Requiem in E Sharp

by Joan De La Haye

  “Would you shut up,” she said turning to Pete. “I’m trying to think.”

  “What are you cooking up in that scheming little brain of yours?” Kyle asked.

  “What do you mean little?”

  “A tad sensitive this evening, aren’t we?”

  “Oh, shut up and come with me,” she said, as she shoved her microphone at Kyle, and strutted back towards the van.

  “How do you work with that bitch?” Pete asked Kyle, who was staring after Helen and shaking his head.

  “She’s not that bad. She just has a job to do, and you guys don’t exactly make it easy for her. That pisses her off. She’s funny that way.”

  “Let me guess,” Pete said. “You're screwing her?”

  “What?” Kyle stammered. “What makes you say that?”

  “Are you coming, Kyle?” Helen yelled before Pete could answer. She reached the road and was tapping her foot in a quick staccato.

  “Yeah, I’m coming,” he said and trotted off after her like a faithful puppy who knew he was about to get smacked with the newspaper, but went anyway in the hope that he'd get a treat instead of a smack on the nose.

  “So ...” he said once back inside the van. “What’s going on?”

  “How do you feel about clearing an innocent man of murder, finding the real killer and winning the CNN African Journalist of the year award?”

  “Interesting idea; bloody difficult, if not downright impossible but an interesting idea none the less,” he said, patting himself down to find his pack of smokes. “Any idea as to how we’re going to do this?”

  “Well ... knowing Nico ... he’ll do all the work for us. No matter what he says, he’ll call me when he needs me, and then all we need to do is show up with the camera and the right spin.”

  NATALIE LAY BACK IN the hot bath watching the steam rise in wisps around her. This was her thinking time. Louis was working the night shift; at least she hoped that was what he was doing. So, she was alone for the night. The sound of Vanessa Mae playing her violin drifted through the flat. She needed the music to calm her frazzled nerves. Now that his mother wasn’t there to blame, he was using her as punching bag even more than usual and blaming her for Nico’s absence since the funeral. He also blamed Janet for their problems and every time Louis hit her he said it was Janet’s fault. It was Janet’s influence on her that made her taunt and defy him. His rants were confused and belligerent. Janet wasn't their problem. He was.

  “What am I going to do?” she asked herself as she slid under the bath water. She breathed out slowly, enjoying the sound of her breathing under the water. The water was warm and comforting. She felt safe.

  The burning candles looked like strange fairy dancers from beneath the water. She heard her bubbles of breath breaking on the surface. Her lungs tightened as they ran out of air, but she ignored it and stayed under until her lungs felt as though they were going to collapse. She came up fast and gasped in all the air her starved lungs could take. The candle flames objected to the sudden disturbance to their air supply and threatened to stop their dance. She leaned back and rested her head against the tiled wall behind her. The enamel of the bath above the water level felt cold against her hot skin.

  The intercom buzzing made her jump and water dribbled over the edge onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor.

  “Who the hell?” she said under her breath, as she climbed out of the bath and wrapped a small towel around her thin frame. The intercom kept buzzing. She slid her wet feet into her fluffy slippers and trudged out of the steamy bathroom into the cold passageway.

  “Hello,” she answered the incessant buzzing.

  “It’s me,” answered Nico’s voice.

  “Louis’s not here.”

  “I know. I’m here to see you.”

  “Here we go,” she said to herself as she buzzed him in, noticing that the towel only just covered her in the right places. She wondered if she had time to put anything else on. The knock came before she could make up her mind and ended up answering the door with the towel on the verge of falling around her feet.

  The expression on his face was not what she had expected. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He looked as if he’d been crying for hours. This was not good, she decided. Something was terribly wrong.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, as he walked past her into the lounge area.

  “I’ll just go and put on some clothes while you make yourself comfortable,” she said when he didn’t answer her. He just stared at her, but somehow she had the impression that he didn’t really see her. She came back wearing a black pair of tracksuit pants and one of Louis’s jerseys. Sitting down opposite him she waited for him to say something.

  After a few minutes, the silence started to get the better of her nerves.

  “Okay Nico, this is driving me nuts. Would you please tell me what’s going on?” She stood up and started pacing. Nico said nothing. “Is it Janet? Is she all right?”

  Nico raised his bloodshot eyes to meet hers. Something in his pain-filled eyes told her that her suspicion was correct.

  “No, it can’t be.” She collapsed on the couch. “I spoke to her yesterday.”

  “She was killed a few hours ago.” His voice sounded hollow and as dead as Janet.

  “No, I don’t believe you. Is this some kind of sick joke?” Tears streamed down her face. She knew he was telling her the truth, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it.

  “If you don’t believe me, maybe you should ask Louis. I’m sure he would be able to go into great detail of how she died.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have ... You’re lying.”

  “Wouldn’t have what, Natalie? Killed her the way he did his mother and all those other women?” He shook his head. “Why would I lie to you?”

