“Is that your interrogation face?” she asked him, grinning.
“It is if it works for you. Now stop avoiding the question. I’m serious, what was Natalie’s relationship like with Louis’s mother?”
“Okay, fine. It was strained.”
“How strained?”
“Louis’s mother was a mean, cold-hearted bitch.”
“How strained?”
“Why are you being such a cop about this?”
“Why are you avoiding the question?”
“I’m not avoiding it.”
“Then answer the question.”
“Okay. They hated each other. You happy now?”
“No. Why do you say they hated each other?”
“I don’t know all the details, but I do know that Louis’s mother is the reason Natalie slit her wrists.”
“Wait a minute; the infamous suicide attempt was because of Louis’s mother?”
“Apparently, but Natalie won’t tell me what happened. It was all bizarre. After that, she changed.”
“An attempted suicide will change you, believe it or not.”
“I know that, but she changed towards me. I’m probably being paranoid, but she just acts differently around me now. It's almost as if she doesn’t trust me anymore. She’s shut me out.” Her lips quivered as she tried to fight back the tears.
Nico rubbed his fingertips over the bottom of his chin and scraped them against his two-day stubble. He filed the information away with all the other parts of the puzzle that didn’t fit together; he needed to put them all together. Not that it would do him any good at this point since he was off the case, but he had to finish what he’d started.
SHE COULDN'T CONCENTRATE on any of the contracts her boss had placed in front of her during the day. Luckily he bought the act Natalie laid on thick about her shock and grief over the death of her mother-in-law-to-be and let her go home early. She now sat on their second-hand couch, thinking.
The thoughts started out as a jumble, but now everything started to make sense. She’d wondered why he worked every Sunday night shift and went to see his mother during his shift. The way he behaved when he got back from those Sunday visits had puzzled her. Before, he would never have touched her after being to see his mother, but the last few weeks they’d had sex every Sunday night. It was as clear as daylight to her now. The gift of twenty-twenty hindsight was an amazing thing. The only thing she didn’t know was what to do with this revelation.
She didn’t know how she felt. She’d hated that evil witch, but the other women were innocent. Weren’t they? Louis must have had a reason for killing them. Maybe they deserved it. She had to admit she didn’t care about the other women: they meant nothing to her. They were faceless and generally nameless women, whom the media had branded as a bunch of alcoholics.
She got off the couch, walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. She glanced inside and slammed it shut without taking anything out. The kitchen clock ticked and the sound grated on her nerves. The traffic outside competed with the ticking clock for most annoying sound. She walked back into the lounge and stared at nothing in particular. Trying to grasp one chain of thought was proving to be somewhat more difficult than she thought possible. There had to be something she could do with the information. Should she tell Nico what she suspected? The real question was what did she want? Did she want to stop him from hurting anybody else? Or did she want to protect him?
She paced up and down. It took her six steps to get from one side of the room to the other. She ran her fingers through her hair and stopped mid-stride. She realised the only thing that mattered was the fact that she loved him. It didn't matter what he'd done. He was still the man she loved. And with that realisation, all other choices flew out of the window.
AFTER SEEING NICO PACK his box and walk out of the charge office, Louis didn’t know what to do with himself. He had psyched himself up for today. He had all the answers ready for Nico; he'd been ready for him, and now that Nico wasn’t going to ask him any questions he felt deflated. It was as if he wasn’t important enough to Nico: the women he'd killed and everything he'd done wasn't important.
He was going to show Nico that he was; he was going to make him realise he was the most important thing in Nico’s life. He wasn’t sure how he was going to achieve it. Thankfully he had the kind of job where all he had to do for long periods of time was think. But thinking, he had discovered, wasn’t always such a good thing.
Most of the day he’d spent parked under a tree but hadn’t been able to come up with anything. All he had been able to think of was his fucking Bitch mother who was, thankfully, now burning in hell. With her out of the way, he was in the clear. He’d circled around the thoughts swirling in his head for most of his shift. Then he would try to focus on showing Nico what was important but his thoughts kept returning to his mother lying in the mortuary waiting to be buried.
It was late when he arrived home, and he still didn’t have a fixed plan of action. He opened the front door to find Natalie pacing up and down the lounge with a smile spread across her face.
“What are you so happy about?” he asked her, finding it amusing to see her jump. He enjoyed giving her a fright and, being highly strung, she was an easy target. It didn’t take much these days. It wasn’t much of a challenge, but it was still enjoyable.
“I didn’t see you standing there,” she said, pasting on another smile. “I was just thinking about our wedding. Speaking of which, I’d better give Janet a call. She's going to be my bridesmaid.”
He was about to say something glib when he realised that Natalie had just given him a way to get back at Nico and secure his relationship with Natalie.
“I love you!” he shouted at her retreating back.
12
Friday, 19 July
It was a cold, overcast morning. Perfect weather for a funeral.
