I monitored my progress in the mirror: tendon cords stood out on my neck, red and rope burnt whilst trying to slowly twist free. A burning pop shot from shoulder to neck. I stopped moving, and after a few choice expletives, realized the pain in my shoulder was gone. Quite accidentally, and without knowing it had been out of joint--the paramedics never said a word about it--I had popped my shoulder back into place. The shoulder rotated without any pain, as if I had never fallen on it. But, my arm remained trapped in its plastic cast.
Flailing my wings hopelessly caught in the Jeep's web I slumped in the seat, defeated, and that slight drop settled the harness under my chin, cutting off my air supply.
My legs shifted to the passenger side floor. I lifted my chin and squirmed my hips, hoping to slide out from under the tightening belt. I gagged. I had to do something to relieve the pressure against my throat so I pulled up my knees and pressed my feet against the dashboard for leverage, then pushed. As I pushed further into the seat the belt adjusted itself, tightening even more. I kicked and squirmed, wishing I had yelled out to those kids playing in the yard behind me when I had the breath.
With a kick to the cubby it fell open and my foot slipped inside, dropping me deeper into the noose. There, inside the cubby, my eye caught a glimmer. Caroline kept a diamond tipped hammer with a razor-sharp claw in the cubbyhole. If I could just . . .
I wedged the tip of my shoe inside. The bandaged foot made all attempts clumsy, but I knocked the hammer to the floor, and nudged it closer and closer with my heel. Kicking off my shoes and using both feet like monkey paws, my toes clasped the hammer. My blue face grimaced in the mirror.
For a moment, I had the same sensation I had had whilst entranced at Eva's party; It was as if I were watching and participating. All senses were electrified--I saw and heard dust falling on the dashboard, smelled and tasted my own sweat as my head throbbed like an over inflated balloon. That damn song louder over the radio, "Should I stay or should I go now."
I folded my legs and brought the hammer to my dangling alligator hand. Snorting desperately for air, my forefinger and middle finger scissored the handle. Inching the hammer upward, I grasped it and slid it under the belt, sawing myself free.
I threw open the Jeep's door, inhaling and exhaling in huffs, pawing at my belt-burnt, bleeding neck. Water. A water bottle sat in the console's cup holder and I ripped off the lid and chugged.
Gads. I pulled at the neck of my shirt, tearing the button off the blood stained collar, watching the bruise develop in the mirror. Purple welts rose under my chin and up towards my ears. I dribbled the remaining water over my neck, rinsing away the blood, and then tossed the empty bottle behind me. In an adrenaline fit I raised the hammer and hacked away the harness.
I had bought the emergency device for Caroline that year. The drives along the cliffs with the sea below made me shiver at the thought of crashing through the metal guardrails on a foggy night. Once submerged, the diamond tipped hammer could break a window for escape. Trapped in the seatbelt? The hammer could cut you out.
Thank you, hammer.
"Should I stay or should I go," screamed the song from the radio, and I turned it off. I threw the harness and my cast in back along with the water bottle, replaced the hammer in the cubbyhole, and backed out of the driveway. I braked. What would Eva think if I showed up looking like this? I pulled back into the driveway and ran inside to change. What did I have in my closet that was cool and had a high neck?
Dressed in a light blue turtleneck and khaki trousers, backing out once again, I turned to watch for the curb's edge. "How did you get back there?" I asked, leaning into the backseat.
A big green-scaly book lay on the seat, sinking into the leather. It was Caroline's forgotten book, the one she had wanted Eva to sign at the party. There it laid, a gold key dangling from its spine, reflecting the sun as it spun on a gold cord. I tried to lift it with my free hand. "Gads," I said, unable to lift the heavy thing. Reaching further back to get a better grip, my foot released the brake and the Jeep began rolling backwards.
The back end thumped and lifted. "Oh no," I said, jumping out. The kids across the street had all stopped to stare. "Oh no, oh no," I kept repeating, hoping whoever I had hit wasn't dead. Let me have hit a ball, a ball.
