‘Tell me, Mara,’ said Clare softly, ‘what he dreamed.’
Mara slitted her eyes. ‘How will his dreams get you to the truth of who did this to him, to the others?’
‘Dreams take us to places we don’t anticipate sometimes,’ said Clare.
‘He wanted to live. That can be quite an ambitious dream in a place like this.’ The silence was taut, a tightrope between them.
‘He wanted to go to school.’ One tentative foot on the rope of her story. ‘He wanted to draw.’ Another. Mara looked at Clare as if she were searching for something. ‘He wanted a mother. That’s about it, as far as Kaiser’s dreams went,’ she said. ‘Since I’ve been here so many kids I know have been sick, have died. It’s Aids. That’s why most of them are on the street in the first place. And if they didn’t get the virus from their parents, then they soon catch it from their clients.’ Mara’s shoulders slumped.
‘When did you see him last?’
‘Friday afternoon,’ Mara said with certainty. ‘We always have practice and he never missed. I didn’t see him at the Sunday practice. Weekends are different. The boys are less’ – she pulled the cord of her sweatshirt – ‘steady. Let me put it like that.’
‘Did you ask where he was?’
‘I was going to,’ Mara replied, ‘and then they found him, so I didn’t need to.’
‘The others?’ asked Clare. ‘Fritz Woestyn and Nicanor Jones?’
‘I knew them,’ said Mara. ‘They played in my team.’
‘What happened with Sergeant van Wyk and Kaiser?’ asked Clare.
‘I was stupid,’ said Mara. ‘Stupid and naive. It was before Fritz Woestyn was found, so I wasn’t worried. Just irritated that he didn’t come to a weekend game. I asked and one of the boys told me he was in the cells, so I went to look for him.’
‘Where was he?’
‘By the time I found him he’d been dropped back at the dump,’ said Mara. ‘He’d been beaten. Badly. I tried to lay a child abuse charge.’
‘What happened?’
‘Sod all,’ said Mara. ‘Kaiser wouldn’t say anything. I knew he’d been picked up near the harbour. Whoring maybe. I know that Van Wyk took him back to the cells and beat the shit out of him, but Kaiser wouldn’t say nothing. I had to leave it…’ Mara hesitated. ‘You know Van Wyk used to be with the vice squad?’
Clare nodded.
‘There’ve been rumours that he offers protection to the girls working the docks. You know, like… they have no choice but to accept it in return for a cut of their fee.’
‘You think Van Wyk’s running boys, too?’ asked Clare.
‘I don’t know,’ said Mara. ‘I don’t know if it’s even true about the girls. I only know that Kaiser was with him and that afterwards he could barely walk. Van Wyk said he found Kaiser like that and picked him up to protect him.’
‘That was the end of it?’
‘Pretty much,’ said Mara. ‘Kaiser wouldn’t say anything. Nothing more I could do.’ Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. ‘That’s all I can tell you. Pathetic, right? To see someone every day and to know nothing about them.’
Clare stood up and opened the door. It was the end of the interview. They walked back to the kitchen where a woman in a blue dressing gown was stirring sugar into her coffee. A blonde plait snaked over one shoulder.
‘Gretchen,’ said Mara, disconcerted. ‘You’re up early. This is Dr Hart.’
‘Hello,’ said Clare.
Gretchen lit a cigarette. ‘You’re making progress, Doctor?’ she asked. ‘With these little boys?’
‘I hope so,’ said Clare.
‘Good,’ said Gretchen. ‘So sad, what happened.’ She sipped her coffee, her blue eyes fixed on Clare without a glimmer of recognition. She wouldn’t have seen Clare at the bar of Der Blaue Engel the previous night. All she would have seen was a blur beyond the stage lights.
twenty-one
Captain Damases replaced the receiver when Clare walked into the office. ‘You have a bad night?’ asked Clare. There were dark circles under Tamar’s eyes.
‘Angela wasn’t well. That was her nanny to say she was sleeping at last.’ Tamar rubbed her temples. It was only eight in the morning, but she felt as if she’d been working for hours already. ‘You look like you had a rough night too.’
‘Just a late one,’ said Clare. ‘I’m not twenty-five any more so it shows if I don’t get my beauty sleep.’ She poured herself a cup of coffee. ‘I hope Angela’s on the mend.’
‘Kids,’ said Tamar, ‘they bounce back so fast. I’m taking them into the desert this afternoon. Why don’t you join us, see something other than Walvis Bay?’
‘I’d like that,’ said Clare, checking her schedule. ‘I’ve got some admin to do before I see Darlene Ruyters, and I’m hoping that Helena Kotze’s going to drop off her preliminary histology report.’
‘Did you see Mara Thomson, by the way?’
‘I did,’ said Clare. ‘She told me about that incident with Van Wyk and Kaiser Apollis, about why she tried to lay a charge against Van Wyk. I think we should talk to him again.’
Tamar stood up, acting on Clare’s request. ‘We’ll try,’ she said, opening her office door.
Van Wyk was sitting at his desk. He minimised the window on his computer screen when Tamar and Clare walked in.
Tamar did not greet him. ‘Tell me again about what happened with Kaiser, that incident for which there don’t seem to be any records.’
Van Wyk looked up and sat back in his chair. ‘He was caught in the harbour,’ he said wearily. ‘Happens all the time.’
‘What was he doing?’ asked Tamar.
‘Looking for shit,’ said Van Wyk, his voice thick with insolence. ‘And he got it, from whoever it was who’d paid him to take it. The harbour master called me. Apollis had been pimping himself. I picked him up and put him in the cells for the weekend for his own protection.’
‘That’s all?’ Clare spoke for the first time.
‘It was.’ Van Wyk faced her, as contained and venomous as a cobra. ‘Until Mara Thomson laid an abuse complaint. She claims I assaulted him in prison. Apollis denied that anything happened. He was glad to get out of jail without any charges.’
‘It wasn’t because he refused to pay you for working on your area?’ asked Clare.
‘You’ve got quite an imagination, Dr Hart,’ spat Van Wyk. ‘I’m sure that you can use it to picture what prison would be like for a pretty boy like Apollis. I did him a favour. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have things to do.’ Van Wyk shut down his computer, pivoted on his heel and walked out of the office.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Clare, watching Van Wyk churn the gravel in the parking lot. ‘That little piece of quiet diplomacy would’ve done Riedwaan Faizal proud.’ Clare followed Tamar back to her office.
‘Someone had to say it,’ said Tamar, sitting down, ‘and my life will be easier because you did it. I’m not sure that it’ll make yours easier, though.’ She pulled a folder on her desk towards her.
‘What’ve you got there?’ asked Clare.
‘Ships’ logs.’ Tamar opened the file. ‘Sailors’ visits, harbour reports around the times these boys went missing.’
Clare skimmed through the papers. ‘Still no pattern?’
‘Not yet,’ said Tamar. ‘But I’m going to follow up on a few things that don’t fit.’
