Read The Lazarus Effect Online
Authors: H. J Golakai
The line of cars waiting for the lights to flick ‘go’ blocked Lucas Fourie’s line of vision. He squinted at the brick high-rise of brown and cream that his Garmin satnav had led him to, not sure what he was watching for. He needed to be in a spot with a better vantage point, but the thought of making an illegal U-ie in traffic and parallel parking in an available slot closer to the building made his armpits moisten. Traffic officers loved to bust fools who made stupid moves like that in the centre of town. Lucas liked to believe he was a guy who enjoyed a touch of predictable peril, if there was such a thing, and no more.
A woman pushed through the glass double doors, holding what looked like a pizza box. She paused on the sidewalk and looked directly across the street, her hand a visor against the sun. Lucas held his breath. He needn’t be any closer to recognise the woman he’d been shadowing, the proud owner of the black wolf-monster. Had she spotted him? Not likely; he’d been too careful. He decided to sit tight.
Vee threw caution to the wind and jogged across the busy road, forgetting that lunch was still in her hand and Chlöe would be
mewling with indignation back inside. She was paying for the delivery when the white Opel Astra caught her eye. True, the city was awash with white budget buys, and shabby Opels made up a significant proportion of that number. But twice in fewer than twenty-four hours couldn’t be a coincidence, not when the first two numbers on the licence plate matched what she’d managed to see last night.
She sidled closer, expecting the car to burst to life and spin into the traffic, knocking her down. It didn’t move. She peered through the windscreen at the man in the driver’s seat, sitting as still as could be. In fact, it almost looked like he was trying to
think
himself invisible, the way small children did when they were in big trouble or playing a game. He was chubby, sweaty and kitted out from head to toe in black, except for a khaki cargo jacket. Covering half his face was a baseball cap and pair of tinted sunglasses.
I’m officially in the worst movie ever, Vee thought.
The journalist tapped on the window and made a beckoning motion. Lucas remained immobile but fluttered internally, unsure what to do. How had she seen him? Maybe she’d go away eventually. Instead, she leaned close to the glass and mouthed, ‘Get out of the car, please.’
He complied. He had no choice. When they were face to face, she stood about a head over him, but he also noted she was wearing a pair of modestly heeled shoes.
‘Who are you and what do you want?’ She didn’t look at all frightened. He’d expected her to be more shaken up.
‘Lucas,’ he muttered, then repeated with more confidence: ‘I’m Lucas Fourie and I wanted to, um, talk with you.’
Her expression cleared and her shoulders relaxed. Murmuring a long ‘ohhhh,’ she looked him over. He knew what was going through her mind: that he wasn’t as tall as his father, or as attractive, despite the resemblance. That he was less a man and more a boy encased in stubborn baby fat. That he was a terrible stalker.
‘So.’ She placed her box on the hood of the car. ‘You know where I live
and
where I work. Did it occur to you at any point to walk up to one of those doors, knock and introduce yourself? To avoid having to do all this?’ She fluttered her hands on this last point, indicating the mild insanity of having to confront strange guys in parked cars outside her job.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d come looking for me, and when you didn’t, well … I sort of decided to come looking for you.’
‘
Why
would I be looking for you?’
Lucas’s head snapped back and he narrowed his eyes. ‘Because,’ he said, then stopped, floored that his motives weren’t obvious. Didn’t this woman investigate things for a living? ‘Because you went looking for everybody else. You know, to ask all those questions about Jacqui and the police case and the past and everything. Don’t you wanna ask me stuff, too?’
The chubby boy looked hurt and kind of flabbergasted, like a kid unfairly passed over during a schoolyard pick. It was hard to believe he was older than Serena. Vee mashed her lips together,
keeping her laugh under her ribs. This family was intent on driving her batshit.
‘As it turns out, I’ve gathered all the relevant information I need. And I’m sure your family will be happy to hear that, for now at least, I won’t be harassing any of you. So thanks for dropping by and offering your help, but it really isn’t necessary.’
The dig worked. Blood rushed to his cheeks and curled around the tips of his ears.
‘What d’you mean, my help isn’t necessary? I
knew
Jacqui. She was my sister, too! I had as much to do with her vanishing act as anybody else!’