No one was under the tire or under the car. "Thank goodness," I said. I looked across the road at the kids. Following their gaze, I saw the outline of a grey-haired dog scampering away, but then the sun blinded me for a second, and the dog was gone.
I checked the tires and the street for fur or blood and found nothing. Could've been the same dog from last night. Next time, if there were one, I'd be sure to run it over. Then back over it again for good measure.
Tatwaba watched me from the bedroom window. She'd seen the whole thing, I was sure, and she would watch me as I drove away, wondering where I was headed. Let her wonder.
I hopped back in the Jeep, eyeing the book in the backseat. I'd give it to Eva, ask her to sign it. Caroline would like that.
Approaching the bend where I was sure Caroline had her panic attack--I had been up and down Victoria Road at least a dozen times--I could not find Eva's gate. Frustrated, I flung up my hands; I'd had no trouble finding it last night.
I called Edward from my cell.
Edward answered sounding calmer, like less of a bliksem. Bliksem; Afrikaans for bastard. Foul words sounded more appropriate, harsher, in Afrikaans. I was finally catching on to the language that had been so foreign to me.
"Sorry, Jeffrey. Eva isn't available, after all. My sincerest apologies. She'd like you to come by tonight. Around seven o'clock."
"Well, I can't get in. I can't find the gate," I said.
"It'll be open for you. Again, so sorry." He had sounded almost friendly; not at all like Edward.
"Brilliant," I said as I flipped my cell closed, wondering if I should call Lindsey.
Edward's fine.
19
Someone was knocking on the front door.
I opened my eyes. Daylight had dimmed and it fell in through the living room window at an odd angle. From the couch where I laid, I called out in a slurred voice, "Just a minute." I glanced at the clock. Six p.m. I had slept the afternoon away. The book sat on the floor by my feet. I rubbed my forehead then kicked the book under the couch when Lindsey's muffled voice called through the door.
Impatient little Jou Moer; Jou Moer was another Afrikaans expletive. Wat doen u soek? I opened the door.
Lindsey stepped back, head tilted away. Diamonds this time on her ears. They were big ones, the size of my thumb pad, and her casual excessiveness made me want to rip them off her ears. One of those would pay my taxes.
"What do I want?" she asked, repeating the question I hadn't realized I asked aloud.
Embarrassed by my comment my hand went to my neck, adjusting the collar. The look of concern on Lindsey's face told me the fabric was too thin to cover the inflamed welts. "Oh. I got stuck in Caroline's seatbelt."
"Where did you go?" she asked.
Lindsey's heavy makeup only exacerbated the circles under her eyes. Her efforts with her jewelry and clothes were overdone. Her blue-striped blouse, slightly wrinkled at the waist and tucked into ankle-length navy slacks, had a brown stain on the chest; coffee, I assumed. Rarely, if ever, had I seen her disheveled.
"No where. I backed the Jeep out to wash it and check the fluids," I said, praising myself for being a skilled, quick thinker. "Bloody seatbelt folded down automatically when I started the engine."
"I can't find Edward," she said. She began pacing the hall, fingering the edge of a manila envelope she clutched in the crook of her elbow. "He never came home. If you know anything at all, you'd better tell me right now." Her eyes held mine as she waited for me to answer.
"I'm sure he's fine," I said. "I can drive by Eva's and see if he's there."
"Don't," she said. "Stay away from her house. He's not there. He knows how I feel about him staying there for any length of tim
e. Here," she said, pressing a large manila envelope into my chest. "They gave me paperwork. You've taken off your cast?" she asked.
I rotated my shoulder and raised my arm. "I popped it back into place. Those paramedics, not worth a bloody Rand." She didn't look as proud as I was, but the answers must've sufficed, because she walked past me and started up the stairs, her cologne rancid in my nose. "What's this?" I asked, holding the envelope out.
