“Lucky you. Can you confirm that Lawson was especially interested in organ transplantations?”
“Oh, yes, he was. He wanted St Anna Hospital to be a leader in that field here in this area… put a lot of effort into having transplantations done here.”
“But he wasn’t very successful, was he? I mean, with acquiring a leading role for the hospital?”
“They never really had a chance against the large university clinic in Turnden. Way too small, too much red tape, and not enough experienced doctors.” He said the last words with a satisfied grin.
“Why didn’t he go to Turnden to pursue his career there?”
Kelly snorted. “He applied to Turnden’s organ transplantation unit but was rejected every single time.”
“Why was that?”
“He simply wasn’t as impeccable as many imagined.”
Thomas took this new piece of information in. It did not match any of the statements they had heard so far. But then again, he did not expect Kelly to utter any praise about his once best friend.
“Do you know anybody by the name of Belka?” Thomas enquired, changing the subject.
“I fenced against an Ondrej Belka at my club. What does he have to do with anything?”
Thomas ignored his question. “Thank you. And as I asked you this morning, please stay in the area.”
He turned and left Kelly standing forlornly in the doorframe, shivering from the cold.
Once inside the car, Thomas turned the heating to full blast.
All the windows he passed by on his way back to the station were illuminated, acting like a chain of light in the increasingly fierce snowstorm, and guiding his SUV along the road. He was momentarily so blinded by an approaching car that he steered too much to the right-hand side and nearly got stuck in a drift. That would have been about the last thing he needed. The high winds pulled at the car noisily and dramatically, creating a comfortable atmosphere inside for Thomas to arrange his thoughts about all the new information from the day.
There was a smarmy mayor, who did not like Lawson from the moment the man had set foot in his village; a murky chief constable, who swore black and blue to not having recognised him; a company owner, who sold him land and property but says he had nothing to do with him; and a betrayed but still love-struck best mate claiming Lawson was a rather undistinguished surgeon.
But what was their connection? Must there always be a connection? Who hated Lawson enough to kill him? And why was his body moved after he was dead?
And then there was the Bohemian drug dealer. How did he fit into the picture? Thomas would bet money on the fact that Ondrej Belka was Karel’s father.
But none of them had anything to do with the hospital, medicine, or Lawson’s apparently huge interest in organ transplantation.
Kelly knew he had worked at the hospital, as did Myers, who had brought him some patients every now and again. But that was it.
18
WHEN Thomas arrived at the police station, he was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear the receptionist shout his name. Only when he felt a tugging at his arm he turned around.
“Mr Thomas, I’m sorry, but there is a woman calling for the third time now, and she insists on talking to you. I tried to put her through to DS Collins, but she simply refuses to talk to anybody else but you.”
“Who is she? What is it about?”
“She didn’t say her name, and as I said she—”
“Okay, okay, if she calls again—” he interrupted her.
“She’s on the line right now,” the receptionist replied.
He closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his temple. “All right, put her through to my office. I don’t really have time for such stupid games.”
He dashed to their tiny office and was hit by a wall of heat when he opened the door. Collins sat at her desk wearing big red headphones, and a pile of sweaters and jackets lay on the chair next to her.
“Hello, I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” Thomas greeted her.
“As you know, I don’t really have a choice, and I can’t even drive away as my car is hidden somewhere under a mountain of snow.” She looked at him challengingly when the phone rang.
“The receptionist said some woman wanted to talk to me,” he replied.
“Yep, she put her through to me twice, but every time I said my name, she hung up.”
“So, let’s try it with mine then, shall we?”
He picked up the phone. “DI Nathaniel Thomas, St Anna Police Station, how can I help you?”
“Are you Mr Thomas?”
“Yes, I am. Who am I talking to?”
Collins turned the speaker on.
“I called at the hospital earlier on, and there I was told to talk to you.”
There was a crackling noise on the line.
“What is your name, madam?” he asked.
“We talked to each other every Sunday, and he made me promise to call the hospital or police if we hadn’t spoken by Wednesday; and today is Wednesday, and he…” She started sobbing.
Thomas looked at the receiver in his hand, wondering whether the woman could hear him. He decided to give it another try.
“If you don’t tell me who you are, and what this is all about right now, I’ll hang up and you won’t be put through to me again.”
“No, no, wait, sorry, it’s just… my name is Ayodele.”
Thomas looked at Collins, who drew the shape of Africa with her finger in the air.
“Are you calling from Africa?”
“Yes, from Nigeria. What happened to Will? At the hospital they said he was… someone had…” She broke down in tears.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but he was found murdered two nights ago. I’m the leading detective inspector in this investigation, and currently my sergeant and I are trying to find out who did this. What was your relationship to Mr Lawson, and why are you calling us?”
“We worked together. I’m a nurse, and he was a doctor. We travelled throughout Africa. Wherever help was needed, we stayed and supplied medical treatment and advice.” She sniffed, but calmed herself down enough to be heard through the crackling line. “Two years ago, he left me. Said he wanted to spend his remaining years in the area he knew… where he felt at home. I was devastated but what could I do?”
