by Quig Shelby
‘If it gets any bigger I just might cut it off,’ warned Bheki smiling.
It helped. But it was going to be difficult for Joost, with Bheki’s lurid past coming alive.
‘I was a prostitute for three years. Anything went, almost, and mostly in grimy cars with dirty old men.’
Joost was almost salivating, and tried to think of something to dampen his ardour - Vankoni. It didn’t work.
‘Does that turn you on?’ she asked, seeing the answer bobbing before her eyes.
‘Of course,’ replied Joost, as though it were as simple as liking vodka with lime.
Bheki kissed him on the forehead.
‘You going to untie me now?’ he asked.
‘On one condition.’
‘Go on.’
Joost had to repent by licking her lollipop ass all night, or until she fell asleep.
In the morning they faced each other across the breakfast table with tired eyes, and a knowing smile. At least they both knew who they were dealing with.
‘Where did you get that knife?’ asked Joost.
‘It was a gift, from a friend. You would have liked her, she was a hooker too.’
‘Do you still see her?’ asked Joost.
Bheki knew what he was thinking, and playfully slapped his wrist.
‘No, she vanished. No goodbye, nothing. She’s dead.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Believe me Joost, I know.
He held her hand, gently.
‘What was her name?’
‘Lilu. She was a real beauty.’
Now it was Bheki’s turn to look heart broken.
‘I lost someone close too,’ said Joost.
Though Bheki wasn’t in the mood for heart ache.
‘Come on,’ she said, getting up from the table ‘we’re on holiday, and I want to take you somewhere.’
She suspected something terrible had happened to his wife, and was glad to have told Eudy where they were going. It looked like anything was possible with Joost.
They were standing in the sparsely populated Dapper Musee.
‘I’m beginning to think you’re a collector,’ said Joost as they looked at another African statue through the museum glass.
‘Only the one I told you about; a present from home.’
Actually there used to be two, but Bheki had leant its partner to Lilu to treasure for a while, and to look after her adopted sister. When she was spirited away, because she’d have never left without saying goodbye, the statue went with her.
‘Look I know it’s cold outside, but I’d really love to go up the Eiffel Tower,’ said Joost.
‘Well go on then.’
‘Not on my own.’
‘Oh I see. Now you want to frighten me.’
Joost laughed.
‘I just want to share the fun.’
‘Like last night I guess,’ she said smiling.
‘I tell you what, promise to tell me your biggest secret once we’re at the top, and I’ll come and hold your hand’ said Bheki.
‘OK I promise,’ said Joost.
‘Well what are we doing here then, let’s go.’
The view was naturally spectacular, although Bheki wasn’t looking.
‘I’m waiting,’ she said.
‘This is really going to sound ridiculous, but you did ask.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘You remember that crocodile mask in my flat,’ said Joost.
‘The one that gave you palpitations when I touched it.’
‘Yes.’
She had noticed after all.
‘It comes alive.’
Bheki laughed so loud a group of tourists turned around to look.
‘I knew you wouldn’t believe me,’ said Joost.
‘But why would it do that?’ asked Bheki.
‘Well to cut a long story short it’s helping me.’
‘Alright, but I can think of someone else who could offer better help, like a psychiatrist perhaps.’
‘No really, it sees things, Spirits. You know, voodoo and all that stuff.’
Bheki sure enough knew about voodoo, and the crazy things that could happen.
‘Alright, here’s what we’ll do. When we’re back in London ask your crocodile who gave me my statue,’ said Bheki ‘then I’ll believe you.’
‘That’s it,’ said Joost.
‘Yep, simple isn’t it,’ she said.
She raised her eyes to the sky, and shook her head.
‘If it knows that then perhaps you’re not crazy after all. And don’t worry Joost I won’t tell anyone, I don’t want you locked up just yet. Well not all of you.’
Bheki had time to take a few more snapshots of Joost, outside of Notre Dame Cathedral, for Eudy, before it was time to kiss Paris bon voyage. But boy had it been worth it!
Chapter Eighteen
Joost was looking down at the street below from his flat window. It was snowing again, lightly, but enough to let you know it was going to be a cold hard winter. His recliner was pushed towards the window, and he held a glass in his hand. Already the shop across the street had a Christmas tree in the front, and as he swirled his brandy Joost contemplated whether he would be giving Bheki a present, or kissing her goodbye under the mistletoe.
Having a knife to his balls was a sobering moment, although he was glad to have unloaded the truth about John. But what did she really want? What did she expect?
And what about him? He was certainly saving money, and she used to be a hooker; unless she was teasing him, but some of her recollections were too accurate. Paris was fun, but he’d have to find a way to keep her around without her getting too close; if that’s what he wanted. But he wasn’t sure. Would Stella forgive him if he fell in love again? Would he forgive himself?
If only he had a friend to ask, to trust. There was Dilwood his business partner, but they’d grown apart since his marriage; he no longer did drugs, or hookers.
