“Weekdays from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon with an hour’s lunch break from twelve to one and fifteen-minute tea breaks at ten in the morning and at three in the afternoon.” Misses Whiteside said. “And, as we deal with the public and Saturdays are our busiest days, we would want you to work from eight to twelve on the last Saturday of each month to get the books up to date for the end of the month. We don’t have a company pension fund but you can arrange your own through an insurance company.”
I nodded.
“As far as a salary is concerned, I’m afraid we can only offer you three thousand five hundred Rand a month. As I said, we’re a small company but you’ll find the working conditions here very pleasant.” Misses Whiteside said.
The salary was only two thirds of what I had been earning at Checkers and they had also contributed to my pension fund but I liked Misses Whiteside and I felt sure that I would be happy working with her and her husband. Afraid that I might not find a better job, I decided to accept. If, later, I was unhappy here, I could always resign. Right now though, the job seemed a blessing.
“I’m happy with what you’ve offered me, Misses Whiteside.” I said. “If you’re satisfied with what I can do, when would you want me to start?”
“I’m very satisfied with what you’ve told me and I think you and I will get on very well.” Misses Whiteside said with a smile. “We’d like you to start as soon as possible. Could you start this coming Monday?”
“Yes.” I said.
“Great! Then you’re hired.” my new boss said.
***
Garth hardly reacted to the news that I’d found a job. I found him sitting at the kitchen table drinking a mug of coffee. I poured a mug for myself and sat down at the table opposite him.
“I got the job with Ace Dry Cleaners.” I said. “The pay’s quite a lot less than what I was getting at Checkers but the atmosphere is pleasant and I think I’ll be happy working with Misses Whiteside, the wife of the owner. They don’t use computers so I’ll be doing all the work manually. I’m really quite excited.”
“That’s nice.” Garth said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“What about you?” I asked. “Have you found anything worth going to an interview for?”
“Nothing yet.” Garth said.
“What are you going to do about the next instalment that’s due next week?” I asked. “Have you thought about going to see Misses Phillips? I’m sure that she’ll be understanding.”
“I can’t do it.” Garth said. “I know that she’ll be angry and possibly cut my allowance even further.”
“Would you like me to speak to her?” I asked. “I think that I can explain what happened in a way that will get her understanding. And if I can, you’ll save a lot of money by paying back the loan quickly.”
“Not yet.” Garth said. “I want to see if I can get out of this difficulty on my own. I got a few ideas that I’m working on but they may take a little time to implement. Will you be able to contribute to paying the next instalment if I don’t find a solution in time?”
“Yes.” I said. “My cheque from Checkers was just over three thousand Rand after they’d taken off the two thousand that I’d taken from them. So, after I’ve paid you my monthly contribution to the household expenses of eight hundred Rand, I’ll still have enough left to cover the next instalment.”
“Okay.” Garth said. “But we may not need it if I can come up with my own solution.”
A short while later Garth left the house, not telling me where he was going or when he would be back. I poured myself another mug of coffee and went into the lounge and sat down on the couch. The room was cool and quiet. I felt pleased and excited that I’d found a job so quickly but Garth’s apathy continued to worry me. The way he treated me scared me. Obviously I didn’t mean as much to him as he meant to me. Every day my love for him grew stronger and I desperately wanted to help him get out of the trouble that he was in. But I knew that I could help him if only he would allow me to. My biggest fear though, was that I would anger him if I tried too hard to help him and he might tell me to leave. However, I was determined not to be subservient. I was indebted to Garth for allowing me to stay with him but it worked both ways. Not only was I contributing to the household expenses and preparing and cooking our meals, we were we having enjoyable sex together and a comfortable companionship.
To justify his attitude towards me I used the excuse that Garth was under a great deal of stress. His inability to find a decent job obviously worried him and the financial difficulty that he'd got himself into was also taking its toll. But these things were very possibly the result of him not receiving adequate parental guidance during his formative years. If only he could find work that he would enjoy. He had the same educational qualifications as I had so I believed that, as long as he persevered, he would find something suitable. In the mean time we could live off my salary and the income that Garth got from the Child Welfare Department.
My thoughts turned to my new job and I felt quite excited. I had always enjoyed working with figures and the fact that I wouldn't have a computer to help me but would have to do all the work manually would test my arithmetic and my bookkeeping knowledge. I also looked forward to working with Misses Whiteside and her husband although I had had little time to assess him. Mister Whiteside appeared to be a quiet man, slow and meticulous in his movements and his speech but also friendly and understanding. He was shorter than his wife, quite plump and also wore thick glasses. He was bald with a roundish face and a small, neat grey moustache.
I glanced at my watch. It was time to begin preparing our lunch.
