Daddy Long Legs (37 page)

The computer beeped. Startling more than a few of the detectives in the room.

Human leaned in. Feeling his heart beat madly in his chest.

He peered at the computer screen. Was this it? Would they finally have a positive identity?

NO MATCH.

‘Damn!’ The tension in the room released. And evaporated. Replaced by a dismal disappointment. The detectives dissipated. And went back to their tasks. Human stood before the screen. Morose. And moody. His arms folded. ‘Dammit!’

What did they have? An unidentified companion. In his late twenties. Or early thirties. Tall. Or maybe not so much. With dark hair. Or maybe not.

They had nothing. A spectre. A phantom. A man that few had ever seen properly. That no-one had ever spoken to. That almost no-one could identify in any solid manner. From the beginning, Human felt that he had had a sense of the man known as Daddy Long Legs. The man now identified as Arnold Havenga. He felt that he had come to know Havenga. That he even understood him. But here. But now. He was in the dark. And he felt helpless. This obscure companion of Havenga’s was a complete mystery to him. A dark mirage that taunted him. No. Haunted him. And of course, there was an even darker possibility. That they were chasing the wrong person altogether. That this mysterious man had nothing at all to do with the recent crimes. And that Human and his team were chasing a ghost. Once again Human berated himself for not realising the awful truth sooner. That they were dealing with a copycat. And not the sick bastard called Daddy Long Legs. He cursed himself for not listening to his intuition. He blamed himself for not paying attention to his nagging doubts and suspicions.

He exhaled forcibly. He needed to get outside. And get some air. He needed to get away from all this. Right now. He exited the room. And, walking through the police station’s public service area, headed for the front entrance.

And that’s when everything changed.

Human was about to exit the front of the police station when he heard a word that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Blackberry
.

He whirled around. At the front desk, a uniformed policeman was holding on to an inebriated Coloured man. He was handcuffed. Behind the bars of the front desk, the policeman on duty was holding a small black device in his hands. ‘One Blackberry cellular device,’ he said, itemising the Coloured man’s possessions. He made a note in the police report before him.

Human rushed up to the desk. Could it be? He remembered the phone from the Joemat interview. It was an expensive cell phone. And was not at all a common sight in a place like Hope at that time. Surely something that wouldn’t just pop up anywhere. ‘What did you say?’

The policeman on duty looked at Human in surprise. ‘Erm ... one ... Blackberry?’

‘Let me see that.’

The policeman behind the desk looked uncertainly at the arresting officer. He nodded. The cop behind the desk handed the pieces of the Blackberry to Human; the back cover, the battery and the device itself. Human stared at the items in his hand. ‘What’s going on?’ He asked, indicating the Coloured man with his head.

‘Police brutality,’ the man said drunkenly.

‘He was arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour,’ the arresting officer said.

‘Where did you get this?’ Human asked, addressing the drunk. No reply. Human grabbed him. ‘I said, where did you get this?’

‘I bought it,’ he said aggressively, snarling drunkenly. ‘From Kabous.’ He hiccupped. ‘For a box of wine,’ he added, as an afterthought.

‘Who the hell’s Kabous?’

‘Kabous Olifant. Just a lay-about. A drunk,’ the arresting officer said.

‘Issue a warrant for his arrest. Right now.’

The policeman behind the desk nodded. He ran towards the operations room behind him.

Human released the drunk. He looked inside the phone. A SIM-card was inside the slot. He quickly assembled the Blackberry. And pressed the ON switch. The SIM-card didn’t require a PIN. Thank God, he thought. He stared at the screen. The battery indicator was virtually empty. With shaking hands he flicked through the unfamiliar menu. He didn’t know what he was looking for. But it had to be the missing boy’s phone. It had to be.

He scrolled through the menu. Frustrated. What was he looking for? Was this not just another dead end? Then he saw the images folder. He clicked on it. The thumbnails showed a series of photos. And right at the top. The most recent photo. He clicked on it to enlarge it.

And gasped.

The blood drained from his face.

The other two policemen looked at him, puzzled.

Human looked up slowly, his heart beating furiously.

He was looking at an image of the copycat killer.

He knew it.

‘I’m taking this,’ he shouted as he ran out of the police station. ‘I’ll be right back.’ The arresting officer tried to protest, but it was no use. Human was gone with his evidence.

Human charged out of the police station parking, tearing up a cloud of thick dust. His heart raced in his chest. He swerved around a slight bend in the road and flew down the slope that would take him back to Wide Street. At the stop street he stole a quick glance at the image on the Blackberry screen.

It was taken at an awkward angle. Through a window pane. Revealing the dim reflected image of Alexander Joemat, grasping the Blackberry. But the image was clear enough.

The face on the snapshot made Human’s head reel. And quickened his heartbeat.

