Snow Light

by Danielle Zinn

  “I knew I should have waited another half hour,” Collins sighed. She rolled up her sleeves, and without needing a recipe, she swiftly put the ingredients into the bowl as if it was a daily routine. Thomas watched her, impressed, and cut ham, tomatoes, mushrooms, and peppers into small pieces.

  In the middle of rolling out the dough, she stopped and looked up at the man towering nearly two heads above her. “Have you thought about the case?”

  Thomas nodded. “I’ve tried not to, but I can’t just switch my mind off. I asked Laura to compare the rabbit blood from the snow outside the cabin to the dried blood they found in Richard’s boot.”

  “Sounds like a starting point. But where do we go if it’s a dead end?”

  Thomas dried his hands on a kitchen towel and turned to Collins. “Then we’re back to square one, as I said yesterday.”

  “And where exactly is square one?” she asked, fearing the worst.

  “It’s the pyramid on Monday morning. We have to start right at the beginning and go again through every picture and interview taken. Maybe we’ve made a mistake in interpretation. There must be a hint or a trace we’ve missed.”

  Collins took a deep breath and turned her attention back to the dough, while Thomas decided not to mention the phone call to Sexton earlier that morning and his order to find Kate’s accomplice… or rather, her traitor. He assumed it would only trigger an unnecessary negative reaction.

  Once the pizza was in the oven, he called the kids inside. Sky was overjoyed to see Collins, while Thomas was curiously waiting for her to open his colleague’s present.

  Leaning against the kitchen counter, he nodded towards the wrapped box in Sky’s hands. “I only told you yesterday about her birthday. Today is Sunday. Where did you get that from so quickly?”

  “It’s called online shopping, and if you pay them just a tad more, they even deliver in this weather — to this godforsaken place,” Collins said, rolling her eyes.

  A smile left his lips. That was the colleague he knew.

  Surrounded by her twin friends, Sky curiously ripped open the box, and the kids oohed and aahed at a DVD.

  “I saw your impressive and very tasteful movie collection but couldn’t find this one. It’s a must-have,” Collins said, satisfied with her choice.

  “Thanks, Ann!” Sky gave her a hug. “Can we watch it now please, Nat?”

  “What film is it?” Thomas asked, still trying to identify the cover.

  “Difficult Days!” the kids said in unison.

  “What’s the age rating on it?”

  “It’s twelve, which she is now, so relax,” Collins replied, shaking her head.

  “I am relaxed. I’m just being responsible,” he retorted a bit more forcefully than intended.

  “Good. For a second I thought you were a dog in the manger,” Collins replied dryly.

  Twenty minutes later, Thomas and his sergeant sat down with their plates of pizza in his office, leaving the door just open wide enough to see the TV screen and the three kids in front of it.

  Since they were stuck inside anyway, they decided to mull over the case again. Outside, the weather had not even tried to calm down, and an icy snowstorm was still raging through the backyard.

  One could not tell whether it was already getting dark again or if the darkness from the previous night had not quite vanished yet. Not a soul was out on the streets as cold, hard flakes pelted down on everything, obstructing its way.

  “You’re not entirely happy with my choice of movie, are you?” Collins asked, watching Thomas look up repeatedly from his pizza whenever the film music got a tad too foreboding.

  “As I said, when they’re at my house, I’m responsible for those kids. And it’s not you who gets woken up in the middle of the night by a shaky child asking you to check if all doors are really locked and then not wanting to go back to sleep again in case the nightmare comes back. Anyway, what happened to Cinderella or The Lion King?”

  “What? Sky is a pre-teen now. Those films are for little kids.”

  “I’m glad I have an expert,” Thomas said quietly, pushing the investigation folder towards her. “All right. Let’s read through the interview protocols again. We’re looking for someone willing and able to move that damn body in the middle of the night in weather conditions like this.” They both looked out of the window, where a small snowdrift had built on the windowsill.

  Paper and pictures were spread out, and they started reading and rereading, drawing up mind maps and crossing out names again.

