The Monster's Daughter (12 page)

“Nobody is accusing you of anything.”

“Then why did you come here? The last time people came to talk they wanted to take her away.” Hysteria brimmed in the woman's dark eyes. Alet followed Magda's gaze. Nonnie's whole body was hidden under the blanket of a twin-size bed, separated by a low table from an identical one on the other side of the bedroom.

“You can be right here while I talk to Nonnie, Magda. Then we can finish our coffee, okay?”

Magda searched Alet's face, her body deflating.
“Ja, Mies.”
She sagged down on the couch in the front room, her arms crossed, her head low.

Alet sat down on the foot end of Nonnie's bed. Afternoon sunlight squeezed through a narrow window. In the distance, the looming mountain peak cast long shadows over the valley. Nonnie peered over the edge of the faded blanket, quickly pulling it over her head again when she caught Alet's eye.

“My name is Alet, Nonnie. It's nice to meet you.”

Nonnie stirred under the blanket. On the brick wall beside the bed, clothes hung from long nails, a Sunday-best dress, a school uniform and the snowflake costume.

“I saw your picture in the paper,” Alet said. “I wish I could have seen the concert.”

Two almond eyes appeared gradually above the blanket. “Why didn't you?”

Alet was at a loss for a moment. “Well, I was living far away.”

“How far?”

“All the way up in Jo'burg.”

“Why?”

“Because that's where I learned to be a police officer.”

“Mamma says I should stay away from police. They are troubles.”

“Mmm. The police can help too, you know.”

“How?”

“Well, we catch bad guys, for one thing. Bad guys that try to hurt you.”

Nonnie sat up in the bed, keeping the blanket over her nose. “But you're a girl!”

“Girls can catch bad guys.” Alet feigned indignation.

Nonnie looked perplexed. “Can I be a police too?”

“I think you would make a really good policewoman.”

Nonnie giggled, holding her hands to her mouth the way her mother did.

“Nonnie, can I ask you something?”

The girl scrunched up her eyes, then nodded.

“You told people at school that you saw the Thokoloshe. That he was here at the house.”

Nonnie pressed her lips together. Her hands fisted over the blanket.

“Is it true?” Alet felt a sense of dread as Nonnie averted her eyes. “You see, he's a bad guy.”

Something flickered in Nonnie's face. “Will you catch him so he doesn't take children?”

“
Ja
. Will you help me?”

Nonnie hesitated for a moment, then wiggled out from under the blanket. She sat down, pressing close to Alet. Alet held her breath for a moment, scared she might break the spell.

“When did the Thokoloshe come here, Nonnie?”

“Wednesday.”

“Are you sure?”

“
Juffrou
Jana gave us Afrikaans homework then.” Nonnie jumped down from the bed. She grabbed her book bag and lifted it onto the bed. It was the same kind Alet had had in the first grade. A rectangular case made of sturdy brown cardboard that closed with a spring-loaded lock. Nonnie took a ruled exercise book out of the case. A photocopied sheet was pasted onto one of the pages. She pointed at the top of the sheet where the date was written in big uneven letters. “See?”

“I believe you.”

“I got a gold star.”

“I'm sure you get a lot of gold stars.”

Nonnie nodded.

“Can you remember what time you saw the Thokoloshe? Was it day or night?”

“Night.”

“Was your Mamma here?”

Nonnie pointed to the living room. “Out there.”

“And where was the Thokoloshe?”

Nonnie turned her pointing finger to the bedroom window. “Out there.”

“In your garden?”

“In the road. He took his friend away.”

“He has a friend?”

Nonnie nodded.

“Did he come into your room at all?”

“No. He just wanted his friend.”

Alet felt relieved. Nonnie probably just saw some of the neighbor boys messing around after dark.

“If you want to catch him you have to go high.”

Alet followed Nonnie's gesture at the window to the jagged rock of the mountain peak. “Up the mountain?”

“That's where he was going.”

“Can you tell me what he looks like?”

“Everyone knows what the Thokoloshe looks like.” Nonnie threw up her hands and rolled her eyes for effect, probably copying her mother or another adult.

