Fritz stood in the door and surveyed the place.
?Cool,? he said.
?Oh??
?Bachelor pad,? said his son in answer and went in. ?Haven?t you got a TV, Dad??
?No, I . . .?
?You?ve got a
place, Dad,? said Carla from the top of the stairs. Then his cell phone rang, he unclipped it from his belt and said, ?Griessel,? and Jamie Keyter said, ?I thought I should come over to you and report. Where do you live??
He would have to talk to Keyter even though he didn?t want him here. He gave directions and said goodbye.
?I?ll have to do a little work today,? he said to the children.
?What kind of work??
?It?s a case. My shift partner is coming round.?
?What case, Dad?? asked Carla.
?It?s a guy who?s stabbing people with an assegai.?
?Cool,? said Fritz.
?Artemis? You?re working on the Artemis case?? asked Carla in excitement.
?Yes,? he said, and wondered if he had ever discussed his work with his children before. When he was sober.
Carla dived onto the new couch with the anonymous stains and said: ?But that?s not a guy. The television says it?s a woman. Artemis. She?s taking revenge on everyone who messes with children.?
?It?s a man,? said Griessel, and sat down on one of his new chairs, opposite his son. Fritz?s legs hung over the armrest. He had taken a magazine out of his rucksack.
He flipped through it.
?Oh,? said Carla deflated. ?Do you know who it is, Dad??
?No.?
?So how do you know it?s a man??
?It?s highly improbable that it?s a woman. Serial killers are usually men. Women almost never use??
?Charlize Theron was a serial murderer,? said Carla.
?Who??
?She got an Oscar for it.?
?For the murders??
?Dad doesn?t know who Charlize Theron is,? said Fritz from behind his magazine.
?Dad knows,? said Carla, and they both looked at him to settle the argument and he knew the time had come to say what he must say, the words he had composed in his head while he drove to Brackenfell that morning.
?I am an alcoholic,? he said.
?Dad . . .?
?Wait, Carla. There are things we must talk about. Sooner or later. It?s no use pretending.?
?We know you?re an alky,? said Fritz. ?We know.?
?Shut up,? said Carla.
?What for? That?s all we did and what use was that and now they?re getting divorced and Dad drinks like a fish.?
?Who says we?re getting divorced??
?Dad, he?s talking rubbish . . .?
?Did your mother say we?re getting divorced??
?She said you could come back when you stop drinking. And we know you can?t stop drinking.? Fritz?s face was hidden behind the magazine again, but he could hear the anger in his son?s voice. And the helplessness.
?I have stopped.?
?It?s eight days already,? said Carla.
Fritz sat motionless behind
?You don?t think I can stop??
Fritz clapped the magazine shut. ?If you wanted to stop, why didn?t you do it long ago? Why?? The tears were close. ?Why did you do all those things, Dad? Why did you hit Mom? Swear at us. Do you think it?s funny seeing your father like that??