  After a while, Collins said, “Vincent Dobson, the company owner, is off the list. He was snowed in on top of Spruce Mountain. The hotel director said nobody could have left the area that night.”

  Thomas nodded. “Alexander Kelly is off too; he doesn’t have a car. Unless, he strapped Lawson on a sleigh. But how could he have known the man was dead in the first place? Or do you think he always walks through the forest in the middle of the night with a sleigh? You know, just in case he finds a body. And then trudges to the market square and all the way back over the hill?”

  “True, it’s rather unlikely.”

  “What about the mayor? Remember he got rough on Lawson outside the school building?” Collins asked just as Thomas’s phone vibrated.

  “Laura, that was quick.”

  “Hi there. Are you prepared for the latest who is who in the world of bunnies?” she asked jokingly, but Thomas was not too sure whether he was in fact prepared.

  “Okay, go ahead.”

  “I can tell you this much — the rabbit blood from the boot of your neighbour’s car does not match the blood from the chopping block at the cabin. They did not belong to the same little bunny family.”

  Thomas exhaled deeply, and the tension left his neck and shoulders. The result had kept him more worried than he’d wanted to admit.

  “Thanks, Laura. You’re a star.”

  They hung up and Thomas put Richard’s file on top of Vincent Dobson — another suspect eliminated. “You know, he still could have done it. Just wrapped him up properly,” Collins said carefully.

  “It wasn’t him. End of discussion.” He looked at her sharply, and she lifted her hands up in defeat.

  “Okay, what about the mayor then?”

  “The mayor called Sexton this morning to thank him personally for the quick success.”

  “Aha. It’s a clear sign of guilt. He doesn’t want any suspicion on him. Offence is the best defence.”

  Thomas rolled his eyes. “It’s a clear sign you’re watching too many movies.”

  “But he was alone at home that night; he doesn’t have an alibi. Just because he’s the mayor doesn’t mean he’s got immunity, and Lawson clearly annoyed him,” Collins fought back.

  “Okay, put him on the ‘maybe’ pile, for God’s sake. I’ll talk to him again tomorrow.”

  By now, Thomas was speaking without really thinking about his words, so deep was he in thought about the photo in his hands. It showed the pyramid, early in the morning after the night of the murder, with Lawson still crouching on it. However, it was not the pyramid itself that had piqued his curiosity but rather the array of its figures placed on each storey. He had not paid much attention to them before, having walked by a hundred times, but now the photo lay enlarged and printed in front of him.

  On the top-most storey lingered the animals of the forest: squirrels, deer, and stags. The middle part was occupied by miners, the symbol of the Ore Mountains, either with hammers and mallets or carrying ore in baskets. And on the lowest storey, various occupational groups of the olden days were shown. And Lawson.

  Thomas picked up his magnifying glasses and took a closer look. If the weather were not so bad, he would walk over there himself, but for now the photo had to do.

  Effortlessly, he identified a hunter with a rifle slung over his shoulder and a hound at his side; a night guard carrying a lamp, halberd, and horn; a shepherd with his crook and a flock of sheep; a mushroom picker; a lumberja
ck sitting on a tree trunk; and a woman picking berries. The figures were carved from wood and were some three feet tall.

  “See this?” Thomas asked, tapping the photo and pushing it towards Collins.

  “Just don’t be too specific,” she snapped. “I see a pyramid with a dead body on it. I saw this in real life, as well, not too long ago.”

  “I mean the position of the body.”

  Collins leaned towards him, squinting down at the picture.

  “He was placed at the feet of the night guard. So?”

  Thomas frowned. “Our victim is sitting on his bent legs, his head leaning on the knees of the night guard, hands folded in his lap. It looks like he is asking for forgiveness, but the night guard is only glowering down at him. What if he was put there on purpose? Why not just dump him somewhere on the pyramid, but to go through the hassle of putting him into this specific position, and even risk being caught? What if it’s a message? I mean, what was the job of the night guard in the past?”

