?That?s good.?
?Psychology.?
In order to analyze her father?s mind?
?Maybe I can get a bursary if I do well, that?s why I don?t want to get involved now. But Mom says she?s put a bit of money aside for our studies.?
He knew nothing about it. He poured the water into the mugs, then the powdered milk and the sugar for Fritz.
?I want to take him his coffee.?
?Don?t worry about him, Dad. He?s just a typical teenager.?
?He?s struggling with his father?s alcoholism,? he said, climbing the stairs. Fritz lay on Griessel?s bed with the photo in his hands, the photo of them together as a family.
?Three sugars,? he said.
Fritz said nothing. Griessel sat on the foot of the bed. ?I?m sorry,? he said.
Fritz replaced the photo on the windowsill. ?It doesn?t matter.? He sat up and took the coffee.
?I?m sorry about everything I did to you. And to your mother and Carla.?
Fritz looked at the steam rising from the coffee mug. ?Why, Dad? Why do you drink??
?I?m working on that, Fritz.?
?They say it?s genetic,? said his son, and tested the temperature of the liquid with a cautious sip.
Jamie Keyter was wearing a sports shirt and tight khaki trousers. The short sleeves of the shirt were too narrow and had shifted up above the bulging biceps. He sat on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar and drank coffee with two sugars and milk and he glanced periodically at Carla while he spoke. That annoyed Griessel.
?And I went up to the little house, like a little
and you couldn?t see anything, hear anything but the TV show inside, the one with the crazy kaffi . . . green fellow who gives away prizes in green language and I knocked but they didn?t hear me. So I opened the door and there they sat drinking. All four, glass in the hand. Cheers! But when they saw me, you should have seen them jump and it was mister this and mister that. The house was dirty and it was empty. Typical greens: they have nothing, but there?s this giant TV in the corner and there are four greens living in the
two old and two young ones. I don?t know how people can live like that. And they didn?t want to talk; they just sat there and stared at me. And when they did talk, they lied. The girl works in the house and it was all: ?Miss Laurens was a good missus, she was good to all of us.? They?re lying, Benny, I?m telling you.? He looked pointedly at Carla, who lay on the couch.
?Did you ask them about her fits of rage??
?I asked and they said it wasn?t so, she was a good missus and they kept turning back to the TV and looking sideways at the wine box. Bloody drunken lot, if you ask me.? He was still looking at Carla.
?And they didn?t see anything?? He knew what the answer would be.
?Saw nothing, heard nothing.?
?The pathologist says it was the same weapon. The same assegai as the previous murders.?
?Okay,? said Keyter.
?Did you ask about Bothma? What she?s like??
?Oh, no. We already know.?
He let that go. He didn?t want to say something in front of the children.
?So,? said Keyter to Carla. ?What do you do??
?I?m writing matric.?
?Okay,? he said. ?I get it.?
?What?? she asked.
?If I give you a rand, will you phone me when you?re finished.?
?In your dreams,? she said. ?And what is your problem anyway??
?My problem??
?Greens? Only racists say things like that.?
?I haven?t got a racist hair on my head.?
?Yeah, right.?
Griessel had been busy with his thoughts. He missed this exchange. ?Do me a favor, Jamie.?
?Okay, Benny.?
?The file on Cheryl Bothma, the daughter. Find out who?s handling that.?
?I thought you talked to them yesterday??
?I only talked to the guys who dealt with the assegai murders. I?m talking about the case of the child. When
