Chapter Five.

Dawson

Ralph remained in the Two Pins with his newfound friends until he finished his drink then excused himself.

“It’s been nice meeting you all but I do have things to do,” he said as he rose from the table.

“If there’s anything we can do, just let us know,” replied Adrian and handing Ralph a card, added, “that’s where you can find us.”

Ralph glanced at the card before slipping it into his pocket. “I’ll do that, roader,” he answered with a grin. “Ya just never know when I might need a little help.”

“I got a feeling you’re up to something,” said Adrian, knowingly. “Happy roading.”

Adrian touched his chin with the upper part of his flattened hand then drew it down to his stomach. In turn, Ralph clenched his fists and placed them together then touched his forehead with his right fingertips. The signs, exchanged in a second or two, went unnoticed by anyone.

With a final wave, Ralph turned and left the tavern just as the band returned to the platform to play.

Ralph found his car in the tavern parking lot and sat in it for a while thinking. Adrian believed Dawson was responsible for the three hijackings that drove him to quit roading. As far as Ralph was concerned, it was just another piece of information that convinced him Dawson was a high-powered crook.

He thought about the sign Adrian had made in The Two Pins. Translated, it was a simple but determined statement. “If there’s a battle, I want in!” Ralph had replied, “I’ll see what I can find out.”

That was easier to say than to do. How he should proceed to find out if Dawson was involved in the murder of Mick and hijackings eluded Ralph. Although he was gathering information about Dawson, none of it was hard evidence of his involvement. I’m gonna need real evidence, he thought, not theories or suspicions.

He started the car, drove out of the parking lot onto the high street, and headed back to the boarding house. As he approached a crossroad, he saw a sign that said, “Turn left for Red Sand Lake”. He was already past the sign when the name registered in his mind and he braked hard. That’s where Dawson has a house, he thought. Let’s take a look.

The suburb of Red Sand Lake was on the outskirts of Liberty City and consisted of twelve houses, each one built with architectural features rarely seen on other dwellings on Mars. Ornamental pillars supported portals. Wide picture windows with heavy drapes looked out over front areas with artificial lawns and plants. Wrought iron gates and railings surrounded each house. The elaborate buildings, the smallest being at least four times the size of the average dwelling on Mars, gave evidence of the occupiers’ wealth.

Ralph rubbed his chin as he peered at each house in turn. “Hmmm. Twelve houses...twelve disciples…,” he muttered. “I wonder if each owner is a member of the consortium.”

Beyond the houses, a huge flat area of red sand stretched away into the distance ahead. It didn’t take any imagination to understand why they called it a lake.

Having seen the style in which Dawson lived, he prepared to leave. His finger almost on the starter button when a silvery-gray sedan swept past him and went through the iron gates that automatically opened at its approach. The gates closed behind the vehicle as it went along the drive toward the portal.

Ralph pressed the starter, moved forward, and stopped by the house. Peering through the rails, Ralph saw the sedan had stopped just beyond the elaborately carved double doors.  He was just in time to see a young woman emerge from the sedan. She wore a light tan coat that reached to her knees and belted tightly at her waist. Knee-high black boots glistened in the late evening sunlight. Her long, wavy, jet-black hair contrasting against the light-colored coat, bobbed as she walked to the door with quick, graceful strides.

Basha! Thought Ralph. So that’s the house where the Dawson’s live.

He waited until Basha had entered the house before returning to the boarding house where he spent the rest of the evening reading the information he had gathered and fruitlessly attempting to make some plan to gather evidence that would prove Dawson’s involvement in the murder of Mick Hewitt.

In frustration, he hurled the sheets of printed-paper on the floor and lay back on his bed. The information proved nothing except that Dawson was extremely rich for a Martian inhabitant and that he was a highly respected citizen in all six major cities of Mars. He gave generously to charities and community programs and supported the Martian governmental authorities. It almost seemed he was trying to make up for his father’s errors.

“What if it wasn’t Dawson?” He asked the ceiling above his head. “What if it was one of The Disciples?” Sitting up, he considered the possibility. “Could there be a Judas among the twelve?”

His suspicion of Dawson and Basha’s involvement, based on the purple lip-paint on Mick’s lips and the trucks in the parking lot of The Devil’s Bowl café that Dawson owned, didn’t really add up to much.

 There were also the tire marks of at least one sedan at the scene of the murder. Any or all of the consortium members could own sedans. Any woman could wear purple lip-paint and possibly deliberately planted it to cast suspicion on Basha. It was possible the trucks were used for legitimate business.

“Shit!” cursed Ralph, swinging his legs off the bed. Putting his elbows on his knees, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Anything’s possible!”

He saw the scattered sheets of paper on the floor and began gathering then up when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” he called. The door opened and Mrs. Edison entered.

“Will you be wanting a meal this evening, sir?”

“Have you cooked anything?” Ralph asked.

“My husband and I are having shepherd’s pie. There’s plenty if you’d like some.”

“Shepherd’s pie? I can’t remember when I last had that!” Such old-fashioned meals were rarely cooked on Mars. The art of cooking died a long time ago. “Mrs. Edison. That would be wonderful!”

Mrs. Edison’s face beamed. “I’ll bring some up for you.” Turning, she hurried out.

Ralph completed gathering the papers, placed them on the table, and stared at them. I’m gonna have to prove ‘em innocent or prove ‘em guilty, he thought. Either way, I’m gonna have to break the law. He smiled cynically to himself. There was very little law enforced on Mars.

Ralph rose early the following day. He intended to slip out without having breakfast but Mrs. Edison, already up and busying herself in the kitchen, heard him.

