“Help!” Tessa started screaming. A few passers-by watched the commotion from across the street. “Help us!” She yelled at them.
The dentist came running out of the building, the receptionist on his heels.
“He attacked us.” Tessa pointed a finger at the security guard.
“Chris?” The dentist gave the security guard a questioning look.
“This piece of rubbish has been bothering people at the mall. I saw him following these people.”
“He works for me.” Tessa faced the dentist. “He was waiting for us to finish.”
The dentist studied Jakob where he lay on the ground, a look of disgust on his face. “He looks like a skollie.”
“No.” Tessa balled her fists. “He is with me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Tessa crouched next to Jacob, touching him gently on his shoulder. “Jacob, it’s time to go now.” He only emitted the strange yelping sound in response.
Tessa switched to Sotho. “It’s all right, son. I’ll take care of you.” She saw recognition in his eyes.
“I tried to come to the place you told me, Rakgadi. It was so far away.” Jacob wiped his eyes. “It was too far.”
“Please come, son. Get into the car. It will be all right now.”
“Sis. Holding on to a black like that.” The security guard sneered.
The dentist eyed Tessa, unsure of what to make of the scene. She opened the back of the cab. Jacob slowly climbed inside, every movement strangely graceful. Ignoring the stares, she got into the pickup and pulled into the street.
“Why are we taking that kaffir with us, Ma?”
Tessa smacked Tilly on her leg, harder than she intended, her emotions threatening to take control. “Don’t you ever let me hear you use that word, hear?”
Tilly’s mouth scrunched up, tears welling in her eyes. “Everybody else does.”
“Not you. That man back there …” Tessa’s voice broke. “I knew him long ago. He is a good man, you hear? A person.”
Tilly nodded, tears flowing freely. Tessa felt a pang of remorse as she saw a welt forming on her daughter’s leg. She turned her attention to the road, not trusting herself to speak for the two-hour journey back to Unie.
13
Monday
DECEMBER 20, 2010
Alet picked Mathebe up at his house. Miriam waved from the stoep as she ushered Celiwe and Little Johannes back indoors.
“Miriam is taking the children to her mother in Grahamstown today,” Mathebe volunteered.
“So you’re home alone? Are you going to do push-ups all day and leave your socks on the floor?”
Mathebe’s back stiffened, and Alet smiled. She put the van in gear, telling Mathebe of her hunch about Trudie being Theresa. “I called Bloemfontein this morning. They’re checking with the area schools to see if there is any record of Theresa Morgan. I think we should grill Wexler about Trudie, see what he knows.”
Mathebe nodded. “What about your father?”
Alet shrugged. “He’s in PE with his wife and her family until Christmas, probably getting daily updates from Mynhardt on whether I’m being a good girl, so no worries.” Mathebe gave her a look that she decided meant either that he was worried about her or that he thought she was full of it. She pulled up to the curb in front of Zebra House. The smell of breakfast wafted through the air.
“Coffee?” Maria greeted them at the door.
“Thanks, Maria. And we need to talk to Baas Jeffrey.”
Maria’s eyes darted to the office. “Baas Jeffrey …”
“Is he here?”
Maria shook her head. “He left last night.”
“Where?”
“I didn’t ask, Mies.”
“Fok.”
Mathebe reached for his radio.
“Get in touch with the airports,” Alet said. “He’s going to try leave the country.” Alet turned to Maria. “Do you have the keys for the office, Maria?”
“Nee, Mies. Only the baas and Mies Tilly.”
“Has Mies Tilly been here?”
“I don’t know, Mies.” Maria was close to tears. “I just do my work. I don’t know what’s going on here.”
“What do you mean? What’s going on here?”
“Mies, last night during dinner skollies showed up here. They yell. They knock things over, scare the customers and Baas Jeffrey he does nothing.”
“What skollies? Have you seen them before, Maria?”
