Double usage

by Christine Bols

  ‘So’, Tim said surprised. ‘Creative writing and painting. Something completely different from being a porter isn’t it? In a school or private? And you just said different places.’

  ‘Three different schools. I didn’t have a full schedule, so I had to combine things.’

  ‘And they didn’t take you back after you were released?’ Jude asked.

  Dawson looked at her as if she was an annoying insect. ‘No obviously not. The only place they didn’t ask me for a proof of good behavior was Albany station.’

  Jeremy Collins in the IT-department was examining Dawson’s PC. His colleague Don Matthews looked over his shoulder. Collins started it up and on the screen appeared ‘windows didn’t close properly.’

  ‘Not switched off with the start menu obviously’, Matthews said. ‘I think our boy was a bit hasty shutting it down and used the power button.’

  ‘It does look like it.’

  Collins selected ‘boot operating system normally’, and waited. He was expecting what came next: the request for a password. He shut the PC back down, put his USB-stick in the port and restarted it. A few seconds later he selected his own USB on the screen. ‘Now the system scans for all his password files and will upload them to a special website’, he said, proud of his knowledge and skills.

  ‘Man, I’m still dumbfounded by all these techniques. Nobody is safe anywhere anymore, Big Brother is watching’, he smiled.

  ‘If you know where to look and how, it’s really very simple’, Collins said. He shut the PC down and took the USB-stick out of the port. As he was going to start it up again, his Blackberry pinged. ‘Bingo’, he smiled, and showed Matthews the screen: the password you asked for is dawalb. ‘Well, I could have figured that one out myself really’, he joked. ‘Dawson Albany, how original.’ He typed in the password and saw no protection on Outlook. He clicked on inbox.

  ‘Nothing worth while’, Matthews said.

  ‘Nothing strikes you as odd? I know you’re still in training, but even then you should notice it.’

  Collins leant backwards so his colleague had a better view of the screen. Matthews stared but he shook his head. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Take a look at the deleted messages. No number behind them, so, no unread messages. Most people don’t bother to empty that box. This guy is very orderly or he has something to hide. I have some tricks up my sleeve to fish them up again.’ He typed in a few codes and after two minutes the deleted mails appeared on the screen. He pointed his finger at them. ‘Look, the delete box has got over 300 entries. Good thing he didn’t think of compressing his hard disk. Now I sort out the incoming mails by name for a better overview.’ He studied the in and outbox for a while, but except for an intense correspondence with a certain Nathalie, he found nothing of interest. He closed the mail program and went on to photos and videos. There were only a few photos, not even in a separate folder: rose garden in Washington Park, Portland museum, concert Aerosmith and station Albany.

  ‘I don’t think photography was his hobby’, Matthews joked.

  Collins went on to the videos. The first one was a three minutes recording of a marriage. The second was shorter and showed two men in a kayak swaying with their paddles while steering over a small waterfall. When he opened the third one his hand automatically grabbed the phone. He pushed the number for interrogation room two.

  ‘We have to leave you for a while Dawson’, Tim said when he put down the phone. He called Connely to come to the interrogation room and keep Dawson company. Dawson looked at them doubtfully as they left the room.

  ‘Found something?’ Tim asked excitedly when they entered the IT-room.

  ‘Come and have a look’, Collins said in triumph. He opened the third video. The platform of Albany station appeared on the screen. There were several people on the platform but one of them was Beatrice Bodini waving at someone in the distance, which brought her face clearly in view. She wore jeans and a white T-shirt. Her dark hair floated in the breeze. She was holding a white sports bag in her right hand and a handbag over her left shoulder. Then she stepped on the train and the video stopped.

  ‘This must be part of the surveillance video’, Collins said. ‘He only used the part that was of interest to him.’

  Tim felt the adrenaline surge through his body and looked at Jude. She seemed fascinated by what she had just seen. Collins opened the next video. It showed the same location with a woman they didn’t know. ‘Can you print a still from this one?’ Tim asked.

  ‘Of course.’ A bit later the photo rolled out of the printer. The women on the other three videos, they didn’t recognize either. Collins repeated the same procedure. With the sixth one they got lucky. Lilly Fitzpatrick was very recognizable on the screen. She carried a white and red basket. A little head with grey hair stuck out of it.

