portly, clearly flustered man had arrived in the doorway.
“Terrible,” the man was saying as he walked in. “Simply terrible.” He was wiping at his florid face with a hankie. He stopped as he saw David. “Who are you?” He seemed surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Everyone’s attention focused on David. He stood beside Kathy, his hand on the back of her chair. “My name is David Roth,” he explained. “I own a transport company, Roth Logistics. I was delivering machinery when I heard the sirens.”
Kathy nodded as if in agreement. “I’m sorry, Mr Maritz,” she said hurriedly. “But he was helping me. I wasn’t feeling too well.”
Mr Maritz wiped at his face again, nodding sadly. “Yes, quite. I understand. Terrible thing, but still?” He peered back at David, wanting an answer.
“I was looking for Ms Prinsloo,” David explained. “To arrange for tomorrow’s delivery?”
“Ah,” Mr Maritz half smiled as he gazed from Kathy to Peter and then back to David. It was a strange smile, one tinged with indecision. “I’m sure. Anyway … ah … It’s all pointless now.”
David began to ask him what he meant but Peter was already demanding an answer. “What do you mean? What’s pointless?”
“Well, we’ll have to shut down the mill,” Maritz explained. “They’ve got to get that man’s body out …” He glanced apologetically at Kathy as she put a hand to her throat in distress. “The police want to investigate; that’ll take time and then of course the shredders will have to be cleaned.”
Kathy put a hand over her mouth. She stood up and started for the door, clutching David’s jacket closely over her shoulders.
“Do you need help?” David called after her, but she simply shook her head and hurried from the room.
“Oh dear,” Mr Maritz said. “Poor girl.”
“When you say you’re closing down the mill, do you mean the audit as well?” Peter asked.
Maritz nodded. “Perhaps we can reschedule?”
“You can’t reschedule an audit,” Peter objected. “That’s the whole point!”
“Well, these circumstances are unique—”
“We don’t care about the circumstances!” Peter retorted.
“Yes, but the police do, and they insist that we shut down. And if we shut down, so do you. Ms Prinsloo will be along in a few minutes to observe you pack away. I trust you’ll return all the relevant documents you’ve been working on and won’t remove anything from the premises.”
That was the end of that, because Mr Maritz promptly turned and left.
Peter stared angrily at the empty doorway and swore. He raised the piece of paper in his hand and looked at it for a moment. He seemed to come to a decision, carefully folding the piece of paper and turning to David. He took a quick step forward. “Take it,” he said, holding out the document.
David stared at him.
“Take it! Hide it somewhere.”
David took a step back. “No. It’s unethical.”
“I don’t care if it’s unethical!” Peter said, just as a woman walked into the room. She was an outdoorsy type, dressed in a loose-fitting brown jersey and low boots. Her hair was sensibly short and she wore no make-up or jewellery. She frowned at Peter and David suspiciously. “Mr Roth?” she asked and David nodded. “I’m Ms Prinsloo. I’m afraid we’ll have to delay that second consignment indefinitely.” She was still watching them sceptically, as if she had heard the last sentence of their conversation. “If you come with me, I’ll sort out today’s delivery; then you can go.”
It was as good a dismissal as David had ever heard. He glanced at Peter. The man just stood there, both hands now deep in his trouser pockets. He was looking at David with mistrust, his head tilted at a curious angle.
“Excuse me,” Peter said. “Kathy’s not feeling well. I have to go and check on her.” He kept looking at David as he left the room, his hands still in his pockets.
It was the last time David saw him alive.
CHAPTER FOUR
He was standing in a quiet house, the furniture unfamiliar. The strangeness was due to the deep blue hue around him, as if he were underwater, as if the whole house were submerged.
He tried to take a step forward, only to discover that he was floating, suspended in water. Then he tried to take a breath. He couldn’t. He was choking. Drowning.
“Don’t!” David gasped as he awakened.
He was in his bedroom, half sitting on his bed. The sun was shining through the window. It was half past seven in the morning; the sheets were wrapped around his legs, the pillows on the floor where he must have swept them. Sweat was slick on his face. Not again, he thought. He sank back slowly, closing his eyes and groaning as he lay there. Then he cursed and pushed himself off the bed. He went through to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. The smudges beneath his eyes were worse; his skin was paler, his face gaunt. He tried to remember the nightmare, but the only sensation that remained clear was that of drowning.
Was he going crazy? Was he losing it? No, he had just overdone it the day before.
It had been late when he got home from Dalton. He had parked the Mercedes van in its garage, ignoring the dark glare his neighbour had given him. He had been tired, and all he had wanted to do was get a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t. He had tossed and turned, unable to settle. And then when he had eventually dozed off, the nightmare had returned.
His head ached this morning and there was a fuzzy feeling in his mouth – as if he were suffering from a hangover. Great.
He was just about to get into the shower when the buzzer from downstairs demanded attention. He went through to the lounge and picked up the intercom handset. “Yes?” he asked wearily.
“DHL delivery, sir,” the intercom announced.
David cursed. This early in the morning? “Come up,” he told the man and buzzed the hallway door open.
He barely had a chance to smooth his sleep-tousled hair, when the man was knocking on his door. David opened to the delivery man holding a large DHL envelope and a clipboard.
The man held out the clipboard unceremoniously. “Sign here please, sir.”
David took the clipboard and signed, and then was handed the envelope. “Have a good day,” the man said.
“Thanks,” David replied as the delivery man turned and made for the lift.
David shut the door and opened the envelope: a set of keys and another envelope. He opened the second envelope. It took a few seconds for him to make out what the documents were: deeds to a yacht. Damn. He’d forgotten all about Julian’s favour. The keys must also be for the yacht. He tossed them and the deeds onto the dining-room table and went