“Nee, Mies. They are rubbish, not from here. They had pangas, guns.” Maria gestured to her side, her voice getting higher. “I could see, here under their clothes.” She pulled a tissue out of her bra and dabbed at her eyes as she spoke. “The short one he hit Lukas when he tried to stop them, said they’d kill him. The other two broke plates and glasses, threw the chairs.”
“What did they want?”
“I don’t know, Mies. Lukas and I hid in the kitchen. When we came out again the place was all broken. A big mess. Lukas says they took bottles from the bar. We had to work all night to clean up.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Baas Jeffrey said no, Mies. Wouldn’t do no good. He says Lukas and me have to stay here. Then he just goes and leaves.”
Mathebe walked over to the bar. “Maybe there are fingerprints.”
“Aikona. I do a good job,” Maria sobbed. “Don’t go saying I don’t.”
“It’s okay, Maria.” Alet said. “We only want to catch them.”
“You talk like Baas Jeffrey is a criminal, Mies. If he goes, the job goes. Then what will become of us?”
“We don’t know that yet, Maria. Don’t worry. We just want to find out what happened.” Alet took Maria upstairs to one of the empty guest rooms, trying to calm her down.
Mathebe met her at the bottom of the stairs as she came down again, his face ashy. “The captain has arrested Miss Pienaar.”
“What?”
“For Mr. Jakob Mens’s death.”
“But the evidence is circumstantial, if that. There’s no way he’s going to make that stick.”
Mathebe cupped his hand around his mouth for a moment. “They need to discredit Miss Pienaar. With Mr. Wexler gone, the only other person tied to the case is Mrs. Terblanche.”
“And Mynhardt made sure everybody knows about me and Boet Terblanche.”
Mathebe nodded. “It does not look good.”
“Dammit.” Every way Alet looked at it they had their backs against the wall.
“I think you need to listen to your father, Constable Berg. You need to remove yourself from this case as soon as possible.”
Alet turned to Mathebe, unsure that she had heard him right. “You want me to what?”
Mathebe held his hand up. “If you stay, they will get desperate. They will try to hang you.” He looked over his shoulder. Outside the guesthouse, a police van pulled up.
“What about you?”
Mathebe smiled. “I am not a threat. You are the troublemaker.”
“So what do I do?”
“You have to ask for leave. Say you are thinking of quitting.”
“Mynhardt’s not going to fall for that.”
“Then you have to make your father believe, Constable.”
Alet imagined the exchange between herself and Adriaan. “That’s going to take more acting skills than I’ve got, hey.”
“You will do all right. Parents want to believe. And you are your father’s daughter.”
Alet didn’t quite know how to take that, but she didn’t have time to worry about it just then. While Mathebe ran the investigation, Alet took Maria and Lukas back to the station to show them mug shots. Both of them identified Skosana without hesitation and pointed out one other man, a known associate.
Alet tried to piece things together. Wexler ran the operation, that much was obvious. Somehow Skosana and his henchman, Ngwenya, were involved. But something had gone wrong. Perhaps Trudie discovered what was going on, a
nd Wexler had Skosana kill her? Tilly said the Bravermans paid the money and left with the baby. This happened after Boet and Jakob found Trudie’s body. It didn’t make sense. Why would Skosana go after the Bravermans? And why would he leave Ngwenya behind at the crime scene? More important, why would the Thokoloshe risk coming in to Unie and causing havoc at the guesthouse? She had to find a way to get to Skosana.
Joey’s car was parked outside, but Joyboys’ doors were locked. Across the street, a young coloured man sat outside a newly erected stand, tinkered together from an old caravan and some zinc plates. A handwritten cardboard sign next to him advertised twenty-four-hour coffee for R10. Alet walked over, fishing loose change out of her pockets.
“Howzit!” The man jumped out of his flimsy folding chair. “Some tea, some coffee? I got some lekker Coke, nice and cold. What can Giel do for the law today?”
“Just coffee, Giel. Black.” Alet handed him her two R5 coins. “How long have you been here?”
“Since the weekend.” Giel smiled. “There was a need.”
“For twenty-four-hour coffee in Unie?”
