The Lazarus Effect (21 page)

Vee snapped the folder on the desk in front of her shut with her good arm.

‘I don’t buy it,’ she said. ‘And I’ll tell you why I don’t buy it.’

‘I’m sure you will, and I cannot wait to hear it,’ Sergeant Mthobeli said wearily. He was fed up with this woman, with her singsong accent and arm bundled in an unsightly sling. Violence against one’s person tended to deter other people, make them re-examine their priorities. No such luck here. Journalists.

Ezra Mthobeli felt some admiration too, despite himself. In addition to single-handedly rejuvenating a long-abandoned case and pushing it further than any officer had, this journalist appeared to be getting help. He didn’t know from where, but she was privy to a lot of information concerning the Paulsen enquiry that the press wouldn’t be in possession of. Moreover, she’d been allowed to take a quick look at the docket against her assailant. Orders dribbled down from the top, and all he could do was obey.

‘I can’t wait to hear why you don’t believe Carina Fourie is the one who tried to kill you. She has already turned herself in. On top of that, she has confessed to murdering Jacqueline
Paulsen. I’ve heard about this so-called investigation you’ve been running.’ He wagged his finger under Vee’s nose and resumed stamping the reports piled on his desk. ‘You got lucky, young lady. After all this time and trouble, the case is solved. Your murderer has walked in and confessed, and you are still alive. Heh-heh, maybe you should come work for us!’

‘I don’t believe it because it doesn’t make sense.’

‘What doesn’t make sense?’ Sergeant Mthobeli banged his stamp one last time and put it to bed on a worn ink cushion. ‘The hit and run? We took statements from you and the one witness who saw everything, and your stories tally. Both you and, er … Mrs …’ He reached for Vee’s accident docket.

‘Mrs Pearl Nyathi,’ Vee chipped in. The angel who’d seen the attack and called the ambulance and police. Thank the sweet Lord for corporate jobs that required late nights and early mornings, otherwise she would’ve lain in the street for a long while. She had a lot to be grateful for: battered arm and ribs, bruises everywhere but no broken bones or internal injuries. This couldn’t become a habit.

‘Yes. Both of you saw the licence plate number. In fact, Mrs Nyathi remembered all of it. But then–’

Mthobeli slammed his hand on the desk and Vee jumped. The sergeant smiled beatifically and spread his palms. ‘A miracle happens! Before a case file is even opened, a woman walks into Pinelands police station and confesses to two crimes. Two!’ He brandished two fingers and wiggled them close to her face, in case the significance of such incredible fortune was lost on her.

‘This doctor claims to have killed a teenage girl, her husband’s love child. She also admits to using her Mercedes-Benz in an
attempt to flatten a nosy journalist who was making her life miserable. That would be you, by the way. So,’ he waggled the docket chronicling Carina Fourie’s escapades, ‘we check out her story and guess what? It all holds water. She even drove the car with the smashed headlight to the station. Imagine that!’

‘Which brings us here.’ He smiled and waved his arm around the central police station, the squat building on the corner of Buitenkant and Caledon. Carina had been booked in Pinelands and transferred there. The mandatory two-day wait for a court appearance had passed and she was still in custody. Her lawyer was kicking up a fuss. The first hearing was scheduled for two thirty that afternoon. Mthobeli was looking forward to attending.

‘So, please tell me which part of this wonderful tale displeases you.’

Vee smiled. Let the sergeant have his fun. ‘Her story doesn’t add up.’

‘Where is your adding not adding up?’

Vee held her peace. She couldn’t mention that her boss rewarded heroic endeavours, that Portia had ways and means. Vee now had copies of the original police docket, as well as the full case file on the Paulsen disappearance. ‘There are holes in her story.’

‘There are holes in my shoes, but I still wear them,’ Mthobeli replied. ‘I don’t know if you are refusing to accept this and laying a formal complaint of culpable homicide. It is your right.’

Vee rubbed her arm. ‘I told you, I didn’t see the attacker.’ Which was the truth. She hadn’t even been able tell if the driver was male or female.

‘Then we have to wait until the good doctor gives us a more detailed confession,’ Mthobeli shrugged. ‘Until then, all we have
is what she’s told us. Carina claims that Jacqueline went to their home late in the evening to speak with her father and found the house empty. Carina was the only person at home. Jacqui had always been rude to her and that night had been no different. Carina was facing the fifth anniversary of her son’s death and she didn’t want to deal with this child whom she wished did not exist. They had a heated argument that got out of hand and she killed Jacqui in a fit of rage. We have search warrants for their home but, to be honest, we are not optimistic.’