I stood up and was about to leave the lounge when I noticed a small dark blue mark on the white wall just above the back of the couch. It looked like some kind of smudge. I knelt on the couch and leant over to see if I could rub the mark off the wall with my finger. I rubbed the mark gently but it remained there. I looked at the tip of my finger and saw that some of the blue had come off onto it. I took out my handkerchief and wiped off the mark. I frowned and looked down at the floor behind the couch. I noticed a small book lying there with a piece of dark blue carbon copy paper lying near it. That explained the blue mark on the wall. Obviously the book had been thrown against the wall, fallen behind the couch and been left there. I lent over the back of the couch and reached down for the book. From the layer of dust on the floor it was obvious that the domestic worker never cleaned behind the couch and the book had been lying here for some time.
I picked up the little book and studied the cover. It was a bank deposit book. I frowned. It wasn't the same bank as the one that Garth and I used. I opened the book. Only the first page had been filled in with a carbon copy to match. I stared at the name that had been hand written in the space where the depositor's name was required; Edward Eksteen - Bookmaker. There was also a serried of eight numbers that I assumed was a bank account number. I frowned. Who was Edward Eksteen and what was the book doing lying behind the couch? And why had the page been filled in but the amount of eight hundred and fifteen Rand not deposited? Where was the money? And then my whole body went cold. I dropped the book as if it had burnt my hand. Edward Eksteen was the name of the bookmaker who had been killed when he was robbed a few months ago. I looked at the date on the deposit slip; the fifth of November the previous year. I cast my mind back to when we'd heard the news of the robbery and killing. As far as I could remember it had been early in November last year.
Slowly I sat down on the couch. I shook my head in disbelief. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. But the terrible thought that stuck in my head wouldn't go away. Garth was the person who had robbed and killed Mister Eksteen. There could be no other explanation for the books presence behind the couch. Garth was the only person who could have brought it into the house. I felt sick with despair. "Please God." I prayed. "Please let this be a dream - a nightmare."
But it wasn't a dream. I stared down at the book in horror. What should I do with
it? I began to cry softly, something that I hadn't done for a long, long time. Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did the man that I loved so much do this?
And as the tears streamed down my cheeks, the front door opened and Garth walked into the house.
***
"Your Honour." my attorney said, addressing Judge Bester. "My client is obviously emotionally distressed. With your permission I would like to interrupt her testimony and allow her to stand down from the witness stand."
Judge Warren Bester nodded.
CHAPTER 10
"Your Honour." my attorney, Paul Greave, said, looking up at the judge. "May I suggest that my client, Garth Gilmore, be allowed to continue with his testimony while Miss Bedford regains her composure?"
"Yes." Judge Bester said. "You may continue."
I stepped onto the witness stand and sat down.
***
I walked into the house and closed the door behind me. I glanced into the lounge and saw Cindy sitting on the couch. She looked up and I could see that she was crying. I walked into the room.
"What are you crying about?" I asked.
Cindy looked up at me as I approached her, tears running down her cheeks. She held out her hand and I saw that she was holding a small book. To my horror I recognised it as Mister Eksteen's bank deposit book! I wondered where she could have got it. And then I remembered that I'd thrown it against the wall of the lounge in frustration when I realised how little money I had stolen from Mister Eksteen and it had fallen down behind the couch.
"What do you know about this?" Cindy asked.
I stared at the little book in her hand as I tried desperately to think of what to say.
"This book belongs to the bookmaker who was robbed and murdered last November." Cindy said. "How did it get here?"
I looked at Cindy, sighed and sat down on the couch next to her. She moved away from me but remained seated.
"I'm not going to try and lie my way out of this." I said, staring down at the carpet in front of me. "I was the person who robbed Mister Eksteen."
"But you killed him!" Cindy said.
"I didn't mean to kill him." I said. "It was an accident. He wouldn't let go of the briefcase so I was forced to hit him with the rubber truncheon that I was carrying. But I don't believe that I hit him hard enough to kill him."
"But why did you rob him?" Cindy asked. "Surely you couldn't have been that desperate? You've got this house, you've got a large investment account and you got a good enough education to get a steady job. What more do you want?"
"I needed the money." I said. "I was becoming desperate. I couldn't find a job, my access to my money had been blocked and my allowance wasn't enough for the things that I wanted to do. I was also convinced that if I only had a little more time and money I would finally win big on the horses and all my problems would be over."
"You killed a man so that you could continue with your gambling?" Cindy asked.
"I told you it was an accident!" I said angrily. "I didn't mean to kill him! All I wanted to do was make him let go of the briefcase."
"So now the police are looking for you in connection with armed robbery and murder." Cindy said quietly.
"They don't know who committed the robbery." I said. "It happened over three months ago and they're still in the dark. They say that they're following up on some important leads but that's bullshit. They're only saying that in the hope that it'll frighten me into surrendering or doing something stupid that will expose me. They're clueless."
"It doesn't worry you that you killed someone?" Cindy asked.
"Of course it does!" I said. "But there's nothing that I can do about it. It just happened."
"When you realised what had happened, why didn't you hand yourself over to the police?" Cindy asked. "Wouldn't that have been the right thing to do? Now you're a fugitive from the law and if the police do eventually trace you, you'll be in terrible trouble. Far more than you would have been if you'd given yourself up straight after the robbery."
"They won't trace me." I said. "I've thought about it very carefully. I didn't leave any clues or leads that could lead them to me."
