Cannibal Man

by Dorothy Knight

  “Yes ma’am,” Sauer said.

  “I am going to get the dogs inside then I am going to open the gate for you. Come to the front door. But before anything, I want to see you identifications first.”

  Sauer stood up. All this bending down actually hurt his back. Why are intercom systems always installed to fit midgets? A few minutes later the electric gate wheeled open. The detectives walked to the front door. The garden was immaculate. Pretty flowers bloomed in every imaginable color in curved beddings.

  Sauer rang the doorbell.

  A middle-aged woman opened the door only slightly. Her hair was tied up in a bun and her face was devoid of make-up. The security gate was still locked. Her dogs barked furious at the invasion. Sauer and Hobbs handed their police identification cards to her. She stood behind the slightly closed door and jotted something down on a piece of paper. She then opened the door wider and handed the detectives their cards back.

  “How can I help,” she asked.

  “Ma’am, we are looking for Andrew Donaldson. Does he live here?” Sauer asked.

  “My dad?” she asked, puzzled.

  My dad? The two detectives looked at each other.

  “What is this about?” she asked them. “Why on Earth would you want to speak to my father?”

  “We are just asking routine questions about a crime that was committed,” Sauer said softly, not wanting to alarm the woman. “Nothing serious, we just want to talk to him quietly.” We actually don’t want him to get suspicious and disappear.

  “Come in.” She pressed a buzzer and the steel gate jumped open. She stepped aside and indicated that the two men should follow her into the house. They walked through the front door. “Wait here,” she said to them as she walked down a carpeted hallway.

  “Dad,” they hear her calling. Dad? How old could this man be?

  “Dad? She looks close to sixty. Maybe there is a younger brother or son with the same name,” Sauer whispered.

  “Maybe it is her husband or lover—you know how some of the Afrikaner women call their husbands ‘Dad’.”

  They heard her speaking in a hushed voice. Soon, soft footsteps approached them again. “Please come through,” she said.

  They entered a huge, sunny room. An old man sat in a wheelchair in front of the window. The sun shone yellow through the net curtains. A colorful crocheted blanket covered his legs. His wrinkled hands folded on his lap, he appeared to be dosing.

  Oh fuuuck! This can’t be it. Hobbs and Sauer walked up to the dosing old man. He did not hear them. They stood next to him and looked around in the room. A single bed stood in the middle of the room. On the left side, next to the built-in shelves, was a side table filled with medicine bottles. A commode stood on the right. A fading blue, gingham tablecloth covered what the detectives believed to be a computer on a table opposite the bed. Sauer walked over to the table and lifted the tablecloth. It was a fairly new computer with a flat screen and surround sound. The detectives looked at the computer and then at the old man. “We cover it to keep the dust out,” said the daughter.

  “Dad,” she said sternly, “these men want to speak to you.”

  The old man’s head bobbed up and he looked at them with watery eyes.

  Surely this must be the wrong guy.

  Hobbs and Sauer sat down on the bed opposite the invalid. “Sir,” Sauer began slowly not wanting to waste any more time, “are you Grisly Bear?” They could hear his daughter walking out the door and quietly closing it behind her.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”

  “No sir, we seriously suspect not” answer Sauer. “So are you Grisly Bear or not?”

  The old man looked at them before giving a small giggle and answering with a naughty voice, “Yes, but please don’t tell my daughter. She won’t understand.”

  “You have been corresponding with a woman called Sexy Slut, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, yes,” the old man giggled, drool dripping from his chin. “She is one of the nicest ladies on the net.”

  “How long have you two been talking?”

  “For years,” the old man answered. He started counting on his fingers. “Four years to be exact. I’m not in any trouble, am I?”

  “No, no,” Sauer answered.

  “She has been quiet of late. I miss talking to her late at night, when I can’t sleep.”

  “Do you know if she talked to other men on these sex chat lines?”

  “No, she wouldn’t. She told me that she loves me.” The old man pondered for a moment. “Is she looking for me?” he asked worriedly. “I hope not…I told a few fibs. Took a few years off my age and so on…” he pondered for a moment.