“
Ja
, but remember, I'm from Jo'burg, hey. The Thokoloshe doesn't go to the city.”

“He's this big.” Nonnie held her arm out slightly above her head, the fingers of her hand scrunched together, pointing up at the ceiling. Alet hadn't seen the gesture since she was a child and her own nanny used it. Blacks used it to indicate someone's height, believing that the European gesture of a flat hand, palm facing down, impeded the spirit's growth.

“And his friend?”

Nonnie shrugged. She flipped through her school book, her interest in the conversation suddenly lost. Alet hated interviewing children. If you tried to intimidate or scare them into cooperating there would be a parent or social worker on your back in no time. She took a deep breath. “Okay. Did you hear them saying anything?”

Nonnie shook her head. Magda leaned in the doorway. Alet smiled reassuringly at her.

“Is there anything else you remember, Nonnie? It would really help me to find the Thokoloshe.”

“I drew a picture.” Nonnie took a rudimentary sketch in colored pencil out of the folds of the book. “You can have it for a present.” She held the drawing out to Alet, the edge of the white page wrinkling in her grip.

A huge thorn tree provided respite from the heat as Alet waited for Mathebe. At the end of the driveway, three short cement steps led down to a sunken vegetable garden at the back door of Boet and Jana's house. Mathebe was taking his time, probably sitting at the big wooden table in the kitchen as he took Boet's statement. People just naturally ended up there, even though the living room with the old beat-up leather couch, mismatched green recliners and springbok hides covering the worn floorboards was more comfortable.

Mathebe appeared at the back door a few minutes later, followed by Boet and Jana, her camisole taut over the rounding of her stomach. The two men shook hands.

Alet pretended to study Nonnie's drawing in front of her. “How did it go?” she asked when Mathebe got into the van.

Mathebe shook his head as he closed the passenger door, his features more hound-like than usual. “Perhaps you should have spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Terblanche.”

Alet reversed down the driveway and turned around at the gate. She waited until they were on the dirt road before she spoke. “I may have found a witness.”

Mathebe turned to her. “Who?”

“I thought that might cheer you up. Nonnie Kok, our local working girl's daughter.”

“The domestic call?”

“Hear me out. The Thokoloshe is small, right? She said she saw the Thokoloshe with a friend. She might have seen the victim and the killer. Look at the picture she drew.”

Alet handed Nonnie's picture to Mathebe. A yellow moon and blue stars topped the page. Two wavy brown lines underscored them, forming hilltops. On the bottom left of the page was a square house
with two rectangular windows and smoke coming out of the chimney. Next to the house were two stick figures in black, one with its arms around the other.

“It is a child's drawing.”

“It's not much, but they live near the trail on the west side of the mountain. See that?” Alet kept her right hand on the steering wheel and pointed at the picture. “That triangular shape there?”

“Yes?”

“It looks like a rock formation that's farther up the trail. You can see it from her bedroom window. Which means that if that is our killer dragging the victim, they went up the mountain on the opposite side from where we found the body.”

“That is very far to go on foot. Why would he not leave the body on that side of the mountain?”

“I don't know, but we should at least check it out. Search the area. Ask the captain if April can help.”

“What is this?” Mathebe pointed at a blob of brown drawn next to the Thokoloshe's hand.

“Don't know. He probably had a bag or something with him. The girl refused to talk once the mother came into the room. I couldn't exactly tell her to leave.”

Mathebe nodded. “There are a lot of murders in this country,” he said thoughtfully. “A lot of people die every day.”

Alet followed Mathebe's gaze out the car window. Rock face and dry bush rushed past, blurring into a hypnotic pattern. She turned her attention back to the road just in time to see a black-and-white cat dash across. She slammed on the brakes. “Dammit!” The van skidded forward, dust rising in a thick cloud. The cat froze for a moment before jumping into the bushes. Mathebe didn't react, his gaze fixed straight ahead at the horizon.

“Is there anything you're not telling me, Johannes?”

