Dead Before Dying

“She’s not my lover.”

“Why do you sound disappointed about it?” She didn't give him a chance to reply.

“You’re very different from what I imagined you to be, you know. A Murder and Robbery detective. I imagined this hard, sophisticated man with a scar on his face and cold, blue eyes. And here you are. A big, shy bear. And absent. You look absent to me, Mat Joubert. Are you?”

“A little,” he said and felt it was a victory.

“Do you know one lives only once?”

“Yes . . .”

“You must grab it.”

“I . . .”

“Every day, every moment.”

“I must go.”

“Do I exhaust you? Many people say I exhaust them. But I do have friends. I can prove it.”

“In a court of law?”

She smiled. “I’m going to miss you, Matthew.”

He put his cigarettes, pen, and notebook in his coat pocket.

“Thank you very much for your time, Doc . . . Anne.”

“You see, we’re making progress. Hang on, I’ll walk out with you.”

They walked in silence down the house’s passage, over the veranda, into the sunlight. He saw her gleaming skin brown and bright, her open shoulders, her legs. He saw her buttocks moving under the minidress.

She looked round, caught him looking. “Will I see you again?”

“If there’s anything else . . .”

“I’ll see you again, Matthew Joubert. That’s a promise.”

27.

The press conference had been moved to the entrance hall of police headquarters because there were too many people.

“You’re late,” Cloete of PR said when he caught sight of Mat Joubert. He looked worried and panicky. “There are two TV teams present from overseas stations. And one from the SABC. And one from M-Net— they were making a program for Carte Blanche.

There are newspaper people here I'’ve never seen before.” Then he hurried away to inform the General that Joubert had arrived.

The press formed a semicircle. The bright television lights shone on a small table. The General sat at the table. Next to him sat the Brigadier and de Wit. The General crooked a finger at Joubert. “Found anything?”

Had he found anything? He had tried to think on the way back to Cape Town. But Dr. Anne Boshoff lay like a shadow over his thoughts. He wondered whether women with a double f in their names were all the same. Bonnie Stoffberg, Anne Boshoff. Did the extra f stand for . . . He’d shaken his head at his inability to rid his mind of sex. Barely in love with Hanna Nortier and now you want to lie between the other clever doctor’s legs. Raging bull. From conscientious objector to Ramblin’ Rambo in a mere two weeks. Yes, General, I'’ve found something. Something I can’t handle very well.

“I think so, General.”

“Good. I’ll begin and then introduce you.”

No. He wasn'’t prepared. He couldn't tell them they were looking for a middle-class homosexual who had possibly been adopted or illegitimate.

“

Dames en here

 . . .” the General said loudly and the media scrambled for cameras and notebooks. More bright lights were switched on.

“Dames en here.”

No quiet.

“Can you speak English?” someone called. Camera motor drives whirred. Flashlights went off.

“

Dames en here, dankie

 . . .” Cloete had jogged round to the General and whispered in his ear. The General looked annoyed. Then he nodded.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for being here. Let me start by saying that the South African Police Service are doing everything they can to apprehend the ruthless murderer who are killing people without apparent reason.”

Is,

Joubert thought. The murderer who

is.

“We regard this matter in a very serious light and are allocating as many people as we can to assist with the investigation. I cannot tell you everything we are doing, because some of it is part of our strategy to catch the person or persons involved. What I can tell you, are that the investigating officer, Captain Mat Joubert, have as many policemen at his disposal as he needs. We have already given him all available staff from Murder and Robbery. If necessary, we will also give him more. This now has become the biggest manhunt the Cape has ever seen. We will not rest before the person or persons responsible for these thoughtless murders is apprehended. Now, I leave you in the hands of Captain Mat Joubert. Afterward, I will answer your questions. If you have any.”

Then the General announced: “Captain Joubert.”

Joubert walked round the table. The press buzzed. The General got up and offered him his chair. The lights shone in his eyes. The cameras clicked again. He could see no one beyond the lights. He sat down. The bunch of microphones in front of him was intimidating.

“Good afternoon,” he said and hadn't the faintest idea of what else to say.

The press waited.

Begin with this morning, he thought, panicking. After all, he had spoken in front of people before. But there were so many here.

“E . . .”

His heart thudded in his chest. His mouth was dry. He was breathing too quickly.

“As you know . . .”

He heard his own strong Afrikaans accent. His heart beat faster.

“. . . the Mauser killer struck this morning for the fourth time.”

His notebook. Where was his notebook? He felt in his inside pocket. It wasn'’t there. Had he taken it back from Anne Boshoff? The other pocket. Felt in the other pocket. He found it. The relief was brief. The silence was heavy in the hall. Someone giggled, someone coughed. He took out the notebook and opened it. He saw that his hands were shaking.

“The victim . . .”

De wiektum.

Fucking stupid policeman.

“. . . was forty-one-year-old Alexander MacDonald of Hammerhead Street in Houtbaai . . . er . . . Hout Bay.”

Someone called his name. He ignored it.

“The perpetrator used a weapon similar to the previous . . .”

“Captain Joubert . . .”

“Just a moment,” the Brigadier said next to him. Joubert was confused.

Then he saw a figure moving past the lights, toward the table. It was Petersen.

“Excuse me, Captain. I’m sorry. But we’ve found something. This very minute.”

The General joined them. “Who the hell are you?” he asked in a lowered tone.

“Lieutenant Petersen, of Murder and Robbery, General.”

“They’ve found something, General,” Joubert said. He heard the buzz of the press increasing in volume.

“It better be important, Lieutenant,” the General said.

“Indeed,” said the Brigadier.

“One of the neighbors, General,” Petersen said in a whisper. “He saw a car at the murder scene this morning. A new five series BMW.”