Vee raised her eyebrows. Vanishing act. So Lucas was on the team of those who believed Jacqui had ditched the humdrum for bright lights somewhere more exciting. The outrage on Lucas’s face was near impossible to fake. It convinced her they’d been right to exclude him from their enquiries. This guileless man-child didn’t have a hand in murder and a cover-up.
He misread her expression as an accusation. ‘No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t mean I
helped
her bugger off or do something stupid. Or …’ he gulped, ‘that
I
did something horrible to her. I’m saying we were close. I could help with information.’
Vee crossed her arms. Cool, if he insisted on playing. ‘All right. There is one thing that keeps running around in my head, and you’d be the best person to clear it up. When you say y’all were close, how close do you mean?’
Lucas looked blank.
‘Were you having a sexual relationship with your sister?’
He took a step back and his chin dropped to his neck, a hundred twitches zipping across his face. Vee did a quick read on him. He was genuinely appalled and disgusted by the idea, but she sniffed something else lurking in the background. So Rosie was right: most of the lusting
had
come from his side. The fantasy hadn’t been realised, but Lucas had certainly thought about it in shameful, wanton detail. Vee automatically had little doubt that if Jacqui had allowed it – and there was no question she’d held all the power – the line into the unthinkable would have been crossed. A highly unlikely pairing, though; Lucas wasn’t in her league and a girl like Jacqueline would’ve made sure he’d known it.
Lucas nearly swallowed his tongue in his jumbled spew of denials. His heart was thumping so hard he was certain it was audible above the downtown grind. Rosie, that miserable moron, and her stupid mouth. But nothing had ever happened,
nothing
.
The Johnson woman sliced him up with her eyes all the while he babbled. It appeared she believed him, because finally she placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. Her skin was a deep, burnished brown next to his.
‘Go home, man. Really, I don’t need you for anything.’ The smile she flashed was kind and lightly teasing, but he knew pity when he saw it. Her teeth were small and white, like those plaster casts the dentist used for demonstrations on proper oral care. She wrote his number down on the lid of the pizza box and promised to reach out if circumstances changed. With that, he was dismissed.
Lucas got back in his car and hyperventilated after she walked away. He watched her all the way to the other side of the street, where she stopped to open the pizza box. He continued watching as a man came out of nowhere and jumped her from behind.
Call me
The train was packed. Jacqui reached the station in good time and sprung for the extra one rand fifty that separated first class from third. This time of day, a ticket was no guarantee of a seat but managing to elbow out a standing spot was good enough. Much as she was ashamed of thinking so, smell was a deal-breaker. If it made her a snob that she found the air in the first-class cars more pleasant, then so be it.
A pregnant woman boarded as soon as Jacqui plopped into a seat. Jacqui tried ignoring her and pretending to fixate on the view outside the window, but couldn’t do it. The dark-skinned woman gave her a bright, grateful smile as she lowered herself into Jacqui’s seat.
More and more people filled the compartment, until bodies were mashed skin on skin. Sporting team colours, one group started up a catchy song while others tried blowing their vuvuzelas up at the ceiling. Jacqui groaned, remembering that Ajax Cape Town and Orlando Pirates had a league match at Newlands Stadium that day. It must’ve just let out, and this mob of
domkops
was heading to the central station in town.
Jacqui let her mind wander over the noise. The call she’d got during the tennis match with the girls was still eating her up. The whole point of today was to offload stress and have fun. To stop feeling like a liar and a fraud who was stretched in a hundred different directions. Picking up her cell had poured cold water over all of that.
Absent-mindedly, she reached for an ear and fondled the silver hoop piercing with a cross attached. It drove her mum crazy that she hadn’t outgrown the habit, but the squashy feel of her earlobe was comforting, especially when she ran her finger over the outline of the cross.
Being born again made it easier to ditch more and more of her old self and embrace the new. It wasn’t
always
easy, but she was catching on. Shoplifting, for instance – over and done. She’d miss all the cool treats and comforts she could buy with the stuff she sold, but it wasn’t a path the Lord wanted her to continue on. And Tamara. Lord Almighty. How much more difficult did it have to get to stay friends with her, to remember why they’d even
become
friends? They used to be inseparable, and now they couldn’t have a decent conversation without Miss Judgemental taking the piss out of her choices.
