He showed his identity card and introduced himself. “I’m sorry I’m here so early. I thought the traffic would be worse.”
“Come in. Please excuse my wet hair. We overslept this morning and this was the first chance I’ve had to jump into the shower.” She opened the security gate and he stepped inside. He remembered Ellie McKenna’s unpretentious cottage in Cape Town. Melissa Calitz had definitely got the better deal.
“Shall we sit in the kitchen while I make some coffee?”
He followed her into the kitchen. She switched on an expensive-looking coffee machine and asked how he preferred his coffee.
He waited until she had put the cup in front of him and sat down at the table. She pushed a bowl of rusks towards him and he took one, dunked it into his coffee and chewed for a while before he spoke.
“I’m looking for Ellie McKenna. It’s urgent. I wonder if you know where I can find her.”
She sipped her coffee. “Do you mind telling me what it’s about?”
“I really can’t go into details. It has to do with a very sensitive case. I have reason to believe she can help us with information.”
“Are you colleagues?”
“No, but we’ve worked together before.”
“Colonel, you’re making it very difficult for me.”
“Call me Nick. I know, and I’m sorry. If it wasn’t so urgent I wouldn’t ask. No one else can help me, not even with a phone number.”
“She has a cellphone, but she hardly ever switches it on. It’s really frustrating. I might need to get hold of her. I usually leave a message and she calls back in a day or two.”
“When last did you have contact with her?”
“She was here briefly on Monday.”
“Is she still in the city?”
“As far as I know she returned to Montagu on Monday night.” Melissa smiled. “I don’t think that would pass as a Freudian slip.”
“Do you have an address in Montagu?”
Melissa sighed. “I’m a psychologist. I pride myself on being able to sum people up reasonably well. Please don’t prove me wrong.”
Nick also smiled, but his face felt stiff. “I can give you a name and number if you want a reference.”
“No need. I just don’t want to regret giving you Ellie’s address.” She gave him directions how to get there and wrote a phone number on a scrap of paper.
“Thanks. You won’t regret it.”
He dipped another rusk into his coffee. Chewed slowly while he studied her. The frown between her eyes told him she wasn’t quite at ease.
“I wonder if she saw Albert while she was here.” Nick watched her. He realised he was fishing with a very big hook.
“You know Albert?”
“Yes, we’ve all worked together on occasion. But he couldn’t help me with an address or number.” The lie came glibly.
“Evidently she saw him on Monday.”
“Then I’ll contact him again. Maybe he can help me now.”
When his cup was empty, he was reluctant to go. When last was he in a home that smelled like a home? With visible signs of family life? He felt like a stray dog that happened to arrive at a good home and wanted to stay. Even the scattered toys looked like something he would like. When he met guys like Clive Barnard, who seemed to do the impossible, he felt almost envious. The job, a wife, kids, a home. Still together after all the years. It was evidently a recipe he would never get right.
He could smell the shampoo in her hair and that distinctive smell that women have. He wondered what she’d do if he touched her hair. Before he could do anything he might regret and get a backhand for, he got to his feet.
“Thanks for the coffee. I haven’t had rusks like these in a long time.”
She got up as well, and led the way to the front door. As she opened the door, she asked: “How did you find me?”
“Ellie told me about you and I saw you in photos in her home.” He omitted the fact that Ellie didn’t know he’d been inside her home.
They said goodbye. As he drove away, he looked in the rearview mirror. He wondered if some people realised how happy they should be.
He thought of Nols, who’d also had a home and a family. He wondered if Nols would see his kids today. He had been asleep when Nick had left the flat. Maybe he should call Riana and tell her not to be too hard on Nols. He’d done his time.
But before he could call, his cellphone rang. It was one of the guards at Allegretti’s house.
“A car with two Chinamen inside has been parked in the street since this morning. They seem to be watching the house. Should we go and find out who they are?”
“No, I’m on my way.”
“That’s not all,” the guard said before Nick could end the call. “The guys at the office called to say there was an attempt to hijack Mr Visser’s car when he left home this morning.”
Nick had known the bad feeling he’d had about the shooting in Table View hadn’t been for nothing. Another hijack attempt, this time with Visser as the victim. He tried Allegretti’s cellphone again as he stepped on the accelerator. It was still off.
Mang was turning the screws, and if Allegretti and Visser knew what was good for them they’d settle their debt with him as soon as possible.
When Nick turned into the street, he saw the car parked diagonally opposite Allegretti’s house. He pressed the remote button and the gate slid open. Both guards were in the booth. He joined them at the window and together they looked through the one-way glass at the vehicle with the two men inside. It was a public street and he couldn’t order anyone to leave, but he decided to walk over anyway and ask them their business.
The moment he started to cross the street the driver switched on the engine and pulled away slowly, smiling at Nick in passing.
Nick looked at his watch. He would talk to Ken Visser again, but first he had a meeting with the team.
When he got to Milnerton, everyone was there except Barnard, who had sent word that there was something he had to do first. Someone must have bought coffee and tea, because people were standing around, holding mugs, and on the table was a plate of Bakers Lemon Cream biscuits.