He thought about Vankoni, and the threat posed from Dela. Involving the police could push Vankoni underground, and he couldn’t afford that. On top of that, Dilwood had used dirty money to start the agency, and was still using it to clean a lot of his cash; where it came from Joost had stopped wondering long ago. He poured himself another stiff one, and looked at Bheki’s cartoon.
‘How did it go?’ asked Eudy, as they finished getting ready for church.
Eudy was albino too, but had a lot more freckles than Bheki.
‘Well he’s a pretty unusual guy’ replied Bheki, referring to Joost.
Eudy was living with Bheki, and heavily pregnant. The conditions were much less cramped than the bedsit she used to stay.
‘Where’s Themba?’ asked Bheki.
‘He’s taking his mum to the airport. She goes home today.’
Themba was Eudy’s husband. They were waiting for their own place, and hoping the baby would put them higher up the housing list. He stayed at the weekends, but in the week it was impractical; after all he was only human.
‘What’s he like in bed?’
‘Adventurous,’ replied Bheki smiling, pulling on her best white stockings.
‘And?’
Eudy was applying the last of her makeup in the dressing mirror.
‘A little deviant.’
‘Aren’t they all? But do you mean a little, or a lot?’
‘A lot, actually.’
‘Sounds like a perfect match then,’ said Eudy laughing.
‘Perhaps.’
‘When do we get to meet him?’
‘Pretty soon, but I don’t want to scare him away.’
‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that if he looks like this’ said Eudy, pointing at the
Parisian cartoon Bheki had pinned to her bedroom wall.
‘Wait until you see the photos,’ said Bheki, as Eudy zipped up her dress.
In the bin was Joost’s tie cut to ribbons. Half of her loved him, whilst the other half hated him for making her feel out of control.
Themba joined them later, at Pastor Goodyear’s Church of Loving Saints.
Gladys was sitting at the back of St Agnes, but the infant’s cries still tore through her; bloodcurdling. She couldn’t get the last poor wretch out of her mind, and how he had died; slaughtered worse than an animal. Somehow the victim had sensed her unease, and he kept watching her right up to his final moments. And yet here she was in church the following Sunday with some of the butchers.
She had to shut up the screams, and closed everything out. James was performing the christening, and as many doting eyes were upon him as they were the babe. She always leaned against Charles Carney amid these moments of crisis, but he was out of town for the weekend. She’d have to speak to James after the service, over a cup of tea and a slice of fruitcake she had made with Christine. Gladys had only pined for a child, although you couldn’t tell she was nearly five months pregnant. She’d never bargained on murder when her pastor had first mentioned a less than Christian path.
Gladys stood up with the rest of the church to recite a eulogy in praise of Mr and Mrs Greene’s newly arrived bundle of joy. Gasper Owido, who was no relation, nonetheless held up his camera for a few happy snaps for his soothsayer. Dela wanted an injection of cash, and was exploring possibilities. She’d also spotted her first wrinkle on her heavily coconut oiled skin.
‘Full house Gladys, you should be proud; you’ve done a great job getting the church all spick and span.’
‘Thanks James. I did have a little help though.’
‘You shouldn’t be too modest Gladys. You know your involvement is appreciated,’ and he gave Gladys a knowing look.
He was trying to bolster her courage, but like a couple of the others suspected she was becoming a weak link. Christine had heard her throw up in the Ladies the other night at The Crossed Heart.
‘Do you think we could have a word James, in private?’
He looked around, as though to say perhaps another time, but then Gladys’ dejected demeanour helped to change his mind.
‘Of course let me just tell Eve we’re going for a stroll.’
He took Eve another cup of tea, before they braved the chill outside, and confidently whispered a little sweet talk now he had the tongue in his pocket. It was wrapped, naturally.
‘Alright then Gladys I’m all yours.’
He nearly said I’m all ears, but with Gladys violently recoiling from the other night he thought better of it.
He listened, he sympathised. But eventually he had to say ‘you knew what you were getting into Gladys.’
‘It was stupid of me James. I was just so desperate to conceive.’
‘And you have. What if you stay away from Dela and the rest of us for a while, would that help?’
‘Sure, but I’m going out of my mind. I don’t know what to do.’
‘I hope you’re not thinking of doing anything stupid Gladys. There’s a lot at stake for all of us. And we’re all just as guilty, remember that.’
‘Of course.’
The worrying thing for James was that Gladys didn’t look like she believed his last statement. And although she’d been present on many occasions she’d never truly stabbed, hacked, cut or sliced anyone or anything. It was perturbing, equally so since Lucy was improving, and Eve was beginning to melt to his charms.
Between two tombstones a frosted spider’s net glistened in the sun. Gladys had to be spun a web too.
‘Gladys look I’ll sort things out for you, and in a short while you’ll be free of us all with a beautiful bouncing baby on your knee.’
Gladys smiled.
‘Just don’t worry. I promise everything will be alright. Trust me I’m a vicar.’
‘Let’s see what you come up with James, but no more meetings for me, I’ve lost my appetite.’