Tamara was stupid if she thought Jacqui didn’t know she’d stolen her Nikes after tennis, just like she knew Tamara had made a play for Ashwin. The sneakers were ill-gotten gains, the finest sporting footwear she possessed, but Jacqui felt she could let it go. And she could let Ashwin go, too, but not to her girl. If Tam wanted to stay a bitch forever that was her own lookout, but friends didn’t stand by and let stupid mistakes get repeated. This time that shit might actually stick and Tam could end up being his
wife
and baby mama number three. They weren’t cool like back in the old days, but Jacqui wasn’t going to idle by and let that happen.
And you’re still saying words like ‘shit’
, she scolded herself. Old habits died hard. The phone conversation pushed a nagging finger at her conscience, like a curious child toying with a rotting animal. It was going to be difficult, but she had one more slightly dirty deed to commit before she hung up her boots. It was a case of doing wrong to do right, and she hoped to God that He could forgive her. And–
The train squealed to a stop. Car doors squeaked open and passengers nudged and muscled out. In the bustle of bodies, Jacqui barely
managed to hang on to her gym tote. At last, the doors suctioned closed and there were a few seats available.
Jacqui slid into one, thinking it was time to return the call and check how things were going at the other end. She went through her tracksuit pockets and came up empty. Where had she put her cell phone? Minutes later, she was in a mild panic as she turned the bag and all its compartments inside out onto the empty seat next to her.
She’d boarded the train with a phone. Now it was gone.
Chlöe came through the foyer just in time to see the attack. A man she didn’t recognise rocketed out of a parked car with such ferocity that Vee didn’t have time to react. The pizza box went flying as she stumbled, arms out to brace her fall. She came down rough on her knees and skidded face first into the pizza, smearing her white top and the side of her face.
The guy wasn’t finished. He sank both hands into her hair and tried to drag her back up. Vee screamed and socked a punch into his stomach. The man bent double and let out a sound like air draining out of a balloon. Vee had time to gather her wits. Only just. Screaming an incomprehensible war cry, the man lunged again and they almost went down together. Punches, scratches and grunts flew.
‘Stop!’ Chlöe screeched. It struck her that an assault was going down right in front of her, less that a fortnight into her job, and she wasn’t doing anything to stop it. She bobbed around the scrabble, not sure how to get in and separate them. Vee’s body kept blocking her. The man created an opening by grabbing Vee by the neck and letting loose another roar as he shoved
her. Chlöe flinched at the sound of bone connecting with the base of a nearby streetlamp.
The commotion brought people out of the building. Chlöe nearly burst into tears when she saw Chris, one of the security guards, burst through the front entrance at a run. Vee was slumped over, keeping her balance by holding on to the streetlamp. The man made for her again. She kicked out with as much energy as she had left and got him in the crotch. He crumbled to his knees and Vee collared him and slammed his head into the concrete.
‘No!’ Chlöe grabbed Vee around the waist and hauled her off. Judging from the manic glint in her eyes she wouldn’t rest until her attacker’s head was a bloody mess. Shaking, Chlöe held on to her as best she could. Onlookers gathered and rubbernecked as Chris and another guard pulled the assailant up, keeping a good grip on his arms and a wary eye on Vee. As they radioed for backup, the receptionist rushed back inside to phone the police.
‘Oh my God,’ Chlöe whispered. One side of Vee’s face was ballooning. The metal imprint ran along the edge of her forehead, and Chlöe touched her hot flesh. ‘Shit, that looks bad!’
‘Who the hell …’ Vee mumbled through a mouthful of blood.
Chlöe helped her to her feet. Chris and Guard Two had taken command of ushering the staff back inside and breaking up the crowd. Vee hobbled over to them. The guy they restrained, or rather whose weight they supported as his feet dangled inches off the ground, was still rambling and muttering in Afrikaans. Vee tilted his chin and let it drop.
She exchanged looks with Chlöe. It was Ashwin Venter.
*
On Portia’s orders, they took the rest of the day off after giving the cops a statement and hanging around to see Venter carted away. Chlöe drove Vee’s car to the nearest emergency room, where a doctor confirmed a mild concussion but nothing serious. He pushed some strong pain pills at them, stressing caution: Vee had to stay awake through the night, in case the damage was worse than it looked.
Chlöe couldn’t stop trembling. Just getting them into Vee’s house had been a mission: Vee steadying her jittery hand and guiding the key into the lock.
‘I’m not dying.’
Chlöe jumped a foot. ‘Huh?’
