Hear Me

by Julia North

  I squint back up at the cloudless sky with its burning African sun and wish it would just consume me. ‘Where’s my rest in peace?’ I scream up at the blue heavens. Why can’t God just take care of it all? Why do I have to still go on suffering?

  But anger eats at the self-pity. No, despite the pain I do want to play a part. In fact, I want the lead role so I can force my justice down his ugly throat until he gags. I can’t change what he’s done to me, but I can stop him doing it again. I will make him pay. I stretch and breathe deeply from the salt sea air and, as I do, a thin blanket of peace begins to settle over me. At last my question has been properly answered. I know why I’m here and I will find a way to reveal the truth.

  Elsa takes the keys out of the ignition but instead of getting out they both sit staring out at the living ocean without speaking. Finally Nat clears her throat. ‘I was just thinking again about all the weird things that have been happening. It breaks my heart to think Liss is not at rest. It’s bad enough her dying so young … the thought that she’s not …’

  ‘Shh, Nat. Don’t think like that. Don’t. We’ll just torture ourselves if we do.’ Elsa pats Nat’s hand. ‘I’m sure all these happenings are nothing to do with the supernatural. I think we’re just overwhelmed. It’s probably post-traumatic stress.’

  Nat takes her hand away. ‘I don’t care how rational your arguments are. When you’re dead you don’t just rot in your grave. Your spirit lives on. Can’t you understand that?’

  Elsa pulls a face. ‘You’re welcome to believe that.’

  ‘You believed in it once. Why don’t you now?’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Nat. I was a young and impressionable teenager. It was just emotion Pastor Jorge whipped up in us; it wasn’t real.’

  Nat pouts and squeezes her eyes shut.

  Elsa lets out a long sigh. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t believe in an afterlife as much as I want too. I can’t.’

  Nat’s voice rises. ‘Well, can you at least believe that I can smell her perfume, sense her presence even? I can right now. Right this minute. So strong as if she’s sitting in the car with us. For goodness’ sake, we had exactly the same hallucination at the same time. Can’t you at least admit there’s something weird about that? And what about the blank prescription? That’s something tangible. How do you explain that?’ Nat breaks out into sobs.

  Elsa puts her arms around her. ‘I don’t know, Nat. I don’t have all the answers. I’m sorry. Let’s not fight,’ she says. ‘It’s just that I don’t believe Lissa’s spirit is back in any real way. I think we’re just wishing she was.’ Elsa pats Nat like she’s consoling a child. ‘I promise, if someone’s murdered Lissa, we will nail them. Whoever put that blank script under your wiper knows something. We will look at every possibility and I’ll make sure Fletcher and Govender do everything they can to help us. That’s all I can do for Lissa. Nothing is going to bring her back.’ Elsa’s voice breaks.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry,’ says Nat. She fishes out a wad of tissues from her bag and hands one to Elsa before wiping her own swollen eyes. ‘You’re right. At least if we find out who killed her we will have done our best.’

  Elsa stares in silence at the crashing waves for a few seconds. ‘Actually, Nat, I do believe Lissa’s still with us in a way. I guess we’re all part of this universe so perhaps our energy just merges back into nature and becomes part of it just like those waves. I guess in a way that’s an afterlife.’

  She stabs the keys back into the ignition. ‘Okay, we’re not waiting for these incompetent police arseholes any longer, or even Fletcher for that matter. We’re going to Shaloma. We need to find out about this George for ourselves. We’ll get to the bottom of it, and then all these weird happenings will stop.’ She looks intently at Nat who manages a small nod and smile and swings the BMW into life.

  I watch them drive off with a prickle of fear. Karlos is a lot more cunning than they realise. If they take George off the list and only go after Karlos, he won’t hesitate to get rid of them. Somehow I need to follow Karlos’ every move. King Karlos was what he’d called himself at Shaloma, and now I know why.

  Chapter 38

  Instead of finding Karlos, I’m back at Shaloma watching Nat and Elsa march into reception like two soldiers on a mission. Helen looks up with surprise before giving them her habitual welcoming smile. ‘Hello, girls. What can I do for you?’

  ‘We need to speak to Dr Brink in private, Helen. Is he in?’

