Pale Horses (7 page)

‘Did you know Sonet well on a personal level?’

Lilian nibbled at her plum-coloured lower lip as she considered the question.

‘As well as anybody, I suppose. She wasn’t a secretive person, but at the same time, she didn’t talk much about her private life. She was … reserved, I would say.’

‘Was she married? Engaged? Any love interest that you know of?’ Jade couldn’t help thinking of Victor Theron’s lean, anxious face.

Now Lilian took so long to answer that Jade had time to read the captions on two of the other framed photographs. One was ‘Siyabonga Community, Doringplaas, Bronkhorstspruit,’ and the other was ‘Lehalala Community, Riverside Farm, Bela-Bela.’

‘You know, I don’t think so. She was very close to her brother and sister. She would sometimes speak to her brother Koenraad on her cellphone and she always sounded happy when she did. I know she got divorced last year, and it was clear that it was very acrimonious. If you want her husband’s name and contact number I can give it to you. But as for having a relationship since then, I can’t say.’

Can’t or won’t, Jade wondered.

Lilian’s fingers worried at the edge of the topmost invoice, which Jade saw was from a company called Global Seeds, for transportation of goods.

‘Did you know she did base jumping?’

Lilian shook her head. ‘She never talked about it. But I wasn’t surprised when I found out, though, because she did mention when she first joined us that she enjoyed parachuting.’

‘Did she ever mention Victor Theron, the man she jumped with?’

‘I don’t remember that name at all.’

‘Would it be possible for me to look inside her office?’

‘You can if you like, but there’s not much to see there. She only used a laptop, and she took it with her when she was out of the office.’

Sure enough, when Lilian stood up, walked the short distance to a door in the corridor and unlocked it, Jade was confronted with a gleaming glass desk as free from paperwork as Mr Engelbrecht’s had been. Only two framed photographs interrupted its length. One was of a young woman with short dark hair that Jade thought must be Sonet herself, with her arms around a much taller man, and another longer-haired woman who could have been her sister and, from what Lilian had told her, probably was.

‘That is her with her family,’ the receptionist confirmed.

The other picture was of an even younger Sonet, skinny and barefoot, standing outside a humble-looking house. Her hand was outstretched and touching the muzzle of a flea-bitten and equally skinny grey horse who, ears pricked, seemed to be hoping for a treat.

‘She did not have a happy childhood, I think,’ Lilian said softly. ‘She said to me once, that because she went without so much, she was driven to do what she could for others.’

‘Do you know where she grew up?’ Jade asked, but Lilian shook her head.

‘Where does she live now?.’

‘I have an address for her in Killarney, but I don’t think it is the most recent one. She moved a little while ago.’

‘Well, thank you for your time,’ Jade said. ‘You’ve been very helpful. Here’s my business card. If you remember anything else, whether you think it is relevant or not, please call me.’

As Jade left the building, she noticed two police detectives signing in with the guard. The official investigation into Sonet’s death had now progressed as far as her workplace. Jade was glad about this, but even more glad she had managed to get there first.

It was five a.m. on a pitch-black winter’s morning and David Patel was already on his way to the gym.

He’d left Naisha still asleep, curled up on her right side with her back towards his side of the bed. He’d looked in on Kevin on his way out and found the boy sleeping in exactly the same position as his mother. He hadn’t so much as moved when David had stroked his hair, and for an uneasy minute he’d been reminded of something that Captain Moloi, his friend in the homicide unit, had said about how the only memories he really had of his young daughter were of seeing her late at night and early in the morning, still fast asleep.

Successful Parenting 101. A course that any police officer working in Jo’burg Central would find difficult to pass.

Of course, David could have chosen to give gym a miss and have an early breakfast with his wife and child before driving straight through to the office. But he hadn’t. What did that say about his family relationship, he wondered.

He could always blame his decision on the area’s notoriously bad traffic jams. The M1 highway from Pretoria to Jo’burg was bumper-to-bumper during rush hour, and if you didn’t want the fifty-kilometre trip to take well over two hours, you had to be on the road by five-thirty a.m. at the latest. The Pretoria–Sandton Gautrain link had helped to alleviate the traffic somewhat, but even so – better safe than sorry.