‘That’s the flimsiest confession I’ve heard,’ Vee snorted. ‘Killed her in a ‘fit of rage’, what is that?
How
did she do it? Where’s the body? Why has she refused to let her family visit her?’

The sergeant shook his head and picked up another stack of papers. He didn’t want to be rude, but he couldn’t spend his whole day on this young woman and her questions. ‘You can ask her yourself when you get the chance.’

A constable came in and made a silent signal to his superior. Sergeant Mthobeli turned to Vee, his forehead furrowed. ‘This is a huge favour we’re doing for you. I hope you know that.’

‘I do. Thank you so much.’ Vee got up. ‘Won’t take long.’

‘Ten minutes. In and out.’ Mthobeli picked up the stamp.

‘I know you didn’t do this.’

‘You know nothing.’

‘I know more than you do. That’s why your confession doesn’t line up and you’re buying time until you work out the details. It’s always the details that let you down, isn’t it?’

‘My story is airtight, my dear. I’ve made my peace with what I’ve done, and I’m willing to face the consequences. I’m actually at peace with putting my cards on the table.’ Carina held Vee’s gaze and hadn’t flinched once.

She’s
willing
to face the consequences, Vee repeated to herself. Martyr language, like she was taking the fall for someone else. ‘Lies are exhausting, Carina.’

‘Yes, they are. As I’m sure you well know.’ A smile flitted over Carina’s lips and was gone.

‘What do you mean by that?’

Carina shrugged with her mouth. ‘You are no innocent. You don’t look like one. I’m sure you’ve done your fair share of manipulation to get where you are today.’

Vee straightened up. ‘I have no secrets from anyone. And this isn’t about me, is it?’

Carina’s cackled. ‘All women are liars, my dear. It’s the bedrock of all our relationships. But you’re right; this isn’t about you.’

The room they were in was nothing more than four walls, ceiling and floor. They sat at a bare table with four decrepit chairs, space for lawyers and clients to confer. It was drab and featureless, like Carina had become. Her grey-blue eyes were washed out, like they’d been held under a running tap to leach out their colour and vitality.

‘What did you do to her? Where’s the body?’ Vee pressed.

Carina stared past her.

‘If you murdered her, you should know.’

‘You shouldn’t even be here.’

‘True, but you were the one who agreed to speak with me. They only allow lawyers and immediate family in here, but you gave your consent to let me in. Why?’

Carina shrugged. ‘Intelligent conversation, perhaps. You have been as invested in this …’ she waved a hand noncommittally, ‘
affair
, as if you are part of my family. I never bothered to ask you why. Why does this matter to you so much? Why would the death of this one girl make you so driven?’

Vee squirmed. ‘Stop deflecting. You won’t give specifics on what happened because you can’t. You probably weren’t even there. You have no clue if Jacqui’s dead or alive, any more than the rest of us do.’

‘Oh, she’s dead,’ Carina whispered. ‘She’s dead.’

Vee felt a chill race through her. Weeks of chasing testimony and stitching clues together, and here was her answer. If no supporting evidence ever surfaced that Jacqueline Paulsen was no longer of this earth, the look on Carina’s face would suffice.

Carina’s facial muscles contorted. ‘She took my child, took my
life
. So I took hers in return.’

Adele
. These two women had climbed over Ian, the orchestrator of their suffering, to annihilate each other. ‘Talk to me, then. Let me tell your side of the story and make things easier for you.’

Carina scoffed. ‘You can’t help me. You know nothing. You’re nobody. You couldn’t even help yourself.’ Her grey eyes burned as she looked at Vee’s injuries. ‘I’m fine where I am.’ Carina went back to staring at the peeling paint on the walls.

Vee got up and knocked on the door for the guard to open up. The hinges whined as it opened. ‘Good luck,’ Vee said, and walked through.

Vee groaned. A headache was ripening and it felt epic. She mashed her fingers into her temples. ‘Why won’t it make sense … things are not sticking together, why, why,
why
?’

‘Stop aggravating yourself. You should be resting.’ Chlöe eyed her over the top of
Elle
magazine. ‘I’m assigned to make sure you stay out of trouble.’

