Deceive and Defend

by Marilyn Cohen de Villiers

  The police officer backed out the room and quietly closed the door.

  ‘Right. Where were we? Right. Where’s your little sister? She was there when Tiffany died, so I’ll have to speak to her. I’m sure she’ll tell me the truth.’

  Yair was horrified. ‘You can’t speak to Zivah – not without me. You’ll frighten her.’

  ‘Of course I won’t. I just want to ask her a few questions.’ Henti grinned. ‘But we still have more holes to close. So answer me quickly and truthfully and we’ll all be able to get out of this oven. Right. Where did you get the Ativan?’

  ‘From the doctor. I was uptight and he prescribed it.’

  ‘Oh, of course. How stupid of me. A doctor prescribed it for you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Henti leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She mopped her neck and sighed.

  Yair shifted uncomfortably on the plastic chair, dreading the next question. She was going to ask him the name of the doctor.

  ‘You’re a drug addict.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  ‘What? What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘So you confirm that you are a drug addict?’

  ‘Well yes – I mean no, not really. I’m a recovering addict. I’ve been clean for years.’

  ‘I’m sure you have. So what kind of doctor prescribes a highly addictive drug to a – what’s the PC term you used? A recovering addict?’

  Yair flushed. ‘I was never addicted to Ativan.’

  ‘Uh huh. And this doctor’s name is...?’

  Yair shrugged. ‘I can’t remember. It was at the casualty at the clinic.’

  ‘Do you really expect me to believe that a doctor who barely knew you just wrote you a script for Ativan because you said you were feeling uptight?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Even as he nodded, Yair knew how lame he sounded. Still, if he stuck to his story, Henti would have a hard time disproving it. He wouldn’t allow her to disprove it. And he would not allow her to speak to Zivah. It was crazy that he should have to fight his own lawyers when all he wanted to do was admit to the murder, and get this whole disaster over and done with.

  ‘Ooookay. Tiffany was pregnant with your child.’ Another statement, not a question.

  ‘No!’

  ‘She wasn’t? And you know that for sure, how?’

  ‘Because I’ve never slept with her.’

  Henti slammed her hand on the table. ‘And that’s a big fat lie, right there!’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake. I had sex with her a few times. But we were kids!’

  ‘So if it wasn’t your baby, whose was it?’

  ‘Her husband’s. Cecil Zaldain’s.’

  ‘How do you know?

  ‘Because she told me. When I met her in New York.’

  ‘So why were you going to marry her?’

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘But you were engaged.’

  ‘We weren’t.’

  ‘Then why did you buy an engagement ring from Tiffany’s in New York?’

  Yair gasped. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘That’s not important. The fact is you bought a diamond engagement ring from Tiffany’s while you were with Tiffany in New York.’

  ‘I wasn’t with Tiffany in New York. I ran into her there.’

  ‘And the ring?’

  ‘It wasn’t for her.’

  ‘So who was it for?’

  Yair swallowed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Any chance you can persuade this mystery person to come forward and admit to being your fiancée, or at least to confirm that you proposed.’

  ‘I didn’t propose.’

  ‘Right. What did you do with the ring?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s in my safe. At home.’

  ‘Why did you kill her?’

  ‘What? Who? Tiffany?’

  ‘Of course Tiffany! Don’t tell me you’re claiming to have killed someone else too. Never mind, don’t answer that. Why did you kill Tiffany?’

  ‘Why? I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh come on, Yair. You’ve had long enough to think up a reason. But it better be good because at the moment, it makes no sense. According to your story, you rescued her in New York when she had been left pregnant and destitute following the death of her husband; you gave her a place to stay in your own home. By your own account, you weren’t close and you hadn’t been for years. You were just being kind because you are a nice, kind person. Nice kind people don’t kill – well, not very often. So why did you kill her?’

  ‘Because. Because we had a fight.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘She was ruining my life. She had lied to... to the woman I loved – the woman I wanted to marry. She had driven her away. I just wanted Tiffany to go away too.’

  ‘So why didn’t you just throw her out of your house?’

