Snow Light

by Danielle Zinn

“If you’d told me the whole truth the first time I came around, it would have certainly saved the other two visits. You were a regular at Lawson’s cabin, and I want to know why. You either tell me now or I’ll take you to the station… in handcuffs — right here in front of your company. And believe me, all the windows up there have eyes,” Thomas said, looking up at the first and second floors.

  He supressed the urge to wave to their secret spectators, who were no doubt hiding behind office plants and blinds.

  “I already told you that I sold him my cabin. Of course, I have been there for the handing over.”

  “Don’t bore me. You were there on a nearly daily basis. Why?”

  Thomas held the other man’s gaze.

  “This has nothing to do with his murder!” Dobson snapped.

  “Even better! So, you can tell me. However, I still decide what is important for this investigation and what isn’t. And I’m getting impatient now.” Thomas made a step forward.

  Dobson was a tall man, but Thomas was a head taller.

  “Okay, so you can finally stop sniffing around other people’s private lives,” Dobson said, lifting his hands up in defeat. “I’ll tell you, but let’s walk away from the building.”

  “My car,” Thomas replied sternly, making sure Dobson stayed in front of him. He did not offer him a seat inside, though. Instead, he leaned against the driver’s door, crossing his arms.

  The company owner stood in front of Thomas with sagging shoulders, like a kid who had been caught stealing. He took a deep breath. “Right, yes, I often walked over to the cabin to talk to Mr Lawson. I went in my lunch break pretending to go for a run in the forest. It’s just across the field from the factory.”

  “The why is what interests me, Mr Dobson.”

  “When I sold him my cabin he told me he had worked as a doctor. At that time, I was very stressed. A worker was seriously injured from a faulty machine, and I had health and safety supervisors here daily making my life hell. They were inspecting every inch of the company, and suddenly I needed more fire alarms and emergency exit doors, and the existing doors were too small by half an inch. The turnover isn’t high enough to compensate for such immense unplanned costs. They threatened to close the factory if I did not implement their requirements within a certain period of time. I used my own private capital, and when my wife found out she threatened me with divorce. I couldn’t sleep at night, I barely ate… I was a nervous wreck. Lawson noticed and offered me help. He was a good man. He listened to my worries. Every time I visited him, he had a special African tea prepared for me, and it had a soothing effect. I could talk through important decisions with him. He was very intelligent and understood entrepreneurial matters. Every now and again he even…” Dobson broke off.

  “He even what?”

  “He massaged my tightly-wound back. After a couple of weeks, I felt so much better. Confident again.”

  “What did he ask from you in return?”

  “Nothing. Honestly, he was just happy to have someone there to talk to and to know he was still needed as a doctor. I offered him money or to buy groceries for him, but he rejected everything.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Four days before he died.”

  Thomas saw Dobson’s chin tremble. “What impression did he make on you?”

  “It felt like I had loaded my pessimism and worries on him. The more confident I became, the more depressed he was. He seemed withdrawn, not interested in anything. I thought it was too much for him… that he needed a break from me. That’s why I hadn’t visited him for a couple of days.”

  “Besides his unhappiness, did you notice anything else out of the ordinary? Did he mention anybody else visiting him? Did he talk to you about his past?”

  “No. I had to promise never to ask about his time before Africa. He told me a lot about his work there but nothing about his time on our continent. And no, nobody else ever visited him… at least, he never mentioned any other visitors, and I’ve never met anybody else there. I feel so bad about leaving him alone. I should have been there when he needed help.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr Dobson. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent what happened. It is connected to his past… the past he did not want to discuss with you, and I’m convinced the murderer had already waited a long time to execute this plan. You could not have saved him. But you could have saved a lot of my time if you’d told me this earlier on. Everybody has problems and feels down once in a while. No need to be ashamed about it. Please stay in the area in case I have more questions. You were the one closest to the victim.” With that, Thomas opened his car door. “By the way, where were you last night?”

  Dobson raised his eyebrows. “In bed. With my wife. All night. She can testify to that.”

  “I’m sure she can. Are your grandfathers still alive?”

  He shook his head slowly. “You can find them at the St Anna cemetery. Raphael Dobson and Steven McDrey.”

  “Thank you.” Thomas reversed and left a confused-looking Vincent Dobson in the car park.

  The low morning sun was blinding Thomas, and the stark reflection of the light on the wet roads made it nearly impossible to see anything. He put on his sunglasses and decided to drive rather carefully in the middle of the road as long as there were no other cars coming his way.

  At the station, he found a red-faced DS Collins behind a huge pile of archive folders.

  “Finally. I thought you had left me with the dirty work.”

  Thomas frowned. “Hello, Collins. As I said this morning, I had to wait for new tyres to arrive, and after that, I spoke to Vincent Dobson.”

  He gave her the details of his visit, and when he was done, Collins took over briefing him on the progress of putting a story to all fifty-two names on Lawson’s list. So far, thirty-one had died, with their deaths either directly, indirectly, or not at all related to a botched organ harvest.