He didn’t know the man. He was sure he didn’t recognise him.

And yet.

There was something.

Something about the features. Something about the face.

The tight lips and the pursed mouth. The wide glaring eyes. And the thin nose.

There was something about the face.

Human had seen that face somewhere before. Or had he?

He raced along the single lane main street of Hope. Slamming on his horn. And shouting through his open window at laconic pedestrians. This was not the way Human would normally behave. But the circumstances were anything but ordinary.

If his suspicions were correct.

Dear God.

If his suspicions were correct.

Then the world had just become a much darker place.

Dear God.

He didn’t dare contemplate it.

Human dodged a drunken pedestrian and screeched to a halt in front of the Royal Hotel. He jumped out without locking the car and ran inside. There wasn’t a single moment to lose. Everything depended on it.

The lives of two people! The sanity of an entire community.

Everything depended upon his actions over the next few minutes.

He ran up to the reception desk. And realised he had left his key to the hotel safe in his room.

‘Damn!’

The receptionist – the same one from earlier that day – jumped a metre into the air. Then disappeared behind the desk. Human jumped over the desk. And grabbed the trembling man.

‘Where’s the hotel manager?’ The man looked at Human with terror. ‘Where’s the hotel manager?’ With a tremulous hand the clerk pointed to the room behind the desk. Human ran around the desk. And was just in time to meet the manager who had come out to see what all the noise was about. Human grabbed him. ‘The key! I need the key. To the safe. I need the key. Now!’ The manager looked around, bewildered. Then ran back into the room. A few seconds later he rushed out with the safe key. Human grabbed the key and ran to the area underneath the staircase, where the safe was located. The manager on his heels.

In the mad series of events that had characterised the last few days, Human had only removed the most important files from the safe. Some of the files – especially those covering the original series of murders – were still located in the musty confines of the walk-in safe.

In desperation, Human fumbled with the key. Frustrated and aggressive. The manager grabbed the key from Human and smoothly inserted it into the slot. ‘You need to insert it at an angle,’ he explained as he pulled open the heavy walk-in safe door.

Human rushed inside. Several of the boxes from the original investigation were stacked in a corner. Human traced his finger along the file indexes, printed on the outside of the square cartons. He read out the numbers with feverish haste. Then found the box he was looking for. With a violent sweep of his arm, he threw off the boxes in his way. Behind him the manager dodged falling cartons.

Human flipped open the lid. And rummaged through the folders within. He found the one he was looking for.

Breathlessly he flipped it open, tearing the folder in half. He flipped through the pages. Aggressive. Impatient.

And then he found it.

He felt his knees grow weak. And stumbled backwards.

The maw of the world opened up. And swallowed him.

Darkness clouded the edge of his vision.

Dear God. How could this be?

‘Detective.’ The manager reached out to Human. ‘Are you alright?’

Human looked at the man dumbly. And recovered.

There wasn’t a second to waste. He pushed past the stunned manager. And ran into the foyer. And outside. Dialling as he ran.

‘Botha? What was that address you got on the IP hit? Was it in Orania?’

‘Um ... no detective.’ Human heard Botha paging through a file. ‘It was a Hope address ... in Fifth Avenue. If you just hang on a second I can get you the address.’

‘Don’t bother. I know exactly where it is.’

Human jumped into his Corolla. And pulled away with smoking tyres, the folder on his lap. The address was in the file. Right at the south-eastern tip of the little town. As far away as any address in Hope could possibly be. Human raced southward on Wide Street. He tore around the little traffic circle at the end of Wide Street and raced down Gray Street.

‘Shit!’

In his mad dash he had forgotten to call in re-enforcements. There was no time to go back. No time to wait. He dialled Botha’s number. But the phone just rang. And rang.

Human’s cell phone beeped in his ear.

BATTERY LOW.

‘Fuck!’

He ended the call. And dialled Lerato’s cell.

The call went straight to voicemail. Human cursed.

   ‘Lerato, I know who it is. And I know where he is. Get a team and meet me now. Number forty-five, Fifth Avenue –’

And then his phone died.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’

Human hoped and prayed that Lerato got the message in time. He was heading into a world of danger. All on his own.

Human threw the phone into backseat as he swung violently around another corner. Into Fifth Avenue.

It wasn’t an avenue at all. Just a little dirt road. But it didn’t matter.

Up ahead was a very sick man. With a very twisted agenda.

It was time to put an end to it all.

The young boy threw the flat stone with practised precision. The stone’s wide surface hit the waters of the Orange river. And it skipped across the brown water. One. Two. Three. Four. Then it sank beneath the surface of the powerful river. The boy jumped into the air and did a little victory dance.

Behind him his older brother watched with a wry smile.

