Together they walked slowly to the kitchen. In one of the cabinets they found a pack of sandwich bags. Hobbs dropped the nail in it and stuffed it in his breast pocket. The fridge door stood open. Somebody cleaned it all out and switched it off. Hobbs wondered who it was. He walked back to the bathroom. Sauer was already busy disconnecting the water supply to the toilet. It would not be the first time that a toilet was part of exhibits during a court case. They once dealt with a man who first killed his wife, cut her up and systematically tried to flush her down the toilet.
Hobbs looked through the window where they now knew the killer gained entrance and saw some of the plants were still flat. He looked inside the shower cubical. He saw a tidy row of bottles stacked on a glass shelf. He walked out the back door and around the house to the outside of the bathroom window. No footprints. Not that it would help nowadays. The footprints probably washed away with the daily thunderstorms that hammer the Highveld in summer. The back yard was fenced with six foot high, pre-fabricated, grey concrete slabs. Only the wall in the front had electric fencing on top. It was east enough to climb over one of the walls in the back or side gardens. In the back yard there were several big trees. He could hear the insects buzzing around the overripe fruit on the mango tree. Some of the fruit on the ground had been stepped on. Probably by some junior policeman that tried to get free mangoes.
He walked back into the house and found Sauer panting and groaning under a desk.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you, I am taking this computer in for analysis,” Sauer said as he emerged from under the table. His face was red and he was puffing. “Maybe she corresponded with the killer on the net.”
“I thought you were finished…”
“No, not yet…there are so many damn cables. I want to be sure to take everything.”
“To our Forensic Unit? Do you know how long that is going to take? We would be lucky if we ever see this computer again. Or did you already forget about our towel?”
“Oh come on, cheer up. I know a man who owes me a big favor.”
“How big?” Hobbs asked.
“About ten years in the slammer.”
“That’s unethical…”
“But he happens to be an information technology genius. So, all is forgiven as long as he does me the odd, little favor. No more questions will be asked.”
“Who is he?” Hobbs asked, stressing the ‘eeee’.
“Shrien Patel.”
“Oh, that guy? Didn’t we investigate him for selling all kinds of scams on the Internet?”
“The one and only.”
“She had a cat, didn’t she?” Hobbs changed the subject.
“Yea, but it lives with the neighbor now.”
“How you know?”
“Because she phoned the super’s secretary and told her.”
“I’m going to speak to the old lady.” Hobbs started walking away. “What side does she stay?”
“The white house with the pink flowers in the window boxes.”
That house was actually across the road. The fence was low. Anybody could jump over it, but her front porch and doors were bolted with burly security gates. Before Hobbs could ring the bell, the door opened. Wonderful, a nosy neighbor. The best kind—has nothing better to do all day long than to spy on the neighbors.
Chapter Ten
“Good morning, Captain Hobbs,” Mrs. Susan Dodgen, the nosy neighbor, said.
Ah, she even knows who I am. “Morning Ma’am”. Hobbs was his best-behaved self. “May I ask you a couple of questions?”
“Come in, come in. I’ve been meaning to phone you and tell you about my suspicions,” the old lady said.
Over tea the old lady chatted about strange characters she had seen around the neighborhood. She described each one in detail. Hobbs listened inattentively.
“Ma’am,” Hobbs said, “did you know Miss Zeller well?”
“Oh yes,” the old lady said. “She was an absolute angel. She worked at a library in a very poor area, in her spare time. Taught the children to read and write. She even took some of her own food to give to these children. Very dedicated, a very good Christian. Such a pity she had to die such a horrible death.”
“And her cat?” Hobbs asked.
“She picked up this little, stray kitten somewhere. Brought it straight home and loved it. Couldn’t resist any animal or person in need.”
“The cat lives with you now?” Hobbs asked.
“Yes, yes, what a darling. She named him Scrap.”
“Tell me,” Hobbs continued, “how did the cat get in and out of the house?”