  She didn’t have an answer for him. She didn’t know why she was so shocked. Deep down she'd known this was coming but now that it had it was a shock.

  The truth hit her in the stomach, and she doubled over with grief and pain. He had killed the only person who mattered to her. The only person who kept her from taking that plunge over the edge of sanity was gone. He had dealt the cruellest blow possible. She heard a strange discordance, like someone strangling a cat. It took a few seconds before she realised that she was the one making the sound. She dropped to the floor, and Nico stood over her. Disgust and pity mingled in his eyes.

  “How does it make you feel knowing that you’re responsible for the death of the only person who gave a shit about you?” he hissed at her.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with her death. It’s not my fault,” she said but couldn't help but wonder if he was right. Was it her fault?

  “That’s right: just keep telling yourself that. You could have prevented this. You knew he was a monster but did nothing. You protected him.”

  “You’re lying. He's not a monster, and he wouldn’t have killed her. He loves me. He wouldn’t do that to Janet or to me.” She crawled away from him, tears burning their way down her cheeks. “You’re wrong. You have to be wrong,” she whispered.

  “You might have fooled Janet with your little-miss-victim routine, but you aren’t fooling me. The only reason you’re upset she’s dead is because you didn’t see it coming. You didn't see the writing on the wall. You can’t control him. He's not some pet, Natalie. He's a wild animal, and he's turned on you.” His words stung. Each word was a punch to her stomach, sending her reeling.

  “No, you’re wrong. I loved her, and so did he. Louis wouldn't do that to her any more than he would do that to me. We were a family. The three of us.”

  “Oh please, you wouldn’t know what love is if it smacked you in the face. And he did do this to her, and he will do the same thing to you.”

  “I loved her.” She felt the wall against her back. There wasn’t anywhere for her to run. She was trapped.

  “Prove it.” His face was inches from hers. She smelt beer and cigarettes.

  “What?”


  “It’s your fault she’s dead. You could have stopped him from killing again, but you didn’t. I don’t know why and right now I don’t really care. The fact is Janet is dead, and you let it happen.” He was standing over her again, then started to pace up and down in front of her. She felt as though he was prowling around his prey. She didn’t like being anybody’s prey. He was circling, waiting to attack.

  She tried to prepare herself for what came next, but how can one prepare for the onslaught that comes from someone's deep-seated grief, when they have nothing left to lose. He dragged her to her feet and slammed her against the wall.

  “You fucking-psycho-bitch.” Drops of spittle hit her face. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put your sorry arse in prison for the rest of your life.”

  “Because I didn't commit a crime and you need me,” her voice was hoarse, and it escaped in a whisper.

  “I need you?” he shouted and let her drop back to the floor. “Why do I need you?”

  “We both know you really want to punish Louis, not me,” her voice was soft and stroking.

  “Oh, trust me, I want to punish you but lucky for you, Louis’s the one I need to stop right now.”

  “And I can help you do that.” She walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Please let me help you. Let me do this for Janet.”

  She felt his body shake beneath her hand. At first, she thought he was crying, then he tilted his head back, and he started to laugh. Her hand jerked off his shoulder.

  “Oh, you are going to help me, Natalie.” He stopped laughing and turned to face her.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “First go and pack a bag for a few days. Louis is going to get a bit of a surprise when he comes home.”

  16

  The light above the door was out, which Louis found strange – he had replaced the bulb two days ago – and the door was ajar. Natalie always locked it. His heart pounded in his chest. He kicked the door open. It banged against the wall and bounced back towards him.

  “Natalie,” he called from the doorway.

  Silence.

  “Natalie,” he called again, this time louder. His voice reached a higher pitch than usual and squeaked like a thirteen-year-old boy whose voice was breaking.

  He heard the wind howling through an open window in the kitchen. The kitchen curtains flapped and disturbed the leaves of her herbs on the window sill. He took a tentative step inside and stood in the hallway.

  “What the fuck is she up to now?” he mumbled under his breath.

  There were more dangerous predators in Pretoria than him. He only hoped that nothing had happened to her. He hoped she was trying to teach him a lesson or it was one of her other stupid games. He didn't know what he would do if anything happened to her. What if she tried to kill herself again? The possibility made him want to throw up. He looked around the corner into the lounge which was lit only by a single lamp. He took a few more slow steps inside. Thoughts of her being hacked to death by a machete-wielding gangster made his stomach lurch. Images of her hands being chopped off for muti invaded his already strained mind.

  The lampshade was tilted at an angle, illuminating a spot on the wall. Taking slow nervous steps, he made his way to the middle of the room and stared at the wall. Sprayed across the wall in red spray paint was,

  It’s my turn.

  THE SUN WASN’T DUE to come up for a few hours. They drove in silence. Red and white lights blotted the horizon. Clouds blocked out the moon. The headlights of cars travelling in the opposite direction broke the darkness for a few seconds but not for long enough to interrupt the darkness which had welled up in his head and his heart. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Natalie sat curled up on the passenger seat beside him, with her feet on the seat, hugging her knees to her chest. She hadn’t said a word or uttered a sound since they got into the car. They were both locked into their own minds, alone with their thoughts and pain. But most of all they were alone with their guilt.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, after driving in silence for two hours, her voice was muffled and soft.

