Daddy Long Legs (34 page)

Interviews with neighbouring Orania residents had resulted in a description of the man that Human believed to be the copycat killer. He was a tall and lanky man, according to neighbours. In his early thirties. With a thick shock of dark hair. Quiet and awkward, the man never mixed with anyone. And was rarely seen outside the house. The description wasn’t as detailed as Human had hoped. But the investigators had also learned that Havenga and the mysterious stranger had only relocated to their present address a few months before.

‘It was a bit of a strange set-up,’ one witness said. ‘You know, something not quite
lekker
about the whole thing.’ His words were reflected in numerous other testimonies. The people from the neighbouring houses thought they were possibly father and son. The elderly Havenga and his strange, sullen companion. They never spoke to anyone. Mixed with no-one. Kept to themselves. Some even considered them to be homosexual lovers. But there was no real proof. No basis for a suspicion shared by many. ‘This sort of thing would in any case never be tolerated here in Orania,’ another witness said. ‘You know, queers and all.’ So the residents had their suspicions. And the odd pair generated a fair bit of gossip. And quiet speculation. But that was it. Otherwise, they appeared to be normal, God-fearing people. ‘At least the house and the little garden were tidy,’ someone else said. Havenga continued to give piano lessons to the children of Orania. ‘And he was very good,’ a tubby woman said. ‘A real gifted pianist. And a great teacher. He really had a feeling for the children, you know.’ The only genuinely negative comment was from a woman who was sure Havenga murdered her cat. Whatever the opinion and gossip of the strange little enclave of Orania, they now had something very valuable indeed. A composite had been constructed. For the first time they had a good idea of what their suspect looked like. Human had arranged that one of the detectives would re-visit the witnesses the following day and construct a more accurate facial composite, using advanced computer software. This was all they had at the moment. There was – strangely – not one single photograph in the entire house.

In the course of the afternoon the calls starting coming in. And Human realised for the first time the true extent of their success. This was especially true when he received a call from the Minister of Safety and Security himself. It was true that they had still not managed to track down the copycat killer. And more importantly, they had not succeeded in rescuing Alexander Joemat. But Human and his team of investigators were nonetheless widely praised for their groundbreaking work. The government spin machine immediately went into overdrive, capitalising on the success of the raid.

The most difficult part of the day for Human was contacting the premier to inform him that they had not been able to find his son. Joemat’s surprising magnanimity and congratulations did little to soften the disappointment that Human felt.

The media, of course, immediately jumped on the story. And it was indeed a story. A serial killer that had evaded capture for more than twenty years had finally been captured. But he was dead. And rotting. And the recent murder and kidnappings that had thus far been attributed to him were suddenly – and perplexingly – the work of someone else. It was a bizarre development in what was already the story of the year. This peculiar and inexplicable turn in the investigation also grabbed the attention of the international press. And by the time the sun was setting, the Internet was abuzz with this strange new development, with even more bizarre conspiracy theories flying to and fro. Human received at least three dozen calls from media representatives. Requests for interviews. But he declined them all. He announced however that he would be conducting a press conference the following morning.

Human also received a call from detective Botha. ‘The computer guys got a hit on the Facebook lead.’

‘Huh?’ For a moment Human was lost. So much had happened since he had first arrived in the town of Hope. So much had transpired that day alone. It took him a moment to register.

‘The Facebook posting.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘They isolated one of the girl’s chat group friends. And got a hit on an IP address. They managed to trace it to an address in the immediate area. You want it?’

What was the use, Human thought? They already had an address. It was a case of too little, too late. ‘Um, just make a note of it, okay. We’ll check it out tomorrow.’

‘Sure thing.’ Botha sounded disappointed.

In the meantime, the CSU team worked throughout the night to collect as much evidence as possible. Especially in the strange child-like bedroom, with its anachronistic peculiarities – the 80’s toys. The decaying corpse of Havenga was transported to Kimberley where the pathologist immediately began an autopsy.

It was all good. And necessary. But ultimately, useless.

Within twenty-four hours Human would face the killer. And his own death.

‘There’s something in the air tonight.’