  I would also worry if I told people I am a forty something stud that is hung like a horse, while in reality I am a decrepit old invalid.

  “No sir,” Sauer said. “She asked us to come and tell you that she is moving away and won’t be talking to you anymore.” Sauer’s face went blood red. He could feel his ears burning. He was the worse liar in the world. The police force could never use him for undercover work because he would start blushing deeply when he lied. Sweat would run down his back and it felt as if his ears would start flapping any moment.

  “Really? Can one do that?” asked the old man.

  “Do what?” Sauer asked.

  “Tell the police to deliver messages to people on the Internet?”

  “Yes, but you may only contact me about messages like that. I am assigned to this area.” Flap, flap went the ears. Sauer handed the old man his card.

  Hobbs got up, walked out of the bedroom down the hall and out the front door. He stood outside admiring the pretty garden dazzling with colorful flowers. There are still some good things left on this earth. We just have to open our eyes and find it. And perhaps our hearts.

  The daughter was busy with the sprinkling system at the pink petunia flower bed.

  “You don’t have a son with the same name as your father?”

  “No, I was never married.”

  Children are born out of wedlock you know! “So you never had children?”

  “No…unfortunately not. I would have liked to have a few, but things worked out differently.”

  “Is there a picture of you on this Internet chat show?” Sauer asked the old man.

  “Yes, it was taken some years ago…”

  “When you were forty-six?”

  The old man giggled. “I did not mean to do any harm. For me it was just harmless chatting. She was the one who started the sex nonsense. I just played along.”

  “Is it easy to make up a fake profile and get the girls to chat with you?”

  “As easy as pie. And you won’t believe how eager the girls are to share their sexual details with you.”

  “Maybe they are lying…just like you.”

  “Maybe…but even so, it is meant to be harmless fun. We all get our rocks off, and then go to bed alone with our fantasies.”

  “How old are you really?”

  “Why? You are not going to tell?”

  “No.”

  “I’m eighty-three.”

  Sauer said his hurried good-byes to the father and followed Hobbs out the front door. Hobbs and the daughter were talking about gardening. Sauer could not imagine Hobbs working in a garden. The daughter buzzed the electric fence open while walking with Sauer outside. Hobbs was standing against the car when Sauer slammed the passenger door shut behind him.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Sauer shrieked. “Back to fucking square one!”

  Hobbs stared through the windshield into oblivion, taking deep drags from his cigarette, trying to find clues and thinking of things they had missed. They sat in the idling car in front of the old man’s house.

  The daughter saw this and came walking towards them. “What was that all about?” she demanded through the passenger window at Hobbs.

  Sauer heaved his body out of the car, walked round the car and towered over the woman. “Are you aware of the fact t
hat your dad visits sex chat lines on the net?”

  “My dad would never do a thing like that. He is a decent man. He worked hard all his life and provided well for us. He never drank or lifted a finger to any of us,” she shouted at Sauer.

  “Yes,” he said, “and all Christians are honest and Jesus was born on December twenty-fifth.”

  The daughter stared at him. “I hope you have evidence of this. I am not leaving this matter here. I will not allow you to slander my father like this.” Sauer got in the car as she started ranting at him again. Hobbs drove off as soon as Sauer’s ass hit the seat.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hobbs drove slowly to their favorite bar and stopped outside. Time to eat and drink. Hobbs’s phone starting ringing in his breast pocket. He recognized it as Hansen’s number.

  “Hobbs,” he said, nevertheless.

  “Hansen here…what have you boys got for me?”

  “Nothing—a false lead. Just some old perv chatting up women for a sexual kick.”

  “Are you sure it can’t be him?” the superintendent asked.

  “Positive. On the Internet provider’s data, he lists himself as being forty-six years old. He forgot to add the other forty years. Also, he is an invalid living with his retired, spinster daughter.”

  “Shit.” This was Hansen’s favorite swear word. He felt as despondent as the two detectives.