  Collins bit her lip, thinking. “It was usually men who walked the streets at night making sure doors were closed and locked, basically keeping the village or town peaceful and in order while everybody was asleep. And they told people the time. Hmm, and they warned people of fires or enemies or thieves.”

  “Exactly. And they had the right to question and, if necessary, to arrest troublemakers.”

  She looked at him quizzically. “Okay, so Lawson was a thief. A troublemaker. But who felt responsible for punishing him, even after his death? And how on earth did that person know that Lawson would be killed that night?”

  “I know this is far-fetched, and I highly doubt there really is a night guard patrolling the streets of Turtleville… at least, I haven’t seen one, so far. But think about it. Night guards became redundant with the introduction of streetlamps and proper police officers.”

  Collins looked up at him, wide awake now. “Myers? But why didn’t he tell us so in his suicide note?”

  Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know. He probably didn’t care about it anymore. But he felt very responsible for keeping peace and order in the village, and Lawson didn’t fit into that concept. And we know he was the one who had an eye on him. We need to—”

  A loud rattling noise filled the office, and an antique fax machine jumped to life. It shook so violently while emitting the fax that the pile of folders Thomas had haphazardly placed on top of it trundled to the ground, spilling its contents all over the floor.

  “You still use a fax machine?” Collins asked unbelievingly.

  “Actually no, not anymore. David’s got one, and sometimes Sky and I send faxes back and forth just for fun. That’s why it’s still here,” he replied, crawling across the floor picking up their notes.

  When the machine came to a stop, he got up and took the note. A huge smile spread across his face. “Thank God,” he mumbled, walking to the door. “Sky! Come here, quick!”

  Her head poked up from behind the couch, and when she saw Thomas waving the paper, her eyes widened and she jumped over the backrest, running towards him. He handed her the note and watched the joy and happiness unfold on her face with every line she read.

  “Daddy’s on his way home!” she cheered. “I knew he’d make it!”

  It was not the first time David had left Thomas so long in the agony of uncertainty regarding whether he would make it home on time or not. But, now, he had just boarded his last connecting flight to Turnden and asked his best friend to pick him up — and bring a coat.

  Sky gave Thomas a hug, and he picked her up. “What do you think about the second part of the message?”

  He looked at her curiously, knowing she had not figured it out yet.

  “We go to the zoo?” she asked uncertainly.

  Thomas laughed. “Kind of, but not for an entire week on holiday. Keep guessing.”

  “It says we’ll see lions and zebras and giraffes at breakfast, and have a swim after lunch and go on top of a mountain for dinner.”

  “Yes, and where can you do all of that?”

  “It says, ‘Welcome to RSA!’ here.” She pointed at the bottom of the paper.

  “Oh, and if we only knew where that was.” He looked at her forlornly, suppressing a smile, but Sky playfully punched him in the chest.

  “You’re so unfair; you know where it is. Tell me!”

  With his free hand, he picked up a globe. “Only she who finds the place herself is worthy of going there,” he replied knowingly and spun the globe. Sky stopped it with her finger resting on the Brazilian jungle. Thomas pushed it eastwards across the Atlantic Ocean and left her there in the middle of the Republic of Congo. “From there, you have to find your way on your own. If I were you, I’d go south.”

  She looked at him as if he was teasing her, but he gave her an encouraging nod, and she focused on the countries unfolding in front of her.

  “Republic of South Africa?” she whispered after a moment.

  Thomas nodded. “Cape Town would be my guess.”

  Sky was jumping for joy, and even Collins laughed at the kid’s sheer endless happiness.

  While Sky and Collins googled all the things to do in and around Cape Town, Thomas took Sky’s friends home, explaining that he and Sky had to leave soon to pick her father up from the airport. Collins bade farewell too, saying she would go and see Mrs Myers, and her late husband’s car. Maybe they would find traces of Lawson’s blood in there.