“Oh, Charmaine always left the bathroom window open a little. Scrap came and went as he pleased through the burglar bars. He often visited me during the day when she was at work.”
“The fridge in her house has been cleaned. Did you…” Hobbs began to ask.
“Yes, I asked one of the junior policemen if I could clean it out. I also took Scrap’s sand box. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’ve got to go,” said Hobbs “I have to meet with some people.”
“But aren’t you going to have a cup of tea with me?”
“No, sorry I can’t. I have to be elsewhere.” Hobbs always pretended to remember some urgent appointment when he wanted to wangle himself out of situations. With his usual, long strides, he walked back to Zeller’s house, marched down the hallway and into the bathroom. What are we missing?
Chapter Eleven
“Hey George, come help me carry this stuff to the car,” Sauer bellowed from the study.
Together they carried the computer and notebooks to the car and bundled everything into the trunk Sauer shoved his bulk behind the steering wheel and turned the ignition.
“First stop is Shrien Patel, the computer whiz,” he said more to himself than to Hobbs. Sauer drove to the center of town, weaving through the heavy lunch hour traffic. Why can’t these people just get off the road and go and sit and drink in a bar somewhere? Parking was always a nightmare. About half a block from P&Q Computers Sauer found a gap open on a loading zone. He drove the Corolla into the yellow marked loading zone and stuck the blue light on the roof. Now, they will know we are from the police. He heaved his body out of the car and walked to the trunk. Hobbs opened it and took the computer out. He handed it to Sauer. “Your call,” he said. “You are blackmailing the man, not me.”
“I am not blackmailing him. I am just temporarily forgetting about things he had done. It is like being in a witness protection program. Only, I am protecting information that would lock him away in exchange for his knowledge.”
“How sure are you that he won’t fuck you over?”
“He will only try once. I suspect he knows the rules. There are no second chances in our game.” Sauer walked into the computer shop. The reception area was very small. There was hardly enough space for four people to stand. Sauer walked up to the counter: “Shrien,” he screamed at the top of his lungs, “got some work for you.”
A round, little Indian man waddled from the depths of the back of the shop to the counter. His black hair hung in greasy streaks down to his shoulders. His gold-rimmed glasses had several dirty fingerprints on them. How the hell does he see through those, Sauer thought.
“Inspectoooor!” Patel shouted joyfully when he saw Sauer. “My man, whaa’s up?” Sauer could never understand or get into the new text message or Internet jargon. Not only do the youngsters write in this jargon, but they have taken to speak in it, too. No wonder the senior high pass rate is so poor.
“Two things,” Sauer barked, not wanting to be too friendly. “First I want you to check this computer. Especially the Internet and all personal files…”
“Is this from the woman that got done in the other day? Read in the papers that you were on the case,” Patel interrupted the policeman. He stopped dead when he saw Sauer glaring at him. “Sorry, sorry…you were saying?”
“And secondly,” Sauer stressed, “take a
bloody bath. You stink.”
“Sure. I let you know when I’m done with the computer.”
“You don’t understand Shrien. I want the information before you go to sleep again—even if it takes you three days.”
“Right, Inspector.” Sauer turned and walked out of the shop. Hobbs stood outside on the pavement smoking. “You know that it is illegal to smoke in public,” he said to Hobbs. “So arrest me. I can do with a holiday behind bars. I will claim some terrible disease and then be hospitalized at the government’s cost in a grand, private hospital.” Sauer laughed out loud, for in South Africa, only people without money are ever found guilty and sent to jail.
Their next stop was at the bar. The traffic had quieted down a little. What a day. And it is still early afternoon, Sauer thought as he threw the first beer down his throat. The usual crowd hung onto the counters, mainly giving their expert opinions about the rugby matches of the last weekend.
Chapter Twelve
Mother always droned on and on about the sins of the flesh. As always when she read, she covered her right eye with her one hand. It was her bad eye, drooping to the one side and glassy. It was hot and the flies swarmed around the food. Three times a day they had to listen to Mother’s readings from the Bible before they could eat. “Thou shall not have sexual intercourse before being married. Thou shall not do this. Thou shall not do that…blah, blah, blah.”
