“Thanks a million, Richie. Have a good night.”
“Always happy to help. And you too.”
After his neighbour left, Thomas poured himself a whiskey, switched off the TV, and collapsed on the couch. A feeling of warmth and tiredness spread through his body, and he exhaled deeply when he heard Sky’s bedroom door open softly and saw a pair of bare feet appear on the landing.
She stood completely still looking down at him.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” he whispered.
“I can’t sleep when you’re not here,” she whispered back.
“I’m here now.”
“Can I come downstairs?”
He shook his head. “It’s way past midnight.”
“Please, Nat.”
He always found it hard to tell whether something was really bothering her or whether she just wanted to get her own way. In the end, he figured he had been harsh enough. She was, after all, just an eleven-year-old girl without a mother and with an often-absent father.
He sighed theatrically and nodded. “Okay, five minutes. Come here, you little menace.”
Sky came bouncing down the stairs and jumped on top of him. They had their usual little play fight until they were both breathless from laughter. Then she snuggled up on his shoulder, and Thomas put his arm around her. “Tough day, wasn’t it?”
Sky nodded.
“I heard you behaved well at Richie’s.”
“They’re just such nice people.” She smiled.
“Unfortunately, you have to put up with me again now.”
“Nat?”
“Yes?”
She buried her face in his chest. “I’m really sorry for what I said to you today.”
“Okay, apology accepted. But you have to learn to control your anger. There will be many situations in life where you can’t lash out like that. You will hurt others.”
She nodded. “I know. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“But you have to promise to wait till I’m finished.”
“Honey, if this is about the consequences we talked about this afternoon, then I don’t want to hear about it.”
“See… you don’t even let me start talking!”
Thomas took a deep breath “Okay, what is it you want to tell me? I’ll shut up.”
After what seemed like an eternity, Sky slowly began. “The day after tomorrow, we’re supposed to go feed the deer with the chestnuts and acorns we collected in autumn with Ms Adams. We’ll cross-country ski to the forest in the afternoon and put the fruits in the manger. And we need another adult to join us.”
“You mean you need someone to carry forty kilos of chestnuts to the forest?”
Sky laughed. “Gotcha. Can I go, and do you want to come? Please. We wanted to go skiing anyway!”
“Right, listen. I’ll tell you tomorrow evening if you can go. Depends on your behaviour. But if you go, you’ll stay at home on another day. Understood?”
She nodded. “Yes. I can go to Richie.”
Thomas smiled at her. “No, you’ll stay here in this boring house in your boring room. I don’t ground you so you can hop off to our neighbour and fence there, okay?”
She looked up at him with a naughty grin. “Buzzkill.”
“I’m serious, Sky.”
“Yes, okay. I’ll stay here.”
“Regarding my participation, I’m not sure if I can make it, but I’ll talk to Collins tomorrow and see if I can free myself up for an hour.”
Thomas actually wanted to go on the trip to keep an eye on Kate Adams. She seemed frail the last time he had seen her. And, truth be told, he simply enjoyed being in her presence.
“Come on. Let’s go to bed.” He got up and finished his whiskey.
“Can you give me a piggyback?”
“Hop on.”
“You’re reeeally strong. Did you know that?” Sky said, pinching his upper arm.
Thomas smiled, glad that they could end the day as friends and that Sky had accepted his decisions.
“Do you want to talk to your dad tomorrow morning or sleep half an hour longer?”
“Sleeeeeeep.”
Thomas put her down into her bed. “All right. So, we’ll tell him another time about today then, won’t we?”
“Yeah, we wait till we’ve forgotten all about it.” She smiled cheekily.
“Goodnight, you little rascal.”
“Night, night. Love you.”
16
SOMETHING tickled Thomas’s nose and softly moved up towards his eyes. Why do flies have to choose my bedroom to hibernate? he wondered, blowing some air at his face and turning over to the other side.
In the distance, he heard a quiet sound but could not place it. Then the itchy feeling came back.
It was all over his face. He slapped his hand around, and it landed on something surprisingly soft and warm. He wanted to rest it there and enjoy the spreading heat. The magical thing he touched moved peacefully up and down — a relaxing rhythm.
Then the tickling on his face returned, softer than before, but inescapable. Thomas wondered where he was and what he would see when he opened an eye. Would the source of warmth go away?
He was curious now and decided to leave his state of half-sleep for just one tiny peek. Taking a deep breath and stretching his body, he slowly opened his eyes to find something pink hovering right above him. He jerked back, wide awake.
“Good morning. You look funny when you sleep. Did you know that?” Sky said, sitting at the end of his bed while Barney lay panting on Thomas’s chest; a soft, warm, slobbering pink tongue hanging out of the dog’s mouth.
“Why on earth are you awake?”
Only a small strip of light from the hallway illuminated his bedroom.
“Daddy woke me up. But I can go back to bed again if you want me to.” Sky got up and made for the door.
Thomas shooed the dog away and looked at his clock radio: two twenty-five.
