Snow Light

by Danielle Zinn

  “I decide when a case is closed!” Thomas shouted. “Anyway, who told you about the drugs?”

  “A friend of mine works at the lab and—”

  “Great! Why don’t we announce the progress of the case in the newspaper?” Thomas threw his hands up in despair. “Did you speak to Lawson when the mayor complained about him?”

  “Yes, but he didn’t want to tell me why he went to the school or who he was looking for. He didn’t say anything. I told him he would face a molestation lawsuit if he was ever seen there again.”

  “What was Lawson like, besides the fact that he didn’t talk much? You had an eye on him; you’ve probably spoken to him more than anybody else in this village.”

  “He was living in a totally different world. Nutcase. He once thought he was being followed. Everybody in the village crossed to the other side of the road when he came.”

  “What did Kelly tell you?”

  “He recognised him in the forest, knew who he was, but Lawson ignored him… didn’t want to talk to him either, which is understandable. They used to be best friends.”

  “So, you know Kelly because he owned a company in the village?”

  Myers nodded.

  “You said it was understandable that Lawson didn’t want to talk to Kelly. Why?” Thomas asked.

  “Hasn’t he told you? Lawson eloped with Kelly’s wife to Africa. Kelly flew all the way to Angola to beat Lawson up and flew back home.”

  What a mess, Thomas thought. Somehow everybody in this village who is, or was, a pillar of this fine society had a connection to the victim, and the deeper he dug the dirtier it got. But what was even worse was that Collins had been right with her question regarding whether Kelly and Lawson really only shared a laugh when they went out together, or whether they also shared a love.

  “No, he told me his wife died many years ago,” Thomas replied instead.

  Myers hesitated. “I’m not sure if she is still alive now, but she was very much alive when I was chief constable.”

  “And you’re really sure you did not recognise Lawson? Even though you knew him from back then and had seen him together with Kelly.”

  “As I said, I didn’t recognise him!”

  “Is there anything else that I don’t know?” Thomas eyed him quizzically.

  Myers shook his head; he looked sad and desperate.

  “Just answer me this one question,” Myers said. “Why don’t you think it was this drugs bloke? When I was constable, I would have been happy to have the amount of proof that you have against this dealer. I bet he’s responsible for various other car thefts and burglaries. Let me question him for one hour and he’ll admit to anything!”

  “Thank you for the offer, but no. I would appreciate it much more if you didn’t interfere with my investigation anymore, and if you have valuable information, please call me.”

  “Sure. What path will you pursue then, if it was not a drug deal gone wrong?”

  “Currently, my colleague is looking into Lawson’s patient files, and trying to find as many people as possible who he operated on, or who worked with him and can still remember him. I believe the motive can be found in his past, and I don’t think we should simply blame it on the Bohemians.”

  Myers fidgeted nervously in his chair. His face looked pale and saggy.

  “Are you feeling unwell?” Thomas asked.

  “No, no. Just had some trouble sleeping last night. Rheumatism. It’s a pain being old, I’m telling you.” Thomas got up and made for the door when he felt Myers’s hand on his shoulder. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier about Kelly, but could you keep me informed about new developments? I really hope you catch that bastard fast.”

  Thomas nodded, though, knowing he would almost certainly only give him information that he would also write on the village blackboard.

  Back in his car, he called Collins and told her what he had found out. He heard her taking notes on his beloved whiteboard. The key to a successful investigation was to always keep the information neatly arranged. Only then would it make sense. People would drag bits and pieces of clues to him, and it was his job to organise them and find the connection.

  “I keep telling you I don’t like that Myers bloke,” Collins said.

  “Unfortunately, your gut feeling isn’t enough for the prosecutor. We need to dig deeper into Lawson’s past. Certain people are already getting nervous. That means we’re moving in the right direction.”

  “Could the mayor have paid Myers to get rid of Lawson in hopes of having a placid village again?”

  “Check their bank accounts and see what transactions have taken place. I’ll go to Dobson now, and after that pay another visit to Kelly. He knows a lot more than he told us this morning. Any progress on the patient files?”

  “Actually yes, I’ve heard from six different people who were under Lawson’s medical treatment, and they’ve all said that he was obsessed with organ transplantation and donors. He read every book and article available on the market about the subject back then, and discussed it with nearly every patient — almost pressuring them to fill in an organ donor card. He tried to convince them that this was the right thing to do, and that they would lead a more fulfilled life knowing they could help others, even after death, and they might receive help themselves when needed.”

  “Unfortunately, he couldn’t donate anything himself. But he certainly supported the cause with money until he died. We saw that from his bank account. Since when has this organ donor card existed?”

  “The first kidney donor cards were issued in November 1971, so it was the medical breakthrough and a novelty when he was a young doctor. He was fairly fascinated by that.”

  “Well done. Can you please talk to the hospital again and get their opinion on organ transplantation? When it was done there the first time and so on.”

  “Sure, can do. Will you pick me up later on? I found out the last bus leaves at four thirty p.m.; this place is really scary.”

  He laughed. “Of course, I’ll pick you up! How was last night in your new room?”

