7 Days Read Online Free PDF Page B

– it was the warrant officer who had originally investigated the Sloet case.
    ‘Yes, Tommy.’
    ‘Captain, do I still have to come in?’
    ‘No …’ he realised the detective had been waiting for him to call, at the request of John Afrika. ‘Sorry, Tommy, I should have let you know …’ Griessel thought of what lay ahead, with Alexa. ‘You don’t need to … Can we talk tomorrow?’
    ‘So, you don’t need me tonight?’
    ‘No, thanks a lot …’
    ‘OK,’ said Tommy, relieved.
    ‘Thanks …’ then he remembered, he wanted to have a look at the scene of the crime. ‘Tommy, do you still have the keys to Sloet’s apartment?’
    ‘Not here with me.’
    ‘No, I mean tomorrow morning – can we take a look tomorrow morning?’ And then he hurried to add – knowing how Nxesi would feel about it, he had been in the same position himself, ‘You’re the expert on this one. I want to hear what
you
think.’
    ‘Sure, Captain. What time?’
    ‘Nine o’clock?’
    ‘See you there, thanks, Captain.’
    Griessel put the phone back in his pocket.
    He would have to keep his wits about him.
    He was shocked when he saw her in the manager’s office. Her makeup was smudged, her hair hung over her face, a mess, the neckline of her dress had slipped down too far, a sandal lay to one side, the other on her foot. She sat on a chair with her legs apart, elbows on her knees, swaying from side to side.
    ‘Alexa …’
    She looked up slowly. He could see she was very drunk. She battled to focus. Then slowly her face crumpled. She tried to straighten up, but it was hard. She began to cry.
    He went to her, helped her up, tried to pull her dress higher, but she wrapped her arms around him. She smelled of liquor and perfume.
    ‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He put his arms around her, held her tightly.
    Her face was in his neck and he felt the hot, wet tears trickling down him. ‘I’m such …’ she said, the sibilants coming out with difficulty. ‘I’m such a loser, Benny.’
    ‘You’re not,’ he said.
    The manager stepped around them, bent and picked up her sandal and her little evening bag that was hanging over the arm of the chair. He held them out to Griessel, the shoe by one finger, as though it was contaminated, disgust on his face.
    Benny took the shoe and the bag. Alexa sagged against him.
    ‘Come,’ he said gently. ‘Let’s go home.’
    In the car she talked disjointedly, her head against the window.
    ‘Intruder, Benny. That’s all I am … they know …’ She struggled to open her bag, took out her cigarettes, dropped the lighter.
    He didn’t want to see her like this, because it was his doing. He searched for words to repay, to console her, but all he could manage was: ‘I’m so terribly sorry.’
    It was as though she didn’t hear him. She grabbed for the lighter on the floor, surrendered the battle, fell back in her seat and began achorus: ‘They saw
through
me.’ Repeating it over and over, that maudlin tone of drunken self-pity.
    His cellphone rang,
Jissis
, what
now
? He answered it.
    ‘Benny, this is John Afrika. Cloete says a small article will appear on page fourteen of the
Weekend Argus
, and on the Internet, we were too late for anything else. It’s a mess, Benny, I’m telling you. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, you’ll have to produce results. Pull out all the stops.’
    ‘Yes, General.’
    ‘OK, Benny.’ Afrika concluded the call.
    ‘They saw through me,’ said Alexa.
    He parked in front of her house, found her key in the evening bag. He got out.
    ‘Don’t leave me,’ she pleaded, the voice of a child.
    He got back in. ‘I won’t leave you. I just want to unlock the door.’
    She looked at him uncomprehendingly. ‘I’m an alcoholic, you know.’
    He nodded, got out again, walked quickly to the front door, unlocked it. Jogged back to the car, opened the passenger door. ‘Let’s get you in the house.’
    She didn’t respond, just sat there,