“Wait. What do you mean your dad woke you up? What time is it?”
Thomas searched for his mobile, only to realise that he had left it in the kitchen to recharge.
“Dad wanted to know if everything was okay because I wasn’t on Skype, so he rang my mobile and woke me up. It’s eight thirty-five. But don’t worry, my clock radio tells the wrong time too.”
“It’s half past eight? Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” Thomas jumped out of bed, not waiting for her response. Adrenalin rushed through his body. “Go to the bathroom and get ready for school. And hurry up!”
“But why are all the clocks wrong?”
“I’ll tell you later. Now get ready, or I won’t talk your teacher out of giving you a detention for being tardy!” he shouted over his shoulder before banging the bathroom door shut.
Fifteen minutes later they met again at the front door.
“Okay, kid, listen. Firstly, I need you to buy some groceries today. I’ll text you what we need. Secondly, you stay on these premises and do your homework. Thirdly, please put some firewood from the shed into the garage, and finally, I want you to tidy up your room. Mrs Smetana will be cleaning tomorrow. Any questions?” He put on his parka and grabbed his phone.
“Nat?”
“Yes?”
“I’m hungry. We didn’t have breakfast.”
He fished some coins out of his pocket. “Go to the bakery in your first break and get a sandwich. Now, let’s go.”
Thomas opened the front door, and half a foot of snow toppled inside. “Oh, damn it!” he mumbled, wondering what else the day had in store for him.
Fortunately, the garage lock was not frozen, and he pushed the fresh snow aside with his foot just enough to open the gate.
His SUV easily made its way backwards down the driveway.
“Now what about the clocks?” Sky asked, fastening her seatbelt.
“There must have been an electricity cut last night, and when the power came back, the clocks started at midnight.”
“Thank you,” he said, pulling into the schoolyard shortly thereafter. “And have a wonderful day at this lovely institution of illumination.” He stuck out his tongue.
“Have a nice day at your funny farm too!” she grinned, walking leisurely up the stairs towards the heavy wooden door.
“Amen to that.” He sighed.
When he arrived at the inn at ten past nine, Collins was already impatiently jumping from one foot to the other. He apologised for being late, blaming it on the power cut, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a beautiful winter’s day,” she replied to his flow of apologies.
Thomas stared at her in disbelief and geared up the car. Whatever was going on in that woman’s mind was way out of his league, but she was definitely right about the weather. The day had begun as beautifully as the last one had ended, and he put on his sunglasses to shield his eyes from the intense winter sun.
When driving into Screen Mountain, Alexander Kelly owned the first building out of a row of detached houses on the right-hand side of the road. Once, it might have been a beautiful half-timbered house, but decades of neglect had turned it into a derelict.
A first-floor window was smashed and provisionally repaired with a plastic sheet fixed with duct tape, brown paint had come down in big flakes, and the bony trees in the front yard, even though bare due to the season, seemed as if they did not look more cheerful in the summer.
Located on the slope of Screen Mountain, Thomas and Collins could see the entire valley, dotted with lots of small houses and a church as its centrepiece, lying beneath their feet. The early morning mist had already vanished, revealing a magnificent view, which was out of proportion to the ugly house behind them.
Only two windows at the top floor were decorated with light arches, indicating Kelly’s living space, while the rest of the house gave a rather miserable impression.
At the front door, there was no nameplate, and the doorbell did not work. Thomas hammered with his fist against the chippy wood, calling Kelly’s name.
Nothing stirred.
He motioned for Collins to walk around the house.
“You go first. I don’t even know how deep the bloody snow is here,” she replied.
“Don’t worry. If the ground hasn’t swallowed you up whole by now, then I don’t think it’ll happen today,” he replied sarcastically and trudged through the knee-deep white powder.
“Could you make smaller steps if possible? I’m not a giraffe,” she complained from behind.
Thomas turned to see her precariously balancing from one of his footsteps to the next.
“It’s just snow, you know,” he said, offering her a hand.
“I don’t need your help!”
“Of course not. Then stop whining.”
They heard a clatter from behind the house. After that, it was eerily quiet again.
Thomas peered around the corner into the backyard and saw an elderly man leaning in the doorway of a shed, rifle at the ready.
He motioned for Collins to be quiet and mimed holding a gun. Even though he was well trained for situations like these, his heart always beat a tad faster when guns were involved, especially when he didn’t have one.
They pressed their backs against the house.
“Alexander Kelly?” Thomas shouted into the silence.
“Who wants to know?” a dark, raspy voice replied.
“My name is Detective Inspector Thomas, and my colleague is Detective Sergeant Collins. Put the rifle down!”
“What do you want?”
“We just want to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I’ll tell you once you put the rifle down.”
Thomas slowly turned around the corner again, but suddenly could not match his feelings with what he saw. While Kelly threw his rifle back into the shed and the danger was over, Collins had put her hand softly on Thomas’s shoulder. When she heard the clacking from the gun landing in the shed, she jumped back and clung to him, not being able to see what was going on.