So, here he was, back in downtown Jo’burg. No one was up and about and, as usual, the Nigerian owner was nowhere to be seen. David himself had to turn on the overhead lights which, after emitting their familiar ticking and crackling sound, flickered into yellowish life.

He checked the changing room carefully as he walked in and then hung his ironed work trousers and collared shirt on one of the locker handles. Judging from the open locker doors and the fact the liquid soap was finished, he could see that others had come and gone since he’d last been there.

Yesterday’s note was a practical joke, he told himself. Nothing more. If you suspected it was anything more, why would you have come back
here again, he asked himself. It’s not as if you’d go out of your way to make yourself a target again, hoping that this time you’d manage to catch the perpetrator in the act.

Or is it?

He let out a short, mirthless laugh that sounded oddly loud in the otherwise empty gym.

Checking his watch, he saw he barely had time for a half-hour workout if he was going to be able to prepare for the seven-thirty a.m. meeting that was due to officially start his day.

Twenty minutes later, he was lying down on the sweat-infused leather bench, staring up at his straining arms and the still-too-heavy weighted bar his hands were struggling to keep a grip on. His pectorals burned with the effort; the right one felt as if it had been sprayed with acid. He was going to do this, dammit. He knew he could. Use it or lose it, and he was damned if he was going to lose it.

Sixteen … Seventeen …
And then he heard the unwelcome sound as the entrance door creaked open and, a moment later, slammed shut again. The light stayed on this time, but he heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

Do it.

But try as he might, his body would not allow him to push the weight forward and sit up. He was trapped underneath it, with his weaker right arm about to give way. With a flicker of real fear, David realised that identifying the stranger who’d walked in was the least of his problems. He couldn’t hold this damn thing. His grip was slipping, his muscles failing under its weight. He was going to …

And then he almost shouted in astonishment as two slim-fingered hands grabbed the thick bar, which felt suddenly, blessedly lighter. With a huge effort, he pushed it up and away and struggled into a sitting position.

Jade squatted down beside him. Her dark brown hair was tied back from her face, and her gaze could have cut through tungsten.

‘Are you crazy? Rule number one. You never, ever do free weights alone. Where the hell is your spotter, David? Just what are you trying to prove?’

He stared at her, breathing hard, aware of the sweat running down his face.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked her.

‘I’ve come to ask you a favour.’ Jade looked around, taking in the well-used machines, the flickering overhead light, the blackened plug point.

‘No … I meant – how do you even know this place exists? And that I use it?’

‘I have my sources,’ she said, with a flicker of a grin.

‘And who would they be?’ He was smiling now, for the first time in what felt like weeks.

‘Classified, I’m afraid. But not even they can help me with the case I’ve taken on. So, I’ve come to you.’

‘What case is this?’

Jade didn’t answer him, but glanced back at the cardio equipment.

‘Do both those treadmills over there work?’

‘They do, but the one on the left is stuck at a twenty-degree incline.’

‘You can take that one then, seeing as you’re quite the gym addict these days. Come on. Let’s run while we talk.’

The treadmills stirred into life. David set his machine at a pace that kept him at a slow jog. Jade was going much faster. She was running on the damn thing. But then, David told himself, her machine was not set at a savage incline.

‘
OK
, why do you need my help?’ he asked, trying not to sound breathless. ‘I gather you’re investigating a police case. Weren’t you able to charm your way onto the team?’

He asked the question jokingly, since in most cases, if an investigator co-operated with the police, they were more than willing to share certain information. But her reply sounded serious.

‘It’s a death by misadventure-stroke-culpable homicide investigation, and it’s going to be difficult working with the detectives on it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they’re part of Captain Moloi’s team.’

David said nothing for a while, just focused on not falling off the belt while he considered her words.

‘And you hate each other’s guts,’ he said eventually.

‘Not at all. I think Moloi is a very diligent officer.’

‘Which, in translation, really means?’

‘He’s a narrow-minded old fart.’

