Glancing ahead, reflexively, Jade made a mental note of the rear number plate of the accelerating truck. ZN300-420.
She let out a deep, shaky breath. What the hell had he been thinking? She was supposed to be on holiday here, safely out of the big city and away from stress-fuelled maniacs who drove as if the devil was after them.
Checking her mirrors carefully, she pulled off the uneven verge, crossed the now-quiet road and headed down the hill towards the resort.
By the time she’d got back, the rain had stopped. Its continuous pattering was now replaced by a harsher sound—the whine of a drill and the splintering groan of thick nails being driven into wood.
Vusi, the elderly handyman who did most of the maintenance and repair work at Scuba Sands, was now busy installing two big steel bolts on the inside of her chalet door. One roughly thirty centimetres above the handle and the other the same distance below.
Neil Cronje, the owner of Scuba Sands and the person who’d told her about Huberta the wandering hippo, was supervising this important task. On the day she’d arrived, she’d gone up to the front porch of his small house that was situated just beyond the furthermost chalet to sign in. As he’d welcomed her, she had noticed, much to her amusement, that he’d paired his short-sleeved collared shirt with yellow swimming trunks sporting large green frogs, and thonged sandals. On the wall behind the reception desk she’d seen several photos of him, looking about twenty years younger and as many kilos slimmer, riding his surfboard on enormous waves.
She hadn’t seen him much since then—he’d kept to himself—but now she noticed that the sandals and brightly patterned shorts appeared to be a permanent fixture in his wardrobe.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ he told her now, rubbing his forehead. ‘I’m just so sorry. We’re putting extra security precautions in place for everybody today. I’ve spent most of my life in this area and nothing like this has ever happened here before. And I mean nothing.
‘I understand,’ Jade said. She put her travel bag down next to the coffee table. ‘Thank you for organising the extra security.’
She couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. When he reached Larry’s chalet, she was sure he was going to become the target of all the wealthy man’s pent-up frustration. He’d probably end up feeling like Larry’s Hummer had ridden over him.
After Neil left, the handyman finished his job by kneeling down and carefully sweeping the tiny piles of wood shavings and dust into a dustpan, which he tipped out of the front door. Then he picked up his toolbox and walked outside, heading for the neighbouring chalet.
A minute later, her stomach tightened as she heard David’s familiar footsteps approaching.
He walked in, scowling and rubbing his hands together as if he was washing them in air. Suddenly, she remembered her father doing exactly the same when he’d peeled off his rubber gloves after investigating a crime scene.
When he saw her, he stopped in his tracks, and his frown deepened.
‘Jade. Where the hell did you go?’ he snapped.
If tension could be bottled and sold, Jade would have become an instant millionaire, because the air between her and David suddenly felt as if it was about to split right open.
She shrugged. ‘You were busy helping the detectives, so I went out. You’re not my boss. I don’t have to report to you.’
‘I don’t mean just now.’ He gesticulated angrily with an open hand. ‘I mean last night. Where did you disappear to? I was worried sick.’
Jade dropped her gaze. For a moment she didn’t know what to say, because she didn’t want David to know where she’d been.
‘You’d better stop doing that,’ she told him icily. ‘Or at any rate, save it for your wife and your new baby. Don’t keep fretting about me.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Jade …’ David barked out the words before cutting himself short.
He banged his weight down onto the couch and jammed his chin down onto his clenched left fist. She saw his jaw tighten.
An uncomfortable silence descended. David didn’t move. Chin on his bunched hand, he was a passable impression of Rodin’s Thinker.
Jade, by contrast, realised she felt sick. With hunger, probably, although the idea of food wasn’t exactly appealing to her right now. But supper had been half a bottle of champagne and she’d had no breakfast.
She walked over to the fridge and took out the first thing that came to hand—a jar of chilli-stuffed olives. She got a spoon and a plate from the drying rack, spooned out several olives, sat down on one of the bar stools and forced herself to eat them one by one.