“Is that you, Mr. Connor?” she called.

“Yeah, Mrs. Edison. It’s me,” replied Ralph. “I thought I’d get out early.”

“You must have something to eat! It’s not good to start the day on an empty stomach!”

Ralph heard the sound of crockery being moved and a minute later Mrs. Edison appeared with a mug of steaming coffee.

“Here you are, dear. Have this while I fix some breakfast for you.” She handed him the mug before he could protest. “What would you like?”

“Just some cereals will be fine,” said Ralph resignedly. “I want to get away as soon as possible.”

“It will be ready in just a minute.”

A minute or two later she emerged with a bowl of cereals and placed them on the table. Ralph thanked her, then just as she turned to go away, he had a thought.

“Mrs. Edison. Do you know the Dawson’s?”

“Why, yes! Do you know Millie and David?” Her face showed surprise.

“No, I mean Edward Dawson and his daughter, Basha.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you meant friends of ours.” She laughed at her mistake.  “I’ve heard of Edward Dawson. He’s a very good man, I believe. Very well known.” She thought for a moment then added, “Some say he should be Premier of Mars but I don’t know much about that.”

“He doesn’t want to be a politician, Mary.” Mr. Edison came into the room. “Says he hasn’t time for all that.” He smiled at Ralph. “Bright dawn, Mr. Connor.”

“Bright dawn, to you, sir,” replied Ralph. “Do you know him?”

“I know he makes more money than any politician could.”

Ralph was tempted to ask if he thought it was earned legally but decided not to. He didn’t want to show too much interest in Dawson’s affairs. He finished his breakfast and stood up.

“I’ll see you later,” he told them, “I want to do some sightseeing.” It wasn’t really a lie. He did want to see Red Sand Lake again but also he wanted to see what he could find out about the consortium as well as Dawson. He bade them a good day and left.

Thirty minutes later, he parked his car close to Dawson’s house in Red Sand Lake where he could see the gates and the door as well as several other houses. From that position, he could see the windows of some of the dwellings and occasionally indication of movements within. As he sat observing the properties, he thought over a plan that he had in mind. Somehow, I’ve gotta get inside Dawson’s house, he thought. Maybe I can find something that’ll incriminate him.

A further twenty minutes passed during which time sedans drove out from several houses and headed toward Liberty City. Ralph assumed the drivers were going to their places of work. Then he saw Dawson’s front door open and a man and woman emerged. He recognized the woman as Basha. That must be Dawson with her, thought Ralph. He had expected Dawson to be a tall and well-built man but he was short, around five-six. He had a paunch that made him look older than his forty-nine years. He wore an expensive looking brown coat and a fur hat on his head. Basha wore the same outfit she had the evening before. I wonder if she’s got a cat suit on under that coat, Ralph thought.

The double doors of the garage rolled up revealing two sedans. Ralph watched as Dawson gave Basha a kiss and then got into one of the sedans. As he drove out of the garage, Basha got into the other sedan. A minute later Dawson drove out of the gates and past Ralph. Basha followed him after stopping to ensure the garage doors had closed.

Ralph waited another thirty minutes to see if any other vehicles left the houses. He had counted fourteen that had left all within thirty minutes of each other. Now, the road was quiet and he couldn’t see any activity in the houses.

He got out of the car and glancing up and down the street, walked over to Dawson’s house. He tried the gates but, as he suspected, they were securely locked. He could have easily scaled them but decided that if anyone were watching from one of the houses, he would be seen. Let’s take a look at the back, he thought, making his way to the rear of the property.

The back of the house overlooked the expanse of sand they called Red Sand Lake. Ralph noticed with satisfaction that it was concealed from view from the other properties. A minute or two later, he had climbed the railings and was standing in the back yard. He tried the solitary door that led from the house to the yard but it was locked, as he knew it would be. The only other door led to the adjoining garage. He tried the handle and felt it turn. With a grin, he opened the door and entered the garage.

Apart from a bench with a few dust-covered boxes, a torch and some overalls on it and a stepladder against a wall, the garage was empty.

“Nothin’ here,” he muttered, grimacing.  He had hoped there would be a door leading into the house but there was none. He turned to leave then noticed an attic door in the ceiling. What have we here? He thought.

“Thanks for leaving this, Dawson,” he said as he positioned the stepladder beneath the attic door and climbed it. Pushing the door open, he peered into the dark interior. From what he could see, the attic spread across the entire area of the building but he’d need a light to see if he climbed in it. Ralph remembered torch on the bench and moments later was picking his way across the attic searching for another door.

He found what he was looking for at the far end of the attic and eased it open. On his knees, he stuck his head through the opening and saw a short passage below him. Elated he had found a way in; he swung himself down through the door and dropped to the floor.

There were four doors in the passage. Ralph tried the nearest. It was a bathroom. The next was a laundry with the latest state of the art washing machine, dryer and clothes presser.

The third was a bedroom that didn’t appear to be in use. On the bed and on the floor were various cases and paraphernalia. Ralph made a cursory search of the room but found nothing of interest to him.

The last room was a study. Ralph smiled grimly. This should be interesting, he thought. He flicked through a stack of papers on the desk. There were speeches for various meetings, proposals for different projects and some invoices but nothing Ralph could see that might tie Dawson to the hijacking or Mick’s murder. In the drawers of the desk were ledgers showing accounts and sales figures from Dawson’s various businesses.

Ralph felt disappointed that he could find nothing that would incriminate Dawson. I guess he wouldn’t leave anything like that around, he thought. Might as well get out of here.

He turned and went out the room. He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and then lights flashed before his eyes then everything went black.