Snow Light

by Danielle Zinn

“That was quick.”

  “It’s the most dealt with drug in this area. I’m presented with it at least once a week, and it is easily recognisable. As the name suggests, it consists of lots of small crystals.”

  “Okay. One last request.” Thomas handed him a little cool box. “Could you analyse the contents, please?”

  After briefly peeking into the box, the head of laboratory nodded.

  “How long do you think you’ll need?” Collins asked.

  “For this,” he dangled the cool box in front of them, “you won’t get results until tomorrow. Regarding the fingerprint… if it’s in the database, I’ll give you a call in two hours, tops.”

  They thanked him and went upstairs to their little broom cupboard.

  “What was in that box?”

  “Bunny blood.”

  Collins looked at Thomas like he had turned into a lunatic.

  “I see you have already organised some facts on our whiteboard.” Thomas pointed towards the wall behind him.

  “I thought we should go through the facts we know so far as not to miss anything,” Collins replied.

  She had just earned herself a point on his popularity scale.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “So, the left column is about Lawson’s life: parents are dead, no living relatives or any other next of kin, medical training at the University Hospital in Turnden, popular surgeon at St Anna Hospital, charity work in Africa, returned to home turf under a different name, isolated life as hermit in the forest. The second column consists of the details of your interview with Vincent Dobson, the fencing equipment manufacturer. What do you think about him?”

  “Well, he certainly has the means to commit that crime. But what would be his motive? He said he didn’t know Lawson, and thirty years ago he was what, fifteen or sixteen? Did you check his alibi?”

  “Yes, they were snowed in at Spruce House on top of the mountain and had to stay at the hotel. But what if he paid someone to do it for him?”

  “Then we still need a motive. Did you get a list from the hospital with all the patients Lawson dealt with?”

  “Yep, Dobson isn’t on it. I’ve already checked that. There are still some pages to go through tomorrow, but at the moment it looks like the majority of people are either already dead, have moved away, or are veggies at some nursing home.”

  Thomas gave her a disapproving look. “We need to talk to as many people as possible who were in contact with Lawson at that time and can still remember him.”

  “You’ll get a list tomorrow,” Collins replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

  “Thanks. What else did you find out?”

  “None of the current staff at the hospital have worked with him, which isn’t really a surprise. I spoke to the hospital management, and they will put a list together with former employees and the time period they worked there. But this is really interesting… shortly before you arrived, I got a call from a young doctor at St Anna Hospital, and he said they had a trophy cabinet in their break room. On each photo accompanying the trophies that Lawson won there was a certain Alexander Kelly.”

  “Please tell me they’ve fenced.”

  “Nope, we should have found a broken badminton racket sticking out of his body then.”

  “Could you find anything about him?”

  “Yep, he lives in Screen Mountain. I’ve checked on the map—”

  “That’s our neighbouring village,” Thomas cut in.

  “And exactly at the other end of the forest where Lawson lived,” Collins finished his sentence.

  “What a coincidence. Well done, Collins. We’ll pay him a visit first thing tomorrow morning.”

  He wrote the name down on the whiteboard. He was still nowhere near being satisfied with their results, but at least some progress had been made.

  “And now we’ve got the drugs. How do they fit in? What do you think?” Thomas asked her.

  “I’m not too sure, to be honest. His kitchen didn’t look like he made the drugs there. So maybe he was a dealer? Bought them in Bohemia — that would explain the receipts — and sold them in this area. But then why pour them into the flowerpot? Or a third person used his cabin as a hiding place for the drugs. I’m curious to know whose fingerprint it’ll be.”

  “Yes, I guess we have to wait for the result. But then there is also the missing money…” Thomas said in thought, rubbing the scar on his temple. “He withdrew sixty-thousand euros and only paid thirty-thousand euros into the new account.”

  They gazed in silence at the whiteboard. Everything was neatly arranged with photos of the young and old William Lawson and columns of their findings, yet it still did not make much sense.

  Thomas knew they needed to find more people who remembered Lawson — actually, who recognised and remembered him. As if reading his mind, Collins said into the silence, “I think we should add Myers.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He met Lawson back then, and he spoke to him recently. I can’t believe he didn’t recognise him. And after all, he was one of the first people at the pyramid that night, wasn’t he?”

  “A junior constable informed him about the murder; that’s why he was there. Okay, he might have had the opportunity. He might even have got his hands on an epee. But what would have been his motive? He was a young constable when Lawson left.”

  “What if his motive is related to the present? What if he just didn’t want a vagabond living in his area?” Collins threw in.

  “That would be a very primitive motive, and still we’d need proof for this.”

  Her look clearly told him that she was not satisfied with his response, so he sighed and wrote the name in small letters in the top corner of the board.

  It was just past eight o’clock, and they ordered some Chinese food to be delivered. In the meantime, Thomas called Sexton and gave him a quick update on the case.

  He did not catch the hushed response of the superintendent, but after begging him to repeat what he had just said for what felt like the millionth time, he was not particularly interested in it anymore.

  But yes, of course, he would keep Collins for another couple of days, no worries.

