Blindside Page 2

The church looked and smelled familiar. As a child she often came here with her dad. To her mom’s chagrin. Not that her mom was a regular churchgoer herself; usually she just dropped Ellie off at Sunday school and fetched her later.

  It was nicer to come here with her dad. There were statues and candles, rituals, fascinating to a child. He never spoke to her mom about church and religion, but one day Ellie asked him why churches look so different, and he told her about Martin Luther.

  She remembered she had asked what symbolism was. And who was right.

  He had scratched his head as he always did when he tried to explain something, or thought deeply. “It’s just man’s way of making things easier for himself. Religion is difficult as it is. You can probably compare it to a car. Some drive a Mercedes, others a BMW. Both drivers believe theirs is the better car, but if they drive carefully, they’ll both arrive at their destination.”

  After that, Ellie had paid more attention to people’s cars.

  Today the candles couldn’t warm her and the familiar faces on the walls stared back at her dispassionately. As if they wanted to say, today we can’t help you. She had never been this cold before, and couldn’t wait for the service to end. But Manie Ferreira, an old friend and colleague of her father’s, still had to deliver the eulogy.

  He walked slowly to the microphone and planted his legs slightly apart. He put on his reading glasses and looked over the frame at the mourners.

  “This is a hard day for me. As much as I like talking about John McKenna, I wish I didn’t need to today. I knew him for more than twenty years, and for most of that time we were partners.” He swallowed. “If I hadn’t been a year his senior I wouldn’t have been retired, and I’d probably have been with him last week. And I wouldn’t have needed to stand here today. Or that’s what I keep telling myself.”

  He looked at Ellie and her mom. “We know how much we’re going to miss him, so we also know how big your loss is.”

  Ellie listened as he spoke about her dad’s good qualities. Shared the odd anecdote. Thanked people on behalf of the family. She wrapped her arms around herself and thought of the newspaper headlines.

  Veteran cop dies in hail of bullets at roadblock, the lampposts had announced the news the next morning. Alternated with Boks ready for Lions. On the next lamppost: President must explain again. Ordinary people did not get their names on lampposts. Only if your name was Steve or Joost or Julius could you expect to see it there. Otherwise, you remained an anonymous cop.

  She rubbed her arms again. The bloody cold wouldn’t go away, and she was glad when the formalities were over at last and they could go outside. As she was leaving the church, she tried not to look at the organist. Her father had liked to stand in as organist. He came from a musical family. Put an instrument in their hands and they’d be playing it before long. She had liked to come along when he’d played the organ.

  When she walked out into the sun, she put on her sunglasses. It had rained almost all of the previous week, but today was cloudless. The September sun was pale, yet it burned her cold skin. Somewhere a dog was barking and a lorry’s brakes hissed. The pepper trees in front of the church were green and dense and the birdsong was almost deafening. She wondered how the day could be so bright. Inside the gloomy church she had imagined that the sun had disappeared for a moment. Even if it was just behind a cloud.

  “May angels lead you into paradise; upon your arrival, may the martyrs receive you and lead you to the holy city of Jerusalem …” Father Frank’s voice accompanied the coffin outside. When the hearse pulled away, with the coffin inside, they walked with the rest of the mourners to the adjoining parish hall. Ellie’s mother was still sniffing softly.

  Inside the hall people approached them to sympathise.

  “Such a good man …”

  “We’ll miss him in the choir …”

  “It must be an enormous shock to you …”

  “And with retirement so near …”

  “He was going to play at my funeral one day.”

  The expressions of condolence were interspersed with remarks about her dark hair. After a while she felt tempted to say something inappropriate. You’d swear she was the only person on earth who’d ever dyed her hair.

  Ellie listened and nodded occasionally. Shook her head when it was called for. She heard her mother’s thin voice by her side and smelled the conflict between the alcohol and the peppermints on her breath. She hoped someone would bring her mom some tea.

  “I can’t believe he did it to me. But like my mother said all those years ago, he’s not of our church. If only I had listened then.”

  The listeners made appropriate noises and Rika McKenna sniffed loudly and pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.

  Ellie excused herself and fetched her mom a cup of tea and a sandwich. Her mother’s hands trembled when she took the cup, but Ellie was relieved to see her drink it thirstily and eat a piece of the bread.

  Her father’s colleagues stood huddled against a wall. They looked awkward, as if they didn’t belong there. She was surprised to see how many of her own colleagues had come. They came over in groups to speak to her. Shook her hand. Brigadier Andile Zondi, her commanding officer, put her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. Clive Barnard, her captain, hugged her briefly, clumsily. Clive turned forty last year but today the deep lines beside his mouth made him look older.

  She looked around for Albert, but didn’t see him anywhere. She wasn’t too surprised. His mother’s funeral had probably been the first and last funeral he had ever attended.

  When Melissa offered to fetch her some tea, she declined. She knew what she needed, and it wasn’t tea and a sandwich.

  Melissa linked her arm through hers and they stood like that quietly. If anyone knew how she was trembling inside, it was Melissa.

  “Are you going home tonight?”

  “No, I’ll sleep at her place again.”