Kyle stood on the spacious porch of Odette’s house. She stood before him, her head cradled tenderly in both his hands. They looked at each other wordlessly. Enjoying the moment. Twin stars orbiting each other. A miniscule galaxy flung through a vast and gaping cosmos. They stood immobile within the looming silence. Fixed on each other. An electric fulcrum of mute understanding bridging the gap between them. A pivot upon which they revolved around each other.

Kyle had come over for an early dinner. To her house. Only the two of them. After which they had made wild frantic love on the living room floor. Grabbing. Tearing. Sucking. And fucking. Upon climax they had torn themselves apart. Lying sweating and heaving upon the carpeted floor. Naked.

And now they were here. On the porch. The world blanketed in a smoky dusk.

‘There’s something in the air tonight,’ Kyle said, repeating his earlier words. He felt it. Something huge. And beautiful. An exquisite destiny. Star-crossed lovers. Merged destinies. And a love finally requited. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced. It was going to be an exquisite evening, Kyle thought. He had no idea how wrong he was.

‘Dum dee dum dum.’ Odette smiled mischievously, imitating the baseline from the famous Phil Collins song.

Kyle smiled at her joke. Delighting in her easy carefree personality. ‘You know, over the last few days, I’ve spent a lot of time. Wondering. Imagining. What our lives would have been like if ... if we hadn’t missed each other back then.’ He tenderly wiped a tendril of hair from her face. ‘I wonder how our lives would have turned out if we had gotten together back then. If we had married. And been together. Where would we be right now?’

‘We would be right here. Right now. Because now is the only thing that matters.’ She stroked his cheek. ‘Thinking like that is no good, baby. Just enjoy the moment. And what we have right now.’ Kyle nodded almost imperceptibly.

‘Yes.’

‘You better get going, big boy.’ She looked at her watch. ‘My mom and them are going to be here just now.’

‘You should introduce me.’

She placed her index finger on her lips then on his. ‘Soon. I promise.’

Kyle sighed deeply. Then shook his head. As if to wake himself. And break free from the intensity of the moment. ‘Okay. Lemme be off.’ He kissed her. Deep. And long. ‘See you tomorrow?’

‘You betcha.’

Kyle smiled. Then released her. He turned and slowly descended the steps of the porch. At the bottom he turned to face her again. ‘Take care of yourself.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She saluted him with two fingers to her brow.

Kyle walked to his car, his heart glowing a deep red within his chest.
God
. How long had it been since he felt like this. Years. Damn! Almost a decade. He had forgotten what it felt like. Had forgotten how it elevated and vivified everything. How colours sparkled with new life. How sounds reverberated with meaning. As he de-activated the Benz’s alarm with his remote, he turned to look at her one last time. But she had already entered. Kyle climbed in and took a long languid drive back to the centre of town.  Over the course of the last few days he had made a big decision. A vague desire had become a firm resolution. Yes. Yes. Yes. He would ask Odette to come with him. She and little Tyra. Her little girl. He would ask her to join him. And go somewhere else. A brand new beginning. Some place beautiful. Like the south coast. Kwazulu-Natal. Yes. He would ask her to leave this place behind. This terrible place plagued by a thousand dark memories. And then he would make her his wife. And the life that had been denied them would finally be theirs. Yes.

As Kyle drove he realised that, for the first time in months, the thought of Angelique didn’t make him sorrowful. And suicidal. Odette had brought him love. And something else. Maybe equally valuable. A release. As he parked the Benz in front of the Royal Hotel, Kyle felt like a man that had been freed from prison. After a lifetime of incarceration. Damn, it felt good.

Kyle was about to switch off the engine when something caught his attention. It was a news report. On the radio. The task force had finally identified and located the killer. Kyle felt his heart racing – and then explode – as they announced that Arnold Havenga had been identified as the killer known as Daddy Long Legs. Kyle sat back in his chair, feeling the blood drain from his face. Ryan’s piano teacher. Ryan’s piano teacher was Daddy Long Legs. It seemed almost impossible. Unreal. After all this time, the killer had been right under everyone’s noses. And now his reign of terror was finally over. It seemed to good to be true. Kyle switched off the radio, without hearing the rest of the broadcast.