  ‘The kitten’, Jude murmured. Tim nodded.

  ‘Can you copy the hard disk, then we can have a good look at it later and this PC can go back to Dawson’s house?’

  ‘No problem’, Collins said.

  ‘So you both believe this is our guy’, Foster said all excited. He studied the pictures of the six women very closely while rubbing his nose.

  ‘Could be. Flannery had the right car and license plate, but it is also very obvious that Bodini and Fitzpatrick are no strangers to Dawson. Surely that has to be enough for the judge to issue a search warrant, no?’

  ‘The possession of the videos in itself is not enough to hold him in custody, but of course we can hold him overnight for obstructing an investigation. In the meantime you can search his house, but unless you find real evidence there, we will have to release him, you do understand that. Did he ask for a lawyer yet?’

  ‘Not at this moment, but I think he will once we show him the pictures or the moment he realizes he has to stay overnight.’

  ‘He may seem a softy,’ Jude said, ‘but I bet he isn’t. Of course it is in his favor that he didn’t take the fifth when we showed him the pictures. And’, she added, ‘he came to the office of his own free will.’

  ‘That only means he doesn’t know the law’, Foster said, ‘that’s all. I’ll give the judge a call and I will let you know when you can start. I’m afraid it will be the night shift though.’

  ‘No problem’, Tim said. Jude nodded affirmatively.

  ‘I hope we haven’t made you wait too long Mr. Dawson’, Tim said when they sat down at the table again. Connely wanted to leave the room, but Tim kept him there with a light push on his arm. Dawson said nothing but looked at them with dark, angry eyes. Slowly and deliberately Tim displayed the pictures of the six women on the table. Dawson paled but didn’t react.

  ‘So, you insist you don’t know these two women?’ he said, pointing at Bodini’s and Fitzpatrick’s pictures on the table.

  ‘How often do I have to repeat this? I don’t know them’, Dawson said with a cracking voice. He coughed loudly as if he wanted to gain some time.

  ‘Strange thing since we found them on your PC.’

  With incredible force Dawson pushed his chair back and stood in front of them with his arms crossed over his chest. ‘You searched my computer without my permission’, he shouted. ‘That’s a violation of privacy.’

  ‘Calm down Dawson. With a legal search warrant, we can. You should know that.’

  From pale, Dawson now turned all red in the face. ‘I don’t say another word till my lawyer is present’, he roared.

  ‘We are not arresting you Dawson. I’m only inviting you to stay the night so you can contemplate very calmly about how and why these videos ended up on your PC. And if you have a plausible explanation, you can go home again tomorrow. After all, you weren’t very helpful with the interrogation, were you? So, what do you think?’

  Dawson leant against the wall, his arms still crossed over his chest. Drops of sweat pearled on his forehead. He clearly understood that a lawyer wouldn’t do him a lot of good at this stage, because he didn’t make a move to take the phone Tim held
out to him. ‘You will regret this’, he hissed. His voice sounded threatening but Tim was experienced enough to know this was just a pose and the man was scared to death.

  ‘Oh yes, before I forget’, Tim said in passing, ‘mobile phones are not allowed in our hotel.’ He put out his hand in front of Dawson’s face and waited. Reluctantly the man took a phone out of his pocket and threw it on the table. Tim switched of the recorder and put it in his pocket together with the phone.

  ‘Escort him to his room’, he said to Connely, ‘and give him a sandwich and coffee.’ Turning his head towards Dawson he said: ‘‘On the house’.

  Around seven Tim and Jude went out for a bite to eat. At eight they got the ‘go’ from Foster and they left for Albany. Jude asked him to drive past her hotel because she wanted to pick up a sweater. It was a rather cool evening and it was drizzling. The light of the neon’s reflected on the asphalt. Corvallis was a lovely little town, almost tailor made for him. Not too busy but with a lot of entertainment for the evenings. He was born in Redding in the north of California and had spent most of his childhood there. When his father had found a better job just over the border with Oregon they moved to Medford. After the disaster in Los Angeles he moved to Corvallis where he met Gwen. It wasn’t far from Medford to Corvallis, but since Debby’s accident he hadn’t seen his parents often anymore. He couldn’t accept the fact they visited Sean in prison regularly, as if he was the victim, not Debby. Seven years as opposed to life, that was the difference. And on top of all that, Gwen’s suicide.