  ‘I tried. She refused to leave.’

  ‘Where did you get the insulin?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The insulin. That’s what actually killed Tiffany, according to the pathologist’s report. You aren’t diabetic, neither was she – and neither was any member of your household. It’s not something a doctor would simply prescribe for anyone who asked for it, not even a doctor who prescribes Ativan for drug addicts. You can’t buy it in a pharmacy without a prescription. I’ve never heard of it being for sale on the street – it doesn’t make you high. So where did you get it?’

  Yair clamped his mouth shut.

  Chapter 22

  Yair

  A small, skinny girl with short dark hair, wearing blue jeans and a red top, was standing staring out of the window at the parking lot as Yair was escorted into the visitor’s room by the Jewish police reservist. Darryl was standing next to her. The girl turned and Yair sat down heavily on the dirty plastic chair. He swallowed and blinked but he couldn’t stop the tears flowing down his cheeks.

  Darryl stood awkwardly at the window.

  ‘Twenty minutes – that’s all I can give you till the sergeant gets back from lunch,’ the cop said and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  Yair couldn’t speak. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and stared. She wasn’t a girl any more. Hell, she was twenty-eight now – like him. She hadn’t changed, not in the three years since he’d last seen her. Heard from her. Since she’d just disappeared, like she’d done before. Only this time it had been so much worse because he’d thought they’d actually become close, maybe not like twins were supposed to be, but at least like siblings who were reasonably fond of each other. But then she’d gone – just like that.

  He remembered the relief he’d felt when the cops had finally informed him that they’d managed to establish she had taken a flight to Israel. Anger had followed swiftly, furiously, relentlessly. He’d done his best to suppress it over the years. He’d tried to convince himself that there had to be a reason why she’d never contacted him; never once tried to find out how Zivah was; never even done anything to indicate that she was alive. He’d thought that perhaps, despite his dark hair, he’d reminded her of what she’d been through – which would explain why she didn’t want anything to do with him. But that didn’t explain why she had abandoned Zivah.

  Now, sitting in the stuffy room at the Norwood Police Station on Christmas Day, anger rose in him like a wave, and overflowed.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Hello Yair,’ Aviva said. She made no effort to wipe the tears that were flowing down her face.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked again, and then, because he couldn’t help himself: ‘Where the fuck have you been?’

  She turned to Darryl. ‘Please leave us alone. I need to speak to my brother privately.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m allowed to,’ Darryl said.

  ‘Please?’ She touched his arm and Darryl flushed. She’d always had that effect on his friends, Yair recalled. Even in high school. Even when she was cold and aloof and ru
de to them—to him—as she always was. To his hormone-befuddled friends, she was hot. They’d had no idea. None of them had, back then. Not even him.

  ‘Okay,’ Darryl said, not looking at Yair. He was barely able to tear his eyes away from Aviva’s face, still beautiful—Yair was forced to admit to himself—even if it was tear-stained.

  She sat down in the plastic chair on the opposite side of the grimy grey table and reached over to take his hand. He pulled away.

  ‘Oh Yair – I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  ‘Israel – London. I live in London now.’

  ‘London has phones. And computers. And Internet.’

  ‘Yes. But you have to understand – I couldn’t...’

  ‘Couldn’t pick up the phone just once. Couldn’t send me an email – let me know you weren’t dead?’

  She smoothed a crumpled tissue she’d been clutching in her hand and blew her nose. ‘It’s complicated,’ she said.

  ‘So complicated you couldn’t try to explain?’

  ‘I couldn’t stay in South Africa. I just couldn’t. Daddy... well you know. It all got too much.’

  ‘What about Arno? I thought you two were an item. I was happy for you.’

  Yair paused as Aviva opened her mouth. It looked as if she was going to say something. Then she folded her arms and looked away. Yair exploded: ‘What the hell happened to make you run off like that – without saying goodbye or anything. Did he hurt you too?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ She hesitated. ‘Look, we don’t have much time and I didn’t come here to talk about me.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Zivah.’

