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Leaning against the white TV van and squinting at the entrance to the police station, across the road, Helen watched him walk out of the main entrance. The light above the door illuminated his scowling face. Her reporter’s nose told her something was happening and she had to know about it. Helen's cameraman, Kyle, was sitting enjoying his coffee in the driver’s seat.
“Hey, Kyle, grab the camera,” Helen instructed.
“Why?” he asked, startled, trying not to spit his coffee out all over the dashboard.
“Because I said so; Captain van Staaden and Dr Papenfuss have just walked out, looking seriously unhappy.”
“What did you expect? The dude just lost his girlfriend.”
“I know that. I may be blonde, but I’m not stupid,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “There’s something else going on. Now stop messing around and get your arse in gear.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up the camera from the seat next to him and slid out of the van.
They ran across the road, dodging cars, while Kyle’s camera bounced against his thigh. Headlights from the oncoming cars flashed at them. They reached Nico and Pete, who were standing next to Nico’s Datsun, just as Nico was about to unlock his car door. Kyle’s camera was hoisted on to his shoulder and placed strategically in front of Nico’s face. Helen, holding her microphone as though it was an extension of her arm, placed herself to the right of Kyle and his camera, so that he could pan between her and Nico easily and still be able to get a shot of Pete.
“Captain van Staaden, could we just ask you a few questions?” she said, placing the microphone in front of him. She was always the professional journalist no matter what her personal involvement. Nico had never been able to understand that about her.
“No comment,” Nico said and opened his door.
He always was a cold bastard when cornered, she thought.
“Fuck off with that camera,” Pete said while putting his hand in front of the camera and pushing it out of the way.
“Hey, that’s expensive equipment,” Kyle said, moving his camera out of the way of Pete’s large hands. He held the camera down next to his thigh with the lens tilted upwards so that he could still film and covered the red recording light with his thumb. “Relax the camera’s off.”
“It better be,” Pete said, standing with his legs slightly apart, pointing an angry finger at Kyle.
“At least talk to me off the record.” Helen tried for her sincerest smile.
“Why on earth would I talk to you, on or off the record?”
“Because whether you talk to me or not, you are going to be headline news. If you talk to me, you get your side of the story across. If you don’t ... well, then you can’t blame me if you get crucified on the news. Nico, I still care about you. That hasn’t changed, and I can’t bear to see you like this. Please let me be here for you. Let me help you,” she pleaded.
“Helen, you are incapable of caring for anybody except yourself, and right now I couldn’t care less about what you people have to say about me. I have probably lost my job, my girlfriend is dead, and I’m officially the main suspect in her murder,” he said, getting into his car. As he turned the key in the ignition, he turned to her and looked straight into Kyle’s camera and said, “Now you have your footage for the late news.” He closed the car door.
Helen watched him drive off. Pete was blustering about the freedom of the press being the eleventh plague on humanity and that the Media Tribunal wasn't such a bad idea after all if it meant putting a muzzle on overly zealous journalists who didn't practice due diligence.
“Would you shut up,” she said turning to Pete. “I’m trying to think.”
“What are you cooking up in that scheming little brain of yours?” Kyle asked.
“What do you mean little?”
“A tad sensitive this evening, aren’t we?”
“Oh, shut up and come with me,” she said, as she shoved her microphone at Kyle, and strutted back towards the van.
“How do you work with that bitch?” Pete asked Kyle, who was staring after Helen and shaking his head.
“She’s not that bad. She just has a job to do, and you guys don’t exactly make it easy for her. That pisses her off. She’s funny that way.”
“Let me guess,” Pete said. “You're screwing her?”
“What?” Kyle stammered. “What makes you say that?”
“Are you coming, Kyle?” Helen yelled before Pete could answer. She reached the road and was tapping her foot in a quick staccato.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” he said and trotted off after her like a faithful puppy who knew he was about to get smacked with the newspaper, but went anyway in the hope that he'd get a treat instead of a smack on the nose.
“So ...” he said once back inside the van. “What’s going on?”
“How do you feel about clearing an innocent man of murder, finding the real killer and winning the CNN African Journalist of the year award?”
“Interesting idea; bloody difficult, if not downright impossible but an interesting idea none the less,” he said, patting himself down to find his pack of smokes. “Any idea as to how we’re going to do this?”
“Well ... knowing Nico ... he’ll do all the work for us. No matter what he says, he’ll call me when he needs me, and then all we need to do is show up with the camera and the right spin.”
*
NATALIE LAY BACK IN the hot bath watching the steam rise in wisps around her. This was her thinking time. Louis was working the night shift; at least she hoped that was what he was doing. So, she was alone for the night. The sound of Vanessa Mae playing her violin drifted through the flat. She needed the music to calm her frazzled nerves. Now that his mother wasn’t there to blame, he was using her as punching bag even more than usual and blaming her for Nico’s absence since the funeral. He also blamed Janet for their problems and every time Louis hit her he said it was Janet’s fault. It was Janet’s influence on her that made her taunt and defy him. His rants were confused and belligerent. Janet wasn't their problem. He was.
“What am I going to do?” she asked herself as she slid under the bath water. She breathed out slowly, enjoying the sound of her breathing under the water. The water was warm and comforting. She felt safe.
The burning candles looked like strange fairy dancers from beneath the water. She heard her bubbles of breath breaking on the surface. Her lungs tightened as they ran out of air, but she ignored it and stayed under until her lungs felt as though they were going to collapse. She came up fast and gasped in all the air her starved lungs could take. The candle flames objected to the sudden disturbance to their air supply and threatened to stop their dance. She leaned back and rested her head against the tiled wall behind her. The enamel of the bath above the water level felt cold against her hot skin.