‘You’re assigned to assist me no matter what. I’ll rest when I’m dead.’

‘That’s so not funny, considering what you’ve gone through. Take that back before it turns into a real jinx.’ Chlöe looked scandalised.

Vee swung her legs off the couch. ‘Resting’ for the past three days had been driving her insane, and she felt like bolting. The end was near, she could feel it. She needed to be out there, chasing it. Chlöe would take some convincing, though. ‘It’s all these bits and pieces I can’t make sense of,’ she insisted. ‘I hate loose ends.’

‘At least now you can give up on Philemon Mtetwa.’

Vee nodded. Dirty or not, Mtetwa was in the clear. He had no real or imagined motive to harm Jacqui. As to means, they
had confirmation he’d been in Denmark on business for three weeks around the time of her disappearance.

‘Don’t be smug. Ashwin’s out, too. He’s still locked up. There’s no way he tried to kill me,’ Vee shot back. Venter would be let out on bail soon but two assault charges weren’t going away.

Chlöe blew air out of pursed lips. She put the mag down in her lap, finger on her page. ‘Okay, let’s do this
one more time.
Who’s left?’

Vee raised her index. ‘Adele …’

‘A woman who, unless she’s a raging psychopath, has no reason to murder her only child. Come off it. Then we’ve got the Three Stooges, Rosie, Lucas and Serena.’ Chlöe counted them off on her hand and rolled her eyes. ‘Whom I won’t even dignify with reasons. Which of those three would make a likely candidate for murder?’

‘Serena.’

Chlöe dipped her head from side to side. ‘Eh. She wouldn’t get her hands dirty unless she absolutely had to. And I don’t want to hear one more word about it being Ian. You’ve
made it
make sense because you’re gunning for him so bad. One afternoon with nurse Duthie and you were sold. And yet the prime suspect and self-confessed murderer, Carina, who all but painted you a picture when you saw her yesterday, you always put at the bottom of the list.’

‘She didn’t
confess
. Like, how would she even–’

‘This theory-thrashing game sucks and I’m not playing it any more. Jacqui Paulsen committed suicide. She drowned herself at Camps Bay and we’ll never know what happened to
the body. Carina will unfortunately pay for a crime she didn’t commit and everyone else will move on with their existence. Here endeth our fruitless foray into the inner lives of a warped cross-section of the Western Cape middle class. Amen.’ Chlöe reopened the magazine. ‘You really should get some rest. When you’re back at work for real, you’ll kick yourself for not taking advantage of this.’

Vee nodded absently. ‘Maybe later. What I need right now is to check up on something medical. I hope you won’t mind dropping me off, seeing as I can’t drive.’

‘What,
now?
It’s nine o’clock at night, it’s raining and the doctor who attended to you at Kingsbury won’t be there.’ Chlöe meshed her eyebrows. ‘What’re you up to?’

‘Hospitals are open all night, and I didn’t mean Kingsbury.’ Vee locked eyes with Chlöe, watching slowly as it dawned on her.

‘Oh, come on! Right now, at this flippin’ hour, you want us to chase Ian down for what reason?’

‘Ian? Who said anything about Ian?’ Vee flexed her slung limb and winced for effect. ‘My arm hurts. A doctor needs to take a look at it.’ She laughed at the incredulity and disgust on Chlöe’s face. ‘Oh, stop. We’ll swing by, poke around, rattle him a little, be back here in forty-five. Nothing too intense. Haven’t you ever played detective?’

‘This,’ Chlöe touched Vee’s sling, ‘and this,’ she pressed her bruised ribs, and Vee yelped and slapped her hand, ‘don’t look like playing. They look like trying to die.’ Chlöe put her hands over her face and grunted. ‘You’re unbelievable. I want it on record that I’m thoroughly opposed to this craziness, and I feel
it in my bones that nothing good can come of it. I say we sleep on it and approach everything with a fresh mind tomorrow morning.’

‘Duly noted and overruled,’ Vee said and tossed her the car keys.

It took forever convincing Chlöe to leave, but eventually Vee managed it. Chlöe delivered a stern lecture on the link between destructive behavioural patterns and early death, gave her an impressive list of reliable night-time cab services, and drove off looking deeply concerned.

Directionless, Vee lingered in the WI’s reception for a quarter of an hour. An arm in a sling was perfect cover; people took one pitying look at it and assumed she belonged. She had no idea what she wanted to do, or how she’d go about doing whatever it was once she figured it out, but she felt imbued with purpose. Something would nose her on the right path, and it could happen at any moment.

