‘Your fingerprints are all over these, Doctor.’ Bismarck stared at the cassettes with open grief. Slow tears welled up in his eyes. Hertzog paused. ‘Doctor Bismarck, you can make this easy on yourself. Or you can choose to drag this thing out. It’s time you confessed. It’s time you accounted for your crimes.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking –’
Hertzog pushed another fax towards Bismarck. ‘For the last six months you’ve been depositing five-thousand rand into her account every month.’ He pushed another statement towards Bismarck. ‘Every month,’ he said shoving another, ‘between the first and the fifth of every month,’ and another, ‘for six months,’ and another, ‘except this month.’ Hertzog slammed the last paper down on the desk. ‘Michelle disappeared on the thirtieth of May. And for the month of June ... there are no deposits.’ He glared at Bismarck. ‘Now why would you stop making payments, Doctor Bismarck? Unless you knew she wouldn’t be there to claim it.’ Hertzog pointed an accusing finger at him. ‘You knew Michelle wasn’t holed up in some drug den. You knew she wasn’t going to suddenly make an appearance. Because you killed her.’
‘No. No.’
‘And then ... two weeks later ... during a clandestine meeting that you organised ... you killed your teen lover.
Bismarck jumped up. Jannie stepped towards him. ‘Stop referring to him like that.’ His face was distorted by rage and sorrow. ‘Don’t you understand? I loved him. I loved him with all my wretched heart and soul.’ Tears streamed down his face. ‘I loved him more than I have ever loved anything or anyone. Ever before.’ He stared at Hertzog with anguished pain. ‘I know it may appear disgusting to you but what we shared was real ... and true.’ He slumped down on the chair. ‘I would rather take my own life before I hurt him.’ Both Hertzog and Jools were shocked at the intensity of his emotions. Bismarck cried with undisguised sorrow. ‘Yes. I was having a romantic relationship with a teenage boy. Yes, goddammit yes. Michelle was blackmailing me. Yes. But I did not kill either of them. You may not like me. You may not trust me. But you can believe me when I tell you I did not kill them.’ Hertzog glared at Bismarck.
Silence.
‘I loved Manie. But in the end ...’ Hot tears welled up in the doctor’s eyes. ‘I ended our relationship. On the day ...’ Bismarck folded his hand over his mouth. ‘On the day he disappeared, I broke it off. I loved him. But our love could never be. Not in South Africa. Not in Coffee.’ He stared at Hertzog with teary eyes. ‘It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I did it for us both. For our futures. For our families.’
Silence.
Hertzog stared at Bismarck with mute intensity. For a long time no-one spoke. Then Hertzog sighed with chagrin. And cast his eyes down to the floor. After a moment Hertzog turned towards the two-way mirror behind him. ‘Detective Doober, please escort the doctor to the holding cells. A few seconds later Dog appeared. He and Jannie helped Bismarck to his feet. They escorted him through the doorway. In the distance Major Bismarck, Mayor Botha and several others were congregated in a tight group, scowling at the Pretoria detectives. Hertzog closed the door. ‘Dammit!’ He slammed both fists down on the table. ‘Dammit!’ Then again. And again. ‘Goddammit!’ He stood up and rushed towards the wall. With all his might he threw a punch at the face-brick wall, screaming.
Jools rushed over. ‘For Christ’s sake, Shaun.’ Hertzog held his shaking hand out before him. Blood flowed across his fingers. He breathed in great big gulps of air. ‘Take it easy, man.’ Jools placed an arm around his heaving shoulder. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself.’ Jools looked around. ‘You can’t fix everything.’ He made Hertzog face him. ‘Listen to me. You can’t always fix everything.’ Hertzog nodded. His lower lip trembled as if he were about to start crying. ‘You can’t.’ He led his friend to the table and made him sit. ‘If you weren’t such a tee-totalling freak I would buy you a drink.’ Hertzog smiled thinly.
Silence.
Jools put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know we don’t have hard evidence, but give it a while.’ Jools smiled with encouragement. ‘A little more pressure and he’ll –’
‘We’ve got nothing, Jools.’ They were alone now. The only time Hertzog called his friend by his first name. He stared at Jools with frustration.
‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it nothing. We –’
‘We needed that confession, Jools. Without it we’ve got nothing but a load of paper-thin circumstantial evidence.’
‘Well, maybe –’
‘It’s not just the lack of evidence, Jools.’ Hertzog glared at the surface of the table. ‘I believe him.’
‘What?’
‘He’s telling the truth.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I am.’ Hertzog raised his head. ‘He didn’t do it.’ He cradled his injured hand. ‘I know he didn’t do it.’ He cursed under his breath. ‘Almost two weeks in this madhouse ... and we’ve got practically nothing to show for it.’
Silence.
‘So you really believe he’s telling the truth?’
‘Jools, there’s something we’re not being told. They’re keeping something from us. Something crucial. Something vital. Something that’s the key to all this madness.’
Jools nodded slowly. ‘You’re damn right about that.’ He pondered, frowning. ‘I mean, what the hell was that exchange with the mayor all about?’
Hertzog nodded. His breathing had subsided. He spoke slowly. A fresh calm had descended over him. ‘Exactly. That’s a very good question. Why would Bismarck “betray” them?’
‘I hope you realise by now that all small towns are fucked up. I mean, we got blackmail, secret meetings and illicit affairs with teenage boys. Holy shit. How many secrets can one little town possibly have?’
Hertzog looked at Jools, a grave expression on his face. ‘I have a feeling we’re about to find out.’
Thirty-four
‘So what now, boss?’
The four detectives were driving to the guesthouse in the Defender. Up until that moment there had been silence. Each man caught up in his own thoughts. Until Dog had spoken.
Hertzog sat for a moment, contemplative. ‘We’ve got a bail hearing scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.’ He sat for a moment in the passenger seat, silent. ‘I’ve asked the prosecutor not to oppose bail.’
‘You’re going to let him go?’ Jannie Duvenhage asked.
‘That’s hardly “letting him go”, detective. Doctor Bismarck will be released on his own recognisance, under certain stipulated conditions. He must tender his passport and is not allowed to leave the province.’ Hertzog gazed at a group of Black children playing in the growing dusk of De Beers Street. ‘I think he has enough problems of his own right now. He doesn’t need to spend time behind bars. In any case, it will allow us to keep him under our thumb until we learn more.’ Hertzog rubbed his eyes. He had not said anything to the other two detectives about his suspicions that Bismarck was telling the truth.
‘He had sex with an under-aged boy.’ Duvenhage stared at the other detectives.
Hertzog half-turned in his chair, looking tired and drained. ‘In the first place, detective, Manie Botha was seventeen at the time of his disappearance. Which included the night he spent with the doctor at the guesthouse. In the second place ...’ Hertzog sighed, ‘... our main concern is murder, not supposed sex crimes.’
Jannie Duvenhage fell back in his chair, arms folded. ‘Well. I think he’s a sick paedophile who should spend the rest of his flippin life behind bars.’
Dog looked over at Duvenhage then at Hertzog. ‘Ja,’ he said. ‘I totally agree.’ Duvenhage looked at him with surprise. Hertzog said nothing, staring straight ahead.
Silence.
‘Detective Doober, have you found anything at the Bredekamp house yet?’ Hertzog asked, referring to the alleged suicide victim’s house.
Dog cleared his throat. ‘Well, it turns out the house belongs to his sister. Which means, except for a basic walk-ar
ound, we can’t do a more detailed search. And since she’s not a suspect in her brother’s death, we’re going to need a full warrant to search the premises properly. We requested a warrant from a Bloemfontein magistrate.’ Hertzog nodded. ‘In the meantime, we found a locked door. Looks like it leads to a basement area. We’re going to break it open as soon as the warrant is issued.’
‘Okay, good. Keep me updated.’
‘Sure thing.’
Silence.
‘Please pull over here,’ Hertzog said after a few minutes.
‘You need something?’
Hertzog looked over at Jools. ‘Something like that,’ he said, climbing out of the car. He walked into the OK Supermarket and headed for the butchery. Relief washed over his face as he spotted Marike.
