Snow Light

by Danielle Zinn

  “Word travels fast. But listen, he was not a weirdo. He was simply an old man preferring to live alone.”

  “He might have lived here, but he didn’t really want to live here.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “He didn’t want to belong here. Otherwise, he would have introduced himself, but rather, he ran away every time he saw someone from the village. That’s why he’s a weirdo.”

  “Anyway, Ann Collins and I are trying to find out who did that, and because fencing might be involved, I asked Richard to bring his equipment over. Look, I’ll be pretty busy in the next couple of days, so you might spend more time at Richard and Allison’s house than normal, okay?”

  “Okay… Nat, is it dangerous outside now?”

  “Certainly not for you, and this is the safest house in the whole wide world. Now go to sleep.” He kissed her on the forehead and switched off the lights.

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too, kiddo. Goodnight.”

  Downstairs, Richard was turning the plastic bag containing the epee around in his hands.

  “Could it have broken in a fight, accidentally?” Collins asked.

  “Definitely not. They don’t break this cleanly. It would look frayed with the electric cable poking out. This looks cut in half with a metal saw.”

  “What company could have produced this epee?”

  “Now that’s easy.” Wriggling a bit with the plastic, he managed to push aside the blue cloth hiding the cables inside the bell guard. “Underneath this, you always find the name of the company who built this weapon.”

  Thomas strained to read the white print on the worn blue cloth. It’s easy when you know where to look, he thought.

  “Fencing Master is the largest producer of weapons and equipment.” Richard explained. “I used their foils and epees as well. Very durable. I’m fairly sure that this weapon here was one of the best and most expensive ones on offer at its time. Used for competitions. The materials were once of the highest quality. Unfortunately, it was not custom made. Then you would have had a name or initials.”

  “And a really stupid killer,” Collins added, sipping her wine unperturbed.

  Thomas ignored her. “When was that epee made, roughly?”

  “About five… six years ago. This blade is the predecessor of the ultra-lightweight titanium blade used nowadays. As in every other competitive sport, technology and quality continuously improve.”

  Outside, they heard a car come to a stop. Richard got up and peered through the Venetian blinds. “Allison’s back.” He turned to Thomas. “Thank you for the excellent dinner, my friend. I think I’ll leave you now.” They shook hands, and Thomas walked him to the door.

  “Thank you for coming over and sharing your knowledge with us. I’m sure you know what you just held in your hands. Please keep it to yourself for the moment.”

  Thomas looked into his neighbour’s clear eyes and knew he could trust him. Richard said goodbye to Collins, picked up his gear, and hurried home.

  Collins sat on the couch, with folded arms, as if she were waiting for his next act of entertainment.

  “Shall I take you to the inn?” Thomas asked, hoping the evening would be over soon.

  “Not yet,” she replied shortly.

  “Don’t expect me to tell you a story now. But if you ask, you might get answers.”

  “Might?”

  “Depends on how you phrase your questions. You even get two minutes prep time while I check on Sky.” He turned around and made for the staircase.

  “Generous. What if I don’t want to know?”

  He paused after the first two steps but did not turn around to face her. “Then you’re lying.”

  Sky was peacefully asleep, but Barney jumped up when he saw Thomas. Reluctantly, the dog trotted past him and down the stairs, knowing he would be chased out of the room anyway. It was one of their agreements. Barney could stay until she was asleep, but he spent the night downstairs in his basket.

  Thomas closed the door quietly and leaned on the banister.

  In the light from the fireplace, Collins’s straight hair was glowing brightly, and he saw the contours of her even face. Barney lay calmly in her lap, and she was fondling his tummy. Thomas had never seen the spaniel so at ease.

  Quietly, he walked downstairs, poured them more wine, and sat down in his favourite corner of the large couch.

  “You look good,” Collins said, not raising her head.

  “And yet you walked past me this morning.”

  “I remembered you differently.”

  “Time can change people.”

  “An empty phrase.”

  “It can’t be said for everybody.” He had a fairly good sense for people’s characters, but he failed with Collins. One minute he thought he had finally understood her, could talk to her, and knew who she was, but the next he was wondering whether he knew anything about her at all.

  “I never thought I would say this, but Sky is a buoyant kid. Quite mature for her age.”

  “I guess she has to be. The environment she’s growing up in is quite dynamic. She has learnt to adapt quickly to changing situations. But yes, when she’s not causing trouble, she can be quite funny.”

  “You never regretted coming here?”

  “Not a single second.”

  “This place did a lot of good to you, didn’t it? You appear fairly fit and healthy.” For the first time, she looked him in the eyes. “Which is why I didn’t recognise you this morning. I was expecting Mr Butterball.” She did not break eye contact.

  Thomas let her remark hang in the air. He remained expressionless, although, a dozen thoughts were chasing through his head. It was his fault; he had offered her this talk. He thought he was prepared for it, but now that it was said, it hurt him. But he blamed only himself; he knew about Collins’s lack of consideration. Or was she just challenging him? What did he really expect? She had not changed. But he had. And he would rise above it all.

  “Nice to hear the name still exists,” he replied, gathering himself.

