Doris collected herself. “They do not listen to women like me.”
Waiting a beat, Zoe asked, “Did he ever show an interest in Kuyeya?”
Doris shook her head. “He ignored her. It was as if she didn’t exist.”
Suddenly, Zoe had an idea. “Did Bella call him something other than his name?”
The question appeared to perplex Doris. “His name is Darious.”
“Never mind,” Zoe said. She slid to the edge of her chair, thinking of Bella’s journal resting on the coffee table in her flat.
She had to get back to it.
chapter 8
It was noon by the time Zoe returned to her flat. She called Joseph and left a voicemail: “We were right about the client connection. But there’s more to it. Darious raped Doris’s daughter two years ago. It’s also possible he has AIDS. I don’t know if you’re up to it, but you might find a girl at Alpha Bar who would talk about him. I want to know how sick he is.”
Hanging up, she fixed herself a sandwich and ate it in the dining room. Afterward, she changed into her swimsuit and walked to the pool, carrying her backpack and Bella’s journal.
The garden was resplendent in the sunlight, festooned with the colors of spring—spade-tongued coleus, sprawling blue plumbago bushes, clusters of fern-like cycads, and bulb-rich rose bushes. She saw her neighbor, Kelly Summers, reading a novel on a lounge chair. The child of white Zimbabwean farmers, Kelly was married to Patrick Summers, a British-born World Bank consultant. Zoe spread out her towel beside Kelly and took a seat.
“Another pristine day,” she said, beginning to apply sunblock to her fair skin.
“Couldn’t be lovelier,” Kelly agreed, setting down her book.
Patrick emerged from the water and gave his wife a dripping kiss. “Hi, Zoe.”
“Many thanks, love,” Kelly replied, pushing him away. She smiled at Zoe. “We were thinking of having a braai at our place tonight. Save you the trouble, hey?”
The invitation took Zoe by surprise. She blinked behind her sunglasses, astonished that she had forgotten her own tradition. “You don’t need to do that,” she said, disguising her relief.
“Our pleasure,” Kelly said, as Patrick dived into the pool again. “We’ve noticed you’ve been busy. A new case? Or a boyfriend, perhaps?”
“A new case,” she replied.
“That’s a shame. A boyfriend would have been fun.” Kelly pointed at Bella’s journal. “What’s that?”
Zoe looked down at the notebook. “Something from work. It’s a long story.”
“And confidential, no doubt.” Kelly smiled. “Listen, there’s a new analyst at the World Bank office. His name is Clay Whitaker. He’s very smart—a Yale graduate, like you—and he’s been all over southern Africa. He’s going to be at the braai tonight.”
At that moment, Zoe found herself grateful for the veil afforded by her sunglasses. “That’s kind of you,” she said, forcing herself to smile, “but I’m not looking.”
She stared at the moving water, feeling suddenly nauseous. It’s only a name, a random string of four letters. Get over it. But she couldn’t. Over and over the name played in her mind, like a record stuck on a discordant note. Clay … Clay … Clay. At once she felt the sun on every inch of exposed flesh. She steeled her mind against the memories: a picnic at East Beach in late summer; the Vineyard air heated to a blaze; the calls of the gulls competing with the pounding of the surf; the boy whose mouth carried the taste of sea stones; the lines of verse he read; the rhapsody of infatuation, desire tempered by nerves; the line she drew, the “no” she spoke, and the moment he overpowered her and his love became a lie.
She felt the weight of Bella’s journal in her hands and focused all her mental energy on the present. But it wasn’t enough. Abandoning the chair, she broke the surface of the pool with a dive and went limp, allowing herself to hang in suspension, buoyed by the air in her lungs. The raw shock of cold on her hot skin cleansed her mind, leaving behind only the immediacy of the moment. She floated through the haze until she could no longer hold her breath. She found her footing and stood, blinking away the reflected light.
“Everything all right?” Patrick asked, treading water. “You were under a long time.”
“I’m fine,” Zoe said.