Water Music (20 page)

What happened?

Nothing I can pin down, said Clare. Some rumours of drug dealing, but whatever it was he still hangs out
there. He was with a girl called Lily at the concert I went to on Friday night.

Riedwaan opened the bag and flaked his perfectly fried fish.

Clare sprinkled some vinegar over his chips.

Take them, he pushed the bag towards her. Youre going to eat them anyway.

Clares phone rang. Tracy Darke from Records.

Find anything? asked Clare.

Diamond has a conviction for assaulting a girl, said Tracy.
He was sixteen at the time. The girl was thirteen.

What did he do to her? asked Clare, her appetite gone.

He took her home, gave her his fathers Johnny Walker Blue and filmed her having sex with some of his friends, said Tracy. The judge said he was young and gifted, so he gave him community service.

Clare spun round on her chair, looked at the map of the valley. I think we should pay Jonny
Diamond a visit.

Joplins was small, a speakeasy wedged into an old warehouse near the Yacht Club.

How do you want to play this? asked Riedwaan.

Ill go in and talk to him, said Clare. You go round the back. Its the only other exit.

Clare walked up to the entrance. Perched on a stool at the front door was a man with a crew cut, his steroid-built muscle bulking up his black suit. He opened the door for Clare.
Riedwaan watched it swing shut behind her.

The lighting inside Joplins was dim. There was a double bass, a cello, violins, a singers mike on the small stage, but no musicians. The restaurant was half full. Dim lights, a fireplace, red wine gleaming, plates of food coming from the kitchen.

A sign on the wall:
The food is good, the music better, the girls the best!
One of them, armed with a menu,
came towards Clare.

A table for one? A silver cross dangled between her breasts.

Im looking for Jonny Diamond, said Clare. Wherell I find him?

Hes on a break, she said. You want to wait at the bar?

No, said Clare. Where will I find him?

Out the back, she said. Near the rubbish bins.

Clare went through the swing doors at the back. Beyond some tables out of reach of the rain, yachts were restless
on the choppy water. A young man with a cigarette cupped between his hands had his back to her.

Jonny Diamond, said Clare. Allow me to introduce myself properly. Im Dr Hart, Section 28.

He turned towards her, his beautiful eyes as blank as the water in a quarry at night, an iPhone on a table in front of him.

You again.

Wheres Rosa, Jonny?

What are you talking about? He ground his cigarette
under his boot.

Where is she?

Look, we played together a couple of times. Thats all I know.

When was the last time, Jonny?

Two, three weeks ago, maybe, He rubbed his temples, working his fingers into faux dreadlocks. Why you asking?

No ones seen her since, said Clare.

Clare allowed the silence to stretch between them until he broke it.

Maybe she just needed some time out.

And why would
she have needed that? said Clare.

Nina Simones voice drifted in, advising against smoking in bed. Jonny Diamond lit another cigarette.

The last time I saw her, said Jonny, she played, she left. If somethings happened to her, its her own fucking fault.

Dyou always blame the woman? Clare leaned closer.

The acrid tang of adrenalin in the air. He was less good-looking close-up. Sallow skin, dark
circles under his eyes, scarlet veins in the whites of his eyes.

Make it easier for you to sleep at night?

I did nothing to her, said Jonny. She did what she was asked to do. Then she left.

His band mates had returned to their instruments, a cacophony of strings being tightened or loosened.

Ive got to get back to work.

Not till Im done with you, Jonny, said Clare. You keep saying she played,
she left, said Clare. I want to know where she went.

How the fuck should I know? he said. Im a musician, shes a musician. She played. She was paid.

What did she do it for, Jonny?

Money. He sat back. Why else does anyone do anything? Rosa, me, you. Whats the difference between us?

Tell me, why did you get Rosa to come here?

Its a gig, isnt it?

I heard nothing about her playing music, Jonny,
said Clare. Jonny Diamond reached for his phone, but she was quicker.

Thats my fucking property, you bitch, he said.

Glad to hear you confirm that, said Clare. Its on this, I imagine?

She asked for it, he said.

Asked for
what
? Menace in her tone.