  A quizzical look flits across Helen’s face. She sets her jaw and nods. ‘I’m not sure if he’s busy right now. Sit down and I’ll go and see.’

  Nat and Elsa move towards the black leather couch nestled against the lime-green wall. Elsa taps her red nails on the armrest while Nat stares at the blank wall opposite.

  ‘You’re in luck. Please come this way.’

  They follow Helen in silence through the courtyard to Dr Brink’s office.

  Dr Brink ushers them over to chairs in the corner of the office. ‘Please, sit. What can I do for you?’

  ‘We need some information on a patient called George Mannering,’ says Elsa before sitting down.

  Dr Brink gives a small nod and frowns. He clasps his hands together and looks first at Elsa and then at Nat before clearing his throat. ‘I am so sorry about Lissa. I truly am. I know there’s an investigation. I’ve had both the police and Mr Fletcher here and have given them all the information they’ve asked for. As much as I want to, I can’t disclose confidential patient information to you. I can’t.’

  Elsa’s jaw tightens. ‘Yes, I realise that,’ she says, ‘I just want to know how long he was here for.’

  ‘He arrived on the Friday with Wolf and Nic. Lissa came on the Sunday,’ says Dr Brink. ‘They all started the treatment together on the Monday. He left recently to be admitted to another hospital.’

  ‘Were you aware then that he’s psychotic?’ Elsa leans forward in her chair and clenches the armrests.

  Dr Brink leans back from her anger. ‘Yes, but he was controlled by medication.’

  ‘The same medication called Trithapon which somehow became listed on Lissa’s file.’ Elsa’s eyes are fierce.

  Dr Brink’s mouth drops open. He reddens. ‘That shouldn’t have been on Lissa’s file.’

  Nat lets out a small sigh. A tinge of relief trickles through me. At least now she knows the truth.

  ‘Well, it was,’ snaps Elsa.

  A deep frown etches across Dr Brink’s forehead. ‘I’m sorry, I never prescribed Trithapon. I have no idea how that happened. The files are locked in the filing cabinet. We’ve given everything to the police and answered all their questions.

  Elsa stares at him like a threatening cat while Nat shifts uncomfortably on her chair. ‘I think you’d better review your security policies, Doctor. If I’d known you were as bad as this we would never have let Lissa come here.’

  Dr Brink says nothing.

  ‘Where’s George Mannering been admitted to?’

  ‘Fort Napier,’ he mumbles.

  ‘Why? Is he dangerous?’

  ‘I’m sorry, ladies. I really can’t answer any more questions.’ Dr Brink clears his throat and stands. ‘If I think of anything else I will contact the police straightaway.’

  Elsa shoves back her chair and leaves the office with a curt nod. Nat scurries behind her, eyes fixed on Elsa’s back.

  ‘Well, that was a complete waste of time,’ says Elsa as soon as they step outside.

  ‘I guess we should’ve known he wouldn’t tell us much,’ says Nat, pulling a face, ‘but at least we know now that it shouldn’t have been on Lissa’s file.’

  ‘I think that was pretty obvious already,’ snaps Elsa.

  Nat reddens.

  ‘We made a right fuck-up bringing her here. I really thought I was helping; thought it would be the turning point she needed. I was so consumed with worry that the thought of the low-lifes she would meet didn’t even enter my mind. How could I be so incredibly stupid?’ Els
a’s head drops and her shoulders slump forward.

  Nat places her arm around Elsa’s shoulders. ‘It was both of us, not just you, and we meant well. If we hadn’t forced her here the chances are she’d have drunk herself to death. She was in a bad way, don’t forget that.’

  Elsa nods as her eyes cloud over.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and have a walk around Mitchell Park. I think we both need a bit of time with nature.’

  ***

  It’s hard to remain stressed in a place as beautiful as Mitchell Park and my heart warms as I see Elsa’s and Nat’s shoulders relax. The air is heavy with the scent from frangipani trees. Smell is one of the strongest triggers for your memory they say, and it’s true. I only have to get the slightest whiff of frangipani and happy memories of Dad come flooding back.

  The park is pristine and in some strange way its order gives me hope. I know there’s a lot of chaos out there, but with God’s help they’ll get through, and then at least Dad’s death won’t have been for nothing. I push away the petrol nightmare by focusing on my own death. I can’t let it be for nothing. I have to nail Karlos.

