Endgame. Wilna Adriaanse

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СКАЧАТЬ of anyone entering or leaving the premises. Allegretti is no fool, but he doesn’t have the savvy to outsmart a security system like this one.”

      Nick led Clive through the kitchen, out through the back door and down the alley to the service entrance.

      “The lock hasn’t been tampered with. Whoever came in or out had a key.”

      “What is this gate used for?”

      “The rubbish is taken out here. Rich people don’t like seeing their own trash. It’s also used for deliveries, and Patrice goes in and out this way, as does the cleaner who comes twice a week.”

      “Does the cleaner have a key?”

      “No, Patrice lets her in.”

      Clive looked at the camera aimed at the gate. “And there’s no footage?”

      “Nothing suspicious.”

      They turned around in silence and walked back to the kitchen. Next they went through the entire house slowly, without touching anything.

      When they reached the flat on the lower level, Clive asked if that was where Ellie had lived.

      “Yes.” Nick told him about the night the alarm had been activated on the stairs and how she had flatly denied having left her room.

      Clive gave a lopsided smile. “It was probably her. She’s very good at her job.”

      “How is she?” Nick kept the question as light as possible.

      “I don’t have contact with her. As you probably know, she’s on six months’ leave. After she was discharged from the hospital she left the city.”

      Nick was about to say he found it strange that they didn’t have contact, but he thought better of it. It was probably not the best idea to tell your new partner that you thought he was lying.

      He showed Clive Friday night’s camera footage. Besides the guards doing their rounds, the only movement in and around the house was when he had dropped Allegretti off just before one on Saturday morning.

      While they were waiting for the forensic team Nick made coffee and they sat down in the living room.

      “Why are some people never content?” Clive wondered aloud.

      “Are you satisfied with your life?”

      “I could do with more money, sometimes a little more time for myself, occasionally a little more sex.”

      “That’s probably exactly how these people feel. Just a little more of everything.”

      Clive nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right, but from where I’m sitting they’ve more or less hit the jackpot.”

      “And from where I’m sitting you’re not doing too badly either.”

      Clive laughed. “You’ll have to explain how you came to that conclusion.”

      “You seem to manage combining family life with this job. How many guys do you know who can say that?”

      “Did you find out about me?”

      “Don’t we all?”

      “I know you were married twice. I don’t know who got the itch every time.”

      Nick smiled. “Is it ever that simple?”

      Before Clive could reply, the guards called from below to say there were two men who said they were expected.

      They whistled in unison as they stepped out of the lift.

      “Fu-u-u-ck!”

      Nick looked at the two youngsters. When did they start employing schoolkids, or was he just getting old?

      “Close your mouths,” Clive said and pointed at Nick. “Colonel Malherbe of Interpol. Phillips and Mossie. As you can see, I’m forced to take appies these days.”

      At first glance, the new arrivals could be taken for twins. They were both fair-haired, wore spectacles, were the same height and had the same narrow faces and slight build. The only distinctive feature was the bum fluff on Phillips’s chin.

      The three men shook hands. “He asked for us because we’re the best, Colonel.”

      “Just Nick, please.”

      Both nodded. “Captain Barnard says you have a small problem.”

      Nick led the way to Patrice’s flat, filling them in on what happened. Before they went in, the two men donned overcoats, shoe covers and gloves.

      “Who’s been in here since the incident?”

      “Only the two paramedics and I.”

      “For the record we’ll take a sample from all three of you. Anyone else?”

      “I kept the door locked.”

      They nodded in unison and disappeared into the flat.

      Nick turned on his heel and switched the coffee machine back on. He needed to grab something to eat soon.

      CHAPTER 7

      It was quiet in Kirstenbosch when Ellie arrived. Apart from the odd worker, she saw no one else. She followed the winding path to the tall white stinkwood tree. It was cool under its branches where she sat down on a bench. A damp mist hung in the ravines. There was a smell of leaves and wet soil. Autumn had arrived.

      Sometimes she convinced herself that the pain and longing was less, but when it crashed down on her like a breaking wave, she still felt she was going to drown. It took her breath away, made her search desperately for something to hold on to. She had not sought professional help. It was the last thing she wanted to do. How could she describe the feeling of being tossed out on the beach, exhausted from battling the waves? A beach where the silence threatened to overwhelm her. The nothingness. Just a different void, where she struggled to breathe. And she would have to talk about the cold as well. Because no matter what the temperature was, she could never escape from the cold. What the waves didn’t do, the silence and the cold did.

      How many times do you pick up your phone to call before the impulse goes away? How many tricks does your brain play on you before the absence becomes a part of your memory? The person is no longer there. Do you make it your mantra? Have it tattooed on the palms of your hands? Would it help stop the waves from catching you unawares? But why would you want to remind yourself about something you don’t want to remember? Rather take the mind games, then.

      She wondered what they’d talk about if she could have one more chance to be with him. Something mundane? Would they say the things they’d never said when he was alive because they were too sentimental? Would they give orders? Don’t cry for me. Look after yourself. Be happy. Work hard. Would they try to heal old wounds? No, the two of them would probably sit in silence. Lost in their own thoughts, as they had often sat in the evenings. That was why she didn’t try to think of something to say now. She just sat, her back СКАЧАТЬ