  Silence stretched between him. Yair counted the stains on the table – some of them looked like they could be blood, or coffee.

  ‘Yair? I came to talk about Zivah.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not going to talk about her – not with you.’

  ‘We have to talk about her. Why did you take her home from The Lodge? You knew she was supposed to stay there.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Avi. We haven’t been in the same room for five seconds and already you’re criticising me.’

  ‘I’m not. I just want to understand...’

  ‘Well, understand this. She was so unhappy, I couldn’t leave her there. She wanted to come home. And Carol—Carol Aronowitz—agreed there was no reason for her to stay there. See? It’s not complicated. Your turn.’

  ‘Carol Aronowitz doesn’t know the full story.’

  ‘Well, neither do I!’

  ‘Of course you do.’

  ‘I only know what you told me.’

  ‘Yair! You can’t mean that.’

  Yair could see the shock in Aviva’s eyes but he couldn’t stop himself. ‘Oh, I mean it. You never loved her – she was just a nuisance to you. Perhaps you made everything up just to get rid of her.’

  Aviva laughed, a short laugh that didn’t disguise her hurt. ‘Oh Yair, no! I know you never liked me and that we never really got on. But even you can’t think I’d be so cruel. I loved Zivah – I still do. But she’s damaged...’

  ‘She can’t help the way she is!’

  ‘That’s not what I mean and you know it! But what she did... we had to keep her safe. That’s why we took her to the Chev – you agreed that it was best.’

  ‘Well, I changed my mind. Anyway, I never really believed she’d done it.’

  Aviva gasped. ‘But I told you what she said to me.’

  ‘Maybe you misunderstood her. She was angry with you; maybe she just wanted to scare you.’

  ‘She got that right,’ Aviva said.

  The twins stared at each other, old tensions and animosity taut between them.

  Darryl put his head around the door. ‘Everything okay in here?’

  ‘Fine. We’ll call when we’ve finished,’ Aviva said.

  ‘We have finished,’ Yair said after Darryl closed the door. ‘There’s nothing to discuss.’

  ‘There’s everything to discuss! We have to discuss why you’re trying to take the blame for Tiffany’s murder.’

  ‘Because I did it.’

  ‘Crap! That’s total rubbish! I know you, Yair. I grew up despising you for being so soft and for allowing me to walk all over you, for letting yourself be bullied and pushed around. Do you know how often I was horrible to you just to see how far you’d let me go? And you took it—you never pushed back—well hardly ever.’

  Yair flushed. ‘You make me sound like a total wimp.’

  She smiled, a rueful grimace. ‘I thought you were – and I was wrong. As I got older – and especially after Daddy... I realised that you are actually one of the kindest, most sensitive, most empathetic guys I’ve ever known. I wished – I wish we’d been closer. I wish I’d seen you as you really are, instead of the way Dad... I wish I’d confided in you...’ Her voice broke.

  ‘So why did you run away again? Why didn’t you confide in me? For God’s sake, Avi, I thought you’d been murdered in a hijacking! Didn’t you trust me?’

  She shifted on the chair, her back now ramrod straight, and wiped her eyes again. ‘Yair, I didn’t fly ten thousand miles to talk about me.’

  ‘So you said. You said you wanted to talk about Zivah – and I said I don’t want to talk about her. So that’s it. Nothing to talk about. You can go back to your secret life in London. We’ve finished. Darryl!’ he called.

  ‘Yair wait. Listen. I came because I can’t let you take the blame.’

  ‘It’s my life. I’ll do what I like with it! Darryl!’

  ‘I won’t let you! I won’t let you throw your life away...’

  Darryl peered around the door. ‘You won’t let Yair do what? Avi, do you know what the fuck is going on in your crazy brother’s head?’

  ‘Darryl, fuck off!’ Yair yelled. ‘This is between Avi and me.’

  ‘Stay, Darryl. He won’t listen to me,’ Aviva said.

  Darryl walked over to the table and pulled out another plastic chair. He was just about to sit on it when he noticed that it was broken. He pushed it aside, and perched on the table.