  “The bedframe broke at around three in the morning, so I slept on the mattress on the floor. But it felt five degrees warmer than it did in the other room, and I didn’t have snow on the nightstand. So, all in all, I would say it’s a definite upgrade.”

  Thomas cringed. “Oh dear, listen, when we drive back, let me at least show you David’s house. Once you’ve seen it you can still decide to go back to the inn.”

  Collins hesitated.

  “I only offer you this because I need a fit sergeant. The last thing I need is you catching a cold, or whatever it is one can catch at this blissful establishment you’re staying at.”

  Finally, he heard her sigh and even chuckle for a second. “All right, I’ll have a look. But won’t Sky mind me staying at her home?”

  “No, don’t worry. She’s not like that.”

  “Okay, then see you later.”

  The next person he called was Dobson’s secretary to find out whether the boss would be available for a chat. It turned out he was, though, he sounded rather reluctant from what Thomas could hear in the background.

  Dobson met him at reception, and this time led him into one of the ground floor meeting rooms. His assistant brought them tea, coffee, and some biscuits.

  “How can I help you this time?” Dobson asked coolly.

  “I’m still asking myself the same question. What’s your connection to William Lawson? It would be helpful if you told me the truth this time. If I have to come a third time, it might not end as pleasantly as our first visit.”

  “Who says there’s a connection to that man? I told you everything I know last time. Or have you found the epee tip and can trace it back to me?”

  “No, unfortunately not yet, but I’m sure that’s just a question of time. You said you’ve never spoken to Lawson?”

  “That’s correct. Didn’t know him, didn’t talk to him.”

  Thomas waited a moment
before speaking again, just to make sure his eyes were firmly fixed on Dobson. He was dead certain his next statement would coax a reaction, if only the smallest, from the man opposite him.

  “And yet you sold him your cabin.”

  He was right. Dobson inhaled sharply and dropped his gaze from Thomas for a second. But he quickly regained his wits.

  “Didn’t know that was a crime.”

  “Why haven’t you mentioned it?”

  “Because that was not the first thing I thought of! He told me his name was Ethan Wright. How am I supposed to know he has two names?”

  “How many inhabited cabins in the forest do we have here, Mr Dobson? You knew very well who I was talking about two days ago. What did he pay you for it?”

  “Twenty grand.”

  “For an askew cabin?”

  “Not just for the cabin. He got the pond and a small part of land, as well.”

  “I’m sure you have all of this documented and can show me the proper papers for this sale?”

  “I sure can, but I don’t have them here. They’re at home in my safe.”

  “How did you meet Lawson? I believe he didn’t knock on your office door?”

  “Someone introduced him to me. Can’t remember who it was.”

  “Robert Myers, maybe?”

  “Oh yes, that was him.” Dobson nodded.

  “Did you visit Lawson sometimes at the cabin?”

  “No, once I sold it to him, I didn’t go there anymore.”

  “So, you never spoke to him again after the sale?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “When you were with him, did you notice anything out of the ordinary? Or did he react in any special way?”

  “Now that you mention it, I noticed two things. Firstly, he paid cash. I never thought he had that much money let alone walk around with it in cash; he just didn’t look the type. Secondly, he always seemed distant… not being here in the present. He could look right through you but still listen to you. Weird guy. Like he was waiting for something to happen or someone to come. Bit paranoid, maybe.”

  “Hmm, maybe. Is there anything else I should know or you wish to tell me?”

  “No, there certainly isn’t.”

  “I do hope so. Thank you again for your time. Sir.” Thomas nodded to him.

  It was a rather frosty farewell. Dobson neither bothered to shake hands nor get up and show him to the door. He just sat there impatiently waiting for the tall man to leave.

  Once the door closed, Thomas heard him make an urgent phone call, but he could not hear what was being said through the heavy door.

  There was nothing he could do at that moment regarding Dobson. The man had an alibi, and Thomas had no proof that Dobson had anything to do with the murder, so unless he decided to tell him all he knew, he could only wait… at least another day or two.

  In the parking lot, he scraped some ice off his windscreen and got into his vehicle. The sun had begun to set behind dark clouds, and soon a moonless night would be above them. The thermometer in his car showed minus eight degrees outside, and the news speaker on the local radio station reminded all listeners to be aware of thieves, especially as lots of houses were uninhabited during the holiday season.

  While turning onto the road to Screen Mountain, Thomas thought about the upcoming Christmas festival. He had agreed with David to spend Christmas at his house, just like the previous year, and imagined them sitting there again — the odd foursome. Two straight men, an over-excited just-turned-twelve-year-old girl, and a greedy dog.

  The previous year, he had arrived at David’s house on the day before Christmas, and all he’d wanted was to hole up somewhere, where nobody would ever find him. But David had kept him busy either with outdoor chores, such as splitting firewood, or playing endless games with Sky.

  It was one of the best Christmases he’d ever had, although, he hadn’t deserved it. He managed to push his terrible thoughts away during the day; however, in the evening when he went to bed, the emotions and memories of that fateful night rushed back to him.

  David’s Christmas present for him was a drawing pad and an expensive pencil with the words “Stars Can’t Shine Without Darkness” engraved on it.