  Jude came back at a trot. With a ‘brr, how cold’, she stepped into the car.

  ‘Can we go?’ he asked as she fastened her seat belt.

  ‘Yes, let’s go see what we can find at our friends house,’ she said enthusiastically. Her eyes were glowing. ‘This is better than sitting in my hotel room by myself and watching a DVD.’

  He grinned. ‘I got the same problem, only it’s not a hotel room but a way too big house.’ He hesitated but then decided to grab the bull by the horns. ‘Maybe one evening we could go see a movie or go to a theatre or something.’ He avoided looking at her.

  ‘Why not?’ she said in a happy voice.

  During the short trip to Albany they were both in thought. Not much was said. At nine they stopped in front of Dawson’s house. The lock smith was waiting for them.

  ‘Hi John’, Tim smiled. ‘Not that long ago was it?’

  ‘You can say that again. If it goes on like this I might as well take on a full time job with the police. Only they don’t pay all that well,’ he smiled. A minute later he opened the front door for them. ‘That’s it’, he said, ‘Till next time.’ He waved and got back in his car.

  ‘A good man really’, Tim laughed, ‘only a bit simple. Luckily he didn’t treat us to one of his bad jokes.’

  The hallway probably only got its daylight from a high window above a door in the back. The living room had three windows, a boarded floor and was filled with old furniture. In the corner a black piano.

  ‘Hm,’ Jude remarked, ‘not only is our boy a teacher but a musician too.’

  ‘It could just be an ornament. My parents had one like this too, but none of us knows a note of music. It only stood there, gathering dust.’

  Behind the living room was a small kitchen with a door on the right hand side that led to a utility room. The kitchen cabinets were made in a cheap white formica and there were pots with an abundance of herbs and a few cactus plants. A window above the sink gave out onto an enormous garden. By the moonlight they could distinguish a well kept rose garden and a few old chestnut trees. The lawn was mowed and looked like a billiard table. Dawson clearly kept his house and garden very clean.

  ‘You have a look here downstairs and I take care of the first floor’, Tim said as he stepped out into the hall and ran up the stairs.

  On the first floor were two bedrooms and a small bathroom. Although the bedrooms were neat and clean, they gave a disorderly impression because of the furniture that looked as though it was bought in a garage sale. Nothing matched. He opened a few drawers in the room he believed to be Dawson’s, but except for some socks and clothes and a thumbed through pornographic magazine, there was little to find. The wardrobe in the other room was empty. The shower curtain in the bathroom had known better times. It was torn right through the middle. On a hook in the wall was a discolored bath robe, on a drying rack a light blue cotton towel. As he opened the toilet cupboard he noticed a brown bottle. The label said: diethyl ether. Behind the bottle a big pack of cotton wool. He knew that ether had several purposes, one of them as an anesthetic . He thought it obvious that Dawson had raped a lot of times, but only got caught once. Maybe his other victims never put in a complaint. He knew that happened a lot. Tim took a picture of the bottle and the cotton wool and then put both items in a plastic bag. In itself the bottle wasn’t proof of anything and certainly wouldn’t hold up in court, but it was a clue. It bothered him though that no traces of semen were found on the bodies. He probably raped them while they were unconscious or maybe after death. He had to think about this. As he walked back down, he heard Jude call out for him.

  ‘Tim, come have a look here. I think I found something. Utility room next to the kitchen.’

  Her voice sounded excited and he hurried. Jude sat on her knees between cardboard boxes and was busy trying to get together a jigsaw of small snippets of paper. They were close ups of the six women they had seen on Dawson’s computer earlier. Next to each picture were an address and a few notes in bold ink.

  ‘Where did you find these?’

