Zulu by Caryl Férey Page B

“Know him?”
    â€œA friend from Camps Bay,” she said, sullenly. “They were together for six months.”
    â€œHow was he with Nicole?”
    â€œGood for driving a convertible.”
    â€œThe jealous type?”
    â€œNo.” She shook her head. “Durandt is too fascinated by himself to be interested in anyone else. Anyway, it was just a casual thing. Nicole was pissed off with him.” She was starting to relax a little.
    â€œDo you know if they slept together?”
    â€œNo. Why do you ask that?”
    â€œI’m trying to find out if Nicole slept with boys, if the sexual relations she had on the night of the murder were consensual or not.”
    Judith lowered her eyes.
    â€œWhat about you?” he asked Deblink. “What do you think?”
    â€œWe hardly knew each other,” he replied, pulling a face.
    â€œI thought you were both regulars at Camps Bay?”
    The beaches at Camps Bay were popular at weekends with the city’s gilded youth.
    â€œI did meet her there, with Judith. But only once, and then only in passing.”
    â€œYou mean Nicole didn’t hang out at Camps Bay anymore?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œShe’d changed, like I said,” Judith cut in.
    A gull hovering near the terrace squawked. Dan turned back to Judith. “What was the agreement between the two of you last night?”
    â€œNicole phoned to say she was going out. I’d already arranged to see the sharks with Peter, so she had the apartment to herself for the evening.”
    â€œWhy did the two of you lie to your parents?”
    â€œMy dad’s not too bad,” Judith replied, biting her lips. “He let me take a flat near the faculty. But Judith’s father is very . . . you know, conservative. He didn’t like her going out. Or only with boys he knew. He was afraid of assaults, rapes.”
    One every five minutes, according to the national statistics.
    â€œIs that why you covered for her?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDid Nicole go to the local bars?”
    â€œThat’s what she told me.”
    â€œDid she have new friends?”
    â€œI guess so.”
    Dan nodded in the evening breeze. “We found a video club card in her cardigan, with your name on it,” he said.
    â€œYes, I lent it to her, in case she wanted to rent films.”
    â€œIs that what happened yesterday?”
    â€œI don’t know. Nicole had the keys and came back when she wanted. I didn’t ask her questions. We only saw a bit of each other in the mornings, when she came back to sleep.”
    â€œDid she sometimes not come back to sleep?”
    â€œYes, once, this week. Wednesday. Yes, Wednesday,” she repeated. “I woke up in the morning, and there was no one on the couch.”
    â€œDidn’t Nicole tell you where she had slept?”
    â€œNo. I just told her it couldn’t carry on like that. That her parents would catch us in the end. But I gave in again when she asked me about Saturday. Like an idiot.”
    Childhood memories caught her by the throat: changing their dolls’ clothes, giggling, secrets. Judith tried to hold back her sobs, but the wave overwhelmed her. She put her hands over her face.
    Evening was falling gently over the ocean. Fletcher looked at his watch. Claire was coming out in less than an hour.
    A few feet away, his hair being given a rough time by the wind, Peter Deblink stood like a block of wood. He hadn’t made any move to comfort his girlfriend. Dan squeezed her shoulder, and left for the hospital.
    Â 
    From tomorrow (not long now), the journey into you. A slow journey, like a horse-drawn carriage. How does your sex taste? Do you know it changes depending on the season, the angle of the sun, the mood of the moon? Is your mouth still a virtuoso of the “agonic orgasm”? Will I still be the pilot fish that swims ahead? I think about it, so I’m already