Mathebe pursed his lips before he spoke, each word measured. “I spoke to Captain Mynhardt about forensic help. He told me that we do not have the budget.”

“I thought as much.”

“I wonder if that would be true if the victim was white. Perhaps Mr. Terblanche would also be more cooperative, then.”

This had always been there, lurking below the surface, but Alet didn't want to get into an argument about racial inequality with Mathebe. Blacks felt cheated and whites felt robbed, but it wasn't that easy pointing fingers, not anymore. The clarity of people fighting for their freedom had given way to twenty years of unchallenged government, and in that time, the lines had begun to blur.

Alet started up the van. “I don't know. I guess it's possible. Not a whole lot of precedence for white women getting necklaced, you know.”

Mathebe shook his head as if clearing out a bad memory.

“Look, I know this is flimsy, but at least we have something. I have to be in PE tomorrow night for a family thing, but we can search the mountain tomorrow morning.”

“Gauteng schools let out for the holidays today.” Mathebe had returned to his robotic self. “Everybody is on traffic duty.”

Alet tried not to sound disappointed. “I'll drive back tomorrow night, then. We can start early Sunday.” She hoped that by then, there would still be something left for them to find.

I AM A DONKEY
.

The chalk snapped in two on the black slate. Mrs. Berman's mouth set in a stern grimace as she dusted off her hands and attached a piece of twine to the board. Sebastian stood in front of the class, his knobby knees trembling under threadbare shorts. Tessa felt a sense of satisfaction. Sebastian always pulled her hair and called her a white rat when Mrs. Berman wasn't looking. He deserved what was coming.

“What is the first rule?” Mrs. Berman ran her eyes over the first-graders in front of her, resting on Tessa. “Tell us, Theresa.”

Tessa held her breath. Mrs. Berman scared her. She had once broken a ruler on Gisela De Klerk's behind because her nails were too long. The girl was forced to stand in the corner for the rest of the day. Tessa stood up, careful to lift her chair and not scrape it along the floor, otherwise
she
might end up in front of the class with a board around her neck.

“Well?” Mrs. Berman's raisin eyes didn't budge from Tessa's face.

Tessa almost felt sorry for Sebastian, but then she remembered the nasty thing he said in Afrikaans when she'd caught him stealing her sandwich that morning. “We only speak English, Mrs. Berman.” Tessa felt a sense of power as she looked at Sebastian. “Dutch is for donkeys.”

“Exactly.” Mrs. Berman hung the board around Sebastian's neck. “You will wear this for the rest of the day, Sebastian. If you take it off, you'll get ten lashes.”

Sebastian took his seat next to Tessa. “You'll pay for this you, you English,” he muttered under his breath when Mrs. Berman turned her back to write on the big chalkboard.

Tessa was glad Sebastian's English was poor, otherwise his insults might have been a lot more elaborate. Her Afrikaans was fluent, even if she wouldn't be caught dead using it. Tessa had picked up Xhosa, Zulu, some Chinese and a little bit of Portuguese from listening to all the different people in Johannesburg. Her favorite was Sotho, which she spoke with Sarah. It glided through your mouth and dripped off the tongue. Xhosa was great fun with all its different clicks and was so close to Zulu that you almost couldn't speak one without knowing the other. When you stripped away all the different words though, people sounded very much alike, Tessa thought. Even though there was a big difference in how they were treated.

Sebastian kicked her feet under their shared desk. “Keep on your side.”

Tessa made herself small, her momentary victory forgotten. She moved her chair to the edge of the desk. In the front of the class, Mrs. Berman droned on, making the students copy three-letter words she wrote on the board. B-A-T. C-A-T. Next week they would advance to four letters. Tessa sighed. She had begged Andrew to send her to school. He would have nothing of it, citing the dangers involved if anyone found out that she was different. “Special,” is what he called her, but Tessa wasn't so sure. All she knew were lonely, static hours, locked up in the house with Sarah and Andrew, hiding, always hiding, while the world outside her window changed. She wanted to be part of that world, talk to its people, the longing physically painful. She made every promise she could think of to counter Andrew's objections. When that didn't work, she ran away.