  Nat and Elsa wander over to the zoo area. They stop briefly in front of the flock of salmon pink flamingos perched comically on one of their pink stick legs, before moving on to the mob of sentry-straight meerkats, peering with sharp, black fur-framed eyes at the crowd from the soft mounds of brown earth dotting their enclosure. I can’t help but smile, with their straight backs and small paws hanging dutifully in front; they’re so cute and so loyal to each other. We humans could learn a lot from them.

  ‘Didn’t that drug addict from church you were trying to help end up going to Fort Napier years ago?’

  Elsa lifts her eyebrows. ‘Hmm, I think he did.’ She gives a small laugh. ‘That feels like a lifetime ago. I’d forgotten all about him. Wonder how he is; probably dead if he went back on drugs.’

  ‘Shit, there’s too much of it around, there really is.’

  ‘I could get Fletcher to access George’s records there. Shaloma won’t help. They’re just trying to protect their reputation, but if we can somehow pinpoint George as being able to gain access to Lissa’s house early that morning, he could well be our man. I think her death in the hospital might just be down to incompetence. It’s quite possible they over-sedated her by mistake – but the fitting that took her there, that came from someone.’

  Nat purses her lips and nods. ‘That would explain the lack of post-mortem.’ She looks earnestly at Elsa. ‘Can’t we nail them for that, Els? Can’t we get them to exhume her body?’

  Elsa snorts and shakes her head. ‘You’ve no idea how hard that would be Nat. I’d never get it through court without the police agreeing, and Govender’s unlikely to help.’

  ‘Can’t Thabo get him to?’

  Elsa shrugs. ‘I think what we need to do is get the person who tried to kill her in the first place. At least we’ll have a strong attempted murder case if we can find evidence of this George giving her Trithapon.’

  ‘Do you think he’s the more likely suspect now? You were so sure it was Karlos before.’

  Elsa’s eyes follow a meerkat as it jumps from its mound and scurries over to join the rest of its pack. ‘I’m keeping Karlos on my list. He got the money, after all, but other than that I guess we don’t have much on him. George on the other hand is a dinkum psychotic and the drug he’s on is also mysteriously listed on Lissa’s file. There’s got to be a connection.’

  ‘Karlos did seem genuinely broken, especially at Lissa’s funeral. His eyes were raw with pain.’

  ‘I guess,’ says Elsa.

  Nat draws in a deep breath and turns to Elsa. ‘I know this sounds a bit weird but do you think that’s why we found that script at Lissa’s funeral? Do you think she was trying to tell us she’d been poisoned?’

  Elsa’s face stiffens. ‘No, I don’t.’ She turns away from the meerkat compound. ‘Come on, let’s go and phone Fletcher. I think we’ll get either him or Govender to pay Fort Napier a visit.

  Chapter 39

  I watch as a young female constable drives up the long hill to the old garrison of Fort Napier. The grey stone walls contrast sharply with the rolling fields of green stretching out in front. The constable parks her yellow police van and stops briefly to look at the panoramic view of Pietermaritzburg nestled below before buzzing on the security button.

  ‘Wie’s daar?’ crackles an Afrikaans voice.

  ‘Polisie,’ replies the constable and seconds later the heavy iron door creaks open to allow her in.

  Her brown police issue shoes pad behind an armed guard. The fort is deceiving from the outside and instead of grey stone, a number of red brick buildings lie within the grounds. The windows are barred and a barbed wire fence surrounds a twenty-metre rectangular swimming pool which squats in the centre of the compound. I follow them towards the largest of the red brick buildings. After a reinforced steel door, we continue down a long corridor and through three more iron security gates. I smile to myself as I pass straight through the high security.

  The constable is ushered into an office and told to wait. She perches obediently on one of the wooden chairs and places her knees together like a dutiful schoolgirl waiting to see the headmistress. I study her face. She’s quite pretty in a flat face kind of way. Her hair is cut into a short blonde bob and she’s got nice pale blue eyes although they’re hidden behind black framed glasses. She’d look a lot better with contact lenses and longer hair. I wonder what made her become a policewoman?

