“Like someone left an ax in my skull.”
“That’s why I stick to beer.”
Tilly cracked a smile.
“What happened last night?”
Tilly shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.”
Alet sat down next to her. “Can we cut the bull? Or do I have to play bad cop and make stupid threats and lose a friend? Jeff is selling babies to foreigners, isn’t he?”
Tilly hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“How long?”
“Since he bought Zebra House.” Tilly looked pleadingly at Alet. “You have to understand, these kids, they aren’t wanted. They’re born with long-gone fathers and mothers with little education and low-paying jobs, if they have one at all. They have no chance.”
“You get to decide this?”
Tilly clutched her hands in her lap. “When you see those kids begging at the shops, when you know that most of them go hungry at night or eat grass just to have something in their stomachs, you think, I have the power to change this, to make a difference. They’ll have access to schools, parents who love them, a future.”
“You don’t know that.”
“The people who come here are willing to do anything for a child.”
“They are desperate for a reason, Tilly. Maybe they can’t go through legal methods because they have red flags next to their names. Who even knows what happens to those babies once they’re out of the country? What kind of person pays for a stolen baby?”
“They are wanted.”
“I’m sure it keeps Jeff in good Scotch too, and you …” Alet stopped herself. “Okay. So Jeff organizes the sale. He has a contact, presumably. Where do they get the babies?”
“There is someone the women know to go to if they are in trouble.”
“Or do they get pregnant on purpose to get money?”
“It’s not like that.”
“What about the American couple from the other night? What happened to the baby?”
“There was an exchange.”
“Wait. They had a child with them when they left here?”
“Ja.”
“Fok.” Alet flipped her cell phone open and dialed the station. “April? Listen. Get hold of the captain. I don’t care how, just get him. Let him know that the Americans had an infant with them. I’ll explain later. Tell him to authorize an alert, right away.”
Alet hung up. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“Jeff said he’d take care of it.”
“And you believe anything that man says?”
“It was too late already. And then Ma …” Tilly’s face contracted. “I know this looks bad, but I swear, I just wanted to help.”
“How does Boet figure into all of this?” Alet spoke through a clenched jaw.
Tilly frowned. “Boet?”
“Ja. Is he your contact? Do women on the farm come to him if they want to sell their children?”
Tilly shook her head. “No. They go to Jana.”
“Absolutely not.” Mynhardt was wearing a checkered shirt and dress pants. He’d probably been on his way to Joyboys when he received the call.
Alet stared at Mynhardt in disbelief. “Captain?” She and Mathebe stood in front of Mynhardt’s desk like chastised children.
“Nobody’s dragging a pregnant woman out of the main social event of the year in handcuffs.”
“Tilly is willing to testify.”
“It’s her word against Jana Terblanche’s. Tomorrow we’ll calmly ask Mrs. Terblanche to answer a few questions. And you, my girl, will stay as far away from her as possible.”
“It’s my case.”
Mynhardt pointed a finger at her. “Sleeping with Boet Terblanche lost you that.”
“Captain, I—”
“Alet. I’ve been patient with you.” Mynhardt looked at Mathebe. “Both of you. This isn’t the Wild West, my girl. There’s a chain of command and I am at the top of it as far as you’re concerned. You’re going to tell me everything or I’ll make sure neither of you ever works in the force again.”
Alet looked over at Mathebe. His stern mask had slipped and she saw a vulnerable man there, his impeccable posture melting at the shoulders, his tie askew. “It was my fault, Captain. I asked Sergeant Mathebe to hold off on reporting certain facts. You understand why.”
Mynhardt glared at her, his thick red eyebrows knitted together.
“And there were things we weren’t sure of yet.”
“I’m listening.”
Mathebe cleared his throat. “I can take it from here, Constable Berg.” He didn’t wait for Alet to object. “We believe that Mrs. Terblanche used her position as teacher at the farm school to find women in trouble. She promised them money for their infants and received a commission from Mr. Wexler.”
Mynhardt sat down in his chair, his arms crossed. “How does this tie in with Trudie Pienaar and the Terblanche foreman?”