"Really?" Cindy asked. "What about this deposit book? What if the domestic worker had found it and not me? What if she'd recognised the name in it and taken it to the police?"
"She didn't find it." I said.
"What did you do with the briefcase?" Cindy asked. "It probably had your fingerprints all over it."
"I've still got the briefcase." I said. "It's locked in the cupboard in my old bedroom."
"And the rubber truncheon?"
"It's also locked in the cupboard." I said.
"Garth." Cindy said. "You've got to hand yourself over to the police. You're in big trouble and the longer you stay in hiding the worse the consequences will be. Surely you can see that?"
"Never." I said. "They'll never find out that I was responsible for the robbery. Or are you going to tell them?"
Cindy stared at me.
"Garth." she said finally. "If I keep quiet about this I'll be just as guilty as you are. I'll be guilty, not only of not reporting a crime that I'm aware of, but also of harbouring a criminal fugitive. I could also go to jail for a long time. So, you tell me what should I do? I knew nothing about this before today but now, because of your stupidity, I'll go to jail if you're caught."
"I told you. I won't get caught." I said. "The police are clueless. They don't have any leads."
We sat in silence, Cindy still holding the little deposit book. A group of school children walked past on the pavement outside, laughing and shouting to each other.
"Look, Cindy." I said. "What's happened is in the past. It happened and I can't change that. But the police will never catch me. Can't we just leave things as they were? We'll burn the deposit book and the briefcase and the truncheon. I'm certain that those three things are the only things that can connect me to the robbery. Without them I'm quite safe. Going to the police now would be silly. And they very likely won't believe that you only found out now about the robbery. They'll accuse you of being part of the robbery. Can't you see that? Policemen are very suspicious people. They believe what they want to believe, not what other people tell them. It's too late to go to them now."
I watched Cindy closely. I could see that she was confused; not at all sure about what she could do.
"And even if I do get caught." I said. "I'll tell the police that you didn't know anything about what I was doing. If it wasn't for the deposit book you still wouldn't know anything about it. And, if we destroy the book the police will never know that it even existed. How could they know about it?"
Cindy sighed.
"Okay, Garth." she said. "You've convinced me. I won't do or say anything about this to anyone. But, I want you to promise me that you'll never ever do anything like this again."
"I promise." I said.
"Okay." Cindy said. "Let's get rid of this book and also get rid of the suitcase."
We went into the backyard of the house. With the high walls that surrounded the yard none of the neighbours could see us. We tore the pages out of the deposit book and burnt them one by one in the metal rubbish bin outside the back door, careful to create as little smoke as possible. I cut the thick cover into small pieces and we burnt them as well. The briefcase was a problem though. It was made of genuine leather and I knew that it would be impossible to burn it without using an inflammable liquid like petrol or benzene. This would create far too much smoke and quite possibly make the neighbours suspicious.
"The only thing that I can think of is to cut it up into small pieces with a sharp knife, put them into a plastic shopping bag, and put it out with the rest of the rubbish" I said. "I can't imagine that anyone inspects the rubbish before it goes to the rubbish dump, and when it gets there nobody will take any notice of it."
I went into the kitchen and found a large sharp knife. I hacked the briefcase into small pieces and, after carefully wiping each one to remove any
fingerprints, put them into a heavy duty plastic shopping bag. I tied the handles together to seal it and dropped it into the bin. We went back into the house.
"What about the rubber truncheon?" Cindy asked.
"I want to keep that." I said. "We've got nothing in the house to defend ourselves if anyone breaks in. A weapon like that could save our lives."
"What about the bookmaker's D.N.A.?" Cindy asked. "If you hit him with it there must be traces of hair and skin on it."
"I'll wash them off." I said. "In fact, I'll scrub the thing with detergent and also with some thinners. If I do that it'll destroy any D.N.A. on the truncheon."
At first Cindy looked doubtful but then she capitulated.
"Okay." she said. "You're right. We don't have anything in the house to defend ourselves with."
While Cindy watched, I scrubbed the truncheon with detergent and then with some thinners that I found amongst the cleaning materials in the cupboard below the sink.
"Now I've just committed another crime." Cindy said, her shoulders dropping in despair.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I've just helped you destroy the evidence of a crime." she said.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"I keep telling you, Cindy." I said. "The police don't suspect me and they never will. Just relax. Everything's going to be okay."
***
I was relieved that Cindy hadn't made a fuss about what happened to Mister Eksteen and insisted that I hand myself over to the police but I'd known that she wasn't in a position to tell me what to do. I was the one in a position of strength. Cindy needed me far more than I needed her. She needed me emotionally and she also needed to keep her off the street. She had nowhere to go if she left me. She couldn't afford her own accommodation, especially now that her income had been reduced, and she certainly couldn't go back to her parents.
I was quite fond of Cindy though. She was pleasant to be with and she was quite willing to do the cooking and other small chores. She wasn't overly emotional and our sex was satisfying. The extra income that I received from her was also useful. And I felt that could trust her, something that was alien to me.
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