Cold Case - 5. Chapter 5

"A sadomasochistic club whose activities got out of hand? And Reginald Osborne is a specialist in Aztec culture?" Steve asked after Adam had informed him on his conversation with his father. He nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes," Adam replied. "He was a serious scientist when he was younger. He discovered a few remarkable objects. The discoveries made him famous and he established quite a reputation. But he changed considerably over the years. He became extravagant, flamboyant, and arrogant. Rumors spread. He was said to illegally sell artifacts, but nobody was able to produce evidence against him. He and his wife divorced and he turned into a womanizer. Janet Lloyd said he had sadomasochistic preferences."

"The perfect candidate," Steve replied. "You said the Korean girl accompanied him to the secret place and witnessed a man cutting out a woman’s heart. Osborne did not actively take part in the ritual himself?"

"He was not the murderer, according to Kia. He did not actively take part in the ritual that night, but perhaps he did so some other night," Adam replied.

"I’ll investigate on him," Steve said. "And I’ll also investigate on Janet Lloyd. I’m certain she can give me names and details that I can work with. You said she left England five years ago. I could imagine Osborne’s group has forgotten about her."

"Are you certain?" Adam asked. "They performed the ritual on Angelo Falcone and eleven years later another one on Jeremiah Irons. I don’t think they are careless and oblivious. What about Sassetti? Have you heard from him?"

"I called him this morning. The obsidian knife is not an artifact. It was produced in China, most likely two years ago. Neither Falcone nor Irons were killed with it. No fingerprints, unfortunately. Sassetti is convinced the knife was left by some idiot," Steve said.

"Has he gotten instructions to drop the case?" Adam asked.

"Not yet, to his own surprise. It seems whoever held a protecting hand over Falcone, won’t shield Jeremiah Irons. Whoever protected Falcone, did not do it in order to shield the secret sect, but for a different motive," Steve said.

"Sassetti said Falcone was a Mafioso. That’s the motive," Adam replied.

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "I guess Falcone and Irons stumbled over something and were silenced. As a warning to others."

"Members of the sect. What about Joseph Peterson? Was he a member of the sect also?" Adam asked.

"Investigate on him," Steve replied.

"One more thing," Adam said. "How about we question Timothy Baker again? It seems his visions pointed in the right direction."

Steve looked at him and then laughed out loudly. "Very professional, Adam Johnson," he said.

He placed his hand on Adam’s shoulder. Adam looked at it out of the corner of his eye. He sat motionless until Steve withdrew his hand. Steve winked at Adam.

"Find out about Joseph Peterson and question Timothy Baker again," he said. "I’ll investigate on Reginald Osborne and Janet Lloyd."

Steve made a step towards to the door, but then turned around again. He took the three folders that he had placed on Adam’s desk a few days ago.

"No need to look through them, Adam," he said. "We’re busy otherwise, I think."

Steve sent Adam an email a couple of hours later. Janet Lloyd had finished her studies in the States and had returned to England three years ago. She had married a man she had met shortly after her return. He was an art journalist and had interviewed her on Aztec arts. Her new name was Walker. They had two children, twins, two boys named Michael and Jordan. Janet worked part-time in a London museum.

Adam emailed back and asked if Steve was going to interrogate the woman. Steve answered he would do so the following day, and then asked Adam if he wanted to join him for lunch. They exchanged several emails discussing the restaurant and their favorite dishes until Adam blushed at the realization of the crap he had written in his emails. He wrote another short reply, saying he would be waiting for Steve in the corridor at twelve o’ clock. Steve sent back an email with a smiley. Adam gazed at the grinning yellow face, and then started his research on Joseph Peterson.

The cold case folder luckily contained a few useful documents, copies of insurance policies and letters Derek Peterson had written after his father’s death. Joseph Peterson had died of a heart attack at the age of sixty-six. He had retired a year before his death, after working for decades in a bank, the same bank his son worked with also. His wife Cynthia had died of cancer at the age of fifty-five. Joseph Peterson had not married again. One year after his wife’s death, he had transferred a big amount of money to the Cayman Islands. Derek Peterson had investigated on the money after his father’s death. The money had been withdrawn by cash. According to the bank on the Cayman Islands, Joseph Peterson himself had withdrawn the money, but Derek Peterson insisted his father had been in London on the date of the withdrawal. There was an extended exchange of letters between the bank and Peterson’s lawyers. The bank finally refunded part of the money.

Adam underlined the words Cayman Islands. He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Steve looked into the room. He pointed at his watch.

"I thought you were waiting in the corridor," he said.

Adam looked at his watch, smiled briefly, and then rose to his feet. Steve had picked a Thai restaurant and got into raptures over the dishes as they walked down the street. Adam gave him a wary look. They entered the restaurant, sat down and ordered their meals.

"What do you think?" Steve asked.

"Well," Adam started, "The Cayman Islands..."

"Not this," Steve interrupted him. "What do you think? Do you like the dish?"

"Um, yes," Adam replied. "I like Asian dishes."

"That’s what you wrote in your emails. I’m glad you like Asian food. We can come here again some other day," Steve said.

Adam smiled briefly. "The Cayman Islands," he said, changing the topic. "It seems that something happened after Cynthia Peterson’s death. Joseph Peterson transferred a big amount of money to a bank on the Cayman Islands. Why?"

"I’m thinking," Steve said, pushing his plate aside. "The obsidian knife that he was said to possess," he said finally, "perhaps he bought the knife from Jeremiah Irons. Peterson transferred money to the Cayman Islands and Jeremiah Irons withdrew it with a wrong passport or so."