‘How’s the investigation going?’ she asked in a more casual voice, after the third olive.
David grunted.
‘I didn’t want to get involved, but those detectives are green as grass, and they’re not going to get any help from other precincts, because there isn’t anybody else available to assist. They were going to ask Durban Central to send a couple of officers, but that idea bit the dust when Durban Central came back and said they couldn’t spare anybody; that they’ve had six violent crimes, two fatal shootings and an accidental drowning in the last twenty-four hours. They said there must be something causing it, but I’m damned if I know what.’
‘Can’t be the full moon,’ Jade said, trying to keep the conversation light.
‘Nope. It’s new moon. Spring tide’s tomorrow night, apparently. I was told to be careful if I go swimming, because the undertow will be very strong.’
Jade nodded. ‘It’s national Drive Like a Maniac day on the roads as well. I was nearly wiped out by some poor-white type in a bakkie on my way back.’
‘There you go, then.’
Jade sensed that he was also choosing his words carefully, aware that they represented fragile strands that stretched across an abyss. Amanda’s murder was more than a topical news subject. It also provided—somewhat perversely—a safe subject for conversation.
‘What’s your next step with the investigation?’ Jade asked.
‘Pillay’s going to interview everybody this afternoon.’ He sighed. ‘There’s no sign of the murder weapon, which, as you can tell, was obviously a large, sharp knife. Bugger all trace evidence either. A few hairs, which they’re sending off to the lab, but that’s about it.’
‘Any other clues?’
David shrugged. ‘Nothing, really. She had a shell collection. Beautiful stuff. And a very good waterproof digital camera.’
‘Which was still there?’
‘Which was, as you point out, still in her room. I saw an album full of photos on her bookshelf. Some stunning images. Close-ups of coral reefs, fish, the most incredible underwater shots.’ He let out a deep breath. ‘Amanda obviously loved the sea, given the way she captured it on camera. I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to go out on the boat at all, with all this going on, but this really is an amazing part of the world. Probably one of the last great, unspoilt diving places in existence. But those photos were just about the only personal stuff we found. A couple of postcards, but apart from that, nothing much. Minimal personal possessions.’
Jade found herself looking away. Right now, she’d be happy never going underwater again. That mystical ocean world could stay right where it was. Or perhaps she could view it through a glass-bottomed boat instead.
‘No cellphone?’ she asked.
‘No. No computer, either. Don’t know if she even owned one. I found a card for an Internet café in Richards Bay.’
David raised his head and, for the first time, noticed the shiny metal bolts on the inside of their door.
‘Security precautions,’ he observed flatly.
Jade nodded. ‘Not that I think they’re worth much.’
‘Because the door’s so flimsy?’
‘No.’ David’s questioning glance prompted her to continue. ‘Because Amanda’s room wasn’t broken into.’
‘How do you mean?’ he asked slowly.
‘While I was standing outside her room
this morning, I noticed that although the wood around the lock was splintered, the lock itself wasn’t broken out. I think it must have been damaged after the murder, to make it look like a forced entry.’
David’s forbidding expression softened and he nodded wearily.
‘Jadey,’ he said. ‘You’re right, and you were fast. It took us two hours to figure that out. Admittedly, we had a lot else on our plate.’ His face darkened again. ‘Amanda let her killer in. Which means that, in all probability, it was somebody she knew.’
16
Pillay interviewed Jade on the small verandah outside her chalet, both of them sitting on the plastic chairs that the resort had provided. The sun was still battling to break through the clouds, but at least the wind had dropped. Most of the other guests were inside, perhaps hiding away from the horror the morning had brought. At any rate, Jade had yet to see anyone other than Larry and his flame-haired partner, who were walking up towards their chalet from the thatched lapa near the reception area that doubled as a bar. Roxanne was wearing a filmy sarong over a black diamanté bikini. Larry was in an electric-blue Speedo with his towel slung over his shoulders. He held a glass filled with amber liquid that splashed over onto his hand as he walked. Raised voices wafted over to her as Pillay opened his notebook, and she realised the couple must be having an argument. Neither of them acknowledged Jade, nor even glanced in her direction, and a short while later their chalet door slammed behind them.
