Just a Dead Man by Margaret von Klemperer Read Free Book Online Page A

the character I think is theirs. They are no longer extensions of me, and they are often mysterious to me, despite our closeness. Someone who was a friend based on a shared interest but whose experience as a man who had had to leave his family, country and old life, and struggle with refugee status and poverty was so remote from my white, middle-class, safe, female background that he was inevitably a stranger in many ways. Despite this business of vigilantes, I couldn’t believe he would ever bludgeon a fellow human to death. Not Dan. He was way too gentle, too imaginative.
    I tried to articulate some of this to Robin, but even down a phone line I could sense it was, to him, irrelevant.He began to get impatient.
    â€œOkay, okay. Now, what’s Daniel’s status? Is he legal? Does he have a fixed home? And does he have an income? Those are the questions that will be asked in a bail hearing, if we can get one.”
    â€œ If! You mean he mightn’t even get a hearing?
    â€œLaura – we’re talking a murder charge. We don’t know what the cops have got. It sounds pretty circumstantial to me, but they may have more evidence than you know about. Look, let me get off now. I’ll go down to the police station and try to see Daniel, explain you phoned me and offer my services. And I’ll see if I can talk to the investigating officer. Adam Pillay, you said? I know him. He’s a good cop, and a decent man – which, I’m afraid, does make it a bit strange if he’s arrested Daniel without more evidence than what you’ve told me about.”
    â€œI told you. This Sergeant Dhlomo made the arrest. And I’m sure he’s got it in for Dan because he’s a foreigner. You hear about xenophobic cops all the time.”
    â€œWell, okay … maybe. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do, and I’ll get back to you a.s.a.p. Hang in there.”
    The sun had slipped behind the hills that give my house its backdrop – something I love about it and have loved from the moment I saw it, but do not intend to mention to Simon as we fight over swimming pools and safety – and the garden was in deep shadow as I pulled the studio door shut behind me. Grumpy came with me: he knew it was too late for a walk, but was ever hopeful I would open the gate and take off up the road. “Fat chance, mate. Remember yesterday’s walk,” I said, running my hand across his velvet head and sliding my fingers into the warm crease behind his ears. He gave a soft grunt of affection, and turned his head to lick me.
    For the first time this year, there was a foretaste ofwinter. The breeze that carried the scent of some night-flowering plant from next door was cool and sharp. I stood by the old lemon tree where the green, rough-skinned fruit was beginning to shade to yellow. Later, they would turn almost orange and would be full of juice and pips. Grumpy would roll the windfalls down the slope of the lawn, playing endless, mindless games with them until they burst. I walked round the corner of the house, past the plumbago that mounded on the bank by the pool. Its blue flowers had a special intensity in the fading light, as if they had retained something of the sun even after it had left the rest of the garden.
    I saw with a miserable jolt of reality into what had been a few moments of relative peace that dead leaves were beginning to dot the surface of the pool. I would have to do something about that, I supposed, instantly reminded of Simon’s phone call yesterday.
    God, I hoped Robin could do something for Dan. And if bail was a possibility – surely it had to be – how much would it be, and where were we going to get money for it? I could put some up, but not much. I doubted if Dan had any: he never seemed to. Would Verne and Chantal be able to help? That reminded me. They had been out when Dan had called me to say he was being arrested. I had better try to get hold of them and