He couldn’t believe that after all this time the mystery had finally been solved. A part of him had believed that this whole thing would never find a resolution. And that the killer would forever remain above the law.

He tried to think back. To gather the vague recollections he had of the man known as Daddy Long Legs. He couldn’t remember much. But one thing was clear. He had never liked the tall, imperious man. The cultivated piano teacher that spoke with slow measured words. The man with the implicit arrogance. That always seemed to look down on those around him. There was something vaguely unpleasant about him. Even terrifying. Kyle could never put his finger on it. But now, of course, it all made sense.

Who would have thought? That the thin bespectacled detective from Johannesburg would be the one to catch him. Kyle sat quietly in the car. Overwhelmed. He bit his lower lip. Shaking his head with disbelief. And then. It came. The tears. Unbounded. And torrential. And he cried with sobs racking his body. No longer willing to control himself. They were tears of grief. And regret. And loss. But also, ultimately, tears of joy and happiness. Not only had he found love again. But the sick man that had taken his brother’s life had finally been brought to justice. Of sorts. He looked towards the ceiling of his car. ‘Thank you, God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.’

For a few minutes, Kyle sat in the plush interior of his German luxury car. And then he collected himself. Feeling a deep catharsis after the tears. And absolution.

He checked his eyes in the rear-view mirror. Then, taking a deep breath to compose himself, he exited the car. The pavement and the street were lined with people. The news had spread fast. And there was an electric buzz in the air. Everywhere people were chattering excitedly.

Kyle patted his pockets. He had left his cigarettes at Odette’s place. Damn. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let something as small as that ruin his elated mood. He dodged a car and ran across the road to the OK supermarket. When he exited a few minutes later, unwrapping a packet of Camels, he spotted detective Wayne Human. He jogged over. ‘Hey detective!’

Human looked up and smiled. ‘Ah, Mr ... um ... Devlin?’

‘Kyle, please.’

Human nodded, smiling. ‘Okay, Kyle. How are you doing? Did you hear the news?’

‘Man, did I ever? Shit!’ He reached out a hand. ‘Well done, detective. You kick ass, dude.’ Kyle flipped his finger up and down the street. ‘Up and down the boulevard, man. Seriously, well done.’

Human smiled at Kyle’s enthusiasm. ‘Thank you. I’m glad we could bring some justice to your brother’s memory.’ Human’s face darkened. ‘Now the big task lies ahead.’

‘The big task?’

‘Catching the copycat.’

Kyle looked at Human with confusion. ‘The copycat? I don’t understand.’

‘You didn’t hear the news?’

‘I did, but I ... no I guess I didn’t.’

‘Arnold Havenga is dead.’

‘Yeah, I got that.’

‘He’s been dead for, I don’t know, at least two months.’

Kyle felt the earth fall away beneath him. ‘What? I don’t ... what does that mean?’

‘It means a copycat committed the recent crimes. A very good, very informed copycat.’

Kyle leaned against the side of Human’s car. ‘Holy shit. I had no idea.’ For a moment the two men remained standing by the side of the road, saying nothing. Kyle pushed himself away from the car. This was shocking news. But he made a decision that even this wouldn’t tarnish his mood. If nothing else, the killer that had taken his brother’s life had met his end. And that was more than enough for now. ‘Shit. Unbelievable. And just when you think this story can’t have any more twists.’ He inhaled deeply. And turned to Human. ‘Fuckit. Let’s go for a drink.’

Human stared at him, taken aback by the offer. ‘I ... I don’t ... erm, I don’t know. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.’

‘Come on.’ Kyle was not going to give up that easily. ‘Come now. You deserve it. Think of it as a member of the public, expressing thanks.’

‘I don’t really drink.’ Human looked across at the Royal Hotel, then back at Kyle. ‘And you know ... drinking and driving ...’

Kyle pushed harder. Sensing that the policeman’s resolve was weakening. ‘I will pay for a taxi. And everything else is on me. Come now. You hungry? The bar has a really good pub lunch menu,’ Kyle said, lying.

