Tim gazed at her. She really looked pretty. Her short blonde hair looked adorable and made her jaw bones stand out. Her skin looked like satin. Her white jeans and light blue shirt accentuated her perfect figure.
‘All right’, he said suddenly. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give you good news.’
‘I was afraid of that’, she said quietly, looking at her hands folded together in her lap.
‘A few days ago we found a woman’s body in Pioneer Park, and I’m afraid…’
‘Afraid that it is Beatrice’, she finished his sentence for him. ‘But you are not sure’, she added hopefully.
‘That is why I asked you to come by, to be sure.’
Anna looked at him horrified. ‘You are not asking me to identify a body are you?' she stuttered. ‘Please, I can’t do that.’ She looked at him nervously.
He shook his head and opened the folder. On top was the 3-D picture. Slowly he pushed it over to Anna, making sure she wouldn’t see the other picture. ‘Is this Beatrice? Take your time.’
Anna swallowed audibly when she looked at the picture. Her facial expression said it all. She nodded. ‘Yes, this is Beatrice. My God, how did this happen? And where did you say she was found?’
‘Pioneer Park, three days ago.’
‘Pioneer Park’, Anna repeated. ‘What on earth was she doing in the park? It’s not on her way home at all.’ She looked at him pensively. ‘I take it she was murdered. But her face looks so peaceful’, she murmured.
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry Anna. I wish I had better news for you.’ He didn’t mention the mutilations and the torture she probably endured before she died. He also kept his mouth shut about the state they had found her in, and hoped she wouldn’t ask.
‘Has someone been arrested?’ Her voice trembled.
‘No not yet. We only just started the investigation. It could take a while Anna.’
‘Was she… was she raped?’
‘No’ he said quickly. ‘There is no indication she was.’ The report mentioned penetration but not under pressure. In the medical sense of the word he told her the truth, but he felt terrible. ‘Anna’, he continued, ‘I know you told me Beatrice didn’t have a boyfriend, but are you sure she never hinted about a man, or maybe started acting differently at one point?’
Anna thought about it and rubbed her hand on her forehead. Apologizing she shook her head. ‘Not that I noticed. She was pretty much in the same mood all the time, never mentioned any boyfriend.’
Tim put the picture back in the folder. ‘Did she always take the train or did someone pick her up in a car now and then?’
‘I think she always took the train. But I wouldn’t have noticed if that hadn’t been the case. She leaves on Saturday, I leave on Friday.’
‘Good.’ Tim shoved his chair back. Anna did the same. They shook hands. Tim gazed at her when she went into the corridor. This had probably been her first confrontation with death in her young life, hopefully it would be her last. In deep thought he went back to his office.
‘And?’ David asked. ‘How did things go?’
‘She confirms it’s Beatrice, as we thought. David, she was completely shattered about it. I feel sorry for her.’
‘She probably feels guilty she didn’t report her missing sooner.’
‘Could be, but that wouldn’t have changed things one iota. I spared her the details anyway.’
David nodded in comprehension.
Drizzle hung over the landscape like a veil. Tim turned his car into the wide driveway and saw the dark building loom in front of him. It stood at the end of an unpaved lane, hidden away from prying eyes. Hydrangeas in bloom edged the perfectly kept lawns. It looked like a miniature castle with its pinnacles and high narrow windows. Although it wasn’t dark yet, some of the rooms were lit. The whole building looked like an overgrown gingerbread house. Before it was a clinic, it belonged to the town of Albany and was used as a shelter for unmarried mothers. Ten years ago it was sold and got a new function. At the start of the driveway was a small display that said ‘ComaCare Albany’, underneath it the visiting hours. Around this time of day the parking was almost deserted. Only the staff cars were there and he found a spot rather quickly. Visiting hours were over but the manager always looked the other way when he came late. Tim made sure he never stayed long, so as not to disturb the nurses who prepared the patients for the night. The stay was expensive, as was the nursing, but after a tour through the rooms and facilities he and Gwen had decided this was the best place for their daughter. It was only half an hour drive from where they lived. In the beginning they visited twice a week, but after six months Tim noticed that it was too much of a burden for Gwen. She couldn’t cope emotionally with the fact of seeing her daughter vegetate, and with every visit it got worse. Every time she had been shattered and broken. Tim saw the image of Gwen in the bathroom with cut wrists. He had never seen so much blood. It had formed a grotesque puddle on the white tiles. He also saw Sean again and the rage devoured him slowly but surely, like a cancer spreading in his body. He tried to get some control again, opened the heavy front door, greeted the nurse at the reception desk and went straight to Debby’s room. His heart sank when he saw her in the bed that was too big for her, motionless and pale, a feeding tube disappearing under the blanket, surrounded by her favorite cuddly toys. Her eyes were open but stared at the ceiling, didn’t see him. He cursed Sean, he cursed Cameron, he cursed the whole world for this injustice.