  “Looks like it’s not needed anymore.”

  Thomas felt alternately warm and cold. Every time she was holding her hand out, and he accepted it, he got burnt, let go, and fell again. He took a deep breath.

  “I don’t know what Sexton told you about what had happened a year ago, but I assume you know that the incident was the reason why I left HQ and came here. David took me in until this house was ready. I knew I couldn’t carry on living the way I was in Turnden. What had happened was a brutal wakeup call, and it would have been arrogant to ignore it.” He took a sip of his favourite South African wine and let it roll around in his mouth. He appreciated the subtle beauty of it. “David and I went running every day, I played football with Sky, and I went to the gym in St Anna. Plus, I had enough time to do lots of healthy cooking, and that’s how I turned into the person I am now… the way I look now.” He felt good with his explanation of events.

  “I know what happened in the park…” she said quietly, fondling Barney’s ears.

  “Good for you,” he cut in. “But I’ll not discuss any of this.” He felt his temper rise.

  “You should let go of the past. It’s not worth mulling it over time and time again.”

  “As if you know anything about people’s feelings other than hurting them!” he snapped.

  “Sometimes choosing your way in life is a luxury! Maybe I would have liked to walk down a different road, but there was not really an option. But that’s something you in your sheltered upbringing never had to encounter!”

  Thomas swallowed hard. Her words hurt him, but so had his hurt her.

  Nevertheless, he was her superior, and he should not let his temper guide his mouth. “I think it’s time to call it a night. We have a busy day ahead.”

  They drove to the County Inn in silence.

  “I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty in the morning,” Thomas said and got out of his SUV to carry he
r suitcase to the entrance, but Collins ignored him and banged the car door shut.

  10

  IT was past midnight, and icy air filled Thomas’s lungs as he walked from the reception of the inn back to the car. Solid snow crunched underneath his feet, and he regretted not putting on his parka.

  Above him, a star-filled sky announced a forthcoming beautiful winter’s day.

  On his way back home along the deserted streets, with now unlit windows, he took a little detour across the market square.

  The yellow crime scene tape hung limply around the pyramid. Other than that, nothing reminded him that a dead body had been found there just twenty-four hours earlier.

  It was eerily silent, just as the bakery apprentice had told him that morning. Thomas shuddered, unsure whether it was from the cold or the thought of murder, as he drove the last hundred yards home.

  The fresh air had wiped away his tiredness, and finally, he had time for himself.

  He turned off the Christmas illumination, poured himself a double whiskey, and slumped on the couch with his drawing pad and pencil. The fireplace still emitted warmth, but the glow was gone.

  He closed his eyes and let the memories from the park wash through his mind and body.

  Single moments flashed up like fireworks, and he moved through the entire evening in slow motion.

  The girl’s scream.

  The rotten smell of her attacker.

  The pirate ship.

  The chase.

  The climbing wall.

  Her fall behind it — the final curtain closing.

  But above it all, there was he himself. A police officer restrained by his own body weight, which prevented him from saving a young life. He would never be able to forgive himself.

  The picture he had sketched showed a young woman sitting on a grey wall, one leg slung over each side. Her thin arms were outstretched, reaching for help. Her hair was a mess, her make-up blurred from tears, her dress ripped.

  The drawing looked so real that his body shook uncontrollably. His breathing was hard and fast as if running across the playground was no longer a picture in his mind, but suddenly the reality.

  Thomas let his eyes wander down his chest and flat stomach to his muscular thighs, slowly taking in the body contours he saw through his shirt and trousers. He was very satisfied with what he saw, but in order to keep that feeling at bay, he forced himself to relive those memories time and time again.

  He could not allow himself a sense of joy at the cost of someone else’s death. The price that had been paid had simply been too high.

  Then he ripped the paper off the pad, set it alight, and watched it burn in the fireplace.

  Poking its embers, he made sure his drawing had turned into ash.

  He would never allow Sky to learn about that episode from his past.

  11

  THE soft chill-out music playing from his alarm clock released Thomas from a restless night. He felt exhausted.

  Barney’s warm tongue slobbered in his right ear, which was enough to make him get up. He needed to lock the door at night.

  Quietly, he went into Sky’s bedroom and put the dog on top of her. “Good morning, kiddo. Rise and shine.”

  A grumpy grunt came from beneath the eiderdown, and Barney pulled it back.

  “Come on, Sky, wake up.” He sat down next to her and switched on the tablet. “Do you want to talk to your dad?”

  She nodded.

  “Open your eyes first.” He laughed.

  “I just need my mouth.”

  “You will scare him!”

  “Can you get me Richie’s mask from last night? That would be fun.” She sat up and took the tablet.

  “You have twenty minutes until breakfast. And it would be nice of you to remember that I’d like to talk to David as well today.”

  “I’ll try.”

  He showered, prepared breakfast, and read the morning paper until Sky dangled the tablet over the banister for him to catch.

  Thomas put it on the table in front of him, poured himself some coffee, and broke off one end of a flaky croissant, coating it thickly with blueberry jam, while his friend told him that one of his credit cards had been stolen after a long, hard night partying — and he couldn’t even remember all the clubs he’d been to.