‘Alright, but just one last favour Gladys.’
‘Go on,’ she said wearily.
‘Help Christine at the village bonfire next week, there isn’t time to find anyone else.’
Gladys paused, but finally relinquished. After all what harm could it do?
‘Why not,’ she said smiling, and they both went indoors.
Meanwhile the fat spider gorged on another hapless mite.
Chapter Nineteen
Post Paris was an anti-climax, at least for Joost; Bheki was too busy working to notice. But her three nights at Blackfriars were coming to an end, and inevitably they would hook up. The break wouldn’t do Bheki any harm; she needed a little time to think. Joost was a fine looking man, without a doubt, but could she trust him to stop crawling the streets? Then again she wasn’t a saint, and at least she could hate him on a whim, if she needed.
The noise from next door was made all the more disconcerting by Bheki’s absence. Mrs Jones it seemed had taken Josh’s disappearance with good grace, and had taken a male friend for companionship. Whether this was the lover Josh would rant and rave about until the early hours of the morning he would never know. But it seemed an appropriate time to summon John.
‘How was Paris?’ asked John.
‘I think we both had a good time,’ replied Joost to the reptile looking up at his knees.
‘And did you tell her about Dela?’
‘Only about the manikin she gave me.’
Joost looked a little maudlin. He didn’t really want to use Bheki at all, well not for that.
‘It’s a dangerous game Joost, but you don’t need to play it anymore.’
‘Why not?’
‘Dela knows about you and me; they don’t need any bait.’
‘How’s that possible?’
‘After your visit she asked Eshu a few searching questions.’
‘Who?’
‘He’s a messenger between the living and the dead.’
‘It gets better all the time,’ said Joost.
‘Do you want to hear the worst of it?’
‘Go on,’ said Joost.
He took a deep breath, and readied himself.
‘They’ve already tried to kill you once, but they grabbed Joshua Templemead by mistake.’
‘So that’s where the little devil went too,’ said Joost with a grin.
‘They won’t stop now Joost.’
‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me? I guess I could always go to the police,’ said Joost half-heartedly.
‘Maybe. But what about the cash Dilwood launders through the agency?’
‘You know about that?’ asked Joost surprised; though he shouldn’t have been.
‘And more,’ replied John ominously.
‘And then there’s your drug use, to say nothing of Bheki’s false ID, and that’s if they believe you. Do you really want them snooping around?’ asked John, driving the final nail in the coffin.
There was another reason; a burden that weighed heavily on Joost’s soul, especially considering his own misfortunes. It happened the night he first met Dilwood Benson. Joost suspected John knew about that too; after all didn’t he know everything?
‘OK then let’s not be hasty,’ said Joost.
‘If I do see it through, I could get to Vankoni. But is that enough?’ he asked aloud ‘considering all the risks?’
‘That’s up to you. In the meantime why don’t you take Bheki to see Dilwood and his wife,’ said John.
‘Why?’ asked Joost surprised.
‘I just think it might be a good idea.’
John was beginning to blur into the carpet, as the heroin high bade farewell
.
‘I’d better get going Joost. Just remember what I said.’
‘Oh John before you go. Do you know who gave Bheki some kind of African statue?’
‘Sure that’s easy, her grandma, Akuaa Mathebula.’
‘And John’
‘Next time Joost, next time.’
Joost was bent over in the corridor, in front of a tall rubber plant.
‘What on earth are you doing Joost?’ asked Irena.
‘Just checking the roots,’ he replied.
‘Why in heavens name would you do that?’ asked Irena puzzled.
It was the only plant in the building, left by the previous occupants, and tended by the cleaner.
‘Something I read,’ he said.
Joost patted the earth one last time, and they entered the office together. He had buried the manikin Dela gave him.
‘Tea?’ asked Irena.
‘Please.’
‘Good weekend?’ she asked.
‘Different. And you?’
‘Excellent.’
Irena had found a man of her own, and began to wonder what she had ever seen in Joost.
‘Joost you haven’t forgot about the help you promised me, have you?’ she asked.
‘Of course not. In fact I’ve got someone to start next week,’ he lied.
‘Well done. Then perhaps at last I can start looking for more customers. After all that’s why you hired me isn’t it?’
‘Yes. And if you take a look on your desk there’s a small present for getting us the Blackfriars contract.’
It was a set of French perfumes.
‘Thanks Joost,’ said Irena ‘but a little commission would have been better.’
‘Don’t worry I’m working on it. I just need to run it past Dilwood.’
‘Oh by the way he phoned last Friday. Wondered when you were coming over for dinner?’
‘If he phones again when I’m out, tell him I’d love to see him, and I’ll be bringing a friend.’
Irena knew it was Bheki but no longer cringed, she was more than happy with her new beau.
He’d been introduced by a boyfriend. That should have been old boyfriend, but he was determined to hang on.
‘Aah Miss Ncube. Thank you for bringing him along, a truly fine specimen,’ said the elderly African man with the thick spectacles.