  Their food arrived, and just as they were about to tuck in, the desk phone screamed.

  “I have a match on your fingerprint,” the head of laboratory mumbled.

  “Great! Who is it?”

  “A Karel Belka.”

  “Bingo. Thanks!” Thomas called reception. “Can you please ask over the radio which officer is closest to the Bohemian border? I need a car to go to Carls Bath and pick up a murder suspect immediately. I’ll text the name and address.”

  He was lucky; a patrol car was indeed in Spruce Mountain and could be in Carls Bath in fifteen minutes. Thomas called them and gave them the details.

  Now, they had enough time to finish dinner and prepare the interrogation room, where they would wait for their suspect.

  A buzz at the door announced the arrival of nineteen-year-old Karel Belka, who was led to his chair in handcuffs. He was not in much better shape than he had been the day before — unshaven and pimply face, hair standing in all directions, dirty grey sweater, ripped jeans, and smelling of booze.

  “Hello, Karel, what a quick reunion. I assume you still know who I am. This is Detective Sergeant Ann Collins. Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?”

  “Some dead guy in some fucking village?” he spat.

  “Watch your language. But guess what: this is still about an old man being killed in a village where your car was seen at the crime scene at the time of his murder.”

  “Man, I told you yesterday, I didn’t do it!”

  “And yesterday I let you go because I didn’t have any proof otherwise.”

  “What do you mean?” Belka leaned forward, his eyes growing wide.

  “Ah, looks like someone is slowly waking up. You’re under the suspicion of killing William Lawson. We found a plastic bag in his cabi
n with your fingerprint on it. How can you explain that?” Thomas leaned forward, as well, folding his arms. “And please, no cock and bull story. I’ve had enough of that.”

  “I’ve never been to any cabin! What plastic bag are you talking about anyway? If my prints are on it, it might just have flown out of my car.”

  “I highly doubt plastic bags filled with crystal meth just fly out of people’s cars, don’t you? At least not without money flying back inside.”

  Belka crossed his arms, sulking. He reminded Thomas a little of Sky that afternoon; the boy was just a grown-up kid, after all.

  “Okay, let me help you with this story,” Thomas offered. “You answer my questions honestly, and I’ll see if we can strike a deal with the judge. Agreed?”

  The lad nodded, looking up at him uneasily.

  “Have you ever dealt with drugs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you produce them as well?”

  “Yes, but not alone. Together with some other guys.”

  “Okay, have you recently dealt with crystal meth in Turtleville?”

  Belka flexed his jawbone. “Maybe.”

  “Not good enough.”

  They stared at each other for a while until Thomas pushed back his chair. “Right, I’m tired of this. Get up. I’ll take you to your cell where you can spend the night thinking.”

  “Wait!” Belka clung to the desk, fearing the tall man would pick him up with one hand and drag him to the dungeon. “Yes, my brother and I were at the junction to Screen Mountain four days ago.”

  “Doing what?”

  “We had two packets of crystal meth, one kilo each, and we walked to the forest behind the cabin and waited there for the guy we usually sell it to. He is never on time, so we hung around a bit longer. Then we heard a shot being fired and someone trudged through the snow nearby. We looked around, but we couldn’t see anybody. The footsteps were still there, though. It was like a ghost following us. We heard him, but we couldn’t see him.”

  “And you got scared?”

  He nodded. “We stashed the drugs in a hollowed tree trunk and ran back to the car. Then we waited for a while and snuck back to the cabin to see who lived there.”

  “Did you see anybody?”

  “An old man slaughtered some small animals. There was lots of blood in the snow. But we couldn’t go back as long as he was outside. He would’ve seen us.”

  Thomas looked at Collins, who just nodded.

  “When did you decide to go back for your drugs?” Thomas stood next to the boy, resting his large hands on the table, towering above him.

  “On the evening when we went to the Christmas party in St Anna. But the drugs were gone; the trunk was empty.”

  “Okay, Karel, I want you to think carefully before you answer my next question. When you snuck past the cabin that evening to check your cranny, did you see or hear anything unusual? Was there someone else there, other than the old man?”

  “I saw nobody, not even the old man. But it was snowing really badly; we just wanted to save the drugs. We didn’t pay much attention.”

  “All right, give me one good reason why the story could not have gone the following way: You lose your drugs or stash them away and watch the old man take them, or maybe he even caught you dealing and threatened you with his rifle. Doesn’t really matter how, but the hermit got hold of the drugs, and of course, you want them back. It’s your money he’s withholding. You go to the cabin where he has hidden them; he doesn’t want to give them back. You quarrel, but he doesn’t budge and you kill him, put him in your car, go to your Christmas party for an alibi, and dump him on the pyramid on your way home?”

  “I… I… it wasn’t that way! It was just as I’ve told you! Ask my brother!” he yelled.

  “Of course, your brother will tell me the same story, I’m sure of that.” Thomas looked down at him hard.

  “There was another person in the forest! Other than the hermit!”