“Is right, ja. Sometimes people drive past on the highway and it’s late. Sometimes a thirsty man need a little something after bar-time before going home to the missus, I say.” Giel winked. “You check, Constable?”
“I check, Giel. Baas Joey from Joyboys is going to think you’re giving him competition.”
Giel’s broad face beamed with pride. “Is free enterprise, I say. You got to be sharp-sharp. Joyboys don’t like it, they can stay open twenty-four hours too. Is like my pa, Poena Junior Junior used to say. If you don’t grab opportunity by the balls, it’ll kick you in the behind. Sorry, sorry, Constable,” Giel held his hands up. “That’s no talk in front of a lady.” He placed a paper cup under a push-button coffee machine. “You sure you don’t want cappuccino? Vanilla latte? We do all sorts here. Five-star service.”
“Just black.” Alet’s eyes trailed the electric cable snaking out from underneath the stand, through the bushes, and along several extension cords. She wondered who Giel convinced to subsidize his twenty-four-hour electricity needs.
Giel pressed a button on the machine and, after a short delay, thick black liquid spewed into the cup, the process terminating in death-rattle sputtering. “Is nice, is nice.” Giel handed Alet the cup.
“Jissis that’s strong!”
“Quality. No watered-down coffee here. People need to stay awake, see? It’s serious business this.”
Alet perched her lips on the rim of the cup, careful to let only a little bit of the liquid into her mouth. The bitterness traced an acid trail through her mouth and down her throat. “Have you seen Baas Joey today, Giel?”
“I have.”
Alet sighed. “Okay. Where?”
Giel stretched out his arm, the tip of his index finger pointing at the converted vestry.
“Why doesn’t he answer the door, then?”
“He’s in there. True’s bob. I’ve been here the whole night.”
Alet wondered if Giel worked the stand twenty-four hours, or if he had help. She crossed back to Joyboys, leaving her coffee cup on the doorstep before she knocked again. “Joey! I know you’re there. Open up, man. I need a decent cup of coffee. Joey?”
Alet was met with silence. She walked around the building, testing the handle of a narrow back door she’d never seen anyone use. The ancient metal resisted her efforts, then gave way noisily. She found herself in Joyboys’ dressing room. Hangers were strewn across the floor, and an old wooden school bench, used as a dressing table, was turned over. Alet pushed the black curtain in the doorway aside and walked onto the small stage, the scene still set for Andre’s performance. Trickles of light penetrated Joyboys’ high windows, bouncing around the myriad of mismatched crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A support beam creaked from the heat of the day. Alet squinted into the half-light. It felt like the shadows in the restaurant were moving, alive, taking form in the negative spaces between refracted light shards. Alet jumped down from the stage and reached for a light switch against the wall.
“Don’t.”
The sound of Joey’s voice spun her around. Alet searched the dark room for a human form. A pale face appeared from underneath a blanket on one of the mismatched sofas. Alet flipped the light switch. As she walked closer to Joey, she gasped.
Dark bruises stained the skin around Joey’s eyes, the lids almost swollen shut. Dried blood caked his nose, tracing a path that joined up with a rivulet from a large cut on his lips.
“Are you okay?”
A sarcastic laugh emanated from Joey’s throat. He pulled the blanket up under his chin. Alet knelt down next to him, touching his shoulder. Joey jerked, pulling away from her.
“You need a doctor.” Alet reached for her radio.
“Nee.”
“Joey, I don’t know if you’ve had a look at yourself, but you’re going to need stitches for that cut. It’s going to leave a scar.”
“The mark of Cain.” Joey’s voice was dull, matter-of-fact.
“What happened?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it bloody well matters. You’ve been assaulted. Did they take anything? They might be out there going after someone else.”
“He won’t. It’s only me.”
“Is it André? You guys fight or something? I’ll have him kak himself in a cell tonight, hear?”
“Alet, no.” Joey raised his voice. “André had nothing to do with this.”
“Where is he, then?”
