Murderous by David Hickson (best ereader for comics .txt) 📕

“Of course not,” I said.

“You and Roelof should get together,” suggested Piet. “You have a lot in common.” Hendrik gave a homophobic guffaw. “What do you say, Rudi? You and Freddy put your heads together in the morning.”

Roelof looked up at me. His eyes were pale and withdrawn behind the circular lenses of his spectacles. His head made a nod that was like a nervous tic.

“In the morning,” he said, “of course, boss. In the morning.” He gave me the kind of look I imagined duellists exchanged after throwing down their gauntlets.

“And then we’ll take a look at your box of tricks,” said Piet. “What do you say we take a drive? You up for that? Just you and me, Billy.”

“A drive?” said Billy.

“To see the animals, and we’ll look at your samples.”

“Yes, of course,” said Billy. “I’d love to see the animals.”

Billy directed an anxious look at Colonel Colchester. He wouldn’t know which way to point the weapons we’d brought with us, let alone how to fire them. Colonel Colchester smiled, but I could see the same concern forming behind his grey eyes.

The lounge suite that connected Freddy Moss’s room to that of Colonel Colchester gave access to a stone-paved terrace from which I could see the Milky Way stretching over the wild African bush, and could hear the mysterious calls of the night animals as I allowed myself a final cigarette.

“I’m not drunk,” said Melissa. She appeared from the darkness at the far end of the terrace like a wraith in a white silk nightgown, her long hair tied up on top of her head so it looked like a small fountain.

“I didn’t say you were,” I said.

“Hendrik did,” she said. “But now he’s passed out and look who’s left standing.” She floated down the terrace towards me. “Do you have one for me?”

“I didn’t think you smoked.”

“I don’t,” she said and drifted to a stop beside the low-slung chair I was sitting in. The hand that wasn’t holding my cigarette was lying on the armrest, and I discovered that it was just a few millimetres below the hem of her nightgown when the skin of her upper thigh brushed against my fingers.

“This is my last, but we could bounce it,” I suggested.

“I’d enjoy that,” she said, and reached over to take the proffered cigarette. She inhaled delicately and her legs shifted position so she could better look me in the eye. She didn’t exhale, but the smoke drifted out when she laughed at me.

“You’re such a prude,” she said.

“Be a good girl and don’t do that, will you?” I asked.

“Am I distracting you?”

“I’m thinking of the drive back to the airfield tomorrow. With your fiancé.”

“He’s sleeping,” she said.

“Nevertheless,” I said, “I wouldn’t like to discover how bad tempered he might get if indigestion wakes him up.”

“‘Never-the-less’,” she sang in a mock imitation of my accent. “I’ve never known a man who says that. I don’t even like men who say that.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“You’re not my type,” she said, “not at all. But I look at you and this happens to me. Do you want to feel?”

“I would really rather not. Why don’t you keep that cigarette? I’ll see if there’s another packet inside.”

When I came back onto the terrace Melissa had taken a chair and was sitting in it with the cigarette forgotten in her hand, gazing out over the bush. The moon was rising, and the trees were getting themselves fitted with silver outlines. Melissa’s face was damp, and her eyes were dripping moonlight onto her cheeks.

I lit another cigarette.

“It’s Hendrik,” said Melissa, as if answering a question I hadn’t asked. “He doesn’t treat me badly. I know he’s a monster sometimes, but he’s just a frightened little boy trying to prove himself to his father. A father who has ignored him all his life, has put him down and told him how stupid he is, how wrong he is. That’s why he turns into a monster. But it’s all bluff, it’s not who Hendrik really is. You know what Hendrik really wants?”

“I don’t,” I said, but it had been a rhetorical question.

“He wants his father to acknowledge him. He’s trying to prove himself worthy of being his son. Roelof likes to tease him that he isn’t even Oom Piet’s real son. Did you know his mother was a prostitute?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“They keep very quiet about it. Hendrik’s little secret. He lived with his mother until she died, then Piet took him in. Roelof says Oom Piet isn’t even sure Hendrik is his.”

“No wonder he wants to prove himself.”

“Sometimes I hate him, and sometimes I love him. But mostly I just pity him. He’s killed people, you know that?” Melissa turned to me, and she blinked the tears out of her pale blue eyes.

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

“He has a temper, and he loses control sometimes. But he’s just a frightened little boy, really.”

“Frightened little boys are sometimes the most dangerous.”

“He looks after me though, never touches me. I mean, not in that way. Well, not never. My friends hate him, and tell me to leave him, but how can I? He’s just a little boy. He wouldn’t understand.”

“You shouldn’t let that stop you from doing what is right for you,” I said.

Melissa laughed. “Are you telling me to leave Hendrik?” she said. “You making me a better offer?”

“If you knew me any better, you would know that I am the last person you should seek relationship advice from.”

“‘Seek relationship advice’,” mimicked Melissa, and she laughed again, then sucked on her cigarette. “I love the way you talk, Freddy,” she said. “Perhaps I am just a little tipsy.” She blew smoke at me. “My friends say it is because of the way Hendrik’s father treats him, and because of what happened to me that I stay with him.”

“Your friends sound like they’ve got it all worked out.”

“I was attacked,” said Melissa, watching