Louis had asked him to be one of the pall-bearers, and now, with the weight of the coffin on his right shoulder, he wished he’d said no. At least he had a front-row seat to the goings on and could watch both Louis and Natalie closely throughout the funeral. There were a total of ten people attending the funeral. The church was icy, with little body heat generated by the congregation; it was no surprise when he saw his own breath puffing out of his mouth every time he exhaled. If he hadn’t already heard it from other sources, he would have the impression, from the low turnout, that Marietta Gouws was not a well-loved woman. Louis had asked four of the men he worked with to be pall-bearers. Louis, Nico and the other four pall-bearers carried the coffin to the front of the Methodist church and put it down in front of the pulpit. Janet was sitting next to Natalie and holding her hand. He didn’t understand why Natalie needed to hold Janet’s hand. It wasn’t as though Natalie was broken up about Marietta Gouws’s death.
Louis and Natalie, both dry-eyed, only showed some emotion when they thought they were being watched. Nico took his seat next to Janet and watched Louis make his way to the pulpit to give the eulogy. It was a beautiful speech but didn’t entirely correspond with what he had learned about the woman they were about to bury. It was possible that Louis could merely have been doing what most people did when a parent passed away. He’d found that people, in general, seemed to develop amnesia about the things the parents had done to them as children. They seemed to remember only the good things they had done, and if there wasn’t any good to remember, they made some up. Or, of course, Louis could be an excellent actor. He was more inclined to believe the latter.
After Louis’s eulogy, the pastor gave a long sermon. Only the hard, uncomfortable church pew kept Nico from falling asleep. That and the fact that he needed to stay vigilant to keep an eye on Louis. Nico shuffled from one butt cheek to another, trying to prevent his arse from going numb and swallowed a few yawns. Janet even poked him in the ribs a few times to wake him up.
Natalie stared straight ahead and nibbled on her fingertips and nails. She seemed to be listening to every word the
pastor had to say. Louis sat relaxed on the wooden pew. How he managed to look so comfortable was a mystery. His right arm rested on the back of the bench and his hand on Natalie’s shoulder, while his thumb stroked Natalie’s shoulder, which she ignored.
The pastor finished his sermon and invited everyone to join them at the graveside for the burial. Nico heard Louis’s four colleagues from work stand up behind him. Their footsteps echoed down the aisle and out of the church. The trolley to carry the coffin out of the church to the waiting hearse was wheeled in by funeral home attendants. He felt a tap on his shoulder. Louis was standing over him.
“It would mean a lot to us if you and Janet came with us to the graveside,” Louis said to him.
Nico glanced sideways at Janet to see her reaction. She hugged Natalie around her shoulders and nodded her head.
“Sure,” he said. “Not a problem.”
“Thanks. I really do appreciate you coming today. Your support means a lot to me.”
“I remember what it was like when my mother died. No one should have to go through this kind of thing alone.” When the words came out, he wanted to bite his tongue. Fucking hypocrite, he thought.
“Do you know how to get to the cemetery or do you want to follow us?”
“We’ll follow you,” Nico said. The drive there would give him time to think.
Nico’s battered old Datsun stuttered as he started up the engine and backfired. It was at times like this that he missed having his police-issue Almera. Janet curled up on the passenger seat, her legs tucked in under her bum, leaving him to his jumbled thoughts. The drive to the Pretoria East cemetery was long and silent. Images swirled around in his head. His mind was a messy collage, and the artist belonged in an insane asylum. He didn’t know what to think or feel.
The tombstones looked forlorn under their blanket of weeds. Only a handful had flowers on them. People didn't come to cemeteries anymore. They weren't safe. A nun had been raped in the Irene cemetery a few months before. The rapist was still at large. Most people were now having family members cremated. It was safer. He couldn’t help but wonder how many of these graves were ever visited by so-called loved ones. Then again, he was also guilty: he hadn’t been to see his mother’s grave in about five years. It was time he made an effort and paid her a visit, even if it was just to talk to a tombstone. And heaven help anyone who tried to mug him while he chatted to his long-dead mother. They walked deep into the cemetery, there were a few times when Nico thought they were lost.
Marietta Gouws’s coffin was being lowered into her newly-dug grave as they arrived. The coffin descended slowly and made a thud as it hit the bottom of the grave. The gravediggers started shovelling earth onto the coffin. It hit the wood with a thud, scratching it. Some of the sand slid off the soft round edges and slipped to the side. Nico looked up from the partially-covered coffin and found Louis staring at Janet. The look in Louis’s eyes set off those bells, and this time he couldn’t silence them. He looked at her the way a hungry predator stared at its prey. Cold fear rippled down his spine and sent a cold, nasty, tingly sensation through every nerve ending, making his fingers itch to reach across the grave a throttle the last breath out of Louis.