“It’s not him!” Joey sat up, throwing the blanket off. His shirt was ripped, some buttons missing. Alet noticed bruising on his clavicle.
“Fok, he got you good.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Turns out I’m not too old for a good old-fashioned hiding.”
“Jissis. Your pa?”
Joey coughed, his arms wrapping around his waist, his face scrunching up. “Eina.”
“You have broken ribs. I’m calling an ambulance to come get you.”
“No. It will get out. People will … Don’t. Please?”
Alet nodded reluctantly. “But I’m calling Oosthuizen, okay? He needs to take a look at you.” Joey stared listlessly at the floor while she called the clinic.
“How long has this been going on?” Alet sat down next to Joey as they waited.
“I was seven, maybe eight, I don’t know. Pa caught me skinny-dipping with a coloured boy in the farm dam.”
“You were too young for him to think—”
“He knew. He always knew. Said he needed to put me on the narrow path.”
“By beating you?”
“Spare the rod …” Joey coughed again.
“Don’t defend what he did.”
“I behaved, made sure I went to Oudtshoorn or George to … you know.” Joey smiled wryly. “I thought that maybe he’d come to accept it. The laws are different now, you know? Men marry each other in church. I thought that if he saw me serious with someone, that I wasn’t just fooling around …”
“André.”
“I really liked him, Alet.” Joey dropped his gaze, subservient shame settling over him like a dense fog. “It’s my fault. I embarrassed Pa in front of the whole town.”
“Is that what he said?” Alet’s anger flared. “He’s the one who should feel ashamed. He can be lucky I don’t—”
“If you do anything, I’ll deny it.”
“Joey, I don’t understand.”
“He’s my father. He has a place in the community. I won’t ruin his life anymore.”
“Any more than he ruined yours?” Alet sighed when Joey looked away. “What are you going to do?”
“I have friends in George. I can try to get a job at a hotel there or something.”
Alet heard a car pulling up outside. She opened the door for Oosthuizen. Joey placidly let Oosthuizen examine him, their exchange conducted in semi-whispered confidences. Oosthuizen managed to conv
ince Joey to go with him for X-rays. Joey had trouble standing, so Alet helped him to Oosthuizen’s car.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Alet closed the car door once she got Joey inside.
Oosthuizen nodded, walking over to the driver side. Alet suddenly realized that Oosthuizen had never asked what happened. He already knew. He’d probably been the one who helped Dominee Joubert keep the abuse of his son under wraps all these years.
“Bastard,” Alet muttered through clenched teeth as she watched Oosthuizen’s car turn the corner at the end of the block. This town … these people. It was getting to her, all these so-called God-fearing souls who couldn’t care less about the cesspool at their feet.
Alet plunked down on a plush chair inside Joyboys, her cell resting in her hand. She thought about her future, surprised at the sudden clarity she felt. Since coming to Unie, she’d had an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness as she went through the motions of each day, just trying to get to the other side. She had tried to become invisible, hoping to please her father. The realization stung, but it was time to wake up from that daze, to rip open the wounds and face the truth. Not only for the sake of the victims, but for her own sake as well.
Alet flipped the phone open and dialed Adriaan’s number.
“It’s gotten to me, Pa, I’m sorry,” she told Adriaan after stilted greetings were exchanged. “I don’t think I can be here anymore.”
“Alet, I told you, I’ll make a few calls.”
“I mean, I don’t know if I’m cut out for the police.” There was a long silence on the line.
“Are you telling me you want to quit?” The disdain in Adriaan’s voice was unmistakable.
“I don’t know. It’s just, everything is going wrong. I need time to figure out what to do.”
“Perhaps a break is a good idea,” Adriaan said tersely.
“I don’t have any leave.” Alet knew she was pushing it, but she forged ahead. “I just don’t think I can hold it together right now.”
“I’ll talk to Tokkie,” Adriaan sighed. “Tell him to give you unpaid time. Frieda and I will pick you up tonight.”
The Monster's Daughter Page 40