“Why are you calling us?”
“I called Will once a week, every Sunday evening, and he—”
“Hang on,” Thomas interrupted her. “You called him? He didn’t have a phone in his cabin!”
“He had a pay-as-you-go mobile.”
Thomas looked quizzically at Collins, who shook her head. They had not found a phone on him or in the cabin.
“Okay, go on. What did you talk about?”
“As I said, I called him every Sunday evening to talk about my work here at an orphanage and how the kids are. This was his last stop, so he still remembered most of the staff and children. But this Sunday was strange. When I phoned, he sounded extremely happy and said he had a visitor—”
“Who? Who was with him?” Thomas cut in.
“I don’t know; he didn’t say. But he was bouncing off the walls with joy and said we had to postpone our talk to Monday… he didn’t have time then. He never had visitors! He never mentioned a single name from where he lived to me. No friend, no neighbour, nothing. Do you think the visitor was his murderer?”
Thomas kicked the trash bin in anger and sighed. “Yes, I believe so. But still, why are you calling us? Because you were worried he didn’t call you back on Monday as agreed? And what time did you call him?”
“I called at exactly ten p.m. on Sunday night. Will was as precise as a Swiss watch. He never broke a promise. And… I don’t know how to put this… but it was the first time in three or four years that he was happy. During our last years together in Nigeria he was getting depressed, and withdrew himself more and more from any activities and friends. He said he would never come back to Africa but promised
me he would stay in touch by phone, and if I ever couldn’t get hold of him, I must call the hospital first and the police second. He said the day he wouldn’t pick up my call was the day he died…” Her voice trailed off and she cried uncontrollably again.
Thomas put the phone on mute to let her regain herself.
“What bothered him so much that even after thirty-odd years away it still haunted him? I mean, he was popular, he had friends, he had sex, he had money, he was good at his job. I couldn’t find any angry patients or complaints about his work… what was the reason?” he asked forcefully.
Collins stood up and Thomas looked into two thoughtful faces reflected in the window.
“Hello, are you still there?” Ayodele’s shaky voice came through the speaker.
Thomas pressed the mute button again.
“Yes, we are still here. It’s really important that you think about any possible reason why he wanted to come back. What could have bothered him?”
“Don’t think I haven’t tried! Endless nights I have talked to him, yelled at him, tried to coax any reason out of him. Fruitless. He was stubborn. He never said what bothered him. His last words at the airport were, ‘I have to make peace with my past’, and with that, he left me.”
“Okay, you knew him better than anybody else we have spoken to so far. He avoided everybody in the village, lived alone in a cabin in the forest. What impression did he make on you when you called? From what you said about your time in Africa, it sounds like he was rather an outgoing person who easily interacted with other people.”
“Oh yes, that was Will. He found a topic to talk about with everybody he met. And he tolerated everybody, no matter their social background or belief.” Collins waved Thomas over to her computer while Ayodele kept talking. “But as I said, he became quiet and introverted. In the last couple of weeks, he said he was scared of what the future held for him.”
“Okay, go on,” Thomas said while looking at Collins’s screen. She had opened a website about African names, and there it said that Ayodele originated from different African languages but always had the same meaning, ‘return of happiness.’
Collins quickly scribbled ‘who is she?’ on her notepad.
Thomas put the receiver to his ear and interrupted the woman’s flow of words. “You’re Diane Kelly, aren’t you?”
She went quiet.
“I spoke to your former husband today. What a coincidence. You eloped with Lawson thirty years ago. Why didn’t you tell me your real name?”
“Ayodele is my real name. Now. How did you know?”
“Mr Kelly strongly feels it is his fault you left… he failed your marriage. Said you weren’t happy with him anymore. Your name means ‘return of happiness’ which is exactly what happened when you left this area for good with your lover, William Lawson.”
“Well done, Inspector. But William was not my lover. Not at the beginning, at least, and not at the end. My husband didn’t allow me to work. A good wife stays at home and does the housework, he said. We couldn’t have any children, so I felt like a prisoner in our huge house. He worked long hours at his company every day and weekends. When he finally came home, he often brought his best buddy with him. William Lawson. Will felt sorry for me. Whenever he had time off we met at the pub. We were like soul mates; I could talk about everything with him. He offered me a job at the hospital as a nurse, but when Alex found out he slapped me in the face. Said I was his wife and he knew what was best for me. It was Will’s idea to do something totally crazy and leave this mess behind for a while. We never planned to stay this long, but in Africa I learnt what freedom really meant.” She started sobbing again. “But… can you tell me how he was killed?”
“Someone rammed a broken epee into his heart,” Thomas answered, hearing her scream out in pain. And it might even have been your former husband, he thought.
They thanked her, wrote down both Lawson’s and her number, and promised to be in touch again soon.
Thomas turned to Collins. “Okay, please sort through all the information we’ve received today and put it on the board. The murderer was with Lawson in the cabin. She said the person was there at ten p.m., presumably arriving after the Bohemian boys left. But Lawson was killed after midnight. What did they talk about for so long?”