  Fifteen minutes later, Thomas sat with Sky in his SUV armed with plastic bags and motion sickness tablets, though, he was fairly sure they’d not be needed this time, as Sky was talking nonstop about the impending holiday.

  35

  IN the headlights, Thomas saw hundreds of snowflakes crushing onto the windscreen, and he knew he would get a headache if the weather stayed like that all the way to Turnden and back.

  The road was slippery and covered in snow, and outside Turtleville, high drifts had built up on both sides of the street, where the fierce wind was blowing across the open fields.

  He drove carefully in the middle of the road until they had reached the steep but short hill connecting the valley with St Anna, where a car was ever so slowly making its way up.

  To avoid the hill, there was a detour Thomas could have taken, which led through several small villages, but that would have cost him at least a quarter of an hour, and as the other car had nearly made its way to the top, he decided to switch into a higher gear, pick up some speed, and take the shortcut uphill.

  Closing in on the car in front of him, Thomas realised how slowly it was actually moving. He could not overtake it at that point anymore, let alone in those weather conditions. The snowdrifts had made the road too narrow, and he could not see around the bend, so he slowed down and switched to a lower gear.

  “Come on, you idiot, keep moving.” He swore under his breath.

  “Why can’t he just hit the gas?” Sky asked nervously.

  “See his tyres? He doesn’t have any grip. Probably old and worn. Why do people risk—”

  Sky shrieked shortly before covering her eyes with her hand. Within an instant, the wheels of the car in front of them had stopped their frantic effort to move the vehicle up the last stretch of the hill, and were now instead sending it slithering backwards. Thomas could not change into reverse gear quickly enough, and with a loud thud, the other car crashed into his bonnet and got entangled. Now both cars were slowly sliding downhill, one pushing the other.

  He desperately tried to bring them to a halt, but the pressure from the other car was too immense, and his brakes were too weak to stop two cars. When reaching the next bend, however, he managed to wedge both cars into a huge snowdrift, blocking the entire road crosswise.

  With a jolt, they came to a stop.

  The boot of his car and the bonnet of the car in front of him were pushed into a drift, keeping them from slithering further down the road.

  He looked at Sky and saw tears welling up in her eyes. “Your beautiful
car! And now we can’t pick up daddy!”

  “Don’t worry about the car. Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. It was definitely time for her father to come back. He had put her in enough danger to last a lifetime.

  “Okay, honey, listen,” he gave her his phone, “you call Ann, now. Tell her what happened and where we are and that we’re blocking the road. Tell her to send officers here and ask her to come with her own car immediately. That’ll take us to Turnden, but don’t tell her that… it would kind of spoil the surprise.”

  Sky took the phone with a cheeky smile.

  Outside, a hairy hand knocked fiercely on Thomas’s window. He opened his door, forcing the person to move backwards on the steep, icy road. It was only then that he realised whose car it was that had got entangled with his SUV. The mayor extended his short but strong arm towards him, and Thomas did not have much of a choice but to shake his flabby hand.

  “I am so sincerely sorry, Detective Inspector! Are you all right?” he barked over the snowstorm.

  With open fields on both sides and the absence of streetlamps, it was hard to make out people’s faces, let alone talk to them properly. Thomas motioned for the mayor to go back to his car and he would follow.

  When he slithered past the battered and dented bonnet of his SUV, he felt a sharp twinge in his heart. Cars were just a means of transport, he knew that, but somehow, he had got very attached to this one. They literally had gone through thick and thin together in the last two years, but now, even in the one headlight that was still working, he feared the damage would be beyond repair.

  Thomas shook the snow off his shoulders and slipped into the back seat next to the mayor, whose immense body filled all the space to the passenger seat in front of him. He wore a dark green feather down jacket, making him appear even stouter than he already was, and a black flat cap. Thomas assumed the redness of his face was not from the cold but rather a sign of high blood pressure combined with obesity. And then there was the wart next to his nose — a brown blotch in the middle of his piglet pink-hued skin, that Thomas could not help but stare at while the mayor launched into a monologue of apologies.