  Until spring, he had put one fraction of his memories down on paper every single night, sometimes until early in the morning. But when summer arrived he was increasingly busy with decorating his own house and participating in sports.

  He only referred to his drawing pad when his heart beat fast and he felt like everything was too much for him to bear. But with every piece of paper that burnt in the fireplace he felt lighter, realising that he was needed here, where his best friend was.

  The car snaked along the wintry street. The first snowflakes came dancing down, and the wind gained strength. On the little rise between Turtleville and Screen Mountain the road was unprotected by houses or trees, allowing the wind to create high snowdrifts and making the lane extremely narrow. He was lucky with the absence of oncoming traffic, as one car would probably have to reverse all the way back to the village it had just come from.

  Just like that morning, Thomas knocked on Kelly’s front door but got no reply. He did not want to push his luck and risk getting shot at in the darkness of the back garden, so he searched for a light source in one of the windows.

  At the gable end, he discovered what he was looking for. A light flickered in an upstairs window. He grabbed some snow, mashed it into a ball, and threw it expertly right in the middle of the glass.

  Kelly dashed to the window, ripped it open, and threatened him with what looked like a walking stick. “Damn children!”

  “Mr Kelly, it’s me, DI Thomas. I need to ask you some more questions!” he yelled against the beginning snowstorm.

  “I have no more to say to you!”

  “Your wife isn’t dead. She followed Lawson to Africa, didn’t she?”

  Kelly closed the window with a thud.

  Stubborn donkey, Thomas thought, and trudged back to his car, keeping his head down to shield his face against the suddenly harsh wind and pelting snow. He would have to arrest Kelly and interrogate him at the station.

  “To me, she died the day she left me for that asshole,” a muffled voice said from behind a pile of snow.

  Thomas slowly turned around the drift and saw Kelly standing in the doorway, wearing tracksuit bottoms and an undershirt.

  “Who told you that?” he asked, looking up at Thomas.

  “Robert Myers. But my question is why did you lie to me?”

  “It’s none of your business where my wife is! She’s not here, so she didn’t kill him.”

  “You’re still angry about what happened thirty years ago?”

  “Have you ever lost someone and deep inside knew it was your fault?” He snorted and shook his head. “How could you? You’re too young to understand. Time doesn’t heal shit! It makes things worse! The nagging guilt. The utter failure. And when you’re alone, like me, you have enough time to think about it day in and day out. As a man, you have to protect a woman… be there for her…” He broke off.

  Another chip off my self-confidence, Thomas thought. “May I come in?”

  “I didn’t let you in this morning. What makes you think I will now?”

  “Fair enough. Did you speak to Lawson about it in the forest? I mean, after all those years he dares to come back and move to the neighbouring village.”

  “Of course, I tried to talk to him. I wanted to know how he could betray his best friend like that. When he left, he told me nothing! I found a note on the kitchen counter one evening. It was from Diane. ‘Off to Africa to start a new life with my darling, Will,’ it read. I found out they went to Angola and followed them just to punch the living daylights out of him. When I suddenly saw him in the forest, I was gobsmacked, but I thought we could talk about what happened. Instead, that bastard didn’t even have the courage to face me. To talk to me. Nothing! Not a single word I got out of him!”

&nb
sp; “Did that make you angry?”

  “Apoplectic is the word I would use. But did I kill him? No. Unfortunately, someone else beat me to it. In the end, I even begged him to tell me how Diane was… told him I would leave him alone if he just answered me that one question…”

  “Have you told anybody about Lawson’s true identity?”

  Kelly looked at him for a long time before slowly shaking his head. “No, I haven’t. There aren’t that many people around anymore who either remembered him or would care who he was. The oh-so- popular doctor is back. Hallelujah!” He hawked and spat, missing Thomas’s trousers by an inch.

  “Mr Kelly, where were you two nights ago?”

  “What do you think?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. I want you to answer my question.”

  “I was here. Alone.” He slowly moved backwards inside the house.

  Thomas put his foot in the door frame, just in case. “Doing what?”

  “The three s’s.”

  “All evening?”

  “Went to bed early.”

  “I know I’ve asked you this before, but you might want to rethink your initial answer. Have you or Lawson ever fenced?”

  “Can’t speak for Lawson, but as long as he was here he never fenced. I took some lessons after my wife left. It’s a great sport to let off steam and be distracted. You have to fully concentrate on what you’re doing; otherwise, you leave the piste all bruised. And you don’t have time to think about anything else other than your next move.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Carls Bath. Listen, I know how Lawson died, and I’m telling you again I didn’t kill him. Unfortunately, someone else got there first.”

  “And I’m telling you that you don’t have an alibi. You have practiced the sport, and you held a grudge against Lawson. You’re probably the only person who recognised him or admits to having recognised him. Opportunity, means, and motive — three ticks, Mr Kelly.”

  “So, arrest me.” He looked at Thomas challengingly. “Ah, I forgot. You don’t have any proof.” He smirked.

  “Did Lawson ever operate on you?”

  “I’ve never been operated on.”