  “Want me to come with you?”

  Ellie smiled. “Maybe you should go, and I’ll sleep with Antonie and the kids.”

  “Maybe I should come and sleep at your place, and we’ll send your mom to Antonie and the kids. I don’t know who I’d feel sorrier for.”

  Slowly the sympathisers thinned out. Ellie had to stop herself from sighing with relief when only Father Frank remained. She kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you, Father. I’m sorry you had to do this – it couldn’t have been easy, but there was nobody else I could ask.” Ellie smiled. “Not that I had a choice. He always said that it had to be you, or just a cremation without any ceremony. End of story.”

  The grey-haired man took her hands in his own. “I am very sad, and even a little angry with my friend, but I would have been hurt if you hadn’t asked me. I promised him long ago that if this day came and I was still around, I would do this for him. He could have made it easier by not dying, but then again, he was never a man for making things easy.”

  Ellie nodded. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  He turned to her mom and took both her hands in his own. “He loved you very much.”

  Rika McKenna made what sounded like a grunt and Ellie hurriedly said goodbye.

  “Where are we going now?” her mother wanted to know when they were in the car.

  “I’m going to drop you off at home. Aunt Vera will stay with you. I have to go, but I’ll see you a bit later.”

  “I know you’re going to Joe’s. Why can’t I come?”

  Please don’t bury me with tea and coffee, her father had written in a letter that he had put in a partly faded envelope along with his will. At the back of my sock drawer in my wardrobe you’ll find money – take the guys to Joe’s for a round or two on me.

  The money had been there, and Ellie had wondered when he had put it there. Whether he had added to it over the years, as things became more expensive.

  “It’s been a long day. You and I can go sometime, but not today.”

  At home, her aunt and uncle were making tea in
the kitchen, still in their funeral best.

  “Come and have a cup of tea,” Aunt Vera said.

  Ellie saw her mother licking her lips and knew she wasn’t going to stick to tea, but she couldn’t worry about that right now.

  CHAPTER 3

  Joe’s was crowded when Ellie arrived. The pub was one street from Durban Road, just before you crossed the N1 from the Bellville side. It was a popular watering hole, and many police officers stopped there on their way home from work. The voices quietened down a bit when she walked in. Those who hadn’t attended the funeral remarked on her darker hair. Ellie shrugged.

  Joe came out from behind the counter and took her hands. “I’m glad to see you survived the day.”

  His hands closed firmly around hers. In his mid-sixties, he was still a strong man. He had been a wrestler in his younger days and it was still evident in his build. It’s just the hair that hadn’t lasted. He was almost completely bald, except for a thin strip of grey around the back of his head.

  Ellie shook her head. “The day’s not over yet.”

  Someone touched her shoulder and she turned to find Brigadier Ibrahim Ahmed standing behind her.

  She nodded stiffly. “Brigadier.”

  “It was a fitting farewell.” When she didn’t answer, he touched her arm. “The two of us can sort out our differences another day. Now isn’t the time. Let’s say goodbye to him the way he would have wanted.”

  She nodded. “I appreciate your being here.”

  He cleared his throat and rapped on the bar counter. “Could we have some quiet for a moment, please?” He motioned at a few youngsters at the back of the room who had started talking again. “Shut up back there.” He turned to Ellie. “Mac, we don’t have words, and I don’t actually have the faintest idea what to say, except that it was a privilege to know him. And to work with him. With that man behind you, you never had to look over your shoulder. His death is a great loss to all of us. I suppose we could say that, given a choice, it was how he would have wanted to go, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It’s hard enough when any innocent person is taken out like that, but it’s doubly hard when it’s one of our own.” He stopped for a moment and when he spoke again his voice was thin. “To the Irishman.” He raised his glass.

  There was a loud “Hear, hear!” and then one of the younger men spoke. “Everything I know about police work I learnt from John McKenna.”

  “Hawu, man, he could chew your ear off if you fucked up,” a young black man said from the front of the room. “But he was straight as an arrow. You always knew where you stood with him.”

  “Remember that night we were going to raid that house in Bonteheuwel?” a colleague of many years joined in. “We worked on it for months, everything was in place, and then he got a feeling that something wasn’t right. Hell, the guys were furious.”

  “Yes, but we were more scared of the Irishman’s sixth sense than of the devil himself. No one fucked with it. None of the profiling textbooks come close to that man’s eye and instincts.”

  Ellie let them carry on. Allowed each one to reminisce and say his piece as they stood shoulder to shoulder. When they walked out of there they would take their private fears home with them, and the knowledge that it could have been them. Her own words stuck in her throat.

  She was exhausted and drank deeply from the glass Joe had put in her hand. She hadn’t eaten all day and felt the whisky drop straight into her stomach, where it burned.

  “What did he always say when he had his first glass in his hand?” someone called out to her.

  “May your glass be ever full, may the roof over your head be always strong, and may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead,” she called back, and everyone laughed.

  She raised her glass. “Here’s to you, old man. I hope you took the devil by surprise.”

  “Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,” her dad’s cousin began to sing. Before long his four old friends had joined in and were belting out the words.