  The ones who had died as a direct consequence of the surgery were all orphans and had no relatives grieving for them. They had died fairly soon, mainly within a couple of months, after the surgery because their wounds had not healed or had become infected. They decided to eliminate these names from their list of suspects, as well as the people who had surgery but died due to no connection to it. The ones who had died from the indirect results of removing an organ, such as failure of the second kidney, had lived for at least another two years. Mrs Smetana’s cousin was among them, too.

  As Thomas knew from talking to her, the entire family had never forgotten Lawson’s surgery and his failure to provide aftercare for the boy, and still held a grudge against the physician. He doubted this to be an individual case, and agreed with Collins to check the background of all the people belonging to this category. It seemed Lawson had visited many different institutions, which was why no one ever became suspicious.

  Thomas noted that more than half of the patients had died — not really a good business case upon which to build a future in organ transplantation.

  Then Collins pointed at a small pile. “These are the ones who are alive and fit as a fiddle. I haven’t told them about our findings yet, but someone should inform them about what happened to one of their kidneys some thirty years ago. But for the moment, we can ignore that group. Most of them said they couldn’t even remember the surgery. And this lot…” She pointed to a bunch of names highlighted in yellow on a single sheet of paper taped to the windowsill. “Still have to be investigated.”

  “What does the question mark beside those names mean?”

  “That I’m still waiting for the files from Bohemia to arrive. But maybe you want to start with this pile?” She looked at him briskly. “These are the names of people who are currently either in hospital or rehab suffering from the after-effects of a botched surgery.”

  “Sure.” Thomas picked up a pile of around eight folders.

  They talked for another good hour, and Collins showed him the respective databases to use.
She also wanted his opinion on a couple of people, such as the ones living abroad, and together they could eliminate another three names from their list of possible suspects — which consisted of only two people, so far.

  One guy had spent the last ten months in an induced coma due to kidney failure, and of course, his wife and friends were shocked to find out he only had one kidney. Two of his closest friends had been previously convicted for violence.

  The other patient, also a man, had died recently after having had dialysis for several years. His son felt that the doctors at the hospital were responsible for his father’s death, and apparently, he let off steam in the hospital cafeteria the day his father died.

  Thomas agreed that these two cases needed closer investigation.

  Collins had also researched the whereabouts of the two nurses, assisting doctor, and anaesthetist.

  “Well done.” Thomas nodded. “Where do they live? We need to talk to them.”

  “You can find Michael Finnigan and Amy Watts in the cemetery of St Anna. Watts arrived drunk at work twice and got fired; couldn’t get rid of her addiction and died in a squalid flat ten years ago. Finnigan died in a car crash over a year ago; stayed at the local hospital until he retired, and apparently, never mentioned a word about their atrocities to a single person. He was not a very prominent guy—”

  “Speaking of the cemetery,” Thomas cut in, “please find out if a Raphael Dobson and Steven McDrey are buried here. Dobson named them as his grandfathers. Just making sure he’s telling the truth.”

  “Okay, will let you know. The other nurse, Joanna Brown, is in a care home. She had a stroke several years ago and is paralysed; can’t talk properly anymore. However, we’re lucky with the assisting doctor, Rose Cleaves. She’s living alone in a small secluded village near Stony Creek. After Lawson left, she worked at the University Hospital in Turnden but kept her head down. I’ve tried to call her, but she’s not answering.”

  “Give me her address, please. I’ll pay her a visit tomorrow.”

  She handed him a piece of paper. “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

  “So? I want whoever did this behind bars as soon as possible, and I’ll work on Christmas Day if I have to. You can work from home tomorrow, I really don’t mind.” With that, he put on his parka and picked up his pile of mouldy-smelling folders.

  “Give me a call as soon as you find something suspicious,” he shouted, walking out of the door without turning around; no need to see the face she was making behind his back.

  27

  AT home, Thomas pulled into the driveway just as Richard and Sky turned into their little alleyway at the opposite end.

  “You’re home early today,” Sky shouted, bouncing towards him and giving him a hug.

  “Yep, and I certainly won’t be bored,” he said, handing her the files. “Put them on my desk, please. I’ll follow in a moment.”

  He turned to Richard and gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Thanks, neighbour.”

  “Stop repeating yourself!” Richard chuckled slightly. “Tyres okay?”

  “Yes, they were brilliant going through the icy bends up the hill. No skidding or swinging off. I’ll rearrange my firewood in the garage now and take the bins back out so the car can go in. That’s not going to happen again,” Thomas said, nodding towards the open garage door.

  Twenty minutes later, he closed the front door behind him, went to the kitchen, and put a packet of pasta into a pot of boiling water while Sky set the table.

  “How was school today?”

  “Boring,” she answered without looking up. “Ms Adams had to go to hospital again for a check-up after her breakdown at the bake sale.”

  Thomas raised his eyebrows. “How was she?” he asked, trying to hide his worry.

  “As always,” Sky replied unfazed. “She didn’t even announce a new date for feeding the deer. By the time she has made up her mind, it’ll be summer.”

  “That’s quite harsh, don’t you think?”

  Sky did not answer.

