FORTY-Three

Daniel Addas







The interrogation room, yes I'm here again (fuck my good luck), is quiet and cool. I run a hand over my face, the way one would when splashing water onto the face.
I'm not alone. Of course. Again curse my luck. An officer stands beneath the window. Hands covering his crotch. He's wearing the South African Police Service (SAPS) uniform. Blue shirt, navy pants and black shoes.
I scowl at him. The ugly fucker is glaring at me.
How the hell did I get myself into this situation in the first place?
I'm always so careful. I never leave any evidence behind. No that I've committed much crime to begin with. I hate the police. I hate being in the radar more. Behind me sits a green board, pictures of my father, sister, Aunt, Uncle, and a bunch of faces I don't recognise. I want to turn around again, study it but the officer watches me closely.
I shut my eyes. Deep, long breaths through the mouth. The minutes stretch out. The door opens and closes. My eyes open. Jones. Hustling towards me. Wearing a brown suit and white training shoes. Nike. Fake. At least a size too big. Cartoon feet. Exaggerated.
Another man, (a detective?) comes in with Jones. He joins the officer beneath the window and folds his arms across his chest.
Jones is carrying a tape recorder, some sort of file and an empty plastic bag. After setting the staff down and getting his ass on the chair, he turns his attention to me, retrieves something from his side pocket. It's an empty bottle.
"Have you ever seen this bottle before, Daniel?" He pushes the brown medium bottle with a white paper that goes across it. A big POISONOUS stares back at me.
"No, sir. Nope." I shake my head while I speak.
"This is Thallium. The same poison that was used on your sister."
Hmm... I frown. Obviously, someone is trying to frame me. Two weeks ago, I read about it and today apparently someone planned to murder Clara with it. A coincidence? I think not.
This is part of a plan. I know it wasn't me or John or Taylor. John writes all his dirty deeds in a notebook. I normally read all about them once I'm ... Okay again. Taylor talks to me sometimes. When I look at the mirror, he just suddenly appears, tells me what happened while I blacked out. Not the most ideal situation. But it works. I always know what happened. Always on top of things. Unlike now.
"Okay." I'm careful with my answers. My lawyer comes in. He's late. He joins the other two standing gentlemen.
Jones gestures towards the bottle. "Ever heard of it, Daniel?"
"Not that I can remember. No, sir."
Jones darkens at my words.
"You took care of your sister while she was sick, right Daniel?"
My gaze sweeps the room. Buying time. When my and Freddy's eyes meet. He nods. Approval. He wants me to answer this question. The dumb fucker.
"Yes."
Jones smiles. Cocky. My fists ball. He produces the empty plastic bag. Only it's not empty. Exactly. There's a bowl there. Clear glass. One of my mother's Home Choice collections. Something about my unease sets Jones on edge.
"Ever seen this before."
"Ja, that's my mother's. At least it looks like it. You collecting dishes, detective Jones?"
The smart ass in police uniform breaks in. "So where's your mother now?"
I shrug. How am I to know. "Here. There. Lots of different places. Can't choose."
"In a language we all understand, you saying she's travelling?"
I glare at him. He's being stupid on purpose.
I laugh. "You funny man."
"Just answer the question please, Daniel," Jones says.
"No. This prick was serious?" I shake my head. "Mom. Left. Three months ago. Left the marriage. Us."
"Us?"
"Clara and me?" I reply, trying my best to sound nonchalant. Instead, my voice quavers.
Jones notices.
He makes sure that I know that he knows.
"And how did that make you feel, Daniel?" The officer says again, and I think I see a gleam of mischief in his eyes.
"How would you feel if your mother just told you she isn't up for motherhood. If she just left you?"
"So you have no idea where she is?" The officer says again, almost tripping over his words.
"Oh God!" I fill my cheeks with air. I'm gonna need all my patience, I'm running on short supply as is. I sit up right and say, "No, I'm just pretending I don't know so that you'll feel pity for me."
"You know something, Daniel?"
Why does Jones have to say my name with each question? Everyone in here knows he's talking to me.
"No but I suspect you gonna tell me, right?"
"Sarcasm will not help either of us. So please..."
Jones eyes me with a sneer. "The soup that you gave your sister had thallium and before you say it was probably from the salt or another cooking ingredient, we've already checked. Everything is clean."
Suddenly I feel hot and cold at the same time.
"Okay, so?"
Jones' eyes linger on my face. "So I think it's time I told you my theory."
"Uhuh." I try to speak but my brain wipes itself clean, every word I've ever known gone.
"I think that you found out that your sister is the sole beneficiary of your father's estate and you decided to kill her. Knowing that with your mother gone, a dead father, the only other person the hefty sum will come to is you." When Jones is done talking I notice his face is strange: too pink cheeks, cold eyes.
For a long moment we are silent, my words die in my throat, chased away by the hard stare the detective graces me.
"Great theory. You just gave me an idea. I'm gonna write a memoir. You wanna know what it'd be called ?"
Jones sighs. "Yeah, go ahead."
"I'm gonna call it : Broken Vows."
He doesn't say anything for a while, then his voice comes but as flat as a pan. "Broken Vows?"
I do the only thing I can do. Pretend to hesitate. I bite my lip. "Well, detective think of it this way. My mother broke her vows by leaving dad. Papa broke his vow of always being there for Clara and me by dying. And me, let's say I did really get greedy and tried to kill my sister. I'd have broken a vow." I show him a neck pendant. "Both Clara and me have these. I promised to keep her safe. To never let anyone hurt her, myself included and I have never, even once derailed from that plan. That vow."
He frowns, impatient. "So, you're saying you did try to kill her. It was a slip up? A mistake? I mean this things happen to the best of us."
"No, just hypothetically speaking, of course."
"Of course," he agrees.
I watch his eyes to see if he's being sarcastic. He is.
"You a faggot, Daniel?" The policeman in uniform asks.
I stare at him, manage my first real smile. Do people really just ask random questions like that?
"What the fuck is wrong with this guy?" I jam my thumb in the direction of the young officer. "Sorry man. I don't swing that way and even if I did. You definitely wouldn't be my type."
The officer lunges for me.
"Xavier," Jones jumps up, getting between us. Xavier struggles.
Jones manages to convince Xavier out of the room. "Go blow it off. Go." He shouts at him and then closes the door.
Before Jones drops to his chair he mumbles: "Skylar, you know him?"
"I know a Skylar Pike."
"He said he's your lover."
Say what? "So?"
"So... Is he?"