When she saw him a bright smile spread across her face. ‘Look at you.’ She waved. She glanced around and stepped out from behind the counter. ‘I’ve been thinking about you,’ she said, blurting out the words. She froze, biting her lip. Aware of what she had said. ‘I mean, I’ve been thinking about the case. I heard about the arrest.’ The slightest blush crept across her cheeks.
Hertzog stared at her. Enjoying her features. Delighting in her simple unassuming beauty. ‘Well, I’ve been thinking about you.’
Her eyes grew wide as she stared at him with intensity. The way a child would look at an instructive parent. ‘Really?’
He nodded slowly. ‘How have you been?’
She nodded with wild enthusiasm. ‘I’ve been good.’
‘Excellent.’ Hertzog looked around. ‘Where’s ... Jack?’
‘Oh.’ She bowed her head. ‘He’s out. Getting supplies.’ She didn’t meet his eyes.
Hertzog stepped forward. Anger touched his eyes. ‘I’ve seen him. With ... with the other –’
She reached out and grabbed both his hands, looking into his eyes. ‘Please. I know ... please don’t.’ Hertzog nodded.
Silence.
She looked down. ‘Your hands. They’re so warm.’
He disentangled one of his hands from her fierce grip. ‘I brought you something.’ He reached into the side pocket of his jacket. ‘The other day, I smelt your perfume.’ He pulled out a small ornate box, still wrapped in cellophane. ‘I happened to have this lying around.’ She looked at the expensive Estee Lauder perfume with wonderment. ‘My mother used to wear the same fragrance.’ He handed it to her.
She grabbed the box with feverish little hands. And pressed it into her bosom. Her lips trembled as she laughed through tears. ‘No you didn’t, Shaun Hertzog. No man just happens to have expensive perfume lying around.’ She hugged him. ‘There’s no place within a hundred kilometres that sells this.’ She pushed Hertzog away and looked at him. ‘You went out of your way to get his for me.’ She looked at the box with glee. ‘Thank you. This is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me. Ever.’
Hertzog smiled a crooked smile. ‘You deserve it.’
‘Shaun.’ Hertzog whirled around. Jools was standing behind him. ‘Head office is on the radio.’
He turned to her. ‘I’m sorry. I have to go.’
She nodded, still clutching the box of perfume. Jools waved a greeting and turned to go. ‘Detective?’ Jools turned. ‘He’s very special, isn’t he?’
Jools nodded. ‘Yes, he is.’
‘Why does he hide so much of himself?’
‘Ma’am ... we’ve been friends for more than ten years and sometimes ...’ Jools pulled a hand through his bush of curly hair. ‘... sometimes I think I don’t know him at all.’
‘He’s the kindest person I have ever met.’
Jools looked around and took a step towards her. ‘He wasn’t always like this.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When he was younger he was, I guess what you could call, a spoilt brat.’ Jools paused. ‘And then something happened.’
Her face became crestfallen. ‘What do you mean? What happened?’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re going to have to ask him yourself.’ Jools nodded. ‘Please excuse –’
‘He knows something.’
Jools frowned. ‘I’m sure he knows –’
‘He knows about loss.’ Her eyes became hazy. ‘He knows that loss is a condition of life. And that all things contain the seeds of their own destruction.’
Jools stared at the young woman with an odd expression on his face. He excused himself and walked towards the exit.
When Jools stepped outside he saw with stunned disbelief that Hertzog was pushed up against the outside wall of the supermarket. He was pale and out of breath, a film of sweat on his brow. ‘Holy shit, what happened to you?’
‘Somebody just tried to knock me down with a car.’
‘What?’ Jools looked up and down the street, shocked. ‘Did you catch the plates?’
‘Sorry, I was too busy trying to save my life.’
Jools paced up and down in anger. ‘I don’t care what you say. We’re being too easy on these lying sons of bitches. It’s time we hammered them.’
Thirty-five
Hertzog quietly closed the door. And locked it. He made sure it was locked.
This was no business for public eyes.
He walked towards the single bed and sat on its edge. For a moment he sat motionless. Silent.