She spoke over her shoulder as I followed her upstairs. "Remember Nkumbi, the police officer?" We stopped outside Caroline's bedroom door. "I called him and told him what you had said. He's with The Unit. I didn't need to go to Pretoria," she explained with a satisfactory smile. "Nkumbi met me at the police station here in Cape Town. I told him that Edward didn't come home. He wants your written statement. Mine is only hearsay." She raised her shoulders and straightened her blouse. "It's all in that envelope for you to read."
"Statement?"
"Clearly you don't understand what's happening." Cold air gathered around my ankles as it seeped out from under Caroline's door. "I'm not mad at you. And I'm sorry about this morning."
I shifted my weight, foot sore after re-bandaging it a little too tight. My hand went to my neck; it was beginning to itch under the fabric. "I didn't know your father very well," Lindsey said, her voice husky, "but the people who visit that house and who associate Eva are not the type of people you would ever want to befriend. Things happen around her. Things like your incident with the dog."
"What did Nkumbi tell you?" I asked.
"The police are familiar with her," Lindsey said, "She has a record."
If Eva really did have a record, it may have been the reason Father had kept me in the dark. I clenched my jaw, grinding the back molars. Every attorney, at one point in his career, has a dubious client, a guilty one who wears her innocence like a fur around her neck. Father may have had more than one or two such clients but apparently went out of his way to keep Eva a secret.
"Nkumbi is part of a special unit," Lindsey said, crossing her arms. "The only one in the world that deals seriously with occult crimes."
"Okay, now tell me--what crime are we talking about? Edward was last seen at his daughter's house. Caroline is sick. Some crazy dog attacked my car. I can't really explain why these things happened, but I don't see the crime. Eva is a respected parapsychologist, not a maniac. I mean, gads, I've never heard barely a word about her before now, and all of a sudden, she's the enemy. Caroline respects her. I thought she was charming." I lowered my voice, remembering that we stood outside Caroline's bedroom. "And Caroline told me that her own father is caught between his two daughters because you're afraid to step foot on that property. At first I thought it was about her money, but now I see that you truly think this woman is from Hell."
"Where's the book?" Lindsey asked, unfazed by anything I had said. "Have you read it?"
"I'm sure it's around here," I said, sighing. "Might be in her room."
Lindsey opened the bedroom door. She shivered and said, "This room stays so cold."
"It must be the thermostat," I said. "I can call a repairman."
Lindsey leaned over Caroline and palmed her forehead. "Did she vomit again?"
"No," I said.
"It smells like she has," Lindsey said, pulling away the sheets.
I sniffed, detecting nothing.
"Do you see the book anywhere?" Lindsey asked.
I circled the room. "I don't see it, but if we can't find it you could go to the bookstore. That's where Caroline got it."
"The bookstore. Her garbage is available for public consumption." Lindsey took a deep breath, looked over at me, and said, "I'm glad your shoulder's better. If she's going to get to her doctor appointment on time you'll have to help me get her to the car."
After I had tucked Caroline into Lindsey's backseat I gave Caroline a quick dry peck and said, "I can't go with you."
"Why not?" Lindsey asked.
"I have a new client," I said. "And this was the only time we could meet." I checked my watch. Six thirty p.m. "I'll get in and out of there as soon as I can."
"I think that medicine helps, doesn't it?" I asked Caroline. I said to Lindsey, "The doctor should write her a prescription for a few more of those pills."
"I'll ask," Lindsey said, slamming the car door.
20
Eva's towering, barred gate rolled open as I neared. The sky had some light left in it, but the tree-shaded path was dark. The Wrangler's headlights lit the steep drop below and I whistled under my breath. "Forgot about this drive." And as I began the sudden decent, I was sorry I had rendered the harness into a useless flap with the hammer.
When the tires slid on a blanket of leaves at the bottom, I shifted into first, and the Wrangler began its slow, laborious trek upward. Didn't make geographical sense, driving down into this pit before climbing up the mountain where her house perched along a cliff. My ears popped as I climbed, the Jeep turning a sharp left, then a hairpin curve right, threatening to stall. I gripped the steering wheel and pressed the gas pedal, revving the engine, tires straining as they pulled. It seemed like I was taking the same turns over and over, hitting the same bumps, passing the same Quiver Trees, Guarris and Baobabs. Nothing looked familiar. "This can't be the right place," I said to myself. But I had turned into her gate; it had opened.