He was up, eyes on Clare. Behind him was the alley. A row of bins, a gate. On the other side the marina, yachts jostling in the rough waters. He
backed towards the exit.

You going somewhere, Jonny boy? Riedwaan had his arm around Diamonds neck.

What the fuck do you and this bitch want from me?

Some answers. Riedwaan pushed him back onto the chair.

Youre fucking with me, said Diamond. You dont have a warrant, you cant take my stuff.

Report it, said Clare. Id like to see what the judge will say. Especially when we tell her what Katarina
saw on your phone.

That jealous little cunt, he spat.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, said Clare. And you shouldve paid more attention in class.

Ill fucking kill her. He tried to twist out of Riedwaans grip.

Threats to a woman, said Riedwaan. Preventative detention for domestic violence; thats in the rule book, isnt it Clare?

If it isnt, it should be, said Clare.

You cant arrest
me, said Jonny Diamond. I havent done anything. She signed. There was consent.

You know your stuff, Jonny, said Clare. Im impressed. But Id be far more impressed if I could ask Rosa Wagner for her version of events.

I dont know where the fuck the little bitch is. Circles of sweat stained his tight white shirt. Whatevers happened is fuck-all to do with me.

Clare was scanning the archived video
clips.

Diamond lunged; Riedwaan tightened his grip.

But she had found what she was looking for. She opened the first clip. The screen flickered to life. Rosa, picking up her cello. Her nails were clipped short, exposing the rosy tips of her fingers. Her red dress was pulled up high as she parted her thighs and drew the instrument towards her. Her chin pressed against the instrument. Her eyes
downcast, lashes fringing her cheek, the back of her neck arched. Rosa closed her eyes, surrendering to the music that flowed from her deft hands. A man stepped into the frame. A livid scar on the back of his neck. Clare froze the frame for a moment, trying to place him. Her throat was tight with apprehension.

Rosa did not look up when he said her name. The man took the cello from her, holding
it as tenderly as if it were an infant, then laying it to one side. Exposed, vulnerable, Rosa raised her eyes.

Clare opened the next clip.

Men circling a petite figure spread-eagled on the floor. The nausea that gripped Clare had nothing to do with the secret she carried. It had everything to do with the man whose hands scuttled over the girls skin. The rhythmic thrusts over the girls inert
body nauseatingly familiar from the internet: the disposable body, dulled eyes resigned to a million hits when this was over.

It was Rosa the girl pinned under the pumping buttocks, the muscular back. Her arms were splayed, her face slack, her body jerking like a kicked dolls. With the rough concrete floor and grey prison blanket, the scene was clearly staged. The camera did not show the faces
of the pack of men waiting in a circle. Predators with their prey. Rosas eyes were open throughout, her gaze seeming to turn inwards, as if trying to unhappen what was happening to her.

Clare stopped the clip, freezing it on an image that caught her eye. Electrical cords, snaking out of the shot.

These Lolita tapes: are they the next big thing, Jonny? Or are they just a sideline? Clare asked.

Its not a fucking rape video. She signed, she got fucked sideways, she got her money. Thats the deal. Shes a fucking musician. How else is she going to make money? His dark eyes were slits as he hissed, Its not what you think.

Explain to me, said Clare.

Business, he said. It was all business. She knew what shed get out of it.

Tell me what she got out of this.

She had her price, he said. Fifteen
thousand fucking rand.

Who paid the money? asked Clare.

Im not at liberty to say.

You wont be at liberty until you do say, said Clare.

Youre not listening to me, lady, said Jonny Diamond. She wanted to do it.

With all these men?

It was the deal. She signed.

Show me.

Silence.

Jonny, said Clare, her voice low. Tell me where she is. Well find her. Things will look better for you that way.

She took her money and she left.

So where is she now? asked Clare.

I wish I fucking knew, said Jonny. If I knew Id tell you. Shes nothing to anyone, this little bitch.

Murder carries a life sentence, said Clare. Even if that means only twenty-five years, the chance of you making it that long isnt very high. Pretty boys who like music dont last that long in prison.

But I keep telling you.
She counted her money, she left.

Prove it.

Thats not how it works, said Jonny Diamond. Im innocent until you prove it. Youve got fuck-all on me.