  He didn’t answer her.

  “Where the hell are we going, Nico?” She turned around in her seat and faced him. Anger, tinged with fear, started to creep into her voice.

  The only sound in response to her question was the wind buffeting the car and the engine objecting to the long drive.

  “Damn it, Nico. Answer me.”

  He looked at her for a few seconds and then turned back to the road ahead. He couldn’t answer her question. He didn’t know where they were going. He had hoped to have come up with a plan by now, but all he could see was Janet in the bathtub, with her throat slit and her dead eyes pleading with him to help her.

  Natalie pounding her fists against his arm forced the image out of his mind. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  “God damn you, Nico. I hate you,” she screamed at him. Each time her fist hit his arm, her voice grew louder and more hysterical.

  It was a narrow single carriageway with farmland on either side. They had passed the small mining town of Lesley and were half an hour outside of Standerton, a large farming town. There was nothing but farmland between them and Standerton. He decided that this was as good a spot as any and pulled over into the emergency lane.

  “Get out of the fucking car you crazy bitch,” his voice was quiet and cold.

  “Fuck you.” She spat in his face.

  He wiped her saliva from his face and dried his hand on her jersey. He got out the car and walked around to her door. She pressed the lock down on her door and then leaned over the driver’s seat and locked that door as well.

  “Open the door, Natalie,” he shouted through the closed window.

  She stared straight ahead of her. The only sign that she acknowledged his presence was by extending her middle finger. He took some satisfaction in dangling the car key in front of the window and then proceeded to unlock the car door. Her screams of protest as he pulled her out were shrill and annoying as all hell.

  “Shut up,” he shouted as he slammed her against the car. “Now, you are going to be a good little psycho and shut up, so I can think. Is that clear?”

  She glared at him in silence.

  “Is that clear?” He slammed her against the car again.

  “Perfectly,” she hissed through a clamped jaw.

  He let her go and slumped against the car next to her.

  They stood in silence for what seemed an eternity. The sun would be up in a few hours. The thought of a new day brought hope that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to kill the bastard without too much damage to himself.

  “So genius, we’ve been standing here like idiots for a while now, and I don’t know about you, but my arse is numb, and I’m cold. I was wondering if you had, by some miracle, any clue as to what we’re actually going to do?” Natalie intruded on his thoughts.

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

  “That was a while ago, and if you don’t have any ideas I thought you might like to hear mine?”

  “Fine! So what’s your great idea?”

  “We go back to Pretoria. I’ll tell you the details on the way.”

  “IT JUST MIGHT WORK,” he mumbled to himself.

  He couldn’t believe that he was going along with Natalie and her crazy idea. Sitting back on his couch after the exhausting round trip to the middle of nowhere, he tried to order her plan in his tired and fumbling mind. It was a dangerous plan, and the chances of coming out of it in one piece were slim to none.

  Natalie was curled up on the couch opposite him, sleeping soundly. She didn’t move in her sleep. The only indication that she was alive was the shallow, yet steady movement of her chest. She had been so calm while telling him about her plan. It was as if all her hysterics from earlier had never happened. Grief and guilt affected people in different ways. If it hadn't been for Janet's murder, Natalie would never have offered to h
elp him to put Louis away. She would probably have protected him to the last, no matter what he did.

  He realised then that there must have been a side to Janet that he had never known. How else could she have been close to this woman for so long? Had Janet not seen who and what Natalie really was? Had she not seen that Natalie had serious mental issues? Janet had been many things, but stupid and naïve were not words he would have used to describe her. So how could she not have seen this aspect of her friend? The more he asked himself the questions, the less he liked the answers.

  Then again, he was going along with her plan. So what did that say about him? Was he just as demented as the man he was trying to bring down?

  Natalie’s eyes were open and watching him. He realised that he had been staring into space and hadn’t noticed that she was awake.

  “You certainly were far away,” she said with a smirk.

  He grunted in reply and got off the couch and walked to the window.

  “When are you going?” he asked with his back facing her. The sun was bright, and the wind howled and whipped around the building.

  “Soon.”

  “Good, the sooner this is over and done with the better.”

  “Fine, if that’s what you want.” She stood up and stretched.

  He heard her yawn, and then her muffled footsteps made their way across the room to the front door. There was a pause, and the door squeaked open and slammed shut.

  He would oil the door hinges when this was over.

  SHE FELT FAINT WITH excitement. It was almost over. She had to keep it together for a little while longer. Hell, she just had to survive the next few hours. This time tomorrow she would be free from the guilt and truly alone for the first time since she was a little girl. No Louis and no Janet. She wiped away the tears and forced the pain down, deep inside her. She would deal with it later.