Vee eyed her over the top of a steaming cup of tea. Chlöe wasn’t sure why she made it – force of habit, really – and Vee complained that her head felt too hot to bear even putting it near her mouth. ‘Calm down. You’ve draped this blanket over me like I’m dying.’
‘Sorry. White people are easily shaken by open aggression.’ Chlöe sat down sheepishly. ‘What a total loser. How could he attack you in broad daylight like that? This time I hope he gets buggered so much in jail he has to order a new rectum online.’
Vee tried to laugh and cringed. The medication had only dulled the pain. Chlöe pressed her and she admitted that everything had gone from strobing out of focus to a dark mass with a flickering orange halo. Chlöe watched her pass her tongue around her mouth for the dozenth time, feeling for damage. She reported
that her inner cheek was bleeding a bit, but no teeth were chipped or loose.
‘That was some show, by the way. Where’d you learn to fight like that?’ Chlöe asked. A Mona Lisa smile was all the reply she got. Chlöe smiled back and let it go. Vee didn’t have secrets as much as a whole other underground life.
She kept an eye on the dog sitting at Vee’s side and it kept an eye on her. Since she had crossed the threshold the dog had kept her in sight, whether out of menace or mere curiosity Chlöe couldn’t tell. Neither, she hoped. Monro weighed as much as she did, and her nerves were so frayed she was sure she’d pass out cold if the dog tried anything. Monro had howled and whined at the state his mistress was in, and Vee cuddled his head on her knee and murmured in a lyrical tongue Chlöe had never heard her use. So that was what Kpelle, the tribe she was from, sounded like.
‘Is he gonna keep eyeballing me like that all day? It’s very unnerving.’
‘Don’t mind him.’ Vee stroked Monro. ‘He’s working out whether you’re responsible for this or not. He’ll make a decision soon.’
‘Haha, very funny. How come he doesn’t bark?’
‘Huskies tend to howl more than bark. All that wolf blood.’
‘Why Monro? Is he named after some famous person?’
‘Monrovia.’
Chlöe chewed on it for a second. ‘So you named your dog after the capital city of your country?’
‘Not me. His real owner.’
‘Who’s his real owner? Is that him over there?’ Chlöe tipped her chin in the direction of a photograph on the bookcase. It had to have been taken some time ago. A younger Voinjama and an even taller man had their arms around each other, grinning at the camera. ‘He looks a lot like you. Oi, wait, is that your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother. Is he older? Older brothers suck so bad. What’s his name? Where is he?’
Vee caressed the lump on her head. ‘His name is Quincy. Yes, he is older, and I don’t know where he is. I’m not sure.’
‘What d’you mean you’re not sure? How can you
not know
where your own brother is?’
‘Bishop, please.’ Looking worn and strangely sad, Vee angled a nod towards the kitchen. ‘Keep your mouth busy and get something to eat. You must be starving. Right now our lunch is rotting in a trash can.’
Chlöe microwaved rice and a savoury mix of greens with chicken from the fridge and barely made it past three mouthfuls. She sprinted back to the kitchen.
‘Flip, that was hot! What’s in there, devil’s blood?’ she called as she made herself a sandwich. ‘No wonder you kick ass so well. You eat live coals.’
When she came out of the kitchen, Vee was asleep. Chlöe had to keep nudging her every twenty minutes. By five o’clock, she couldn’t keep her eyes from drifting to the clock on the wall.
‘You should go. I’ll be fine. Connie will babysit me tonight,’ Vee said.
‘She should already be here. How many fingers do you see?’
‘Get out, Bish.’
Chlöe rooted through her bag. ‘Take these. They’re my mum’s. They’ll help with the pain … and, y’know, bringing down the intensity of all your feels.
Only take one
.’
Vee examined the pill bottle with a highly suspicious look in the one orbital that wasn’t swollen. ‘What you doin’ with your Ma’s drugs, Chlöe?’
‘You left your brains on the sidewalk, bosslady. Don’t question shit you can’t understand right now.’ Chlöe hugged her, feeling guilty for leaving. She didn’t dare offer to stay. Today was evidence that beneath Vee’s mellow exterior lay a molten reservoir of otherness she wasn’t equipped to handle. Best she did as she was told.
‘I’m really sorry that I didn’t help you more today. I really tried,’ she said on her way out.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t let you. Next time.’ Vee gave her the most pathetic version of a wink Chlöe had ever seen.