  Hobbs and Sauer walked into the bar. The barman knew them well and started pouring a drink for each. Sauer sipped his brandy and coke in silence while Hobbs muttered ‘fuck’ in between sips of his beer. They did not speak to each other. Each man was busy with his own thoughts.

  By the time they had their third drink, Hobbs mellowed a little and Sauer was busy with a huge pub lunch of fried chicken and chips he ordered with his second drink.

  “So,” Sauer eventually spoke, “which one of us gets to ask the Internet lady out first?”

  “You go for it,” Hobbs said. “But first, eat it all. Let no crumb escape undigested.”

  Sauer put his huge arm around Hobbs’s shoulder, grinned and said, “Come on lover boy, stop being sour. Did you not see the way she ogled you?”

  “Who? Me?” Hobbs asked, playing dumb.

  “Pretty, little Miss Watson…with the long, blond hair, and the blue dress so tight…and those long, brown legs…”

  “Why don’t you go fuck yourself,” Hobbs retorted shaking the huge arm off his shoulder.

  “Oh boy, Georgie Porgy, pudding and pie, makes all the girls cry.”

  Hobbs’s phone rang again. He turned his back to Sauer and talked briefly. He turned back to Sauer and looked into his blue eyes. “My blue-eyed girlfriend wants to consult with us as soon as possible at the mortuary,” he said jokingly.

  “Soon,” Sauer said, “just let me finish my late lunch.” Yet, he made no effort to eat any faster. Bad for digestion, his mother taught him.

  Chomping on a handful of potato chips, Sauer felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He looked at the unknown number on the screen, swallowed his food and answered in his most threatening voice, “Sauer.”

  “Hi, this is Amy Watson speaking.” Sauer spat out the chips he was chewing on. Amy! Pretty Amy phoned him! Then he remembered he gave her his card. Hobbs looked at him in disgust. “We met this morning when you guys came to my office with the interdict.”

  Sauer melted at hearing her voice. “Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?” Flap, flap goes his ears.

  “I think you pocketed the interdict instead of giving it to me,” Amy said.

  “I doubt it but let me see…” Sauer fumbled through this jacket, which was hanging over the back of the chair. There it was, tucked in one of the inside pockets.

  “Shit sorry,” he said more to himself than to her. “Yes, I must have accidently taken it with me again.”

  “It’s just that I need it should there be any queries. Some subscribers tend to cause trouble when the privacy clause is broken,” she added.

  “Tell you what,” Sauer said, “Hobbs and I are just about finished with our lunch. Then I’ll come give the interdict to you personally.”

  Hobbs listened to this conversation with great interest. He smiled at Sauer over the rim of his beer glass.

  “You coming?” Sauer asked as he jumped from his chair. He wiped his mouth vigorously with a crumbled napkin.

  “No, not yet—but by the sound of things you will be soon.”

  “Ha, ha, ha! Jealousy makes you nasty. She phoned me, not you,” Sauer sang as he walked out of the bar.

  “Tell you what,” Hobbs said following Sauer out the door, “on the way to go and see your latest girlfriend, why don’t you drop me off at the mortuary so I can speak to my latest girlfriend?”

  “Sounds good, that way three won’t be a crowd.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sauer dropped Hobbs at the gate of the mortuary. He drove off at high speed very tempted to put on the sirens. His heart was singing. Just maybe she could like me…for who I am.

  Sauer screamed into the parking lot. So keen was he to see Amy, that he again brought the official vehicle to a standstill on the paving in front of the building. He slammed the door and marched through the entrance. Carl was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t bother to announce himself at reception. Instead, he indicated to Blondie behind the desk that he was on his way to Amy. He walked down the dark hall to Amy’s door, knocked, and not waiting for a reply, shoved the door open and entered. He walked slap-bang into a fierce argument.