He did not know what sexual intercourse was. He was little then, only six years old. His older brother Wills would listen intently to Mother’s reading and nod “Amen” after every “thou shall not…” When she was finished, they could eat. He learned from a young age to shove as much food as possible, as fast as possible down his throat, as Wills and Mother would leave no crumb uneaten. Then he would have to go feed the bloody pigs. Again. Always the pigs. Mother’s prize possession. He always wondered why she cared so much for those stinking animals.
Thinking back now, he remembers the pain and agony. The angst. Wills lying in wait for him. Not every day, but often enough. He remembers the first time well. His thin legs buckled under the hefty food buckets he carried to the sty. Actually, there were many sties. He always started from the furthermost side, sparing the shorter walks for when he was tired.
Wills never helped him because he had to lie down with Mother in the afternoons. Sometimes he could hear them moaning behind the locked door. Moaning and breathing fast. Mother would sometimes yell out, “Jesus Christ” or “Oh, God!” At first, he could not understand why they prayed more on their own. He did not complain, though. He had enough of the Bible shoved down his throat.
He would walk up to the furthest sty from the house, stop to catch his breath, and then climb over the wooden railing to heave the heavy buckets over. He then waddled through the mud and shit to the feeding troth, fighting off the hungry pigs with slaps and screams. He emptied the first bucket into the troth, walked back and threw the empty bucket over the fence. He picked up the second bucket and waddled back to the troth. He would do this with all ten sties. The younger pigs were kept in the sties closer to the house. He never knew why. It was easier to feed them because they shied away from people.
One very hot afternoon, while walking back to the fence with the empty bucket in hand, he saw Wills standing inside the sty. He remembers thinking that it was strange that Wills was standing in the sty. Stranger still was that Wills was naked. In his little world, Wills and Mother would rest in Mother’s room behind the closed door till late in the afternoons.
Wills had a strange look on his face and his eyes gleamed. As he walked past him, Wills grabbed him by the shoulders from behind. He swung around and tried to hit Wills with the bucket, but that just threw him off balance even more. He landed on his back in the mud. Wills grabbed him by his shirt, picked him up and threw him face down in the mud. He could hardly breathe. Things happened so fast after that.
Even today, he can only recall a few flash backs. Wills ripped his pants from his body. He felt Wills’ fingers between his buttocks. Wills then inserted something into his anus. The pain was excruciating. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and tried to scream out, but Wills pushed his face into the mud. For some strange reason, he called for Mother.
He couldn’t breathe. The mud was choking him. He felt flesh tear inside him, but by then he was focused on getting air into his lungs. Somehow he knew that he had to survive. Without air I will be dead. Mud clogged his mouth and he had to spit it out. He managed to turn his head sideways and breathe through his mouth. With every breath he took, he swallowed and tasted grains of muddy water in his mouth. He would spit again and again and attempt a mouthful of fresh air again.
More than anything else he remembers the stench of the pig shit crawling up his nostrils.
The pain was immense. Tears mingled with the mud and stained his face and hair. He vaguely remembers the punishing movement in his anus. He was aware of every tearing movement. Then it was over. As suddenly as it began, it was over. Wills groaned like one of the boars when hungry, and loosened his grip on him. He felt Wills weight lifted from him. He inched away as fast as he could until he was behind the feeding pigs. He lay there, trying to focus on what just happened, but still breathing. Later, he felt the sun baking down on him. He was sure he pissed himself. Still, he lay there, too petrified and shocked to move. After a long time, he lifted his head. He wiped the mud from his eyes and looked around. The pigs huddled in the far corner and stared at him, as if they knew what he had just gone through. Wills was nowhere in sight.
He turned over to face the sun. Then he saw Wills. He was on the other side of the fence already dressed, looking at him. Wills walked away, never looking back at the boy lying in the mud.