  “I told you time and time again that your bad habits will get you into trouble,” Thomas said, and they both laughed. “Will you make it back in time for Sky’s birthday? You shouldn’t disappoint her, David.”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll be back. Flights are booked. She said you were working on a murder case, is that right?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. The guy from the cabin was found murdered on the Christmas pyramid the night before last. Ethan Wright was not his real name, but that’s as far as we’ve got. No clue as to who did it, why it was done, or even where it happened.”

  “Barely knew him. Your first tricky challenge since moving here. Well, Officer, I have an alibi that at least Ruby, Amber, and Diamond can confirm.” David grinned.

  “What happened to Sapphire?”

  “Called in sick… Bitch.”

  They laughed out loud. David had a pretty blue sense of humour, but now he was looking seriously into the camera again, furrowing his brow. “You all right?”

  Thomas knew what he meant and nodded. “Whiskey helps a lot,” he said, winking.

  They agreed to talk again the next day and rung off.

  Thomas dropped Sky off at school, which was actually within walking distance from his home, but since the County Inn was just around the corner he figured he could drive a loop.

  The night had changed into a picture-postcard winter’s day with a steel-blue sky, bright sunshine, and minus ten degrees. Wherever he looked, the snow’s tiny prisms cheerfully sparkled at him, and he briefly felt blinded by their intensity.

  The time he had saved not shovelling snow that morning had been needed to unfreeze the garage lock, but he was not yet running late.

  Collins walked down the stairs of the Country Inn just as he pulled up in front. She was wearing her hair up in a bun, and carrying her hat in one hand and her laptop bag in the other.

  “Good morning,” Thomas said while she banged the car door shut. “Did you have a good night?” He hoped their disagreement from the previous evening would not dwell upon them for much longer.

  Collins ignored him. “Do you know what the best thing is about this place?” she asked finally.

  He shrugged. “Big bathtub, maybe?”

  She looked him directly in the eyes. “Seeing it disappear in the rear-view mirror.”

  “Then I better speed up. But seriously, was it that bad?”

  “Depends on where you draw the line. There was ice on the inside of the window this morning because the heating didn’t work in my room. And to be able to eat the breakfast, your taste buds must have died a while ago. So, for my liking, yes it was bad.”

  “Oh dear, I’m sorry. Did they offer you a new room for tonight?”

  “Yes, they did.”

  “And?”

  “And I hope we have this bloody case solved by then so I can go back to civilisation!”

  They drove to the police station in silence and squashed into their tiny office. When his phone vibrated, Thomas thought it best to leave Collins to her mood.

  “Good morning, Laura. How are you?”

  “Morning. I’m tired, if you’re really interested. I’ve been up all night trying to find your victim in the medical records database.”

  She sounded reproachful, and Thomas wondered whether the sulkiness of his female colleagues could be his fault.

  “Anyway,” Laura went on, “I can give you a name. The rest is your job.”

  “Sounds brilliant. I’ve put the speaker on so Collins can hear you too.”

  “Right, the victim’s real name is William Lawson, seventy-eight years old. Fingerprints and dental records match. That’s it. I’m going home now to catch up on some sleep, so do
n’t even think about calling me.”

  “Thanks, Laura. Great job.” He hung up and turned to Collins, who was already busy typing the name into various databases.

  She motioned for him to take notes on the whiteboard.

  “All right, William Lawson, or rather Dr William Lawson, born in Stony Creek, studied medicine in Turnden, where he worked at the University Hospital for a couple of years before moving to St Anna, where he was a surgeon at St Anna Hospital in the seventies and eighties. In the late eighties, he went to Africa, where he worked as an aid official and doctor in various countries. While at St Anna Hospital, he was a recognised physician and helped underprivileged Bohemian children with free surgeries. It seems he was quite popular.”

  The black and white picture taken nearly thirty years earlier showed a sophisticated-looking man in his late forties. He had shoulder-length hair, the way it was worn in the eighties, and horn-rimmed spectacles. His face was clean shaven, but to Thomas, he looked neither exceptionally beautiful nor ugly — just an average guy.

  He held a picture of Lawson from the morgue next to it and glanced at Collins.

  “Looks like two entirely different people to me. He hasn’t just aged. He’s haggard. Like a broken old man. Why is he in our database?” Thomas asked.

  “Because one patient died after Lawson did surgery on him. After an investigation, though, he was cleared of all charges. It could not have been known beforehand that the patient had such a weak heart.”

  “What about Lawson’s family?”

  “Only child. His parents died when he was at university. He has never been married, and there are no children registered here. Sounds like we don’t have to inform any next of kin.”

  Thomas rolled his eyes at her. “Okay, after whatever amount of time in Africa, he decided to come back to Europe for a reason we don’t know yet. Myers said he moved to the village about two years ago. Did he have anything to do with Turtleville while working in St Anna?”

  Collins quickly hit some keys, but then shook her head. “Nope, no reference to Turtleville. But why did he come back under a false name?”