  ‘What the fuck is going on with you two?’ he asked.

  Aviva glared at her brother. It was so reminiscent of the looks she’d give him when they were children and he’d done something she didn’t approve of, Yair almost smiled, although his stomach was knotting in anger and frustration. What right had Aviva to come swooping in and take over as she always had? She’d always believed she knew best; she had never listened to him – or anyone else for that matter. She hadn’t changed. She was still the arrogant, too-clever-for-her-own-good, bossy bully she’d always been.

  ‘If I tell you something, something important, it will be covered by client-lawyer confidentiality. Right?’ she asked Darryl, pointedly ignoring her brother.

  ‘Well, you’re not my client,’ Darryl said.

  ‘But Yair is.’

  ‘It will remain confidential if Yair wants it to be confidential – do you?’ Darryl turned to Yair who was shooting daggers of frustration at his sister.

  ‘I don’t want her to tell you anything. But it doesn’t look like I can stop her so if she does, yes – it has to remain confidential.’

  ‘Is this directly related to Yair’s case?’ Darryl asked Aviva.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No! She’s just surmising – she knows nothing,’ Yair protested.

  Aviva glared at him again. ‘Shut up, Yair. Just shut up. Darryl, has Yair told you why he pleaded guilty?’

  Yair shrank back in his chair and waited for his twin sister to make a mockery of the last two months he’d endured in this hellhole.

  Darryl shook his head. ‘Do you know? How do you know?’

  ‘Because the moment I read the news articles about how Tiffany died I was pretty sure I knew who had done it. And the fact that Yair then tried to plead guilty – well, then I was convinced.’

  Darryl looked angry – puzzled and angry. ‘
So why the fuck has it taken you so long to come forward with this revelation?’

  ‘Because she’s been cooking it all up in her head. She’s nuts. There’s nothing to tell you,’ Yair said.

  Aviva flushed. ‘I would have come sooner – but Mattie didn’t have the right travel documents and it was taking forever to get them from the South African consulate.’

  ‘Who’s Mattie?’ Yair and Darryl asked in unison.

  Aviva’s flushed deepened. ‘My son.’

  Yair’s jaw dropped. ‘You have a son? I’m an uncle? Well – thanks for telling me! And how old is my nephew who I didn’t know existed? Were you planning to keep him a secret too?’

  ‘He’s nearly eighteen months.’

  Yair calculated quickly. ‘Was that why you ran away? You were pregnant? For fuck’s sake Avi, it’s the 21st century – falling pregnant is nothing to be ashamed of. You should have stayed – I would have helped you. Who’s the father? Arno! It had to be Arno van Zyl! Does he know? Did he push off when he found out? I’ll kill the bastard, I’ll fucking kill him!’

  ‘Stop, Yair just stop. You don’t know anything. Okay, you’re right. Arno is Mattie’s father.’ She hesitated, and then added: ‘He’s my husband.’

  ‘You’re married?’ Darryl squeaked. Yair just stared at her.

  ‘Yes. But I don’t want to discuss it – not now.’

  ‘Where is he?’ Yair asked.

  ‘He’s with a babysitter at the hotel. I couldn’t bring him here, to the police station.’

  ‘I meant Arno.’

  ‘He’s in Bethlehem – in the Free State, not Israel,’ she said as Darryl seemed about to interrupt. ‘He’s sorting out his father’s affairs and taking care of his mother while she waits for her papers. That’s how we finally managed to get Mattie’s papers – they rushed them through on compassionate grounds because of the murder.’

  ‘Why would they issue you with papers because of Tiffany?’ Darryl asked, looking thoroughly perplexed.

  ‘Not Tiffany – Arno’s dad. Didn’t you hear about it? Arno’s father, Thys van Zyl, was murdered on their farm and his mom was badly injured. She’s out of hospital now, but she won’t go back to the farm. Her parents were also murdered on that farm, you know. And her brother, Arno’s uncle. Anyway, she’s going to go to New Zealand – Arno’s brother, De Wet, has a farm there.’