That made him remember the photo and he got up on impulse to find it. He found it in his briefcase and went and lay down again with the light on. He studied the photo. Benny, Anna, Carla and Fritz.
Eventually he got up, went up to the bedroom and put it on the windowsill above the bed. Then he took a shower. His cell phone rang when he was lathered with soap. He made a wet trail to the bed and answered it. It might be Anna.
?Griessel.?
?It?s Cloete, Benny. The Sunday papers are driving me crazy,? the liaison officer said.
?Well, tell them to go to hell.?
?I can?t. It?s my job.?
?What do those vultures want??
?They want to know if Laurens is Artemis.?
?If
is Artemis??
?You know, whether it was Artemis that murdered her.?
?We don?t know what the fucker?s name is.?
Cloete was annoyed. ?Is it the same murder weapon, Benny??
?Yes, it?s the same murder weapon.?
?And the same MO??
?Yes.?
?And I can tell them that??
?It won?t make any difference.?
?It will make a hell of a difference in
life,? said Cloete. ?Because then they will stop fucking phoning me.? He put the phone down.
27.
At three minutes to ten he knocked on the door of his own house like some stranger. Anna opened up and then she asked, ?Are you sober, Benny?? and he said, ?Yes.?
?Are you sure??
He looked in her eyes to let her know the first ?yes? was enough. She was looking pretty. She had done something with her hair. It was shorter. Her face was made up, lips red and shiny.
She took her time before reacting. ?I?ll get the children.? When he lifted a foot to enter, she shut the door in his face. He stood there dumbstruck and then the humiliation descended on him. He lowered his head in case the neighbors were outside and saw him like this. Everyone would know he had been kicked out. This street was like a village.
The door opened and Carla charged at him, threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him saying, ?Daddy,? like she did when she was little. Her hair smelled of strawberries. He held her close and said, ?My child.?
He saw Fritz in the doorway with a rucksack in his hand.
?Hi, Dad.? Uneasy.
?Hello, Fritz.?
?Bring them back at six,? said Anna who stood behind her son.
?I will,? he said.
She closed the door.
Why was she looking so nice? What was she planning today?
Carla talked too much, too gaily, and Fritz, sitting in the back, said not a word. In the rear-view mirror, Griessel could see the boy gazing out of the car window expressionlessly. In Fritz?s profile he saw echoes of Anna?s features. He wondered what Fritz was thinking. About that last night his father had been at home and had hit his mother? How could he fix that? And Carla babbled on about the upcoming Matric Farewell and the intrigues of who had asked whom to go with them, as if she could make a success of the day single-handed.
?I thought we might eat at the Spur,? he said when Carla stopped for breath.
?Okay,? she said.
?We?re not at prep school anymore,? said Fritz.
?The Spur is a
restaurant, stupid,? said Carla.
?The Spur is for little kids,? said Fritz.
?Well, you choose, Fritz,? said Griessel. ?Anywhere.?
?It doesn?t matter.?
As they walked up the stairs to his flat, he thought it would be awful for the children. This small bare space: Dad?s penitentiary. He opened up and stood aside so they could enter. Carla disappeared up the stairs straightaway.