Then he closed his eyes. His lips moved with feverish intensity as he prayed.
Outside the cold night air was blanketed in silence. Inside his ferocious whispering sounded like a thousand insects feeding.
For several minutes he remained like this. Praying with mounting intensity. Then he stood. And walked towards his suitcase. It was closed but unzippered. He lifted the lid. From the bottom of the suitcase he extracted a large towel. Contained in a zip-lock plastic bag. He unzipped the bag and took out the neatly folded towel. He spread the towel on the carpeted floor in front of the bed.
Hertzog took off his suit jacket and hung it on a clothes hanger. He clipped the hanger onto a hook attached to the back of the door. He slowly undid his tie and slung it around the same hanger. Now he slowly unbuttoned his immaculate white shirtsleeves. Folding it neatly, he placed it inside a plastic bag designated for the following morning’s laundry. He was now standing only in his charcoal suit pants. He undid the top button and pulled off his trousers, one leg at a time. He neatly suspended the pants from another clothes hanger and clipped it around the same hook as the jacket. He stood before the full length mirror. Dressed only in his boxer shorts.
Hertzog placed his hands together and held them under his chin. In prayer. He stood for another few minutes. Praying with quiet but fierce intensity.
Now he walked towards the suitcase once again. From a side pocket he took a longitudinal casing made from rubber. He unzipped it. And extracted a long leather thong. It was thick. And marked with reddish-brown stains. At its one tip, four stainless steel nails had been driven through the thick leather.
Hertzog stood for a moment studying the device. He ran his thumb along the sharp points of the stainless steel nails. And pushed. Hard.
Blood flowed.
His expression remained unchanged.
Hertzog turned and walked towards the towel. He kneeled. And closed his eyes in prayer.
‘Dear God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.’
He flogged himself.
The nails tore into his flesh.
‘Dear God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.’
He flogged himself.
The nails dug deep into his flesh.
Blood flowed.
‘Dear God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.’
He flogged himself.
Blood flowed.
He flogged himself.
Blood flowed.
‘Dear God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.’
Thirty-six
Early the following morning there was a knock on Jools’s door. He opened it, standing in his boxer shorts and shirtsleeves, his tie hanging loosely ar
ound his neck.
‘They’re hiding something from us.’ Hertzog stood in the doorway, fully dressed.
‘Um ... okay.’ Jools yawned while rubbing his eyes.
‘And right now there’s only one person who’s going to tell us the truth.’ Jools nodded, one eye half open. ‘Get the others and meet me outside in five minutes.’
‘Hmm ... make it ten, okay,’ Jools said to an empty doorway. He poked his head through the doorway. ‘Ten, okay?’ he said, shouting to make himself heard as Hertzog disappeared around a corner.
Fifteen minutes later the group was standing around the Land Rover.
‘What about breakfast?’ Dog asked.
‘Later,’ Hertzog said, climbing into the passenger seat of the Landy. ‘Let’s get going.’
A few minutes later they pulled up outside the OK Supermarket.
‘What makes you think she knows anything?’ Dog looked with scepticism at the closed doors of the convenience store.
‘They all know something,’ Hertzog said, climbing out. ‘But she’s the only one who’s got nothing to lose. She’s also the only one I trust.’
He approached the locked doors of the supermarket and leaned against the opaque glass, peering inside. He knocked. And waved like a madman, trying to get the attention of someone inside. There was a loud click as someone turned the lock. The door opened.
‘We’re not open yet, sir,’ a short portly woman with thick glasses said.
‘Yes, I know,’ Hertzog said, pushing his way inside. ‘Are the butchers here yet?’
‘Aaah ...’ she said as Hertzog marched towards the in-house butchery at the back.
There was no-one behind the counter. In the back-of-store section Hertzog spotted Jack and Marike Strydom however. He walked behind the counter and approached them. Jack Strydom saw him first. Anger flashed in his eyes. Marike looked up with surprise, fearful.
‘You’re not allowed to be here,’ Jack Strydom said, marching towards Hertzog.
‘I’m here to see Marike,’ Hertzog said, meeting his glare with equal determination.
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