  After lunch, Thomas retreated to his office and put the list with ‘his’ eight names in front of him. None of them rang a bell, and they were all Bohemian.

  He anticipated he would be done by the end of the day and set out to search the various databases Collins had suggested, full of enthusiasm.

  All the people were either in hospital or recovering in rehab from surgeries, and their bad health condition was always related to a missing kidney. Some might remember the surgery they had some thirty years earlier, and putting two and two together, they might have found out that their organ was removed deliberately and illegally. That of course, Thomas knew, would stir up hatred and anger — the foundation for a conspiracy to commit murder. He was astounded, anyway, that up until then, nothing, not even a suspicion against Lawson, had been made public.

  Using a white sheet of paper for notes on each person — addressing age, place of residence, current living circumstances, job, family, health condition, and so on — he set out to browse through endless pages of online information.

  Four hours and four cups of coffee later, Thomas was absent-mindedly staring down at two single sheets of paper while rubbing his scar. He had researched two names, so far, and had come to the conclusion that basically everybody in those two families could have killed William Lawson — from the gran, who had excellent karate skills, to the bodybuilding son.

  Angrily, he threw his pen on the desk, watching it roll over the edge of the table and hearing it clatter to the floor. He knew he had to call Collins sooner or later to check on her progress, but that would include having to admit to his own slow and possibly useless researching skills. She simply knew which words and clues to look out for when reading a piece of paper packed with words from top to bottom.

  He preferred talking to people in person.

  Just when he had decided to delay the call for another hour, his mobile vibrated in his pocket.

  “Damn it,” he hissed. But looking at the display, his mood brightened immediately. “Hi, Kate! What a lovely surprise,” he said a bit louder than intended.

  “Hello, how are you doing? Still busy catching the killer?”

  “Yes, we’re working on it. Sky said you had to go to hospital again?”

  “No need to worry.” She laughed. “It was just a check-up after what happened yesterday, and the doctor said I was as good as new. No more circulatory problems, yet. Unfortunately, the nature of my call is rather unpleasant,” she said delicately.

  Thomas exhaled. “Okay, what did she do this time?”

  His office window was overlooking the snow-covered garden, and he had allowed Sky to play there with Barney as long as she stayed where he could see her.

  “I caught Sky cheating today in a history test. They had to match historic events to their respective dates and explain what happened. Sky had everything printed on a small piece of paper glued to the back of a ruler. When I collected the papers at the end of the test, the ruler fell down, and I picked it up. I had to give her an ‘F’ for the test immediately. The thing is… the school has a strict zero-tolerance policy, so I have to invite you in for a formal talk. I’m really sorry. I know you’re extremely busy, but I need you to sign this protocol.”

  Outside, Sky threw a snowball high up in the air, and Barney had problems jumping up to catch it in the deep and soft, fluffy snow.

  “There is nothing to be sorry about. You’re just doing your job. If at all, it’s me who is terribly sorry for the trouble this little rascal is causing you. Listen, I need to pick up some books from David’s house anyway, and your house is on the way. I could do with a break. If you don’t mind, I could pop in, and we can sort this out right away. What do you think?”

  He kept his fingers crossed.

  “Great idea, actually. That means I don’t have to leave the house again in this weather to go down to the school. Just ring whenever you’re here,” she replied nonchalantly.

  “Perfect. See you in
a moment.” They hung up.

  The troublesome duo were still frolicking in the snow. It hurt knowing he had to end this carefree joy now, but it hurt even more knowing he was not one jot better than Sky — there were no books to be picked up at David’s house. He simply wanted to be with Kate.

  Thomas knocked on the window and motioned for Sky to come inside. He heard her lock the back door and knock the snow off her boots.

  A moment later, she stood in front of him; her face glowing red from the cold and her clear eyes looking up at him expectantly.

  Thomas sat down on the first step of the staircase and turned Sky so she was facing him. “If I asked you again how school was today, what would you say?”

  “Technically it wasn’t that boring.”

  “Really? Go on. There is actually one subject I’m particularly interested in. History.”

  Sky looked at him but did not respond.

  “Sky, can you hear me, or do I have to get loud? Why did you cheat on that test? And where did that ruler come from?”

  “Cami had typed out all the stuff, printed it in small print on a slip of paper, and distributed it before the lesson. Nearly everybody had a crib somewhere! It was not just me! But Ms Adams had to throw my ruler down, and unfortunately it landed on the wrong side.”

  “So, it’s her fault?”

  “No, but she could pay a bit more attention.”

  “Listen, this is no joke. Cheating is a big deal, and I won’t tolerate it. You knew that, and you know there’ll be consequences. Why didn’t you just study for the test?”

  “Because the facts are so boring that I can’t remember them, and I’ll never ever need them again!”

  “But history is part of your general education.”

  “When and where did the Early Stone Age begin?”

  “I said it’s part of your general education. Mine is built on a different foundation. But thanks to you, I have to go to Ms Adams to sign some paper, and that’ll stop me from working.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Towel down the dog and then go to your room. And stay there until I’m back. We’ll talk about this again. Understood?”