  She pointed at the cardboard box closest to her. ‘Here. I noticed there was less dust on this one, compared to the others. On top were some invoices but because I couldn’t imagine why he would have needed them recently, I took a closer look. And bingo…. These snippets on the bottom.’

  He heard the triumph and excitement in her voice. After he photographed the boxes and pictures, he sat down next to her on the cold floor. ‘Well done girl. You clearly are a match for Sherlock Holmes’, he smiled.

  She beamed with joy. ‘What do you think these notes mean?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. Next to Bodini’s picture was her address in Salem and underneath that: ‘9.45 – Vx3’. A letter ‘S’ was added later in red ink. ‘The 9.45 must point to the train she took. The Vx3 and the S, I don’t have a clue.’

  Then they looked at Fitzpatrick’s picture. Underneath her address was “13.05 – Vx3’, and again in red ink the letter ‘S’.

  ‘Her train again’, Jude sighed. ‘The rest doesn’t mean a thing to me. But what is remarkable is that the S is not written at the same time the others were. It’s in a different color and it looks like the pen had much more pressure on it.’

  Tim studied the notes closely. ‘I think you’re right.’

  ‘Women are better with details’, she laughed.

  ‘So, let’s recapitulate… the time of the train and the Vx3 were known to him before the deed. The S was added later.’

  ‘It sure looks like it. I got the feeling that one of the four others could be the next victim to be found.’

  The other pictures had the time next to the address. One of them had a note next to it but nothing added in red afterwards. ‘I think he had one of these in mind. Big chance that our visit this morning threw a monkey wrench in the works.’ She studied the pictures again. ‘They all have almost the same physique. Shoulder length dark hair, somewhere between twenty and thirty and very athletic.’

  ‘How can you see from a picture they’re athletic?’ he asked questioningly. ‘Bodini only went to the fitness on Fridays, hardly athletic if you ask me.’

  ‘But can’t you see that her shoulders are well developed? And we know Fitzpatrick went jogging every day. And look at the others. All well trained bodies, not one ounce of fat.’

  ‘That must have been very important to him, but why?’

  ‘Resistance maybe?’ she said frowning. ‘Maybe he gets a
kick when they’re not too co-operative.’

  She reflected on her father and how easy a prey Sarah had been. She felt the anger and sadness rise again but was determined not to let it get the better of her. She gazed at Tim studying the pictures. He looked good with his dark hair in disorder and pronounced jaw line. As he looked up she felt caught staring at him, but he didn’t react.

  ‘More and more Dawson looks like our guy’, Tim said in an angry voice. ‘That reminds me, I found ether and cotton wool in the bathroom’, holding up the plastic bag.

  ‘Hm, maybe that’s the sedation he used.’

  ‘Just as I thought.’

  ‘But then it doesn’t make any sense he wanted his women muscled.’

  ‘Not necessarily. He sedates them to get them in his van without any screaming.’

  ‘Could be. But then why didn’t the victims show any sign of rape? No, I think the muscles are just a co-incidence. All young women do some kind of sport these days. I think they were still sedated when he had sex with them. No traces of violence you see?’

  She thought about it. ‘Can we hold him based on this?’

  He shook his head. ‘Unless we officially accuse him, I’m afraid not. Our leads are not strong enough.’ At the word ‘leads’ he put two fingers in the air to put it in inverted commas.

  Jude pursed her lips. ‘Isn’t it up to the judge to determine if leads are strong enough?’

  ‘I’m afraid he will share my opinion. By the way, I would like to take a look in the garden but it’s too dark really.’

  Triumphantly Jude pulled a torch out of her handbag. Tim looked at her laughing, shaking his head. Before they went to the garden, Jude pulled together the paper snippets and put them in a plastic bag in her handbag. In the back of the garden they found a wooden shed with a red shiny mower in the middle of it. The walls were full of garden equipment, shears in different sizes, an axe, shovels and metal buckets.

  ‘I don’t think he kept them in here’, Jude said. She shone the torch on the rest of the garden. They went all along the fence until they arrived at the backdoor again. Inside again, as he went to turn off the light he caught a glimpse of a hatch, partially hidden by a ladder with a blue coverall on one of the steps.