That night he slept in the guestroom again.
CHAPTER 7
In the morning Tim received the search warrant for Bodini’s bungalow. As they were about to leave for Salem the dental report came in. Without a doubt, it was Beatrice’s body they had found. The Interstate 5 wasn’t very busy, traffic was flowing smoothly. David looked at Tim but he had his eyes fixed intensely on the road ahead.
‘How was your weekend?’ David asked.
Tim had the feeling his colleague was only trying to break the silence and hesitated. ‘The usual.’
‘At least you will have your healthy meals again now Cam is back… and a little more I dare hope,’ he laughed and without waiting for Tim’s answer he said: ‘Ours was just fantastic.’
Tim supposed that David and Frank had hit the town for drinks and a meal and had enjoyed every minute they had together. He didn’t have any problems with homosexuals as long as they didn’t rub his face in it. Luckily David was the male type of the two or it would have bothered him. He hated pink shirts, high voices and fluttering hands.
‘Good for you,’ Tim said. ‘Cam and I had some problems but nothing we can’t solve,’ he hastened to add. ‘Sean came by this weekend.’
‘Your brother Sean?’ David asked puzzled, putting the emphasis on the word brother. ‘I thought he was still doing time.’
‘Early release for good behavior’, Tim said contemptuously. ‘Cam invited him for dinner without even telling me. Can you believe that? As if I would ever forgive that son of a bitch’. He felt the rage wash over him again in a wave he couldn’t control and he took a deep breath.
‘And now you and Cam are fighting over that crap. Is he worth it?’
‘Well, we’re not really fighting, I mean no shouting or yelling or anything. Just not talking. I slept in the guestroom and avoided her all weekend. God, I even spent half a day in the park feeding the ducks and reading a book. And don’t ask me which one because I really don’t remember.’
‘Why do you think she did that?’
Tim shrugged his shoulders. ‘I wish I knew. I racked my brains but I can’t find a reasonable explanation for it. According to her, she wanted to reconcile us, but I don’t swallow that bullshit. She knew how I felt about him, she knew damn well I never ever wanted to see him again. But even before this happened, things haven’t been going well for a while now. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We’re nearly there.’ Again the image of a naked Susan appeared before his eyes. He felt miserable.
The t
echnical division was waiting for them when they arrived. Their white Ford Transit was parked on the drive. Dolan was smoking a cigarette as usual. Tim popped a peppermint in his mouth before he shut down the motor. Ed Dolan was a former fellow student, but they had never really liked each other. After his studies he had joined the police force in Portland, but because he didn’t get along with his colleagues he had asked to be transferred to Salem. He had worked there for five years now. He had made it to head of the field division, much to the surprise and displeasure of other colleagues who had been there for much longer. He and Tim had worked together on other cases already. Ed’s partner, Sue Lois, he had met twice. She was a very slender and tiny woman. This made her look more like a child than an adult. The fact that she wore her blonde hair in a ponytail most of the time didn’t help to change that appearance. She leant against the car and said something to Dolan whilst looking at her watch. Tim and David got out of the car. Dolan chucked his half smoked cigarette on the lawn. From the corner of his eye Tim saw the curtains move at Claire Simmons’ house. On the other side of the street, a young woman with a baby in her arms stood watching them from the front door.