13
Friday, 2 August
Two weeks had passed since the funeral, and that uneasy feeling was still eating away at him. He had kept an eye on the papers, but there wasn’t a word about another body being left on display, floating in a bathtub. The Bathroom Strangler was already yesterday’s news and had been replaced by a brutal family murder and yet another government scandal. A politician had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, yet again, and a father had killed his wife and children with a hammer before sticking a knife in his own throat and bleeding to death. There were far easier ways of killing yourself, Nico thought while reading the Newspaper. Hadn't the man ever heard of using a gun? Government officials threatened to strike again. Nothing new there.
The Bathroom Strangler murders would slowly find their way into the pile of cold cases and then be added to the pile of unsolved cases. They would collect dust and fade from memory. Who besides the victims’ families would care if the killer was caught or not? But in this case, the families in question didn’t seem to care. The public was fickle and would embrace the next big scandal and forget about the Bathroom Strangler and his victims.
He crumpled up the newspaper and threw it in the far corner of his lounge. The inactivity was getting to him. He needed to do something, but what? Laurel and Hardy had taken over the case and shoved it into some dusty corner and wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say. A thought started to spark at the back of his mind and slowly took shape. He felt the synapses fire and play around his brain. Then a fully-fledged epiphany hit him right between his eyes. There was one person who probably knew the truth.
But he wasn't sure if she would speak to him.
IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON, and things at the law firm where Natalie worked were in afternoon overdrive. Overdue urgent briefs were piled high on her desk. Dark hair fell over her face, touching her computer keyboard. She looked up at him through her hair as he approached her desk. Surprise, mingled with suspicion, marked her eyes, while her face remained expressionless.
“You busy?” Nico asked her.
She looked at the piles of paperwork on her desk, raised one eyebrow and looked back at him.
“Sorry, stupid question,” he said before she could say anything.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to ask you some questions about Louis’s mother.”
“Why? I thought you’d been suspended.”
“So you heard about that?”
“Bad news travels fast,” she said, taking a piece of paper out of her printer and putting it into a red folder. The red folder was placed on top of another pile of folders in a paper tray marked Contracts. “What do you want to know about her?”
“Did she have any enemies, anyone who might have wanted her dead?”
“Anybody who knew her would fit that description.”
“What was Louis’s relationship like with his mother?”
“Excuse me?”
“Were Louis and his mother close?”
“What exactly are you driving at?” There was something in her tone that made him wonder even more about the relationship between mother and son.
“It’s a simple question. Why are you being so defensive?” Had there been some kind of abuse?
“I’m not being defensive. I don’t understand why you’re asking me about Louis’s relationship with that woman.” The word woman seemed to stick in her throat.
“So I take it you two didn’t get along?”
“You already know the answer to that one. Janet will doubtless have clued you in on all the sordid details.”
“You caught me there.”
“Look, Nico, Louis’s mother and I were not on the best of terms. There’s no secret there. As for Louis and his mother, well, their relationship was complicated.”
“What do you mean by complicated?”
“That’s all I can tell you right now. As you can see, I’m a very busy girl and if I don’t get these out by the end of the day,” she said, nodding her head at the pile of papers on her right, “you won’t be the only one sitting at home.”
“Thanks for your time, anyway. If you think of anything, please give me a call.”
“Don’t worry, Nico. The moment I have anything else to say on the matter you’ll be the first person I call.”
He'd been dismissed.
He turned around at the door to Natalie’s office and watched her typing as if her life depended upon the document she was working on. Her reaction to his questions had been strange, and he knew he was on to something. Louis’s relationship with his mother had been anything other than healthy.
The possibilities that came to mind made his stomach turn.
NICO’S VISIT HAD TAKEN her by surpr
ise. Thinking back on it, as she stood in her kitchen after work and making coffee, she hadn’t expected him to approach her. She didn't know what to do or how to act around Louis anymore. Now Nico was complicating everything. She loved Louis, even though she was afraid of him. Afraid of what he would do. She was also mad as all hell. She'd never allowed herself to be angry before. Fear, on the other hand, was something she was familiar with, anger was something new. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with all that rage she was feeling, boiling up inside her.
She poured the boiling water from the kettle into her chipped yellow coffee mug and looked up at the kitchen clock. Louis would be home soon. Since the funeral, he had become increasingly irritable. Anything could set him off. He was probably suffering from withdrawal symptoms, she thought. Being on a five-week killing spree will do that to you. Not being able to take out his frustrations on his mother and all those women was obviously taking its toll. Sooner or later he would have to act on those frustrations again. He’d acquired a taste for it. She didn't want to be in the firing line when he went off.
She heard keys scraping against the lock. The sound of metal against metal brought back memories of being handcuffed to her steel-framed bed in the orphanage. The front door swung open, and a man stood in the doorway. It took a few seconds for it to register that it was Louis and not the man from the orphanage. She managed to choke back a scream.
“What’s with you?” he asked her.
“Nothing,” she said, stirring her coffee with a shaky hand. The teaspoon connected with the cup a few too many times.
“Ja, right. That’s why you’ve turned the mug and spoon into musical instruments.”
“Whatever,” she tapped the spoon against the rim of the mug. Excess droplets of coffee dripped off the spoon and down the side of the cup.
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