Two Hangmen, One Scaffold Book II: In The Hangman�s Shadow

Chapter 2

7 C Chapter 2 t 9:05 pm on 7 December, Nomathemba handed a tendollar note to a cabdriver and asked him to keep the change. A porter opening the door for her, she stepped out selfconsciously , one high-heeled foot charmingly after the other like a Hollywood celebrity arriving at an Oscar presentation ceremony; except the arrivals bay was dim and deserted save for two porters and a security guard, a Goliath of a man, in a dark suit and glasses. With an American of impeccable tastes desiring her company, she felt very important. The porters smiled at her, greeted her warmly and politely waved her to the foyer’s entrance. Gently swinging a handbag, she walked into the hotel as confidently as possible, just like any other patron with legitimate business at the hotel. Though the chances were slim, she was afraid of coming across people who knew her, especially her neighbours, who could inform her husband of her moonlighting. If it ever reached him, she feared he would give her a thorough beating and divorce her. In dark glasses, a faded blue denim jacket, a hugging chiffon top and a pair of black leggings, she knew observers could easily label her a prostitute, which she was remotely in all honesty. The police could arrest her for loitering for purposes of prostitution if she stood at any street corner, but intimacy was about impressions and stimulation. Nicolson had to lose his senses on setting his eyes on her. Though ever since she went on her escapades the police had never arrested her, she had seen on several occasions a number of unfortunate prostitutes rounded up, flogged on the buttocks with truncheons or forced into police vans. If the police arrested her, it would eventually reach Binga and enrage him. Though she wasn’t sure how he would react, he seemed the type of man who could follow her to jail and A 8 murder her there, after which he would commit suicide to pursue her in Hell. A number of things were disconcerting about Binga Jochoma. Most disturbing was his inexplicable absence from home. Secondly, his silence on exactly what occupied him when he was away from her. Thirdly, his lame excuses for not buying a cell phone. Fourthly, the endless nightmares he experienced almost every night. Not that he told her he was experiencing terrible dreams, but she could tell from the jerks and the yells he made in his sleep. One night he sat up suddenly, waking her, and sleepily spoke to one Peza while harshly admonishing one Matipa not to interfere when he was speaking to the former. In the morning, she had asked him who Peza and Matipa were. The names appeared to frighten and perplex him. He repeated them thoughtfully, shook his head and demanded to know where she had heard them as if they were talking about her boyfriends. Binga calmed when she told him of his latest nightmare. Only then, did he smile and tell her the names were products of a dreamy world. Nomathemba sauntered past the reception counter of Churchill Arms Hotel. About half a dozen guests with travelling bags and suitcases busied two uniformed women and a man behind the counter who took no notice of her. The hotel’s thick green carpet muffling her footsteps, she walked along a deserted narrow passage until she turned and stood before suite 110, and knocked. The door opened, almost immediately. A thick, hairy white hand reached out and pulled her in. She wanted to say “Hello”, but the man gave her no chance; he was already kissing her and reaching between her legs. She gasped and closed her eyes. One hand held her fundament and the other slid into her leggings. The handbag fell from her hand. She mewed, a sound that said she was game to his bulldog pugnacity and meant to urge him. This was what she craved except he was solitary when the service required a mob. 9 He turned her around, his wet lips brushing her ear and coming to rest at her nape for a few seconds. “You’re very obedient, Emilia.” He said in his strange accent. “You said no underpants, sir. I’m at your service.” He turned her to face him. She opened her eyes and stared into his handsome face. The man was about forty years old, meticulous with...