‘Good morning gentlemen’, Dolan said loudly. ‘Well on time I see.’ He looked at his watch ostentatiously. He was wearing worn out jeans, at least one size too big and hadn’t shaved in days. There were a few grease stains on his light blue shirt. ‘And if the locksmith would have the decency to arrive now, things would be perfect.’
‘Not that I own you an explanation, but there was a queue on the Interstate’ Tim said curtly. He noticed David look at him sideways, but his colleague kept his mouth shut. They had indeed left a bit too late.
‘Yes, leaving in time can be handy sometimes,’ Dolan sneered. David coughed softly but didn’t say anything. Lois took the paper suits out of the trunk of the Ford, kept one for her and handed the rest to the others. At the same time a faded green Saab screamed to a stop in front of the house. On the side of the car was a sticker ‘Hudson: best locksmith in town’. Even before he slammed the door closed he said: ‘Sorry, I hope I haven’t made you wait too long.’ Dolan grumbled something inaudible.
‘Please don’t take it badly,’ Hudson said, ‘but I would like to see your search warrant. You never know do you? You can’t be too careful these days. Before you know it you got a sentence for burglary hanging over your head.’ He laughed, obviously very pleased with his joke. His rotten teeth stood out.
‘What do you mean?’ Dolan shouted, ‘Don’t you trust us? Listen man, when the police tell you to open a lock you do so without asking questions. Capiche?’
‘Of course, it was just a joke,’ Hudson stammered. He hurried to the front door with his toolkit. Two minutes later the detectives stood in the small hallway of the bungalow. It was a narrow, dark space with four doors, three on the left and one on the right. Daylight seeped in through a small window above the front door. The hall smelled stuffy. They tried to pull their paper suits and gloves on without bumping in to each other. The door on the right gave out into the living room that was rather small and soberly decorated. Against the window on the front was a couch in dark green velvet, the same one they had seen when they first saw the bungalow from the outside. Next to the door stood a dark wooden rocking chair. An antique trunk served as coffee table, on it a bonsai that was clearly in need of some trimming, a half burned candle on a glass plate and a few magazines. A reproduction of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers against the wall brightened up the room a little bit. On the mantelpiece were a few trinkets and two framed photos. The one on the left pictured Beatrice’s parents Tim assumed. They sat hand in hand on a bench in what looked like a park. The other one was of an older woman with next to her a girl of about eighteen, probably Beatrice and her aunt. They had put an arm around each other and smiled into the camera. Bodini was of a classical beauty, with high cheek bones and long raven black hair. In her hand she carried something that looked like a fluffy toy cat, but he wasn’t sure. The older woman looked pale and sickly. There was a thin layer of dust on the chimney. In the middle of the room was a dining table with four chairs around it. The seats had clearly known better times. In the middle of the table he saw a glass bowl with water and a yellow floating candle that had never seen a flame. The wick had never been taken out of the wax. Against the wall a narrow antique cupboard. Next to it a patio door that gave out onto the garden. The tightly woven cotton drapes obscured the daylight and gave this part of the room a somber air. Tim took a look in the kitchen. Dolan was brushing fine white powder onto a drinking glass. It was the one they had seen the first time through the kitchen window. Lois was doing the same with the kitchen cabinets. They went back to the hallway and entered the first door on the right. It was a small bathroom with a tub and a toilet. Underneath the high window were a mirror- cupboard and a sink. The mirror had a crack in it and made the men’s faces look like a Picasso painting.
‘Hm’, David said when he opened the cupboard, ‘the usual stuff: toothpaste, soap, aspirins, towels. Look… Channel number 5. Our girl had a rather expensive taste.’ He turned the lid of the bottle and smelled. ‘Yeah, the real stuff all right.’
‘Who made you an expert in perfume? You seem to know a lot about it,’ Tim laughed.
David shrugged his shoulders. ‘The name is on the bottle in case you didn’t see it, and my mother uses it too. At least I hope she does, since I buy it for her birthday every year.’
‘Every year? Very original.’