  When they got to the second verse, Ellie sang along.

  “And if you come, when all the flowers are dying, and I am dead, as dead I well may be, you’ll come and find the place where I am lying and kneel and say an ‘Ave’ there for me.”

  What a cliché, she thought. It wasn’t even one of her father’s favourite songs, yet gradually her voice petered out. When the last notes had faded away, she motioned to Joe. With her glass replenished, she made her way back to Ahmed.

  “Have you had something to drink, Brigadier?”

  He lifted his glass. “My wife says all this Coke is going to eat up my insides, but man cannot live on water alone. How’s your mother?”

  “As well as can be. Heaven knows what my dad was thinking, leaving me alone with her.”

  He shook his head. “Why do you sound so angry? It’s not like he had any say in the matter.”

  “I don’t want to be, but I can’t help it. Why was he there at all? He had trained his people well. Why couldn’t he trust them to put up a roadblock?”

  “If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else.”

  The thought had crossed her mind, but she had quickly pushed it aside. If she pursued that line of thought, she’d have to offer up someone else’s life in exchange for his, and she knew, if she identified the person by name, she would never be able to look him in the eye again.

  Ahmed sighed. “You’re young. You still need to learn that sometimes you do things you can’t explain, but you know it’s the right decision at the time.”

  Ellie felt the whisky start taking the edge off the day. “Do you like lasagne?”

  He shook his head. “Not particularly.”

  “I was going to ask you to follow me home and take some with you. I wonder why everyone thinks of lasagne as comfort food.”

  Before she could continue, she felt someone kiss her neck. She didn’t turn around.

  “Sorry, babes, I couldn’t get away sooner. There was some trouble. Afternoon, Brigadier.”

  “Greyling.”

  Albert put his arm around Ellie’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I’m genuinely sorry. I tried …”

  “Hey, Greyling …” someone called from the bar before he could say anything more.

  “Yo, my bro, pass something along, man. I’m dying of thirst here,” he called back over her head.

  “Mac, leave the guy so he can come and have a drink with us.”

  Ellie motioned with her head. “Go.”

  He gave her a wide-eyed grin. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Can I bring you something? Brigadier, a refill?”

  “I must go.”

  “Babes?”

  Ellie shook her head. “I must get home too, before my mom kicks Vera and her husband out.”

  “Will I see you tonight?”

  “I don’t think so. We’ll talk later.”

  He put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her lips. “I’d really like to see you.”

  She and Ahmed walked out together. It was slow going – everyone wanted to say goodbye. Clive touched her shoulder in passing. Joe came out from behind the counter and hugged her briefly.

  “Hang in there, my girl. It will get better, but it’s going to be pretty crap for a while.”

  “Thanks. It helps to know what to expect.” She motioned with her hand. “Thanks for this. I’m sure he’s smiling, wherever he is.”

  “It’s a pleasure. I’ll miss the old bastard.”

  “Don’t let these drunk arses drive, and kick them out just now. Tomorrow their wives will be complaining to me,” Ahmed said as he shook Joe’s hand.

  “I will, Brigadier.”

  Outside, the shadows were getting long and only the tallest buildings still caught the sun’s last rays. Ahmed walked her to her car in silence.

  She unlocked the door, but didn’t get in.

  “Brigadier …”

  He held up his hand. “Before you say anyth
ing, hear me out. I want you to know I understand how you feel. I would’ve felt the same if I were in your shoes, but I can’t allow you to take me on in front of everyone. Firstly, you’re forcing my hand and, secondly, I don’t want to fight with you about your dad. I was very fond of that man and I’m very sad about his death. What makes it worse is that you don’t seem to trust me. I’ll do whatever I can to find out who’s responsible.”

  “That’s not what I said. I just want to help. I know how many cases are piled on everyone’s desks. It’s not going well on our side at the moment. With the big boss suspended and more people under suspicion, the rest of us are working around the clock. I just want to make sure you get the information you need.”

  “I promise if I suspect anyone of hampering our investigation, I’ll tell you straight away. In the meantime I don’t want you any­where near the case. I’ve got an experienced team working on it and I have complete faith that they’ll come up with an answer soon.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I still think it would be a good idea to take a day or two’s leave.”

  “It won’t make anything better.”

  “I’m sure your mom needs you.”

  “She might need something, but it’s not me.”

  “I’m just saying … get your act together before you go back.”

  She frowned. “I hear there was a shooting at Alexei Barkov’s house. Brigadier Zondi is on the warpath. Apparently fingers are already being pointed. They’re quick to say our intelligence should have been better.”

  “By this time you should know fingers will always be pointed. No one wants to catch a ball of shit like that. But we can talk about this later. Tonight’s not the night.”

  He stood next to her car while she got in. “Look after yourself, and your mom.”

  She switched on the engine, but didn’t pull away immediately. “I don’t want to find out who shot my dad in the papers.” What she really wanted to ask him was whether he thought it could have had something to do with her, but she couldn’t find the words. And she suspected she didn’t want to hear the answer.

  He put his hand on the window frame. “I can’t make any promises.”