“Mrs. Pienaar had known Mr. Jakob Mens. She is the one who got him the job on the Terblanche farm.”
Mynhardt had a look of incredulity, but he motioned for Mathebe to continue.
“We think that Mr. Mens found out about the trafficking and told Mrs. Pienaar. That she perhaps threatened to expose the operation. That one of the parties involved might have killed her to keep her quiet.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Alet broke in. “Tilly would have known about it if Trudie found out.”
“We cannot rule her involvement out,” Mynhardt said. “She could be trying to set the others up so she can get away with murder. You said yourself that there was someone in the house. Mathilda has keys, I presume?”
Alet had never doubted her instincts about people this much. Tilly had been devastated by Trudie’s death. Was she just a gifted actress?
“It would also explain Mathilda’s motive for killing the Terblanche foreman,” Mynhardt said. “To shut him up.”
“What?” Alet’s head was spinning.
“Paint flecks on his body match Ms. Pienaar’s vehicle, Constable.”
“That vehicle belongs to Zebra House. Anyone could have taken it.”
“What else is she going to say, Alet?” The corners of Mynhardt’s mouth tightened in a sarcastic grimace. He turned to Mathebe. “Go on.”
Mathebe nodded. “Miss Pienaar has been cooperative. She has given us the names of couples that have come here for children in the past two years.”
“For all we know, these adoptions were perfectly legal.” Mynhardt leaned back in his chair. “If the mothers consented and the paperwork was in order, there isn’t much we can do.”
“Come on, Captain.” Alet balled her fists. “I don’t think buying children can be considered legal, no matter how you look at it.”
“It might have been an adoption fee. Reimbursement for the mother’s expenses.”
“And Wexler? Last time I checked, he wasn’t running an adoption agency.”
“You can stop your hysterics, Constable.” Mynhardt stood up. “I’ll examine the evidence, but I don’t see how we can charge anybody. Even so, it seems like a victimless crime. Besides a very flimsy connection to this baby business, do you have anything on Trudie Pienaar’s murder?”
“We are waiting on forensic evidence, Captain,” Mathebe said. “We know she changed her name from Lilly Maartens to Trudie Pienaar. She might have used other pseudonyms, which is why we cannot find anything on her.”
Alet clenched her jaw, waiting for Mathebe to reveal the anomaly in Trudie’s DNA, but he didn’t continue. She looked over at him. He had his lips pressed together, his gaze fixed on Mynhardt, his expression inscrutable.
“I want daily updates.” Mynhardt grabbed his jacket from the chair. He patted the pockets, feeling for something before putting it on. “Strijdom will take charge of the Braverman case.”
“What about the baby?” Alet barely kept her sudden anger in check.
“I informed Captain Groenewald. He will take it from here.” Mynhardt m
otioned to his office door. “Good night.”
Alet followed Mathebe through the canteen to the backyard. All the vehicles were checked in, the station running on a skeleton crew. Mathebe sat down on one of the plastic chairs.
“Thank you for that,” Alet said. “Not telling him about my dad, I mean.”
“We agreed.”
“Ja, but thanks anyway.” She pulled up a chair next to him. “What are we going to do about this?”
“Exactly what the captain told us to do, Constable.”
“Let those bloody bastards get away with it?”
“It is as the captain said. It is Miss Pienaar’s word against everybody else’s.” Mathebe glanced at the station’s back door. “The captain’s too.”
“You picked up on that, huh?”
“I have suspected it.”
“Would explain the ‘perfectly legal’ paperwork in any case.”
“The captain and Sergeant Strijdom are members of the golf club. Their families went on vacation together last year. I believe the captain bought a beachfront property in Umhlanga Rocks.”
“On a policeman’s salary? That’s a lot of unwanted babies.”
Mathebe nodded. “It might be more than children. Selling dockets. Not logging drug evidence.”
“What do we do? Go to the Hawks?”
“There is nothing we can do at the moment. They have started cleaning house. Evidence is disappearing. Activity will cease until they believe there is no threat. We must tread carefully, Constable. Everything we do will now be watched.”
Alet got up from her chair. “Well, since they know we know, let’s make them sweat a little, hey? See if it makes them do something stupid.”
