Forty-nine

Clara Addas






A year ago I convinced my father to set surveillance on the whole house. He did. Of course he would. My father listened and did everything I told him. He was the perfect father. The type of man a mother would want their daughter to marry.
The day of the murder someone tempered with the cameras. There's no evidence.
I'm watching the room my Aunt and a detective that introduced himself as Williams have set up camp in. They sit together on the bed. Closer than Ali or any husband would be comfortable with. Especially a Muslim husband.
My Aunt whispers. Her scared eyes watch the door. She's doing something wrong. Talking to the police. She'll regret it.
A D: Is my identity protected? I mean I won't have to testify or anything will I?
W: Of course, ma'am. (He's lying. A testimony is everything. If they can't find concrete evidence they'll need her to testify.)
A D: Two years ago Clara was admitted at the Netcare hospital Psychiatric ward. (Looks at the door again.) She was doing all kinds of things a girl her age shouldn't be doing.
W: You sure about this?
A D: Sure about this? Are you kidding me? I along with her parents dropped her off. She was staying in a nice room. Number thirty-seven. No. No. It was twenty-seven on the lower floor, west wing.
W: (Surprised. Excited. Leans in. Listens harder, catching every word.) You said she was doing stuff teenagers have no business doing. What's that mean, strip joints? Basement parties? Marijuana? Worse yet, Cocaine?
I shake my head in disbelief. How many teenagers do pot? And how many of those are taken to psychiatric wards? None. The place for such teenagers is rehab.
A D: No, worse than that. That's typical teenage behavior. We've all went to that party our parents didn't give permission for, right? (No, I haven't) I'm talking evil things. She's really not the sweet girl she pretends to be.
W: So you think she might have murdered her father?
A D: I know she did. You see, she suffers from multiple personality disorder. And one of her personalities, Joanna hated her father. That's why her parents had her locked away. Usually blanks out when one of her personalities comes out.
W: These evil deeds you speak of?
A D: Well, detective, when she was just twelve years old, she killed her dog... dogs. She'd want a dog, her father would get her one and mysteriously the dogs all died or ran away.
W: (Strokes moustache. This could mean something. Go on.) So how did the family find out?
A D: I actually discovered what she was doing when I walked in on her. She didn't see me. She was gutting the poor thing alive. It kept whimpering. She kept going until it just went... silent. This fat twelve year old kid, killing a dog, dissecting it. It was like some sick twisted biology lab experience.
W: So when the parents found out...?
A D: Her father bought her a fish instead. That, too, disappeared.
W: What about her mother?
A D: It's weird. My brother found this note. (Takes out worn, torn piece of paper. Hands it to Williams. It used to be white.) She's never made contact since.
W: You think there was foul play?
A D: Don't you?
W: If there was we'll find out. I'm curious.
Williams better be glad he isn't a cat because then he'd be dead.
A D: About?
W: What's your relationship with Clara like?
A D: You don't believe me, do you?
W: Do you know that we already have confirmed evidence from a doctor that diagnosed Daniel as suffering from multiple personality disorder? (He pauses, hesitant) It is not Clara.
A D: Oh no. Is... Is that why you've been focusing on him?
W: Actually ma'am the evidence tells us who to speak to. What to do next.
I pace to the front door. Aunt Dahab has never made it a secret : she'd do anything for Daniel. We're black. We're Muslims. We're black Muslims. Deadly combination. Black South Africans don't regard a girl child as a child of importance. If Daniel goes down for murder before he kills me then all her brother's wealth would be mine and if I married, I'd share that money with my husband. She can't control how it's spent then. She knows I don't like her much because I see straight through her fake love, fake concern, fake sympathetic smiles.
When Duhab found out about my inheritance she almost burnt the house down. If Daniel wasn't in here too, then she would've.
I have to take care of business now. Aunt Dahab will wish she hadn't made up stories about me. I wouldn't bat an eyelid if I found out she's the mastermind. That she told Daniel to poison me. Wouldn't she have pushed harder to get Daniel to take me to hospital?
I was sick, a kiss away from death, no breaks on my shit but she just felt content with Daniel feeding me soup while I wasted away?
A D: And I'm telling you the evidence should lead you elsewhere.
W: You're saying Clara planted and planned everything?
A D: Yes. Don't you?
W: Ma'am. She's just a child. Just a girl.
Of course girls can't kill. They don't have the guts. He's basically saying. Like the rest of the world he believes in childhood innocence and boys being more...capable of causing havoc.
Aunt Dahab: (Getting frustrated) That's where you're wrong. She's not just a girl. (Walks towards him) She's Clara. Clara's not a human. She's not just a child. She's the devil.
W : (Backs away) Right. Ma'am. Well, thank you. We'll be in touch.
A D: (Leans against the door, blocking it, eyes on fire) Just hear me. Clara's dangerous. Why won't you believe me? I am a woman of prestige. Of God. I would never lie.
W: (Panicked) Mrs. Khalid please move out of my way. (She doesn't.) Ma'am, you don't want me to report this...incident. (She's crying now. Frantic.) Move. Ma'am. Move. No. No. I will not listen. Move. And calm down.