‘Old fart? He’s two years younger than me.’ Even to his own ears, David sounded aggrieved.

‘You know what I mean. He lacks imagination. In any case, my personal opinion of him notwithstanding, he won’t work with me.’

Jade didn’t even sound out of breath as she talked, David noted. Now unashamedly gasping for air, he stabbed at the ‘Slow’ button on the console, bleeding off the speed until he could drop back into a brisk walk.

‘Moloi believes you should be in prison,’ David said.

‘That’s his opinion.’

‘And you know what? I can’t argue with him there. His opinion is based on fact.’

Now Jade was silent. She stared ahead, chin set determinedly, her ponytail bouncing as she ran. She was dressed for the gym, he noticed. Black close-fitting tracksuit pants, training shoes, a red gym top. Now that she’d removed the black sweatshirt she’d been wearing, he could see the way the stretchy red fabric hugged her breasts, their shape perfectly outlined against the …

‘Dammit!’ David missed a step on the treadmill, putting his foot down on the edge of the machine by mistake, which caused him to overbalance and nearly fall. He grabbed the support rail and managed to pull himself upright and stop the machine before the belt could sweep him ignominiously backwards and off.

Now Jade looked round in concern, stepping onto the sides of her own treadmill.

‘You OK?’

‘Yes, fine. Just mistimed a stride.’ His heart was racing, and not only from the near miss he’d just had. He could never work out why having a simple conversation with Jade gave him such a rush – a feeling of nervous delight, similar to what he remembered experiencing when he’d ridden roller coasters as a boy.

Of course, to explore the analogy further, David knew only too well that this particular roller coaster was just as likely to fly off its rails and crash in a buckled heap of metal as it was to complete the ride safely.

They’d barely spoken since getting back from the ill-fated trip to the St Lucia Wetland Park, where he’d broken the news to her that Naisha was pregnant. Now, ridiculous as it sounded, he didn’t want to take any wrong steps in this conversation.

‘I’ll help you, if I can. But I’m not breaking any rules for you, Jade.’ he said.

‘Great. Thank you.’ She speeded her machine up again. ‘Anything I find out that I think could be helpful to the investigation, I’ll pass on to you and you can tell Moloi.’

‘You want to tell me what it’s about now?’

‘Everything you need to know is in that folder.’ Jade indicated with her thumb towards the yellow cardboard file lying on top of a pile of weights.

‘I might not be able to give you all the details. Not if they are privileged.’

‘I know. I won’t ask you to do that. In any case, I’m a few steps ahead of Moloi already. He needs to put some fireworks up his team’s backsides. They only arrived at Sonet Meintjies’s workplace today, a week after her death. Tell him to send them up to the building’s top floor. There are footprints there that need examining, and someone needs to dust for fingerprints, too.’

‘But Jadey …’

‘And they need to find out her current home address – she moved recently and her colleagues aren’t sure where she went. If I find out first, I’ll tell you.’

‘Jadey, the department is at a standstill right now. Moloi’s three men short and the caseload is frankly overwhelming. I’m sure he’ll get around to it soon.’

‘I’m sure he will. And I guess a case of death by misadventure-stroke-culpable homicide isn’t exactly top of the list,’ Jade agreed.

‘You want to do me a favour in return?’ David found himself asking.

‘Sure.’ She glanced at him before returning her attention to the humming treadmill. ‘What is it?’

‘Last time I was here, somebody came in and switched the lights off, put the treadmill on full speed and turned up the music. I don’t know who, because I was on the damn weights bench as usual. I gave them enough time to leave and after I’d turned the lights back on and checked my belongings, I found a note tucked into my clothes.’

‘That sounds spooky.’

‘Damn right it was.’

‘The note was addressed to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Handwritten?’

‘No, printed.’

‘What did it say?’

‘It said, “Do you know you have a double?’’’

‘Cryptic.’ Jade slowed her machine and scratched her head, clearly giving it some thought. ‘It was just one person?’ she asked.

‘One set of footsteps came down the stairs.’

‘What did they sound like? You must have had some impression of them from the way they walked. Old, young? Heavy, light?’