The judge isnt going to like this tape, said Clare. Especially not the lady judge that well request, and that well get when your bail application comes up.

Someone will have seen her, he said. She left with it in cash. She had her cello with her.
A girl with a cello is hard to miss.

Whore you covering for, Jonny? asked Clare.

Well charge him, said Riedwaan, yanking Diamonds collar as he turned to Clare. Leave him in the cells overnight to think about his options. Im sure Chadley Wewers will be glad to discuss terms for Jonny to pay back what he owes for the tik he took on HP.

Fuck this shit, I dont know what youre talking about, said
Jonny.

I checked Wewerss phone records, said Riedwaan. Looks like you two are thick with one another.

Jonnys fists bunched, and Riedwaan cuffed him.

Fuck you both, he shouted, ignoring the curious patrons at the door.

Jonny, just tell us who youre working for, said Clare. You dont need to take the rap. She scrolled through the clip again, found the frame where the mans neck was in focus.

This man works up at the castle, said Clare. He drove me through yesterday. This scar, theres no mistaking it. You want to sit in jail for him?

He held her gaze for a moment, then his eyes dropped to his lap.

Mr Savić wanted her. I took her up there, he said, his swagger suddenly gone.

Savić, said Riedwaan.

Hes the money behind the music college. Behind the scholarships. This was his pound
of flesh.

At least you know your Shakespeare, said Clare.

So I can go now? asked Jonny Diamond. It wasnt me.

Theres no rush. You can relax in the cells for a bit. Weve got till Monday to decide, said Riedwaan. You shout for the constable if theres anything else you remember.

All I did was see to the lighting and the sound, he whined. Then he growled like the dog he was: It was Lily who set
it up. She was meant to take her home. You should ask her where your precious Rosa is.

It was already dark when they drove out of the police station. Clare gulped in the cold air. The paperwork was done, and Jonny Diamond was sitting with his head in his hands, alone in a cell. Riedwaan hooted as an ambulance swerved in front, its lights bleeding red as it sped through the rain.

Clare dialled Alfred Wagners number. He answered im mediately.

Hello, anything you need, Dr Hart?
the old man asked.

Im tracking Rosas movements on the Friday night, said Clare. The night she was last seen. We may have a sighting.

You mean someone saw Rosa? The cadence of hope. Who was it that saw her?

She did a performance, Clare offered him the euphemism this was not the time for the truth. At a house in Hout Bay. It belongs to a man called Milan Savić a big place, looks like a castle.
Do you perhaps know Mr Savić?

I know the name, said Wagner. I believe hes one of the bene factors at the college.

Did any money arrive for you?

No. Nothing. Why are you asking this, Dr Hart? Whats it got to do with Rosa?

I cant say right now. Ill phone you as soon as I know more. Clare ended the call.

No money? asked Riedwaan.

Nothing.

Weve got till tomorrow morning, when the court opens,
said Riedwaan. If theres no charges theyll be released. And Ive got to catch that plane up to the mines, first thing.

Clare ignored the tightening in her belly.

Thats tomorrow, she said. Right now, though, I want to pay Lily a call. Shes up at that castle Milan Savić bought.

Savić, said Riedwaan. I saw him on TV, talking about security issues, shit like that.

The latest Hout Bay philanthropist,
said Clare. Patron of the arts too.

Thats not where I know the name, said Riedwaan. Ive heard him linked to other things.

Here in Cape Town?

No, he said. Stuff up in Joburg. Savić has kept under the radar here. Ive got someone who can tell me. If he doesnt know anything about him, then Savić is clean.

A cop? asked Clare.

Ex, said Riedwaan. We started off in Vice, then moved to Narcotics.
We owe each other favours. Youve met him. Cyril Jarvis. Ex-boxer, ex-cop, currently a personal security expert. One-time Joburg club scene expert too.

The tarmac was slippery where the mud had washed off the mountainside. Riedwaan pulled over, dialled.

His eyes crinkled at the sound of the voice at the other end.

Jarvis. Long time. He put the call on speaker for Clare to listen.

Faizal, fuck
you, said Jarvis.