The intercom buzzing made her jump and water dribbled over the edge onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor.
“Who the hell?” she said under her breath, as she climbed out of the bath and wrapped a small towel around her thin frame. The intercom kept buzzing. She slid her wet feet into her fluffy slippers and trudged out of the steamy bathroom into the cold passageway.
“Hello,” she answered the incessant buzzing.
“It’s me,” answered Nico’s voice.
“Louis’s not here.”
“I know. I’m here to see you.”
“Here we go,” she said to herself as she buzzed him in, noticing that the towel only just covered her in the right places. She wondered if she had time to put anything else on. The knock came before she could make up her mind and ended up answering the door with the towel on the verge of falling around her feet.
The expression on his face was not what she had expected. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He looked as if he’d been crying for hours. This was not good, she decided. Something was terribly wrong.
“Are you all right?” she asked, as he walked past her into the lounge area.
“I’ll just go and put on some clothes while you make yourself comfortable,” she said when he didn’t answer her. He just stared at her, but somehow she had the impression that he didn’t really see her. She came back wearing a black pair of tracksuit pants and one of Louis’s jerseys. Sitting down opposite him she waited for him to say something.
After a few minutes, the silence started to get the better of her nerves.
“Okay Nico, this is driving me nuts. Would you please tell me what’s going on?” She stood up and started pacing. Nico said nothing. “Is it Janet? Is she all right?”
Nico raised his bloodshot eyes to meet hers. Something in his pain-filled eyes told her that her suspicion was correct.
“No, it can’t be.” She collapsed on the couch. “I spoke to her yesterday.”
“She was killed a few hours ago.” His voice sounded hollow and as dead as Janet.
“No, I don’t believe you. Is this some kind of sick joke?” Tears streamed down her face. She knew he was telling her the truth, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it.
“If you don’t believe me, maybe you should ask Louis. I’m sure he would be able to go into great detail of how she died.”
“No, he wouldn’t have ... You’re lying.”
“Wouldn’t have what, Natalie? Killed her the way he did his mother and all those other women?” He shook his head. “Why would I lie to you?”
She didn’t have an answer for him. She didn’t know why she was so shocked. Deep down she'd known this was coming but now that it had it was a shock.
The truth hit her in the stomach, and she doubled over with grief and pain. He had killed the only person who mattered to her. The only person who kept her from taking that plunge over the edge of sanity was gone. He had dealt the cruellest blow possible. She heard a strange discordance, like someone strangling a cat. It took a few seconds before she realised that she was the one making the sound. She dropped to the floor, and Nico stood over her. Disgust and pity mingled in his eyes.
“How does it make you feel knowing that you’re responsible for the death of the only person who gave a shit about you?” he hissed at her.
“I didn’t have anything to do with her death. It’s not my fault,” she said but couldn't help but wonder if he was right. Was it her fault?
“That’s right: just keep telling yourself that. You could have prevented this. You knew he was a monster but did nothing. You protected him.”
“You’re lying. He's not a monster, and he wouldn’t have killed her. He loves me. He wouldn’t do that to Janet or to me.” She crawled away from him, tears burning their way down her cheeks. “You’re wrong. You have to be wrong,” she whispered.
“You might have fooled Janet with your little-miss-victim routine, but you aren’t fooling me. The only reason you’re upset she’s dead is because you didn’t see it coming. You didn't see the writing on the wall. You can’t control him. He's not some pet, Natalie. He's a wild animal, and he's turned on you.” His words stung. Each word was a punch to her stomach, sending her reeling.
“No, you’re wrong. I loved her, and so did he. Louis wouldn't do that to her any more than he would do that to me. We were a family. The three of us.”
“Oh please, you wouldn’t know what love is if it smacked you in the face. And he did do this to her, and he will do the same thing to you.”
“I loved her.” She felt the wall against her back. There wasn’t anywhere for her to run. She was trapped.
“Prove it.” His face was inches from hers. She smelt beer and cigarettes.
“What?”
“It’s your fault she’s dead. You could have stopped him from killing again, but you didn’t. I don’t know why and right now I don’t really care. The fact is Janet is dead, and you let it happen.” He was standing over her again, then started to pace up and down in front of her. She felt as though he was prowling around his prey. She didn’t like being anybody’s prey. He was circling, waiting to attack.
She tried to prepare herself for what came next, but how can one prepare for the onslaught that comes from someone's deep-seated grief, when they have nothing left to lose. He dragged her to her feet and slammed her against the wall.
“You fucking-psycho-bitch.” Drops of spittle hit her face. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put your sorry arse in prison for the rest of your life.”
“Because I didn't commit a crime and you need me,” her voice was hoarse, and it escaped in a whisper.
“I need you?” he shouted and let her drop back to the floor. “Why do I need you?”
“We both know you really want to punish Louis, not me,” her voice was soft and stroking.
“Oh, trust me, I want to punish you but lucky for you, Louis’s the one I need to stop right now.”
“And I can help you do that.” She walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Please let me help you. Let me do this for Janet.”
She felt his body shake beneath her hand. At first, she thought he was crying, then he tilted his head back, and he started to laugh. Her hand jerked off his shoulder.
“Oh, you are going to help me, Natalie.” He stopped laughing and turned to face her.
“What do you want me to do?”
“First go and pack a bag for a few days. Louis is going to get a bit of a surprise when he comes home.”