebrows together in astonishment. He didn't intervene because he knew that Sherlock in the momentum of the initial excitement of a new case came up with the best results. His technique should probably open up the husband, although the Detective Inspector did not feel comfortable about it, the provocation was effective.

"I ...No! How dare you say that I beat my wife? Never! This is something I would never do! The children are playing in the garden every afternoon. They are so lively. Playing in the fresh air helps them fall asleep more easily at night. Evelyn would never forgive me ..." He trailed off.

"Hm, interesting. Why was her upper body full of bruises then? They had the typical shape, which form only when someone is being punched with the naked fist on the body." Sherlock moved his eyebrows up, and let the conclusions hanging in the air.

The grieving widower's face turned slowly red - and he had evidently forgotten his grief for the moment. "I loved my wife! I would never do raise a hand against her. This is an incredible accusation! Evelyn was training at a martial arts gym. She wanted to be able to defend herself if someone attacks her in the park. She always went with some friends to Jiu Jitsu class in the morning. The coach has never spared them. This explains the bruises." Mr. Kyle snorted with rage now. "And yes, I did dress her as I found her. It would have been humiliating for her, if someone had seen her naked. I could not bear the thought." Fresh tears sprang into his eyes and he looked around for the tissues.

Sherlock nodded knowingly. "Martial arts. Yes, that's what I thought. Well, I would have, based on the pattern of blue spots, probably guessed it was Tae Kwon Do, but maybe the coach is trained in several forms of martial arts. Lestrade, you have to ask the other women if they are also training at the same dojo. This could be the common link." Sherlock rested his arms on his thighs, put his hands together like in prayer, and leaned his head on them. He turned to the husband again. His brown hair stuck out now in all directions. "And why was your wife in treatment? She must have been there recently. On the hands and face I found the typical wounds of acupuncture needles."

"The therapist? That would be Mr. Druitt the alternative practitioner. I uh, I think he has his practice in the same building as the gym. She had regular appointments there. We wanted to have a third child and the practitioner had helped us five years ago. Evelyn had had problems getting pregnant, but after a few sessions it had worked beautifully. The twins are our all in all. Therefore, we thought she could start the treatment right away this time." He hung his head and they heard him sobbing loudly again.

Sherlock rose. It was clear that Mr. Kyle was unable to tell them anymore that was relevant. He had just realized that from now on he was alone with his two sons. The extent of his loss became apparent to him right in this moment.

"Lestrade, during the autopsy, please let them do a pregnancy test also. We should be sure, if Mrs. Kyle was pregnant again. You can find me afterwards in the laboratory of St. Bart's. I have to examine this Mah-jongg stone." He turned to go. John followed in his wake. At the front door, he turned around again. "Oh, and Lestrade, I would like to see some recently taken photographs of the four families. With all family members in it!" Lestrade nodded, and he watched the two disappear through the door. They made a stop at the civilian car of the forensics and Sherlock demanded the evidence bag with the now preserved and labelled Mah-jongg stone and an empty bag. He reluctantly signed the receipt, and then he called a cab for himself and John.

The trip to St. Bart's was a silent one. Sherlock turned the bag in his hands back and forth and looked at the game piece from all sides, but it would not divulge any secrets now. He pulled the empty bag from his coat pocket and wrapped a handkerchief in it. He felt a tingle of expectation in his fingertips. For more than six weeks he had not been to the laboratory and could therefore hardly wait for doing the necessary tests himself. At their destination, he helped John out of the cab and they both entered the hospital. As he pushed open the door to the hospital Sherlock inhaled deeply. Only now he realized how much he had been missing all this here. A quiet smile played across his lips. He took John's arm and together they went up to the lab.

He threw his coat over the back of a chair in the corner and pointed John to a seat. He turned to the table to work with the analytical equipment and commenced his studies. He took the bag with the handkerchief and produced one blond hair from it. After a while the door opened and Molly appeared, armed with a cup of coffee.

"Black, two sugars and freshly brewed." She smiled and put the coffee on the table next to Sherlock. "Thank you, Molly," he murmured absently. He took a sip and focused again on the microscope. "Ahem, excuse me, uh, I just wanted to ask, how is Dr. Watson?" She stepped nervously from one foot to the other and smiled shyly. "What do you think how he is?" Sherlock looked up impatiently from his work and glanced at John, who was still sitting in the chair that Sherlock had assigned him to. "It's obvious, isn't it? He is doing well so far, only he does not speak yet." He turned around and stared with one raised eyebrow at Molly. "Um, okay, good. I go back to the morgue, if you need me," she said, and fled. Sherlock looked again at John. He scanned the face of his friend a moment and sighed. "Not Good? I just need to do my work here. Oh John, you know exactly, I cannot help it, right? I don't do courtesy." He shrugged and looked back through the microscope.

After an hour and several experiments later the door to the lab opened again and Lestrade entered. "And? Do you have any results Sherlock?"

"Yes, just like I already suspected the Mah-jongg stone was carved from bone. Old traditional Chinese workmanship. And at least twenty years old. The flower was painted by hand on the stone. I think if we can find the rest of the game it will also lead us to the culprit. These stones are very rare nowadays. The Chinese produce their Mah-jongg tiles mainly from plastic and the symbols have been modernized. This stone here was still made the old fashioned way. Something like this one can't buy in England anymore. The game was directly imported from China or someone had bought it there." During his speech, Sherlock had risen and had thrown his coat over. "I assume that the four victims have all trained in the same studio. Your investigation has revealed that, right?" Lestrade just nodded and asked himself for the umpteenth time how Sherlock had foreseen the result already. He refrained, however, to ask, as Sherlock would otherwise demonstrate his incredible knowledge on an epic scale.

"Well! I think it is time that we take a look at this dojo and the coach closely." Thus, Sherlock wound his scarf around his neck and pulled on his gloves. John had already risen and joined the other two men. The three of them left the lab. Molly's coffee stood unnoticed and turning cold on the table.