‘Did you see that, Kyle? Did you see that? Four skips.’

Kyle stepped forward and dismissed Ryan’s attempt with a wave of his hand. ‘That was a sissy throw. Lemme show you how it’s
really
done.’

Kyle stepped back from the edge of the wide river. Then – with hands clasped before him – he took a run-up. Right at the very rim of the Orange, he halted and catapulted a stone across its surface. It hit the water at a perfect angle. And skipped half a dozen times before it cleaved the dark water and sank.

‘Wow.’ Ryan looked on with open admiration. ‘That was awesome.’

Kyle pranced around along the river’s edge with an exaggerated swagger. ‘Wha’d I tell you, kid,’ he said with a terrible American accent. His younger brother giggled at his antics. Kyle stopped at the muddy edge and looked around surreptitiously. He carefully inserted his hand into the bulbous pocket of his cargo shorts. And took out a single cigarette. Ryan’s eyes grew large as Kyle lit the smoke. He took a drag. And heaved and sputtered as the acrid smoke assailed his lungs. He looked at his younger brother. You’re not gonna tell ma are you, Ryan?’ The little boy shook his head fervently. No. He would never betray his older brother.

For a moment the two brothers stood on the river’s edge. Alone. Together.

The dark waters of the Orange swept by them.

Beyond. A dark world encircled them. Looming. Approaching. Waiting to swoop down on them. And tear their lives apart.

‘Hey Kyle, do you think we’ll catch anything?’ Little Ryan pointed to their makeshift fishing rods some distance away, on a ledge that protruded into the swirling water. Two gnarled tree limbs, stripped from one of the numerous weeping willows that lined the river. With fishing line knotted around the end. And ping pong balls used as bobbers. The two rods were each resting on a Y branch, inserted into the muddy soil of the riverbank.

Kyle looked at his watch. A black plastic Casio with a little built-in calculator. All the rage. ‘Friend, I think we can expect a whopper of a whale to bite any second.’ Ryan giggled at his brother’s joke. Kyle walked up to the rods and looked into the water. ‘I hope so, daddy-o . Jaco says him and Gert nab catfish and yellowfish all the time. Right here.’

Ryan joined his older brother on the ledge. ‘It’s a good place.’

‘It’s a very good place.’

The two boys grinned at each other.

For a few seconds they stared into the coruscating water of the flowing river. Like the constantly shifting facets of a bright gem, a liquid diamond, the river surface reflected the sun in heaving shards of light. Hypnotic. Beautiful. A bright dazzling serpent. Sailing into an untarnished garden.  Pristine and unspoilt. A serpent of dark destiny. Come to rob the world of innocence.

‘Kyle, do you ever think of the future?’

Kyle looked at his younger brother. ‘I never stop thinking of the future, Ryan.’ Then back at the glittering river. ‘I never stop thinking of the day I can leave this place. And never look back.’

‘Why do you hate Hope so much?’

‘I don’t have anything against Hope. It’s just sometimes things don’t go together. Things just don’t fit.’ He looked at his brother. ‘Like that stupid big jacket ma makes you wear to Sunday school.’ Ryan nodded knowingly, grinning. In an effort to save money, their frugal mother regularly bought oversized clothing for her rapidly growing sons. Hoping it would last at least three winters. ‘Well, Hope just doesn’t fit me.’ He stared at the opposite bank. ‘And I don’t think I’ll ever grow into it.’ He ruffled his younger brother’s hair. ‘Why do you ask, dummy? About the future, I mean.’

The boy frowned. ‘It’s just sometimes, when I think about the future, all I see is darkness. I mean Roy wants to be a fireman. And Lizelle wants to be rich, and everything. But when I look into the future. I don’t see anything at all. It’s just all dark.’

‘Don’t worry too much about the future, Ryan. It’s no use. What will happen will happen.’ He pointed at the mighty waters of the Orange River. ‘I mean look at this river. It’s gonna go to the ocean, no matter what.’

‘
Ja
, I guess.’ The older brother looked at the sparkling surface of the water. And said nothing. For a long while the two brothers said nothing. ‘I just want to make the world a better place.’ Ryan looked at his older brother. ‘Everybody’s so sad. No-one speaks about it. Everybody spends so much time smiling. And talking about the weather.’ Kyle looked at Ryan with surprise. ‘It doesn’t have to be like this. No-one takes any effort to make things better.’ Ryan paused. ‘Sometimes it just takes one person to make a difference.’

Kyle sneaked up behind his younger brother. ‘Yeah!’ He grabbed his brother’s underpants and tugged. ‘And sometimes it just takes one person to do a good
wedgie
.’ 

Ryan laughed with good nature, and chased his brother along the bank of the river. He caught Kyle and swung at him with both fists. ‘Hey watch it, crazy cat.’ He disentangled himself from his younger brother and looked at his watch again.

