Read Online A Beautiful Place to Die by Malla Nunn - Free Book Online Page B

him. He ran fast toward a light. The memory grew stronger and Emmanuel pushed it aside. Then he disconnected it.

4
    D OWN THERE.”
    Shabalala pointed to a corrugated iron shack anchored to the ground by rocks and pieces of rope: Donny Rooke’s house since his fall from grace. Emmanuel pulled the sedan into the patch of dirt that was the front yard. The early-morning light did nothing to soften the hard edge of poverty.
    He exited the car, and the first stone, sharp and small, hit him in the cheek and drew blood. The second and third stones hit, full force, into his chest and leg. The stones hit hard, and he lost count of them as he ran behind the car to take shelter. He crouched next to Shabalala, who calmly wiped blood from a small cut in his own neck.
    “The girls.” Shabalala raised his voice over the torrent of sound made by the pebbles hitting the roof of the car.
    “What girls?” Emmanuel shouted back.
    Shabalala motioned to the front of the car. Emmanuel followed and risked a quick look out. Two girls, skinny as stray dogs, stood at the side of the shack, a pile of rocks in front of them. Behind them, a man with blazing red hair took off across the veldt.
    “Go after him,” the black policeman said, and filled his pockets with stones. “I will get the girls.”
    Emmanuel nodded and sprinted full speed across the dirt yard. A stone knocked his hat to the ground, another skimmed past his shoulder, but he kept the pace up, eyes on the redheaded man running into open country.
    “Ooowww!” There was a high-pitched squeal, then the sound of yelping. Shabalala walked calmly toward the girls, his stones hitting their target with sniper-like accuracy. The girls scuttled into the shack, seeking shelter.
    Emmanuel cleared the side of the dilapidated vegetable patch and ran hard. The gap closed. Donny slowed to catch his breath, his hands resting on his knees. A minute more and Emmanuel body-slammed Donny, who toppled over with a groan. He held the redhead’s face in the dirt for longer than he needed to, and heard the dust fill his mouth. The dents in his Packard meant he’d have to write a detailed damage report. He pressed down harder.
    “Where you going, Donny?” He flipped the choking man over and looked down at his dirty face.
    “I didn’t do it. Please God, I didn’t do anything to the captain.”
    He pushed a knee into Donny’s chest. “What makes you think I’m here about Captain Pretorius?”
    Donny started to cry and Emmanuel pulled him up with a jerk. “What makes you think I’m here to talk about Captain Pretorius?”
    “Everyone knows.” The words came out between broken sobs. “It was him that put me in jail. He forced me to live out here like a kaffir.”
    Emmanuel pushed Donny toward the shack. His cheek stung from where the stone had broken the skin and his suit was covered in dust. All in pursuit of a man with less sense than a chicken.
    “There’s your army.” He shoved Donny between the shoulder blades and forced him to look at the girls, now crouched in the dirt next to Shabalala. They were hard faced and thin from living rough.
    “Inside,” Emmanuel said. “We’re all going to have a talk.”
    The girls picked themselves up and slipped in through the rusting door. Emmanuel followed with Shabalala and Donny.
    “Nice place,” Emmanuel said. There wasn’t a piece of furniture not propped up by a brick or held together with strips of rag. Even the air inside the shack was inadequate.
    “I used to have a good home,” Donny said from the edge of the broken sofa. “I was a businessman. Owned my own place.”
    “What happened?”
    “I was—” Donny started, and then bent over with a groan. His right arm hung limp by his side.
    “You hurt him,” the oldest girl said. “You got no right to hurt him. He didn’t do nothing wrong.”
    Emmanuel pulled Donny into a sitting position. He’d been rough with him, but no more. This pain was something else.
    “Take your shirt