  Amy stood behind her desk, her face red. Opposite her stood a man—one of these metro men that could pose on a magazine cover. He was dressed in the latest men’s fashion. Now what did you think? A girl like this would go for an overworked, underpaid cop? They were screaming at each other at the top of their voices. Sauer took a few steps back and savoring the moment, listened as the two shouted ‘fuck you’ back and forth. Index fingers pointed and punched the air at each other. He was just starting to get the drift of the argument when the man walked around the desk and slapped Amy in the face. She gave a little yelp, more of shock than hurt.

  Sauer ran the few meters to her desk, dived over the desk and caught the man around his hips. The force of the dive sent both men crashing to the floor with Sauer on top. Metro man did not know what hit him, but knew he was in trouble. His hands covered his face. Sauer got up and picked Metro man off the floor with his left hand. He shook him hard. “Why the fuck do you hit women?” he shouted. Sauer’s right hand connected with Metro man’s jaw and sent him flying. Metro man skidded across the floor but came to an abrupt standstill when his head hit the wall with a dull thud.

  Before he could get up, Sauer’s left hand picked him off the floor again and slammed another fist into his nose. Again, Metro man hit the floor and could feel blood gushing from his face.

  Sauer only became aware of Amy’s screaming when he picked Metro man off the floor again. He stood up, his feet straddling Metro man. He saw Carl Clipboard and Blondie frozen in the door. Both their faces were horror struck. Sauer turned and watched as the hysterical Amy sank into her chair. Her hands covered her face and she sobbed uncontrollably. Sauer looked at Metro man at his feet.

  “Get the fuck out of here before I hurt you,” he barked.

  Both Clipboard and Blondie scampered out of the doorway. Sauer walked to Amy. Metro man got up slowly and looked at Sauer. His designer hairdo was a mess. There was blood on his shirt. Sauer took out his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Amy. She took it without argument. She loudly blew her nose and then sobbed into it.

  Metro man finally found his legs and got up. His face was starting to swell and blood dripped from his nose. “I will sue the shit out of you!” he said at Sauer. His voice was shaking.

  “I fucking dare you! I will arrest you for assault—and throw your sorry ass into jail where the scum of the earth will deal with you and your pretty, tight butt cheeks as you deserve!”

  Metro man skulked out
of the office. Blondie came rushing in. She hugged Amy from behind and poured her a glass of water. “Come, drink this.” Blondie lifted the glass to Amy’s lips.

  Why do they always force people in shock to drink sugar water? Sauer wondered. “Get out,” he barked at Blondie. She put down the glass and scampered off. Carl Clipboard closed the door behind them.

  “You okay?” Sauer asked Amy. Her face was red where Metro man had hit her.

  “I’m fine…” she stammered.

  “Can I do anything for you?” he asked, not knowing what to say or do. Amy shook her head.

  “I’m sorry to beat him up like that. I suppose it is instinct. In my line of work we see horrible things.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want to lay assault charges against him? Can I get you some ice for your face?”

  “No, I’m better now.” She kept fiddling with his handkerchief. “I’m sorry,” she eventually stammered. “Do you do this kind of thing often?”

  “What?”

  “Rescuing damsels in distress.”

  “Only sometimes…”

  “And beating up lousy boyfriends,” she said, then adding quickly, “ex-boyfriends.”

  “Only when they slap their women in front of me.” He looked at her as she cried into his handkerchief again. Very gently, as if not to disturb her crying, he put his hand on her shoulder and said softly close to her ear, “Can I get you anything? Water? Ice? Brandy?”

  Amy just shook her head without looking up. Eventually, she managed to say, “Perhaps it would be better if you left.”

  “Phone me if you need anything,” he said softly as he got up and walked out the door. He passed the stunned Blondie and Carl Clipboard who were hovering in the hallway outside her office. He walked slowly down the dark hall towards the entrance. The late afternoon sun warmed his shoulder and he felt himself relaxing.

  He looked around, but there was nothing. Where did I park the car? He couldn’t remember. Maybe that fucking Carl moved it again. But no…the car was gone.

  “Carl,” he growled like an injured boar as he marched back into the building. “Where the fuck did you park my car?”