“The doctor certainly knew his attacker, so he let him in. They talked about the olden days and then what? Had a disagreement? Or did the other person already go there with murder in mind?” Collins played thoughtfully with a strand of loose hair.
“I don’t think the crucial argument arose that night. Whoever went there intended to kill Lawson. Belka said there was someone in the forest when they stashed their drugs; I bet it was Lawson’s murderer, observing him. And I don’t think Lawson had an epee in his cabin.”
“Why not?” Collins asked. “The cabin belonged to a fencer, remember? Dobson could have left it in some closet or shed, and Lawson certainly had the tools to cut it in half.”
“Far-fetched… but possible,” Thomas admitted. “So, it still could have been a murder on impulse. After all, Ayodele said he sounded extremely happy when she called. If he had been scared, this would have been his chance to let her know or even ask for help. Okay, we’ll deal with this tomorrow. There is one last thing I’d like you to do today. Kelly said his fencing mate was called Ondrej Belka. Please find out if that’s Karel’s father, uncle, cousin, or whatever. If so, then the boys could very well have had access to an epee,” Thomas said, picking up his parka.
Collins dialled Lawson’s number, but the phone was off, as expected.
“And what are you going to do in the meantime?” she asked, turning to her boss.
“I’ve been to this stupid cabin twice. I don’t want to go there a third time, but I want this mobile phone. I’ll pay Laura a quick visit and see if it’s in his bag of clothes, and then I’ll pick you up.”
Collins nodded, not looking up from her screen.
19
KEEPING his head down against the piercing snow, Thomas hurried across the parking lot of St Anna Hospital, and quickly made for the corner of the building to get out of the biting wind, when a slender figure suddenly appeared out of nowhere — equally shielding her face from the snow.
Before he could change course, Thomas bumped into the woman. Looking up without warning, the storm hit his face with full force, making him gulp and struggle for air.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he coughed.
The woman looked up. “This chat-up line is getting old now! You’ll never get a chance if you don’t come up with something more exciting.” Kate Adams smiled up at him.
“And I thought you liked it! If not, then why do you keep running into my arms?” Thomas winked.
She smiled shyly.
“Visiting your friend?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Unfortunately, there is no cure for a broken leg. It just takes time. But what are you doing here?”
“I’m on my way to the morgue, actually.”
“Can’t get enough of dead bodies, huh?”
“To be honest, I would enjoy a warm, passionate body much more.”
“Then try harder next time!” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, turned around, and dashed towards her car.
Thomas felt the heat from his face melt the oncoming snowflakes even before they hit his skin.
Absent-mindedly, he entered the morgue and found Laura in her cramped office, Christmas music playing softly in the background. Through a little window she waved him in.
“Hi, how are you?”
“What a pleasant surprise, Detective Inspector!” She smiled at him. “What can I do for you?”
“Two things actually. Did you get the blood test results?”
“Yes. As I’ve already told you, there were no drugs in his blood, and according to the test, no other toxins, medication, or alcohol were found. Not even a beer. If it’s of any importance, he had a dinner of bunny stew at around eight p.m.; otherwise, he
was a healthy old man — non-fat, non-smoker — could’ve lived a hundred years.”
“He was a doctor; you would assume he knew how to take care of his body. But, to be honest, I wasn’t suspecting anything unusual in his blood. My second question is, was there a mobile phone in his pockets?”
Laura raised her brows. “A phone? No, not that I’m aware of. But have a look yourself.”
She led him into an adjacent room, where the victim’s clothes and murder weapon — that he had given to a young constable with the request of returning it to the morgue after showing it to his neighbour — were neatly arranged on a large table.
Thomas went through the shirt and trouser pockets. They were empty.
“We got a call from a female friend of his in Nigeria,” Thomas said, explaining his rummaging. “And she said she called him every Sunday evening without exception. Last time, he was totally excited about having a guest, so they postponed the call until Monday. But because it never took place, the lady got worried and called us. We haven’t found a phone in his cabin, and obviously it was not on him either.” He leaned back on the door frame, crossing his arms. “But why would the murderer take his phone?”
Laura shrugged. “Maybe there was something on it that he wanted. Can’t you trace it?”
“Nope, it’s off. But anyway, thanks. Don’t stay too long!”
“Paperwork…” She rolled her eyes. “I spend more time writing about the bodies than actually working on them.”
“Once this case is solved we’ll have a little Christmas party at the police station. You’re more than welcome to join us!”
“What Christmas are we talking about?”
“Ha ha. Your invitation has just been withdrawn.” He smiled at her. “Got to go, or the roads will be closed.”
Laura waved goodbye.
Thomas quickly picked Collins up from the station, and they made their way back to Turtleville, a lone car in a snowstorm.
Collins confirmed that Ondrej Belka was Karel’s uncle but had died a couple of years earlier. Too much booze. She wanted to talk to Belka again the next day. At that moment he was disclosing all of his sources, only to get a milder sentence for drug dealing, so why not use his communication friendliness?
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