‘Well, I have never been accused of being original.’ Both men laughed.
‘This one looks unused,’ Tim said when they entered the first bedroom and turned on the light. The double bed was covered with a lace bedspread. On the nightstand an old alarm clock that had stopped working some day at ten past eight. In the corner, tucked away behind a rocking chair, was a chest of drawers that clearly had known happier times. The heavy blue curtain in front of the window was drawn. The door of the second bedroom was partially open. The single bed was neatly made up with a pink duvet. Next to the bed was a night stand with a little lamp on a red foot and a pink hood on top of it, next to it a digital clock radio. From a shelf at the bottom of the stand Tim took some books and glanced at the titles. Mostly romantic junk and one book of poetry. A contemporary wardrobe with sliding doors of which one was in mirrored glass, stood against the wall. Tim opened it. Sweaters and shirts were neatly folded on top of each other. At the bottom an empty sports bag. Tim wondered if Beatrice had used it for her dirty linen. If she was as orderly as her room seemed to be, she would have put it in the linen basket right away. He would have to check that out. The minute he saw a black leather handbag on the chair he knew she had been home that Saturday like Claire Simmons had said, and that she had left her house without it. Dolan would probably find fingerprints on it, but they would be hers. Nevertheless he was very careful picking it up and opening the zipper. In contrast to Cam, Beatrice only had the necessary items in her bag. He took out a red wallet, an unused lace handkerchief with her initials on it, a small hairbrush and a mini bottle of Channel number 5. In the outer pocket were her organizer and mobile phone. He scrolled through the missed calls and Anna Wickmeyer’s name appeared three times. There were three more missed calls but without an ID. He called back all three numbers. The first one was her bank, the second one a clothes shop, the third one the library of Corvallis. There were no voice messages.
‘What do you think David?’ Tim asked. ‘Library of Corvallis.’
‘You think she knew Lilly Fitzpatrick?’
‘I don’t know. Fitzpatrick didn’t have a lot to do with the book loan service. She does the administration and the bookkeeping but it is possible. I will contact the dean of Corvallis University later today. Maybe we can find a bit more in her room there.’ Tim started to examine the wallet while David took a closer look at the contents of the wardrobe. He found a fifty dollar note and some change, her ID-card, a ten-ride-ticket Salem-Albany with two pinholes, a student c
ard and a library card from Corvallis. The train ticket was issued May 10. That meant that on that day she left for Corvallis and returned to Salem on May 15, probably for the last time.
‘I wonder if that white van has got something to do with all this’, David mumbled. Tim shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s the only lead we have so far. Only, how are we going to find that guy? In fact, I hate women peeping from behind their curtains, but in this case I wish Claire Simmons had done a better job.’ Tim leafed through the small organizer, but except for the hours of her classes and the deadlines for papers he found nothing.
‘Sackley,’ Dolan shouted when he and Lois entered the bedroom. ‘This is the last one we have to do. So, if you both would be so kind…’ With a loud noise he planted his toolbox on the floor and looked around. ‘I found no blood traces anywhere but a lot of fingerprints, probably only hers but I will have to check that out.’
Tim had the feeling that Lois only served as decoration, because she hadn’t said one word so far. She seemed upset about something, but then, that was hardly surprising when you worked for Dolan.
‘Can you do this handbag first?’ Tim asked. ‘I want to take it to the office with me.’ He didn’t expect it to have any other fingerprints than Bodini’s, but he had to follow procedures and you could never be sure. They left Dolan and Lois to do their job and went looking for the laundry basket. They found it in the utility room behind the kitchen. Bodini clearly was not a trouser-chaser because her lingerie was not what you would describe as teasing. Solid, yes. There were also three T-shirts and two trousers in the basket.
‘That lingerie wouldn’t make me go crazy,’ David laughed.
‘You only go crazy for men’s underwear,’ Tim said smiling. ‘But indeed, it doesn’t make me go wild either. I think she was a very good girl, only interested in her studies. No social life to speak of. Home every Saturday, back to university every Monday. Very predictable.’
Double usage Page 5