‘I really don’t know,’ Human said, faltering.

‘Please. For me? In celebration of my brother’s memory.’ Kyle wasn’t lying about this. He had already made up his mind to have a good few drinks, toasting the resolution to more than twenty years of hurt. And regret.

Human looked at him meekly. ‘Okay. Only one. That’s all.’

‘Hell yeah. Of course only one drink. What do I look like? An alcoholic.’ He laughed as he led Human across the road.

Inside, the Horse and Hound was smoky and relatively quiet. The usual suspects were draped across the bar counter. The usual alcoholics. As a regular visitor himself, Kyle knew them all. And shouted cheerful greetings to the intoxicated men at the counter. A few returned the greeting. ‘Hey guys, look who I got with me? It’s the famous detective Wayne Human.’ One or two of the lesser inebriated visitors looked on with interest. In the corner, a short Coloured man with huge sideburns jumped up from his chair and surreptitiously edged past the detective, holding his head low. He headed for the exit and disappeared. Human and Kyle looked at each other with surprise. Then burst out with laughter. After the laughter had subsided they each grabbed a stool at the bar counter. The same Coloured girl as on Kyle’s previous visits was behind the bar. Kyle had since learned that her name was Lucinda. ‘Hey sweet cheeks, why don’t you get your pretty hands busy and pour me a Jack’s.’

‘How about “Hello Lucinda” first.’ She had her hands on her hips.

‘A sjeez, sorry girlfriend. I may be devilishly handsome but I’m
soooo
uncouth.’ Kyle bowed with a flourish. ‘Good day, lady Lucinda.’

‘
Ja
,
ja
, whatever,’ She turned to Human. ‘And for you, detective?’

‘Um, you know, make it ... erm ... make it a ... I’ll have what he’s having.’ It was obvious Human was not used to ordering drinks at a bar counter.

‘Give us two
Jägermeister
shooters and a Jack’s for the
poh-poh
,’ Kyle said, ignoring Human’s protests.  When she had poured the drinks, Kyle lifted the shooter glass up to Human. ‘Here’s to the world’s
flippin’
best detective.’ He flung back the drink, encouraging a hesitant Human to do the same. Kyle wiped his mouth and smacked his lips with satisfaction. ‘Dude, Sherlock Holmes is like your bitch, man.’ Lucinda giggled behind the counter. ‘Another one?’ Kyle asked, indicating the empty shooter glasses.

‘No, no. I’m fine,’ Human said, his hands held up before him.

‘Cool,’ Kyle said, making a mental note to order another round as soon as Human was distracted. He toasted the awkward detective once more, forcing him to take yet another sip from his Jack’s.

They began with the usual small talk. It was obvious to Kyle that the detective was not used to sitting on bar stools. But he kept the conversation flowing. Trying his best to make Human feel at ease. Trying his best to get the introverted detective as peppered as a Malay dish from the Cape. The small talk covered the usual. So, where you from? How’d you get into detective work? And so on. And so on. Human asked Kyle why Dirk Engelman had such a problem with him.

‘Well, actually, if you haven’t noticed, most people in Hope have a bit of a problem with me.’ Kyle downed his drink. ‘It seems everybody and his dog blames me for my brother’s disappearance that day. I should have been watching him. I should have been with him. Instead I was off visiting girls.’ Kyle stared into emptiness.

‘Do you blame yourself?’

‘I guess I do. It’s difficult not to blame myself. Boys were disappearing left and right. And I should have known better.’ He paused. ‘Funnily enough, the friend I was visiting on that day was a girl called Odette. And that’s probably the main reason he hates my guts. Our friend Engelman always had a bit of a thing for her. But it never happened.’

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. Your brother was one of his piano students. I’m guessing that sooner or later he would have made his move anyway. He did so with two of his other students.’

‘Wow, I didn’t know that,’ Kyle said, feeling a strange and much belated vindication at the policeman’s words. ‘Wow.’ He remained quiet for a moment. ‘Well, try telling that to the joker that vandalised my mirror.’