The ebb and flow of humanity’s afflicted trickled past the front desk. Television dramas had the world fooled, for not every medical facility was a battleground strewn with blood and pierced with screams twenty-four-seven. The skeleton crew manning reception was taking it pretty easy. Vee deflated a little. The ambience didn’t feel like the penny was about to drop at any moment.

She wandered up two floors and over to the specialist units. There wouldn’t be a cardiologist working this late, not unless
there was an emergency, but it was worth a shot. If she so happened to chance upon Ian in the halls …

Her phone beeped as a text came in. She scrolled through it and her heart pattered:

‘How now, brown cow?’ Vee murmured.

Bronwyn Abrams was back in the mix! Jacqui’s long-lost friend had risen, and the wait had better be worth it. It could mean everything to talk with her, or it could mean absolutely nothing. She already had a healthy serving of zilch on her plate, so what harm would it do? If Abrams–

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Ian Fourie came towards her in angry strides. Apparently, consultants did work late, especially when the announcement for unit chief hadn’t been made yet.

Vee tilted her slung limb in response. ‘I’m a patient,’ she replied, more calmly than she felt. ‘Just thought I’d pass by and …’ She let it hang, executing a frantic yet surreptitious recon of the floor. Two nurses poring over files … one random-looking person in a dark hoodie messing with a cell phone … a busy cleaner. Not fantastic odds, but good enough. She wasn’t alone with a possible murderer.

‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ Ian fumed.

‘No. That’s where you’re completely wrong. I’m not.’ She turned to go and stopped. It was worth a shot. ‘Do you know a Bronwyn Abrams, by any chance? Close friend of your daughter’s.’

Ian ground his teeth so hard that muscle stippled at his jawline.

‘She has information about Jacqui. I’m meeting her tomorrow to hear what she has to say. Might be the stroke of luck we need, right?’

He glared, then tipped the barest of nods and marched off.

‘So you saw Ian and pissed him off
again
,’ Chlöe said.

Vee juggled her phone to the other ear and took a breather, resting her sore hip against the wall of the corridor. ‘I didn’t piss him off. We talked. Gimme a minute,’ she panted.

The longest hallway in the history of hallways sneered at her bruised body, and she still had two-thirds of the way to go.
What was it about the construction of hospitals that brought out the sadistic bastard gene in architects?
she wondered.

She’d been hopped up to get here, now all she wanted was to get out of this place. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Vee tried to remember the baffling directions to the ground-floor exit that the night-shift cleaner on the second floor had given her. Some parts of the building were closed off and the lifts were under maintenance, the cleaner had said.
Sisi, just take the stairs down, neh, then walk all the way down down down that long corridor, then take a left when you see the blue door, don’t use the orange one
…

The labyrinth of passages and the odorous medley of faeces, stale boiled potatoes and industrial-strength cleaner weren’t the only things giving her the creeps. Her radar was bouncing off the walls. Vee wasn’t sure who or what it was, but underneath her breathing and the rhythm of her heart, she imagined she could feel someone else’s. In which direction, she couldn’t tell. She scanned the corridor and each doorway that fed into it. The only passing stragglers were nurses and other unfortunates looking for a way out of the facility.

The feeling persisted, pulling taut the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck.

Calm yourself, woman.

‘What’s going on? Are you still there?’ Chlöe’s voice warbled and squawked, fading in and out.

‘The reception’s terrible down here. And I think I’m being followed.’

‘What d’you mean,
followed
? If you’re trying to freak me out, it’s not funny. Vee? Vee?!’

Vee pushed open the double doors below the exit sign and a chilly breeze hit her in the face. The rain had slowed to a mist that swirled and spun around the orange haloes of the streetlights. She was in a semi-covered parking area, empty. To her right, a concrete fence demarcated the edge of the WI premises. She found her bearings and her heart sank. She was at the back of the premises – it was either turn back or walk all the way around to the main entrance to get a taxi. Why the hell had she forced Chlöe to leave?

Especially when there was that other pulse riding the wind, disguising itself in the dark.

‘Somebody’s here,’ Vee whispered.

She lowered the cell but didn’t cut the call. A streak of black dipped past her blind spot. She lifted her arms and spun. Two blows landed on the back of her neck and brought her down.