Tempus Genesis
Page 28
Oliver was distinctly uncomfortable returning to meet Dyer alone. Oliver could tell he had hurt Jenny by closing down any questions she asked of him. Her curiosity regarding Dyer was natural in the circumstances but Oliver felt he was going to crack under the pressure of each question. Dyer had told Oliver to join him for dinner at eight. Oliver had rung Van who had been staying at his parents’ home back in Vinh Long and also spoken to Jimmy to enquire whether they could extend a night or two. He felt sure Dyer would want to connect with the daughter he lost more than twenty years ago. Van just said ‘sure, money talks’ and laughed loudly down the mobile.
Jimmy was very understanding and generous with the use of his boat and extending their stay. Oliver navigated down the canal once more towards the French house, this time in better weather. Jimmy’s generosity had been lubricated by one hundred dollars from Jamie. Oliver could sail the boat all the way to Cambodia as far as Jimmy cared. Oliver had proposed an extension to Jenny and Jamie as Dyer had ‘suggested’ he might be willing to discuss his research into regression. Oliver did not naturally lean to mistruths or half truths and his friends had waved him off not wholly trusting his account.
Oliver arrived at the wooden steps that led up to the house. He looked smart in a white shirt and beige shorts, wanting to appear respectful of the invitation into the Professors home. Oliver quickly moored the canoe and climbed the steps. He breezed across the lawn, feeling both anxious and hopeful that Jenny would get the help she needed and find the father she must have wondered about for all those years apart.
Oliver slowed as he reached the house. He was confused to find the front door slightly ajar and the shuttered window open. The light evening wind fluttered a lace curtain making it bellow in and out of the window frame.
Oliver knocked on the glass of the door, eased the door back and entered the hallway, taking a few cautious steps.
“Professor Dyer?” he called softly. There was no sound, only a pulse raising silence.
Oliver walked forward slowly. Beyond the hall was the kitchen, the door was open. Oliver’s sense of alarm grew as he saw a pot overturned on the floor, with noodles strewn across the tiles. Oliver walked quickly to the kitchen.
“Professor?”
The kitchen was empty, though crockery and cutlery were scattered across the floor alongside the noodle. It was when Oliver turned to go to the lounge that he noticed the thick blood streaking back from the kitchen, down the middle of the hall wall he had just come from. In his rush to the kitchen he had not noticed the blood red stretched hand print trailing from the kitchen and disappearing into the lounge.
Oliver followed it into the lounge. The room was in near darkness, except for a shaft of light from the one open window into the centre of the room. Oliver stepped in, he noticed a sticky sensation beneath his feet, more blood and a lot of it.
“My God, Robert,” Oliver exclaimed when he first noticed Dyer. The professor was laid on his back on the sofa where Jenny had slept some hours before. His eyes were open, fixed and staring, his mouth gaping open. Dyer’s throat was cut from ear to ear, a deep aggressive gash, gouged in one determined movement. The knife that had inflicted the wound was balanced between the floor and Dyers limp left hand, which hung from were he lay. Its blade was sprayed crimson. Oliver walked towards the man he had only just met, who he had discovered after years of wondering. Professor Robert John Dyer, so dignified and distinguished in life, now laid dead in the most undignified of poses.
“I have called the police.”
Oliver turned quickly at the voice from across the room. His heart rate raced even faster and fear gripped him. Dyer’s housekeeper stood by the open window, concealed in shadows, smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke through the open shutter. She looked calm but her hand was shaking.
“He disapproved of smoking, especially in the house, but I need this,” she took a deep draw on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke out through the window.
“What happened?” Oliver asked, incredulous at the scene he found himself in.
“I was preparing dinner for you both, he had told me you called, we talked about you, about Jenny, the shock he had felt at seeing his daughter, his research. He thought there could be a cure for her illness. He was in remarkable spirits. Then,” she began to shake and cry.
Oliver took a chair from the small table by the window and moved it across the room to where the housekeeper stood. He eased her onto the chair. The table had been set for the dinner he was to share with Dyer. Oliver poured a glass of water and handed it to the housekeeper. She sipped a little then smoked some more.
“He had some kind of seizure, started talking to himself at first, he spoke quickly in riddles, his eyes rolled back. He thrashed around as if he was fighting some demon, then he grabbed the knife. I tried to stop him, he knocked everything to the floor. Then he cut his throat, right there in the kitchen right in front of me. Staggered into here, blood spraying everywhere and collapsed on the sofa. I think he was dead before I caught him up. I can’t believe he is gone. I really thought he was about to find some peace at last,” the housekeeper bowed her head and sobbed into her hands.
In his shock Oliver could not process the scene he had walked into. He comforted the housekeeper and together they waited for the police to arrive. The nearest police station was at least thirty minutes away. Oliver decided he would look round to see if there was any evidence of medication, a note, anything that might point to some reason why Dyer would have some form of seizure and execute himself in such a horrific manner. Oliver would not admit to himself that he wanted to satiate an element of curiosity at the same time. Once he had left to look around the housekeeper lifted her head to try to steal one further look at the grizzly sight of Dyer. She thought it must be the stress and shock playing with her mind and once more bowed her head and sipped water. She did not want to believe she had seen traces of bright blue static dancing around the edges of the elderly mans gaping mouth.