“Tell me some good news,” Nick said, pouring coffee into a mug and sitting down at the table.
“Nothing but dead ends, Colonel,” Hendriks responded. “No one knows what really happened. None of the buildings near Paranga has clear footage of the vehicles or the Veldman girl. Forensics went through the stolen vehicle with a fine-tooth comb and the DNA they recovered is being put through the system, but it takes time.”
“And it’s hard to stay under the radar,” De Bruin said. “An official investigation would’ve been much easier.”
Gaba and Jansen nodded.
“It would’ve been even easier if it hadn’t happened at all,” Nick replied. “Somewhere, someone must have seen or heard something. Find that person. Every case has such a person. Camps Bay doesn’t have that many access routes. If the cameras along the beachfront didn’t pick them up, another camera somewhere else might have.” He opened his laptop and went to Google Maps. The others gathered behind him.
“From the place where the vehicle is believed to have picked her up there are only a few possible escape routes. Look for cameras. Maybe one recorded a numberplate. From Victoria Road they could have gone left into Geneva Drive. From there they could have turned left again into one of the smaller cross streets and circled back to Victoria Road. One of the cameras in Victoria Road might have picked them up. Or they could have gone up Geneva, all the way to Camps Bay Drive at the top, or carried on in Victoria towards Llandudno and Hout Bay.”
He ran his hand over his face, picked up a Lemon Cream and chewed slowly. “I’m sure you have contacts who don’t have to go through official channels. Talk to them. Even gossip could help.”
The pub was still quiet when Ellie arrived there on Wednesday night. Only a few regulars were perched at the counter.
“Thank heaven. A friendly face for a change,�
� they chorused when she stepped behind the counter. “It’s hard to enjoy your drink staring at this grumpy old man all the time.” One of them pointed at Wynand who had just come out of the kitchen. He made no reply, just muttered something inaudible.
She liked listening to their chatter, Ellie thought as the place filled up. Drought, rain, pests, rugby, town gossip. Interspersed with politics. Sometimes it got quite heavy, but usually everyone tried to keep the mood light. No one came here for a slice of reality. She noticed that no one mentioned last night’s farm attack. For an hour or two they wanted to forget about what was waiting outside the door.
“Tell us about yourself and our good dominee,” someone said as she served him his drink.
“I’m fine, and I assume he’s fine too, or you would’ve known by now. You lot know all the latest gossip, don’t you?”
“Are you going to become our minister’s wife?”
“You’ve got to stop listening to stories. If you worked harder, you wouldn’t have time to spend listening to rumours.”
Her words unleashed a storm of protest.
There’d been the odd night when someone had had too much to drink and things had got unpleasant, but Wynand had no time for that kind of behaviour. If not for that, she would probably not have agreed to work here. She certainly didn’t need a new kind of drama in her life.
“When are you going to play for us again?” a young farmer asked later that evening, pointing at Wynand’s guitar behind the counter. “You’re getting lazy.”
“Wednesdays aren’t good nights for singing.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you?”
“Come on, just one song!” one of the dart players called out.
“People are still having dinner in the restaurant. I don’t want to give them heartburn.”
“Bullshit!” The customer glanced at Wynand. “Sorry … it slipped out.”
Ellie picked up the guitar and perched on a bar stool. The customers fell silent.
“What would you like to hear?”
“Gert Vlok Nel! ‘Beautiful in Beaufort West’!”
Ellie laughed and began to tune the guitar. “Whose girlfriend has sent him packing this time?”
A few fingers pointed at a young man in the corner.
“Don’t be so cruel to your pal.”
When Ellie began to sing there was complete silence. The man with the broken heart listened with a trace of a smile, but when she came to “those sweet, sweet things you whisper to me, while lying in my arms”, she saw the smile fade as his gaze drifted past her. The poor man’s thoughts ranged far and deep. She felt sorry for him. Love can be cruel, she reminded herself. As far as she knew, there was nothing wrong with him. He seemed to have a good job, he was good-looking and could string sentences together well enough. She wondered if the girl had simply grown tired of him, or if there was someone else. If it was someone else, she hoped he was an all-round better catch. Losing to an inferior was the cruellest thing.
“Sing Valiant Swart’s ‘Whisky and Rain’!” someone called out when she had finished.
When she got to “searching for something that matters, something that dulls the pain, telling me I’ll never be lonely again”, the rejected lover poured the last of his drink down his throat and got to his feet. The others tried to persuade him to stay, but he shook his head and said he had to get up early in the morning.
“Shame on you,” Ellie said when he had left. “You can see the man is fragile tonight.”
“We’ve all been there.”
“Which doesn’t mean you should let your friend suffer.”
She began to sing again, a Koos Kombuis song about a girl who plays the piano as the sun sets over Table Bay. And how the entire world goes quiet as everyone listens to the nocturnal sounds of Lisa’s piano.
While she was singing, she saw a few men lowering their heads over their glasses and bottles. When she finished, there were a few groans.