He lay there for a while, recovering from the shock and not knowing what to do. The sun dried the mud on his face. Later, he sat up, his hands behind him supporting his weight. Wills was nowhere in sight. He then jumped up and ran to the house as fast as he could. He screamed as he ran to Mother’s bedroom. He ignored the closed door and barged right into the room. He stopped short and stared at the sight before him.
Wills was in bed with Mother, as always. But both were naked. Through tears and hysteria he screamed at Mother what Wills had done.
Mother threw the bedspread from her, got up and walked towards him. Her sagging breasts swung as she walked towards him. Her skin hung on her like an old sack. The bitter pull of her mouth should have warned him. She slapped his face so hard that his head went flying to the left side.
“Go feed the pigs,” she screamed, her face angry and distorted.
For a moment, he was completely stunned. Through his tears, he saw Wills grinning at him and then slowly pulling his index finger across his throat. He walked out of the bedroom, closed the door quietly and walked down the dark hallway, out the door and into the sunlight. He just kept on walking, till he got to the river. He walked into shallow stream, clothes and all. He lay down in it, allowing the stream to wash away the mud, tears and blood. Then he started to cry bitterly. He knew that he was on his own. Nobody would ever stand up for him or protect him. He knew then that he would be in charge of his own path through life.
Much later, he got up and walked back to the house. His anus was on fire. He fed the rest of the pigs, keeping a constant lookout for Wills. Then he walked into his bedroom, locked the door and lay down on his bed. He started crying again. Through the tears he heard Mother and Wills screaming to the Lord.
Chapter Thirteen
Sauer steamrollered into the office with a large take-out coffee in one hand and a toasted sandwich in the other. It was just before seven in the morning. Hobbs was already there, his elbows in front of him, his head resting in both his hands—a case file opened in front of him. Outsiders would think Hobbs was hard at work, but Sauer knew better. Hobbs was sleeping. He loudly threw a pile of case files in front of the sleeping captain. Hobbs’s body shook with fright when the pile hit the table, but other than that, he did not mo
ve.
“I will kill your mother and feed her liver to my dog!” Hobbs howled without lifting his head. Sauer laughed. “You leave my mother out of this. Besides, she eats little lads like you for breakfast.” But Sauer knew better. Hobbs worked through the night again, not wanting to go home because that meant being alone. Sauer knew Hobbs hated being alone. He also knew that was the main reason why Hobbs drank too much, loneliness and ghosts from the past. Yet, Hobbs just could not bring himself to enter into a relationship. When really drunk, Hobbs would sometimes argue the pros and cons for being in a relationship and being alone to whoever cared to listen.
Sauer stirred a couple of tablespoons of sugar in a large beer mug filled with water. He then placed the mug underneath Hobbs’s chin. “Drink, it does wonders for a hangover.” The captain slowly lowered one hand and started downing the water. He slurped the last sugary dregs out of the mug and then burped loudly.
“Your mother gets to live another day,” he grinning at Sauer.
“Listen, leave my beloved mother out of this. The superintendent wants to see us. Pronto.”
“What the fuck for? Aren’t we his hardest working members?” Hobbs wondered out loud.
“He wants to know about the Face Lifter. The press was all over him last night and he couldn’t get hold of us. Shame, poor him, probably scared of the big flashing cameras,” Sauer said sarcastically.
Hobbs pulled his lithe body from the chair, stretched tall nearly touching the ceiling, then straightened his tie. He dragged his jacket on as he walked out of the office. Sauer thought he looked shameful and drunk.
“Been home yet?” Sauer asked trotting next to Hobbs.
“Do I look that bad?”
Sauer nodded and gave him a handful of peppermints. Hobbs threw the whole lot into his mouth.
Just as they walked out of the office, the phone rang. Hobbs and Sauer looked at each other. Neither one wanted to answer it. Hobbs stared at Sauer and said, “Go pick up the phone before I shove it up your ass.”
Cannibal Man Page 5