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MARK
Sojer called about an hour after Eva and I returned to the apartment with the box of Ana’s medical records. He wanted to meet, but not at the office, so here I am, sitting in the poorly lit Irish Pub again, drinking my second beer of the week. The drizzle that started this afternoon has turned into a full-on freezing rain that might yet become snow, so it’s no kind of night to be outside.
But being inside and reading up on a poor young woman’s lifetime of depression and pain is worse.
This place has the tangy smell of spoiled beer, probably from the many spills over the years that were soaked up by the wood of the tables, the bar counter, even the floors and the board and batten on the walls. I notice it even more clearly as Sojer’s arrival lets in a gust of fresh air that smells strongly of snow.
Just like last time, he orders his drinks before joining me at the rickety table. Drops of the freezing rain that’s falling outside are clinging to the sleeves and shoulders of his jacket and go flying this way and that as he unzips it before sitting down.
“I went to see Tim’s aunt today,” he says. “Dr. Kline treated him at one point, about four years before he died. This was back when Kline was still an intern at the state run mental health hospital.”
I sit up straighter. “That’s interesting. Tomorrow, we need to find out if all the victims share a connection to him.”
“Already done,” Sojer says, and almost knocks his beer and whisky right off the platter the waitress is carrying as he pulls his little yellowed pad from his jacket pocket. He mutters an apology then waits silently for her to set the drinks down.
“Kline treated seven of the twelve victims, and his partner, the guy we saw coming into the office as we were leaving, helped him on those cases, and he treated the remaining five after Kline left the state hospital,” Sojer says. “This was all before they opened up a practice together.”
“And what’s that guy’s name?” I ask.
Sojer glances at his notes. “Robert Lap.”
Lap? That’s what finding these two psychiatrists who knew all the victims feels like… as though the connection justfell into our lap.
“We’ll have a word with him too tomorrow,” I say. “But we should keep an open mind about this.”
Sojer’s eyes fill with that quiet, seething anger I’ve grown accustomed to seeing there during the last case we worked together. “You don’t think this is significant? Here we have the same shrink, or two shrinks actually that treated all the victims. If nothing else, it would be easy for them to get close to the victims even at night since the trust was already there.”
“I agree, it’s compelling,” I say and lean back. “And it’s definitely something we’ll follow up.”
“I already spoke to Lap,” he says and flips a few pages in his pad. “He lives alone, so there’s no one to corroborate his alibi. And he only just recently moved back to Slovenia after living and working in London for about eight years.”
“So he was out of the country for the bulk of the years during which the murders occurred,” I say.
Sojer shakes his head, the anger growing more pronounced in his eyes. “Yes, but in some of those years no murders occurred. He has to be our guy. Why are you so set against it?”
I take a long swallow of my beer as I try to think of the best way to explain it to him. Explain something I don’t even have a clear answer to. It’s just a feeling I have. As always, it doesn’t mean the feeling’s right. It could be completely off. But it’s there to be acknowledged.
“Do you know what wastes the most time in investigations?” I say, leaning forward again and trying to sound as friendly as I can. He just glares at me and says nothing, so I continue with, “It’s getting stuck in one line of thinking and zeroing in on one suspect to the exclusion of all other theories.”
The look in his eyes loses some of its edge. He’s guilty of this, and it cost us time on the last case.
“You’ve uncovered a very promising lead, though,” I say. “So run with it. Do a background on both of them, things like that… you know what to do.”
I finish off my beer as he nods, not looking as sour or angry anymore. Good.
“And come to the meeting tomorrow morning at the office,” I say. “We’ll divide up the list of victims’ relatives and witnesses to re-interview. There’s a lot to go through.”
He agrees and I leave him there to head back out into the freezing rain. Sojer appears to be an able investigator, self-reliant and quick witted, but he’s also too quick to take offense and get angry. And I’ve seen where those two impulses can lead him if they’re not checked.
Also, if we’re going to work together, I need to know how far I can trust him and I need to find out fast. Maybe patronizing him as I did back there isn’t the nicest way to get there. But I need someone who’ll have my back out there, and more importantly, Eva’s back. If she’s right and we are on the trail of a cold and calculating killer, then we’ll need that. And he’s already betrayed our trust once.