  The door creaks open and a middle-aged khaki-clad officer with a beer paunch comes in. So far everyone is white. I wonder if they’ve admitted any black or Indian patients yet or employed any black staff. I guess the new South Africa will take a little time to change.

  ‘I’m Superintendent Coetzee. What can I do you for?’

  ‘Constable Pienaar. Inspector Govender from CR Swart has sent me to collect some information on one of your patients, a Mr George Mannering.’

  The superintendent pulls down his mouth. ‘Ja, okay. Is it something I should know about?’

  ‘A possible murder case, but as yet we have no proof. Inspector Govender just wants to look into Mannering, and then if there is nothing to go on, to close the case.’

  ‘Okay. Just wait a bit and I will find his file. Viljoen!’ he shouts at the door.

  The door opens and a young guard stands to attention. ‘Kry gou vir my die leer vir George Mannering.’

  Minutes later he’s back with a brown cardboard file. The superintendent hands it to the constable. ‘Have a look through and if you need copies let me know. Mannering was admitted to us last week after a major psychotic attack.’

  ‘Do you think he is capable of murder?’

  The superintendent gives a cynical laugh. ‘Agh, anyone is capable of murder given the right circumstances, don’t you think?’

  The young constable meets his direct gaze but says nothing. She pages through the file and then hands two of the pages to the superintendent. ‘Can we just have copies of these two pages, asseblief.’

  ‘Viljoen!’ shouts the superintendent again. The door opens dutifully. ‘Maak twee afskripte van hierdie.’ He hands him the pages and they wait in silence. The young police constable remains upright while the superintendent’s eyes flicker over her like a lustful St Bernard eyeing a bitch on heat. Another arsehole … where do they all come from?

  I scan my eyes over the page the constable is holding – a list of dates and places with a woman’s name and the letters GBH after each. My heart sinks. George obviously has a history of attacking woman. ‘Highly intelligent and dangerous. Holds a BSc in Pharmaceuticals from Rhodes University.’ I frown at the words. Did Karlos know this? I think back to Shaloma. There were quite a few times when he chatted quietly to George. I thought he was just being kind but perhaps he was fishing, looking for another marlin, so he could plan his next careful move.

  The evidence against George is mounting. I guess
in some ways he’s the perfect stooge for Karlos. He’s psychotic, in a mental hospital, has a history of violence. He’s not only a perfect choice, but no public prosecutor is going to take up the case as long as he stays in Fort Napier. I wonder how Karlos got hold of his Trithapon. He must’ve planned it all so carefully. George is listed as highly intelligent and cunning but he’s got nothing on Karlos. The constable reads through the pages again and looks up. ‘I think maybe I must speak with him.’

  The superintendent purses his lips together for a second. ‘He’s heavily drugged. He may not make much sense.’

  ‘I think it’s best I ask a few questions.’

  ‘Ja, ok. Come with me.’

  The superintendent opens the door and leers at the young constable as she passes through. He follows a step behind, his eyes fixed on her arse. They pass through a series of locked steel doors and up two flights of stairs before going down another long corridor which ends with a steel double door. An armed, khaki-clad guard says, ‘More, Superintendent.’

  ‘Maak oop.’

  The guard gives a salute and unlocks the heavy doors. Two male nurses, clad in white but with truncheons strapped to their belts, jolt up out of their chairs. The ward is dimly lit with four sleeping patients.

  ‘Goeie more, Superintendent,’ they utter in unison.

  ‘Bring Mannering na die kantoor,’ barks the superintendent, marching past the beds to a wooden door at the end of the dormitory. He ushers the young constable in and I see his hand brush against the small of her back.

  The room’s obviously an office, with an old wooden desk and three wooden chairs, which look like typically government issue. The young constable seats herself stiffly on the nearest chair. Her face looks like an enraged bullfrog’s and it’s obvious she’s not enjoying the fat superintendent’s interest.

  The male nurse brings in a sleepy George. He rubs his head while his glazed eyes dart from the constable to the superintendent. He’s obviously drugged and even thinner and paler than when I saw him last. His black hair stands up, giving him even more of a rook-like appearance than before. He’s dressed in light blue hospital pyjamas and has a plastic hospital label securely fixed around his left wrist.