“No, man, was that really necessary?” a farmer asked. “Now I miss people I haven’t even met yet.”
“You asked for it,” she said. She sang three more songs, which still weren’t enough for them. “Have a heart. I’m not that young any more, and I’ve had a long day.”
There were plenty of comments. She sang one more song, then put down the guitar.
“Last rounds!” Wynand called from the kitchen.
Ellie served everyone their last drinks and started cleaning up.
“You know I don’t listen to gossip, but is there something between you and the good minister?” Wynand asked when the two of them were alone.
“Does friendship qualify as ‘something’?”
“You do realise that the man feels more for you than friendship, don’t you?” He wiped the counter with his white cloth, then lowered his head and looked down the length of the counter to check that it was spotless.
“He doesn’t know me well enough to have any serious feelings for me.”
“Maybe it was love at first sight.”
Ellie laughed. “What have you been drinking?”
Wynand gave one final wipe, folded the cloth and looked at her. “You pretend to be such a tough cookie but deep inside you’re a sissy. You’re going to kick yourself if things go wrong. Whichever way.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt. If you hurt Marius, you’ll get hurt as well. Chances are you’ll pack up and leave, and I don’t feel like training a brand-new person to help me.”
Ellie went up to him and put her arms around his waist. “So it’s actually all about you?”
“What else?”
She laughed and squeezed him. “Talk about a softie.” She took her handbag from under the counter and waved on her way out.
“Let me know when you get home.”
“Yes, Dad.”
At home Ellie made herself a mug of tea and turned on the taps in the bath. She lit a few candles and lay back in the foam. The mug stood beside her on the rim of the tub. She closed her eyes.
The wind had come up. A branch of the oak tree was tapping on the roof. Occasionally the candles flickered. The night brought so many thoughts that she fought off during the day. At first she had done her best to keep them at bay, but she had soon discovered that it was almost impossible. Now, she allowed her thoughts to run free. She allowed emotion to wash over her.
Last night’s conversation with Marius had made her feel lonelier than usual. People like her, who were chronically lonely, learnt to live with it after a while. Like a hunchback you are born with, you can’t shake off the feeling. But sometimes, on a night like tonight, soaking in a hot bath, she wished her burden was a little lighter.
The moment she opened her eyes, she knew it was too late – and she knew there hadn’t been a sound, just a feeling. She jumped up. The mug smashed on the bathroom floor.
The bathroom door was already open, and he was standing in the doorway. She saw his gaze linger for a moment on her right breast. He blinked and turned away. “Get dressed.”
It was only when she heard his voice that she realised he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Nick Malherbe was standing in her bathroom doorway.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself while she clambered out of the bath. She glanced at the chair next to the bath and saw that her revolver was no longer there. Then she saw it in his hand. She stepped on a shard of china and swore. Blood immediately spotted her white bathmat. She was shaking so badly that she dropped the towel twice.
“I’ll wait in the lounge.”
She walked past him to her bedroom and hastily pulled on the jeans and sweater she’d had on earlier. She returned to the lounge on bare feet, having hastily wrapped a bandage around her foot. Her revolver and phone lay on the coffee-table.
“I hope you have a bloody good reason for breaking into my house, or I’ll have you arrested. I don�
�t care who or what you are and who you know.”
“Sit.” He motioned at a chair.
Ellie realised she was trembling all over. Her mouth was dry and she battled to control her breathing.
He repeated the request. When she sat, he sat down opposite her.
“When was the last time you saw Clara Veldman?”
“You break into my house and expect me to answer your questions! Have you never heard of knocking?”
He shook his head. “With your love of firearms it wasn’t an option.”
“I don’t usually shoot people who knock on my door.”
“A few months ago you also swore blind that I could trust you and look where that got me. Understandably, I don’t want to make that mistake again.”
Ellie felt her breathing slow down, though she was still trembling.
“What are you doing here?”
“When was the last time you saw Clara Veldman?” he repeated.
“Is this an official police enquiry?”
“Call it what you like.”
“I’m under no obligation to answer any of your questions. You broke in and stole my firearm and cellphone.”
“I didn’t steal anything. Both items are over there.”
Ellie bent down and picked up her phone.
“If I were you I wouldn’t call the cops.”
She sat with the phone in her hand and looked up at him.
“I never had contact with Clara again.”
“What were you doing at the Williams house on Monday afternoon?”
“Who says I was there?”
He tilted his head. “Let’s not waste each other’s time. I saw you.”
“I was there to find out if they’d had any news of Clara.”
“Who told you she was missing?”
“That’s confidential.”
“Not any more. Where did you get your information and why did you visit Williams and Greyling?”
“I got the information from an informer. Someone I regularly use. The visit to Williams was to say I’m sorry and I hope they find her soon. My visit to Greyling was personal. Actually all my conversations are personal. I don’t have to explain any of them to you.”
“I might have believed you if I hadn’t seen your notes and the information on your computer. Are you, or were you, involved in Clara’s disappearance?”
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