Pillay cleared his throat self-consciously and glanced down at his spiral pad. In response to his polite questioning, Jade told him about her movements the previous evening. About her walk down to the beach, how she had helped Monique secure the tarpaulin. How she had noticed the fear in the young woman’s eyes, and seen her stuff Craig’s wallet into her pocket.
She gave Pillay a sketchy description of the unknown man she’d noticed weaving his way along the beach shortly afterwards. How he had headed up towards the resort with purpose, but had then disappeared. She explained how she and Craig had looked inside Monique’s room and discovered the missing wallet.
‘At that stage, did you see or hear anything from Amanda Bolton’s room?’
‘No,’ Jade said. ‘Amanda’s door was closed. I don’t know if she was there or not. Even if she’d had somebody in there with her, we didn’t hear anything and I doubt she would have heard us outside, because the sound of the rain on the roof was so loud.’ She risked a question of her own. ‘Has the pathologist estimated a time of death yet?’
Pillay nodded, ‘The estimated time of death was early this morning. At around dawn. I …’ He stopped speaking abruptly and jumped as if an electric current had been run through his chair. Watching his reaction, Jade realised he’d made a novice detective’s mistake by unwittingly disclosing privileged information.
Bowing his head to cover his confusion, Pillay jotted down his final notes.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I may need to speak to you again at a later stage.’
‘I’ll be here if you do. For the next day or two, anyway.’
Pillay closed his pad, which Jade couldn’t help noticing was brand new. His interview with her had taken up the first page.
‘Is this your first murder investigation?’ she asked him.
The young detective hesitated, but then nodded. ‘Yes. I was promoted a month ago, but the murder rate in this precinct is not very high.’
‘What department were you in before?’
Pillay checked his watch and placed his notebook and pen in a briefcase that also didn’t seem to be suffering much wear and tear.
‘Missing Persons,’ he said proudly.
Jade fought to suppress a smile.
‘And do you get many of those in this part of the world?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Pillay spoke with quiet confidence. ‘Quite a number of people were reported missing during the past few months. The job kept me busy, I can tell you.’
‘You find any of them?’
Now the Indian detective’s face fell. ‘Not one, despite my best efforts. There was a promising lead recently on one man who worked at the harbour, but it didn’t come to anything.’
‘Well, I hope you get luckier this time,’ Jade said. ‘Where are you going now?’
‘I’m going to speak to your neighbours next.’ He pointed in the direction of Craig and Elsabe’s chalet. ‘I’m hoping that they’ll be able to give me some more background on Monique.’
Jade had turned her phone off during the interview. As Pillay headed for the next-door chalet, she turned it back on. It started to ring almost immediately.
She recognised the area code as Richards Bay, but the number was unfamiliar and so was the voice of the lady on the other end of the line.
‘Is that Miss Jade de Jong?’
‘It is.’
‘Good afternoon, dear.’ It was the voice of a frail, older woman, soft and quavery, and it seemed to have a smile in it, as if it really was a good afternoon for her. ‘It’s Mrs Koekemoer speaking. I used to work at the Richards Bay General Hospital. I got a message that I should call you. Apparently you would like to talk to somebody who knew your mother.’
‘That’s right. I do.’
‘She was Mrs Elise de Jong?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I knew her. And I’d be glad to tell you what I remember.’
‘Thank you so much for getting in touch with me.’ Jade found herself speaking more slowly and clearly than usual. Assuming, perhaps, that because the lady was old, she might also be deaf.
‘I don’t know how useful I’ll be, but I’ll do my best. Would you like to come here for a chat? I don’t get out much anymore, I’m afraid.’