"Possibly," Adam said. "An original ceremonial knife is expensive, I think." He opened his cell phone and searched the internet. "You can get an obsidian knife legally for about 2,000 $. A special knife might cost more. But Joseph Peterson transferred about 25,000 $," he said.

"He bought more artifacts perhaps," Steve said.

He pulled his purse out. Adam hurried to pull out his one also. Steve made a gesture with his hand.

"My turn," he said.

Adam gave him an awkward look, but Steve smiled cheerfully.

"It’s okay, Adam," he said. "It’s your turn tomorrow."

Adam opened his lips to protest, but then decided to refrain from commenting. He gave Steve a nod. Steve waved for the waiter, and then looked back at Adam.

"I called the museum. Janet Walker works this afternoon. The museum opens at half past two. I’ll go there. I should be back in the office before five. I’ll come to your room," he said.

"Okay," Adam replied. "I’ll try to find out about Timothy Baker. I’ll call him as soon as I have found out about his number."

"This shouldn’t be too difficult," Steve replied, rising to his feet. He rubbed his hands. "All right, let’s get back to work. We’re making progress. Who said the case was cold?"

***

Adam took the cold case folder and brushed through the documents. He found Timothy Baker’s telephone number and made a call. Timothy’s mother answered it. The woman was wary, downright suspicious, but finally called out to her son.

"Yes?" Timothy Baker asked in a wary voice.

Adam explained the matter to him.

"I don’t want to talk with you on the phone," Timothy replied. "I know you’re recording the call. Police treated me badly back then. If you want to talk with me, then come to our house."

Adam hesitated, but then agreed to visit the Bakers at three in the afternoon.

Timothy’s mother opened the door. She eyed Adam for an instant, but then showed him to their living room. Timothy was seated on the couch, reading a book. He closed it and put it aside when Adam entered. The young man had not changed very much. An odd aura surrounded him.

Adam introduced himself and explained the reason for his coming. Timothy rose to his feet and awkwardly reached out his hand. Adam shook it and smiled at the young man. Timothy sat down on the couch and looked at Adam warily. Adam sat down in a chair. The door opened and Mrs. Baker brought tea. She hesitated, but then left the room again.

"Are you still having visions?" Adam started.

Timothy gazed at him and gave a brief nod. Adam shifted his position, and then decided to come straight to the point.

"You mentioned an obsidian knife, Timothy. They thought your vision was humbug, but Steve Mills has never closed the case. He believes in your vision. I’ve joined the cold case team only recently. Steve introduced me to the case. I want to question you again. You mentioned an obsidian knife. Can you tell me anything else about it or the burglary in general?"

Timothy eyed Adam. "It’s odd," he said. "I dreamed of the knife only yesterday. I saw it clearly. I awoke, but I could still see the knife with my inner eyes. I saw every detail. I would recognize it if you showed it to me."

"Very odd, indeed," Adam said. "So far, we have not found the knife. I’m currently investigating on the man who owned it. I suspect he bought it illegally and the knife was used in a ritual."

"Yes, definitely," Timothy said excitedly. He straightened. "I saw the knife clearly. It was old. It looked Mexican. It was elaborately crafted. It turned slowly in the air, or so it seemed to me. It was a vision. Visions are like this. I’m used to it," he explained.

Adam gave a nod.

"And then a drop of blood appeared on the tip of the blade. A dark red drop of blood. The drop enlarged, and then blood streamed down the blade, a lot of blood. The streaming of the blood wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t help but stare. The blood soon covered the floor, a floor made of stone. And then the image vanished," Timothy said.

He leaned back against the rear of the couch.

"This knife has killed many men," he said in a serious voice. "Hundreds, thousands of men. This is why it is so precious to those who possess it. The knife has been in use for centuries. It has never stopped its cruel deeds."

"What do you mean?" Adam asked.

Timothy looked at him with widened eyes. "I can only tell you of the image I saw and the feelings I had. However, my feelings tell me the truth. I’m very rarely mistaken," he replied. He straightened and looked at Adam gravely. "The knife is used to perform a bloodthirsty ritual. It is used to kill. It has been used for centuries down to the present day."

Adam took a breath. "You mean the Aztec ritual of cutting out the victim’s heart was never given up? When the Aztec people were eradicated, others took up on the ritual and continued it down to the present day?"

"Yes," Timothy said. "They have never stopped performing the ritual. However, I’m afraid I cannot say who these men are, why they do it, and where they perform the ritual. The image was very clear. I was under the impression I could reach out my hand and seize the knife. So I suspect that the knife is somewhere close."

Adam looked at Timothy until his words had sunken in.

"Why do you think did you have the visions, the ones three years ago and the one yesterday?" Adam asked.

Timothy shrugged. "The truth wants to come to light. Nothing can linger in the dark forever. I don’t know why, but I receive these kinds of visions, visions of hidden things, secret things that want to be uncovered. I was at odds with my talent when I was very young, but I have come to accept my destiny. I’m a seer." Timothy smiled shyly. "Seers were popular in the past. People went to see them. They still do. This habit has not died out either."

Adam smiled. He took his cup of tea and emptied it.

"Thank you for the tea and for helping me, Timothy," he said. He pulled a card from his pocket. "My telephone number. Just in case you have another vision or just something more to tell me."

Adam placed the card on the coffee table. Timothy gave him a nod. He stood awkwardly and showed Adam to the door. Mrs. Baker eyed them from the kitchen warily. Adam went back to his car. He felt as if a cold shadow had fallen upon him.

It was half past five when he arrived at the office. Adam sat down at his desk and wrote a report. He had just finished it when Steve knocked on the door.

***