Blood at Bay. Sue Rabie
just leaving the Calders. What’s wrong?” She could hear it in his voice. “Has something happened?”
“Nothing’s happened. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
He didn’t want to upset her, but he didn’t think it could wait either. What if Govender were to question her? What would Kathy tell Govender about their night together? “I need to speak to you about something,” he told her. “The police have just been to see me.”
“About what?” she asked innocently.
He hesitated, not quite knowing how to put it. “About us,” he told her.
“What about us?”
“Well, I think Inspector Govender thinks we may have, um, spent the night, well, together …”
“Oh,” she said. “I see.”
He waited. She didn’t sound too upset. He wondered what to say next. “I’m sorry,” he told her.
“David,” she reassured, “you don’t have anything to apologise for. We both know nothing happened.”
“Yes, but Govender might think something did, and I didn’t want them to see you in a bad light.”
She laughed. “That’s very gentlemanly of you.”
He frowned, not understanding why she was taking this so lightly. She must have sensed his concern. “Look,” she said, “perhaps we should talk. Where are you?”
He felt his spirits rise. “On the yacht, cleaning up.”
“Well, I finish work at five. Shall I come to you?”
He stood up. “Great,” he said, slightly surprised at his reaction to her suggestion. “The security guard at the gate will let you in,” he told her. He was glad she was coming, that he would see her again, but he was also still worried. “Kathy?” he said, hesitating as he thought about Maritz and the man’s allegations.
“What?” she asked.
“Be careful.”
“Of what?”
“I’m not sure. Has anyone been following you?”
“Following me? What on earth for?”
“I don’t know,” he said, mentally kicking himself. He was making her paranoid. He was making himself paranoid. “Just be careful, that’s all. Lock your car door.”
She sounded more worried when she said goodbye, and David swore at himself. He was being unreasonable, imagining conspiracies based on vague suspicions. But what if they were real? Someone wanted him arrested, had obviously gone onto the internet and read up on what David had done in Boston. They had found out about his criminal record, had used it to get Govender to search his flat. They had questioned Peter, they had tortured him. What had Peter told them? How easy would it be to track either of them down, to find out where they lived? Ms Prinsloo had given Kathy his address, after all. Were they being watched? Even now?
No. He was being neurotic and, by the time the police returned with his keys, he had convinced himself he was imagining things. Van Heerden waited patiently at the security gate and thanked him politely for his time.
“Did you find anything, Sergeant?”
“No, we didn’t,” Van Heerden replied, seemingly without taking offence.
“But we’ll be in touch.”
Which means: don’t leave the country, David told himself as he walked back to the boat. He wondered what to say to Kathy when she arrived, whether to tell her about Maritz’s accusations. It was almost five o’clock and she would be here soon. Should he also tell her the truth about himself? Before she found out who he was and what he had done?
The kitten was waiting for him as be ducked into the saloon. She had woken from a nap and stretched as she greeted him.
“You think I’m paranoid?” he asked her as he ruffled her under the
chin. “You think I’m going over the edge?” The cat suddenly stiffened and looked up.
“Well, someone’s going over the edge,” a menacing voice announced.
David turned. There was a man standing in the companionway, his shadow blocking the sunlight from above.
“Well, well, well. Look what we’ve got here.” The man’s tone wasn’t pleasant, and David stood up cautiously. The kitten vanished through the galley.
“Can I help you?” David offered warily.
The man came down the steps, lowering himself down the companionway with ease.
“I’m sorry,” David tried, this time more forcefully. “Do you mind getting off my boat?”
The man laughed, a short, barking laugh. “Your boat?” He glanced behind him. “You hear that, Bruce?”
There was another man on deck; David could hear him. He could also hear a splintering crack as someone forced open the forward companionway and started down into the chart room. The person swore and there was a savage crash. “Fucking cat!” the man, presumably Bruce, said as he appeared through the galley. He was well built, tall enough to have to stoop in the main saloon to avoid touching the ceiling. He was dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved khaki work shirt. As was the first man. They were both in their mid-thirties, the taller one slightly older.
Bruce smiled at David. His teeth were discoloured from smoking. One front tooth had a gold cap. “Don’t mind us, Mr Roth,” he said with a sarcastic sneer. “We’re just going to fetch some lost property, aren’t we, Thomas?”
The first man, Thomas, smiled. “Won’t be a moment.” He grinned at David, showing perfect teeth. Too perfect. They were caps. He also had a scar on his chin that might have been made by a knife.
For a moment David had a fleeting suspicion that these were the two men who had tortured and murdered Peter Calder; then he realised they might be the two who had brought the yacht down from Richards Bay. Whoever they were, they wanted something, and David instantaneously understood what kind of men they were. Thomas was a brawler, someone who liked to fight with a knife by the looks of it. Bruce was the leader. They were dressed as any worker would be, but underneath they were thugs.
David told himself to keep calm, but they had effectively boxed him in, Thomas covering the companionway and Bruce blocking the passage to the galley. There was no way out. The poop-deck hatch at the back of the saloon was unlocked. But David hadn’t even started cleaning up in there yet, and the skylight that opened out onto the deck was screwed tightly shut.
“Look,” he started, his hand up in a calming gesture, “I don’t want any trouble.”
Bruce nodded. “You won’t get any, so long as you give us what’s ours.”
David gestured to the saloon. “Take whatever you want.”
Bruce smiled. “Why, thank you, Mr Roth.” His voice was dripping with scorn, and Thomas sniggered. “That’s very kind of you.”
Then Bruce’s voice changed. “Where is it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” David told them defensively.
“Go search the boat, Thomas,” Bruce told his partner. “I’ll keep Mr Roth company.”
Bruce came further into the saloon, allowing Thomas access to the galley. Thomas disappeared forward into the chart room, and immediately David heard the sound of something crashing to the floor, then something tearing, then something breaking.
“Hey!” he objected.
“Sit down,” Bruce ordered. He was very close to David.
Intimidatingly