‘When would be convenient for you?’
‘Well …’ The lady paused and sighed, as if wondering how she could fit a visit into an already busy schedule. ‘Tomorrow morning isn’t good, but at lunchtime I’ll have some time. Shall we say … twelve-thirty?’
‘Twelve-thirty it is. And where are you?’
‘Oh.’ Mrs Koekemoer sounded taken aback for a moment, and then laughed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so used to people knowing where I live. I’m at the Rose Village retirement home, dear. In End Lane, Harbour View.’
‘I’ll see you then,’ Jade said, and thanked the old lady again before disconnecting.
She found herself looking forward to the meeting. Mrs Koekemoer sounded like a chatty soul. Jade had no idea what she might learn, if anything, or even what questions she should or could ask. Still, it was a start, and she was sure it would lead somewhere.
Lost in thought, Jade nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a chalet door slam, the sound of wood hitting wood as loud as a gunshot. Swivelling in the direction of the noise, she saw Larry marching out of his chalet, hefting two very large travel bags with him. Given that his hands were full, Jade guessed he must have kicked the door shut behind him.
He dumped the bags on the ground, opened the Hummer’s boot and then hefted them both inside. Jade noticed that the boot was already three-quarters full of other luggage. She wasn’t sure how many clothes the two had thought they would need for a short stay at a scuba resort, but they had obviously decided to err on the side of plenty.
And now, it seemed, they were packing up and leaving.
‘Hey! ’Scuse me, folks!’
Neil was standing outside the front door of his house, staring in consternation at the departing guests.
Larry glanced briefly in his direction before climbing into his Hummer and slamming the door. From where she was sitting, Jade couldn’t see through the mirrored window, but she assumed that Roxanne was already in the passenger seat.
Combing her orange hair, probably.
‘Hey! Wait a minute!’ Neil waved an arm. Then, sandals slapping and his smart shirt working loose from his baggy shorts, he began running towards the Hummer.
‘Sir, please. If you’re leaving, we still need a payment from you.’
The driver’
s window buzzed down and Larry’s face appeared.
‘You must be shitting me. Is this some kind of a joke?’ he yelled at the manager.
‘Sir …’ Neil sounded breathless, and Jade only caught snatches of his voice. ‘… so sorry … only a fifty per cent accommodation deposit received … four nights’ stay … the scuba-diving course … a substantial bar tab … two sets of dive equipment hired …’
She had no problem making out Larry’s response.
‘Someone got murdered because your bloody resort isn’t secure. Then you get your guy to come in and screw two bolts into the door. Two bolts! That’s supposed to keep us safe? It’s a farce. This place is a joke. You can forget about your payment.’
‘But the police want to talk to you!’ Neil’s voice rose even higher.
‘They can talk to my lawyer!’
‘At least …’
Before Neil had time to complete his sentence, the Hummer’s engine roared and it sped away, spinning giant slashes of sand from under its thick black tyres.
17
The aftermath of murder. David knew he should be used to it by now, but every time it saddened him. Sorting through the personal possessions of the deceased, trawling through papers and diaries, photograph albums and cellphone data, looking for information and possible clues, was so damn depressing.
Strictly speaking, there wasn’t much more he could do at the crime scene. Surfaces had been examined, brushed and vacuumed. Forensic specimens had been collected, fingerprints taken. The bloodied sheets were long gone; only the stains on the floor remained.
David could have locked up the room and left an hour ago. Left this sad and empty scene, and headed back to his chalet.
But he was still here. Rereading his notes. Going through the two cardboard boxes of Amanda’s possessions that he, Pillay and his assistant had neatly assembled earlier in the day.
The murder was so unexpected, so incongruous, here in this beautiful, peaceful little resort. As terrible as the incident was, however, David couldn’t help feeling grateful that it had provided him with something of overriding importance to focus on.
The Fallen Page 8