“What do you mean, Constable?”
“Want to go to a show, Sergeant? I’ll stick you for a ticket.”
The performance had already begun by the time Alet walked into Joyboys. Onstage, André du Plessis, a middle-aged man in a multicolored waistcoat with shoulder-length hair and a goatee, stood in front of the microphone, strumming on his guitar, crooning an old Afrikaans folk song. Alet scooted through the tables in the dim room, keeping a firm hold on Mathebe’s shirtsleeve behind her.
“Alet?” Joey looked questioningly at Mathebe.
“Johannes is joining us. Can you make room?”
Joey made eye contact with a few of the patrons who were looking in their direction. “Show was sold out, you know.”
“I will wait outside,” Mathebe said.
“No.” Alet smiled and pulled him forward, patting him on the shoulders. “You have my spot. I’ll stand.” She pulled the open chair next to Joey out for him. “I insist.”
Joey shot Alet a look of dismay while Mathebe sat down. “Wine for you, Sergeant?”
Mathebe held his hand up. “No. Thank you. Water is all right.”
“We’ve already served appetizers, but I’ll see if Gertie has anything left.”
“Please,” Alet said. “I’m starving.”
André finished the song and the room erupted in applause. He lifted his porkpie hat and made an elaborate bow. “Thank you, Unie!” He took the microphone off the stand. “I want to thank you good people for having me out here. Lekker times with friends, hey?” A chorus of drunken approval went around the room.
“We’re going to take a little break to enjoy the lovely dinner our host, Joey, has prepared for the evening, but before that, Dominee Joubert is going to lead us in prayer.”
Alet looked around the room while Dominee Joubert droned on. Mynhardt, Strijdom and their wives sat a few tables away. Mathebe gave Alet a panicked look as she left their table. She bumped into a chair on purpose to make sure that everyone saw her walk over to Boet and Jana’s table at the opposite side of the room. Jana had her left hand folded over Boet’s on top of the table, the other still glued to her stomach.
“Amen.”
She gasped when she looked up into Alet’s face. Like most of the women there, she was dressed to the nines and plastered in makeup that was at least two shades lighter than her skin tone. She quickly regained her composure, an insincere smile masking her discomfort. “I didn’t expect you here, Alet.”
“I wanted to come say hallo.” Out of the corner of her eye, Alet could see Mynhardt getting up from his table. His jacket was slung over the back of his chair. “Can I have a seat? I think it’s time we talked, got a few things straight, you know?”
Boet looked at Jana, waiting for her cue. Jana’s smile didn’t slip. She spoke in low tones, her teeth clenched. “I think it’s best that you leave.”
Alet pulled an empty chair out next to Boet. His eyes pleaded silently with her. “We’re all friends here.” Alet patted him on his forearm, watching Jana’s neck stiffen.
“Slut.” Jana hissed the word.
“Jana,” Alet pouted her lips. “That’s not nice, hey.”
“Leave.” Jana crouched over the table. “You have no rights here. I’m his wife. I’m carrying his son.”
“You’re planning on keeping him? I’m disappointed. I wanted to put in an offer. What do babies go for these days?”
Jana lunged at Alet, her mouth open, teeth bared, her face swollen and red. Shocked faces turned to them from the buffet line, the room suddenly silent.
Boet stepped between the two women, holding on to Jana. “Alet, please,” he hissed.
Alet looked him in the eye. “So you knew. Jissis. How do you sleep at night, Boet?”
“Whore. You stay away from us.” Jana pushed away from Boet.
“I know what you’ve done, Jana, and I know who you’re in bed with. I’m coming after you and your whole operation.”
“You see all these people here?” Jana pointed at the room. “They stand with their own. Life is going to get very hard for you here in Unie, trust me.”
“I’m sure it will, Jana.” Alet leaned in, her voice low. “Problem is, I don’t care anymore. Captain!” Alet turned just as Mynhardt and Strijdom reached the table. “Hein.” She smiled. “Hope you’re enjoying your evening. Have you met André? I’m just about to make his acquaintance and I’m so excited.” She walked away, stopping at Joey’s table, forcing herself not to run for the door. As Joey made introductions, fawning over André, Alet watched Mynhardt and Strijdom out of the corner of her eye. They exchanged words with Jana. Boet stood to one side, his arms crossed, tension in his face. As soon as André took the stage again, Alet slipped out. She found Mathebe up the block, pacing nervously.