A clock. Eating away at the life of the world.

‘Hey, why do you keep on looking at your watch?

‘I’m tryna see how long it’s gonna take for you to wise up.’

‘Aw, come now.’

‘Nothing, dude.’ Kyle paused. ‘I’m just checking the time,’ he lied. Odette, the hottest girl in class, was waiting for him. And getting impatient. He was sure.
No-one
made Odette wait for anything. Sweet, sweet Odette.

Kyle made a resolution to find an excuse. And leave as soon as possible.

Sweet, sweet Odette.

‘Hey Kyle. Do you think they’ll ever catch him?’ The two brothers were standing behind their crude fishing rods again, staring into the murky water.

‘Catch who?’ Kyle asked, distracted.

‘The killer,’ Ryan said impatiently. ‘Daddy Long Legs.’

‘Oh. Erm, they’ll get him. Eventually.’ He stole a glance at his watch. ‘They all make a mistake eventually, don’t they? Look at André Stander,’ Kyle said, referring to the notorious South African bank robber. The master detective turned master criminal. Famous for developing a habit of robbing several banks on a single day. Then being called in to investigate his own robberies. He had been shot to death a few years earlier in Florida, USA. ‘They all get caught, eventually.’

‘Ja, well, I’m not so sure.’

Kyle turned to his brother. Determined. He had made up his mind. ‘Listen, Mr Devlin. I’ve gotta go to Odette quickly. Okay?’ Ryan frowned at his brother, crestfallen.

‘You can’t go. Ma said you must stay with me. Ma said you must look after me.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But listen, Ryan, seriously, I’ll only be a couple of minutes, man. Seriously. I promise. It’s about schoolwork.’

‘Is not. And you can’t go, Kyle. Ma said so. And besides, I don’t want to fish alone. It’s no fun.’

Kyle kneeled at his brother’s side. ‘Listen, big guy, I’ll only be a few minutes, okay.’ Ryan refused to look at his brother, staring in sullen sulkiness at the muddy soil. ‘Listen here, if you don’t say anything to ma ... I’ll give you that Leon Schuster tape you like so much.’

Ryan stared up at his brother through crumpled eyebrows. ‘And what about your
Buck Rogers
video tapes?’

Kyle sighed. ‘Yes, okay. Them too.’

‘All of them?’

‘Yes, yes, all of them.’

Little Ryan probed the wet soil with a muddy toe. ‘How long you gonna be?’

‘Dude ... fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, max,’ Kyle said excitedly.

‘I wish you wouldn’t go, Kyle.’

‘Come now, bro,’ Kyle said quickly, fearful of losing his advantage. ‘I’ll give you all my chips for the next week.’

There was a long silence. ‘Don’t stay away long, Kyle. Please.’ Ryan said softly.

Kyle was already running along the muddy bank of the river, in case his capricious brother changed his mind. ‘See you just now, dude,’ he shouted over his shoulder. Ryan stared sullenly after his brother. At the foot of the sloping path that led through a grove of Marula trees to the top of the overgrown embankment, Kyle stopped and turned. ‘Dude, you know I love you right?’ Ryan said nothing. Kyle stepped forward. ‘I will never let anything happen to you, ya hear?’ Kyle paused. ‘I will always be there to take care of you.’ Ryan nodded sullenly. Kyle stared at his younger brother for a moment, then turned and jogged up the narrow footpath.

Ryan turned and faced the river. Alone.

He plopped down on a dry spot. And sat in glum silence. The excitement of catching a catfish had completely evaporated.

An hour later Kyle had still not appeared. ‘I should have known,’ he whispered to himself. Angry at his older brother. He stood up. And kicked both rods into the water. And then walked the little footpath up the embankment. Trudging through the thick and untidy bush veldt, he reached the road. Up ahead was the Hope police station.

He had hardly started walking along the dirt road when a car pulled up alongside him. It was his piano teacher. Mr Havenga.

‘Hey Ryan, why do you look so glum?’

‘Aw, it’s nothing, Mr Havenga.’

Arnold Havenga looked around surreptitiously. ‘Are you alone?’

Ryan nodded sullenly. ‘Ja,’ he said softly.

Inside the car, Havenga inhaled sharply, excited. ‘You need a lift there, my boy?’ Ryan looked at him uncertainly. ‘I tell you what. We’ll stop for an ice cream.’

Ryan didn’t feel like company. And ordinarily he would have said no. But Mr Havenga had lost his son less than a week ago. And Ryan felt sorry for him. Maybe Mr Havenga needed someone to talk to. Maybe he needed someone to make the sadness go away.

After all, Ryan only wanted to make the world a better place.

He nodded and climbed into the car.

And disappeared.

Forever...