I pulled the Jeep into a flattened spot, slowing to a stop. I considered turning back. Trees and brush surrounded me and I looked around, hoping my sense of direction would kick in. A bright light shined through an opening, flashing in the distance. It dawned on me that when I first saw the house, it had flashed and disappeared in the setting sun.
"Of course," I said, flooring the gas. Around the bend, the house slid into view.
Hansel and Gretel's Gingerbread House stood before me, an evening dew giving the grass its sugar coating. I suppressed a gasp. Her house was big enough to swallow my London home. I had seen a lot of grandeur in my life, but nothing as golden and at the same time as perfectly understated as this. I whistled under my breath. "Yeah, I would die to live here."
I parked on the circular graveled path in front of the house. I could've sworn that ornamental siding had not been there last night. The house had changed. But, had it?
My legs trembled from the constant pressure applied to the gas. Shaking the tightness out of my hands, I opened and closed my fingers to release tension. The drive up her path, what should have been no more than five minutes, seemed like it had taken an hour. I checked the clock on the dash, then my wristwatch. Both had stopped.
A short, thin and sickly looking fellow stumbled into view. He looked like a drunken transvestite. Though lean, a considerable paunch tipped over his belt. An open, black, satin suit exposed a wrinkled lavender shirt and crooked bow tie. His stiletto heel sunk into the pebbles on Eva's rock drive as he walked towards my car. He twisted his toe, unscrewing it out of the driveway. Squinty eyes bore into me.
How dare he look at me like that, as if I didn't belong there? But he smiled and held out his hand, palm open. "Howzit," he said. "Your keys." A scribbled nametag pinned to his shirt, half concealed under the wide purple collar, read "Phred". The valet. I recalled him parking cars the night before.
Mena stepped out of Eva's front door, a slight limp to her stance. She didn't acknowledge me, but with a toss of the wrist, threw something into the air--dust off the floor or maybe a pile of swept dirt that belonged outside--and withdrew inside.
I dropped the keys into Phred's open palm, and he jingled them, slid into the driver's seat, and drove the car over a grassy hill called a koppie. Clouds rolled in over the horizon, filling the sky with a dismal mist.
"Howzit," Eva called as she stepped out of the house.
A high pitch rang in my ears. I fought the urge to put both hands to my ears and wince. Eva continued to talk, but I heard only the whine. She walked towards me, smiling, lips moving. The ground underneath me trembled, and the closer she got the duller the pitch
. By the time Eva stood before me the ringing stopped. The mist cleared though the sky, and all I noticed for the moment was Eva. I raised my head; gads, she was tall.
Her hair and skin were brighter than I remembered, almost translucent. The hairs along her face blended in with her skin colouring, and her large green eyes stood apart from her other features.
"Would you like to come inside?" she asked. She accessorized the same white dress from the night before with a new wanton smile. "That doesn't look good," she said, staring at my throat, licking her lips. "You should let me take care of it."
I tugged at my collar. The crisp and sticky fabric had stuck to the sore. "Gads," I murmured. "I should've bandaged myself. Foolish of me. I got caught in a seat belt."
She was so close. I swallowed. I wanted to explain my sloppy appearance and said, "I'm a bit off schedule. I was in a hurry getting out the door. Almost ran over a dog, I think."
Eva waved my excuse away like a bothersome fly. "How about a garden tour before you come in? It's prettier in the twilight."
I sunk my hands into my pockets, hesitating. There was something else I wanted to tell her, but what? I turned towards her front yard; the earthen circle was still there, the torch poles still in the ground, but the chairs were gone and the grass looked freshly mowed. Turning back to her I asked, "How did you do it?"
"Does it bother you, not knowing?"
Seeking Samiel Page 6