“Did you find anything?”
Mathebe hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pocket. He handed Alet a pay-as-you-go cell phone. “It was the only thing in his jacket.”
“Great.” She attempted a high five, but Mathebe looked at her with exasperation. “Don’t worry, Johannes. Nobody saw you, right? Mynhardt has already had a few, and the evening’s just started. He won’t notice it until later, and he’ll think it fell out and got lost.”
“I have broken the law. We cannot use this as evidence now. It was the wrong thing to do.” Mathebe reached for the phone. “I have to take it back.”
Alet put her hand on his arm to stop him. “Johannes, we need to nail these bastards or this will never end. You know that. Besides, this would probably have ended up in the trash when they started covering their tracks anyway.” She lowered her voice. “You did the right thing.” Mathebe let his arms drop. Alet tucked the cell into her purse before he could change his mind. “Can you cover the first half of my shift tomorrow? I need to get this to Cape Town.”
Mathebe nodded reluctantly, still looking like a guilty schoolboy.
“Alet?” Theo answered the door in a pair of shorts and a baggy T-shirt, his face swollen with sleep.
“I tried calling.”
“I turn my cell off after nine. Students panic about deadlines at strange hours. What can I do for you?”
“I need you to trace the numbers on here for me.” She handed him the cell Mathebe had taken from Mynhardt’s ja
cket. “And also … can I crash on your couch?”
“Um … That’s not the best idea.”
“I’ll try to restrain myself, but you can lock your bedroom door if you’re scared I’ll seduce you.”
“It’s not that. I have company, see?”
“Oh … even better. She can protect you.”
“Alet—”
“Please, Theo, you know what the service pays. My hotel budget is blown for the year.”
Theo leaned against the door frame. He looked like he was in physical pain.
“I’m willing to beg.”
Theo ran his hand over his face. “Okay. Fine. Come in.”
Theo’s town house was small but stylish, the interior all clean lines and muted earth tones, not a coaster or magazine out of place.
“I could never live with you.”
“What?”
“I mean, you’d have a nervous breakdown in a week.”
Theo smiled. “Ja. Well … I’ll get you a blanket.”
“Theo?” A petite young woman came out of the bedroom wearing a robe. She had high cheekbones and skin the color of desert dunes.
“Lana. Sorry, did we wake you up?”
Lana looked questioningly at Alet.
“I’m Alet. Hi. Nice to meet you. Sorry about the late-night intrusion.”
Lana turned back to Theo. “Your ex?” There was a note of panic in her voice.
Alet was surprised that the girl knew about her. “Lana, right? Haai. Theo is helping me out, because he’s a nice guy. That’s all that’s going on here. Promise.”
“I should go.” Lana’s voice wavered.
“Please stay,” Alet said. “I’ll find somewhere else to crash, I didn’t realize …”
“It’s okay. I have work in the morning.” Lana didn’t make eye contact. She turned and scrambled back into the bedroom.
“I’m sorry,” Alet mouthed. Theo shook his head and followed Lana. Alet tried not to listen to the exchange coming from behind the closed door. She took Trudie’s file from her backpack and drew a timeline on the cover, starting with Trudie’s death, going back to her birth certificate date of 1958. She extended the line to Lilly Maartens’s birth date in the thirties, ending in a question mark. If Trudie claimed to be in her fifties when she died, and Lilly/Trudie looked to be in her late twenties in the fifties, that meant that she aged at a rate of roughly 1:3. Alet did the math in her head. That would put her real birth date somewhere around the beginning of the century. So who was Trudie before she was Lilly Maartens? And how did Jakob fit into this whole thing? Alet filled in the dates of the known victims’ murders on the timeline. She hated the feeling that she was missing something. She paged through the file with the case reports Theo had forwarded her, laying them out chronologically, young blond women with pale eyes staring back at her.
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