  “That mysterious third person, huh? It doesn’t look all too good for you, Karel. You just admitted to being near the cabin at the time of the murder, you haven’t seen anybody else there, you had a motive and opportunity, and as I have learnt recently, it’s not too hard to get hold of an epee. I could book you for murder, and I want you to be aware of that. The only reason why I’m not doing that now is because there are still some angles I’d like to check out before making my final decision. But because you’re under suspicion of murder, and you’ve admitted to producing and dealing drugs, you will have to spend the next couple of nights here.”

  With that, Thomas and Collins left the interrogation room.

  Back in their small office they collapsed in their chairs.

  “What do you think?” Thomas asked, looking at his own reflection in the window. His dark jumper against the dark background outside made his face seem to hover mid-air.

  “If he’s telling us the truth, then a third person must have been at the forest four days ago when they stashed the drugs, or he’s lying. In that case, I would go with your story. I know my instinct doesn’t count, but honestly, I don’t think he or his brother did it. They are small drug dealers. They don’t want to be recognised, and they didn’t give the impression of being so clever as to plan a murder. Even if they had killed him on impulse, they would not have put him on public display like that. They would have dumped the body somewhere in Bohemia where no one would ever find it. Besides, if they went inside the cabin, why didn’t they find the drugs? I mean, the place is fairly small. And if the hermit really got hold of the drugs, it would have been a lot easier for them to just produce new stuff than kill him. No, I don’t think they did that. Did you notice his expressions? He wasn’t acting; this bloke was nervous.”

  Thomas nodded at his own ghostly face in the window. “It’s just so cliché blaming every burglary, theft, and murder on Bohemian drug dealers. I agree with you, they wouldn’t kill someone as unimportant as a hermit. Still, I want you to question him again tomorrow. What time did they go back, exactly? Were there any traces in the snow? Could they hear voices from the cabin? Was the light on? They must have seen that. Anything that would narrow down the timeframe of when the murderer appeared.”

  The shrill ringing of their ancient, display-less phone made them drop their conversation.

  Collins picked up, nodded briefly, said yes twice, and hung up. “The mumbling geek from the lab said that—”

  “Hang on, why do you have to highlight the negative traits or handicaps of people whenever possible?” Thomas interrupted her.

  It annoyed him terribly when people did not refer to their peers by either using their name, rank, or job title, but rather by some disrespectful nickname.

  “Do you want to know what he said or not?” she snapped.

  “I do, but I want you to address him properly. It’s a question of decency.”

  He knew Collins was the least able person to take criticism, but he had promised himself to never get tired of teaching her some manners. Currently, he felt as successful as teaching Barney to leave the neighbouring cats alone.

  With an inward smile, Thomas watched Collins struggle to tell him the news and, at the same time, ignore his request. Finally, she formed her answer.

  “I know where Lawson was killed.”

  “Do you? And who told you that?”

  She pulled a face at him. “Evidence told me that. The suspected bunny blood is a mixture of human and animal blood, as you might have expected already. It will be compared to Lawson’s tomorrow.”

  “Nice use of the passive form.”

  “At least we know now that he was killed in front of his cabin, and I’m telling you someone has chosen this place deliberately to avoid tidying up the mess. Why didn’t you take a sample yesterday?”

  She looked serious again, and Thomas sighed, shaking his head. “There were two skinned bunnies hanging from a clothes line, and Myers said that he always butchered his take at the chopping block. It seemed obv
ious.”

  “Is there anything else to be done today?”

  “No, we’re going home now. Listen, if your new room at the inn is as bad as the one from last night, I could offer you—”

  “No, thanks. It’s okay,” she cut in.

  “To stay at David’s house. Why are you so dismissive of any help or advice?”

  She grabbed her laptop bag and stormed past him out of the building and towards his car.

  Thomas followed her, frowning. “It’s not like I want the worst for you. At least not always. I’m sorry if you’ve had bad experiences in your past, but don’t you think it’s time to start trusting people again? And don’t worry, I wouldn’t offer you a room at my house, Sky’s already a handful.”

  “It’s my business who I trust.” Collins banged the passenger door of his car shut, looking out into the dark.

  Thomas dropped her off at the inn, wished her a goodnight, and offered to pick her up at quarter to nine in the morning to pay a visit to Alexander Kelly — Lawson’s sports companion from Screen Mountain.

  She did not reply.

  15

  WHEN Thomas opened his front door he found Richard on the couch watching TV.

  “Hiya. How are the aches and pains? Had a good day?” his neighbour asked, smiling.

  “It was all right, I’d say. We’re making slow progress.” He took off his parka and hung it over the back of a chair. “You didn’t have to sit here all evening. Sky can go to bed on her own. Why didn’t you stay at your place?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t come over to wait for you,” Richard laughed, “but rather to watch your sports pay TV. Allison has already gone to bed, and I’ve been zapping through the channels.”

  “Glad I could contribute something to your evening. Did Sky behave well?”

  “Of course. She’s the politest eleven-year-old I have ever seen. After dinner, we tried some of Allison’s new chocolate cake creations, and then Sky begged me to show her some fencing moves.”

  “Aha. She told you she skipped classes today to go skiing?”

  “Hmm, no. But then again, she did avoid the school topic altogether.” They both laughed.