Thomas turned around and looked at her reassuringly. “It’s clear. He just put the rifle back.”
She let go of him immediately and trudged around the corner.
“Why did you point a gun at us?” Thomas asked, following her and showing his ID.
“I didn’t know who you were. And this is just a hunting rifle.”
“Are you Alexander Kelly?”
“Depends.”
“Listen, either you give us some proper answers to our still very simple questions, or I’ll take you to the station and charge you with threatening police officers with a shotgun. The choice is yours.”
The old man looked at him with deep, sad eyes. His face was wrinkled, his white hair shaved off unevenly, and his clothes were fashionable two or three decades earlier.
“Yes, I’m Mr Kelly. And this is the last time I’ll ask you, what is the nature of your visit?”
Thomas assumed that this man must have been a superior in his professional life, used to having subordinates. He was uninhibited by the presence of police, and behind his shabby look, a sophisticated, well-spoken person was hiding.
“We’re investigating the murder of William Lawson. He was indirectly your neighbour, living in the forest right behind the hill. Did you know him?”
“Listen, I’m not a record player saying the same things over and over again. I told your colleague what I know. That’s it. Now leave my property!”
Thomas and Collins looked at each other dumbfounded. Collins shook her head vehemently.
“Who did you speak to? I’ve not sent any colleague of mine to your house.”
“Not my fault when the police force is too incompetent to coordinate an investigation. His name was Robert Myers.”
Thomas cursed inwardly. How dare Myers interfere with his investigation behind his back? He definitely would have a word with him later on.
“In that case, you’ll have to tell us everything again, as Mr Myers isn’t in the police force anymore. He retired a while ago. Maybe we can go inside?” Thomas motioned to the back door, but Kelly snorted.
“Certainly not. What do you want to know?”
“Did you know William Lawson?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And did you also know that he lived in the cabin on the other side of the hill?”
“It might surprise you, but yes I recognised him when I went hunting.”
“Why should it surprise me?”
“He didn’t want to be recognised. Even changed his name. And it worked for most people, but not for me.”
“Why would he do that? Change his name?”
“Got soft in the head. Too much sunlight in Africa, if you ask me.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t look like a good enough badminton partner to me anymore.”
“You don’t look very sad to hear he was murdered.”
“I don’t cry about a guy I met forty years ago and then saw occasionally in the woods.”
“Where did you meet and what was your relationship to him?”
“I met him at the sports club in St Anna. We played badminton together. Went out for the occasional beer and shared a laugh, until he went to Africa. That was it.”
“Shared a laugh or a love?” Collins asked.
Both men glared at her wordlessly, each for a different reason. She shrugged unfazed.
“Did you stay in touch with him?” Thomas asked.
“No, can’t say I did.”
“What kind of person was he thirty years ago? Can you describe him for me, please?”
“He was a doctor at the hospital… well-liked by many, charitable, a welcome guest at every party. But he felt he had a calling for higher things, so he went to Africa to save even more lost souls,” Kelly replied cynically.
&n
bsp; “What did you do for a living?”
“I had my own little business in Turtleville producing relays and small electrical components. The guy I sold it to when I retired drove it into the ground.”
“Are you married, Mr Kelly?”
“Not anymore. My wife died many years ago.”
“Have you ever fenced?”
“Funny you mention that; no I haven’t, but the idiot I sold my company to now runs a business producing fencing equipment parts.”
“You sold to Vincent Dobson?”
“That’s the idiot.” Thomas glanced at Collins, making sure she was taking notes.
“Do you sometimes go to Bohemia for food shopping or meals?”
Kelly narrowed his eyes. “Of course, I do. I don’t have much money to live on, and everything is a lot cheaper there. A fool who does not make use of it.”
“Thank you, Mr Kelly. If we have any more questions, are you going to be here in the area?”
“No, I’m on a business trip to New York first thing tomorrow morning.”
“This is a murder investigation, and I don’t really appreciate sarcasm,” Thomas hissed, but Kelly only shrugged and left them standing in the knee-deep snow as he trudged up a small shovelled path towards his back door.
They drove to the station while discussing Kelly’s words. Collins was sure something must have happened between the two men; otherwise, why would they not talk to each other when meeting again after such a long time, and why was Kelly so resentful about his once-close friend?
However, he had confirmed what they found in the old newspaper clippings: Lawson was a respected physician and well-integrated member of society. Why did he not want to be recognised upon his return?
They crammed into their office, and Thomas found the lab report on his desk affirming that the blood he had collected the day before was a mixture of animal and human blood — Lawson’s blood.
He must have been lured out of his cabin and killed near the chopping block with the broken epee. But why? And by whom? Thomas knew he just had to solve one of the two questions and the other answer would present itself. He decided to focus on the first one — the motive.
“Once we’ve found the reason for his death, I’m sure it’ll lead us to his killer. We have to concentrate on every aspect of his life. He must have upset someone along the way. Maybe not even knowingly, but that person surely didn’t forget.”
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