Episode 4, A Leopard Can’t Change Its Spots

by Russell Korn

At times, work demanded they forego their Tantra moments, so it wasn’t unusual that The Chameleon hadn’t heard from Cudgee on that day. As night wore on, he phoned her, but the call went to the answering service. The message left : “Just seeing if you are still alive”– how little did he know.

He phoned the following morning, but still there was no answer. He phoned her work number but her work colleagues said they had not heard from the stoic Cudgee. After work he drove to her townhouse and rang the door bell again and again – but all to no avail. Twice before her grip on life had been challenged to the utmost. It was the essence of The Chameleon that drew her back from the brink. With mounting concern The Chameleon decided to scale the brick fence surrounding her courtyard. Through the sliding glass door he could see her lying naked on the futon. First he tapped on the glass, then he pounded, but she did not rouse. The Chameleon was able to spring the lock on the door and rushed to her side. It was to no avail – Cudgee was no more. He rushed down the hallway of the townhouse complex, pounding on every door and frantically screaming “She’s dead, she’s dead”.

After a barrage of questions the police eventually eliminated him as ‘A person of interest’. The autopsy report read, “Cause of death : heart failure”, but the reality was more than that. The forensic report revealed that Cudgee’s body had been wiped clean and there was shadow bruising around her neck. The prime suspect, Island John, was a police informant who had ruffied many women before, but had never been charged. The police perspective : ‘These women had asked for it – play with fire you get burnt’.

In the months after Cudgee’s death The Chameleon plunged into a world of life threatening insomnia and depression. Between the shatters of broken sleep, he would dream of his beloved who would reassure him that she wasn’t dead and it was all a big mistake – only to wake and relive the loss all over again. Her death had ripped and torn at every part of him that could feel pain. He become pantheresque, losing the power to change his spots. The very person who had always pulled him back from the dark side, was no more.

Technology became his enemy. He was able to pay bills via phone banking, order groceries over the net and submit leave forms thru email. He was even able to telecommunicate with his doctor who provided the necessary medical certificates and scripts – not that the sleeping pills or the antidepressants helped.
The Chameleon exhausted all his leave and hadn’t been seen at work for many months. One rumour amongst his work colleagues was that he had lost an arm and a leg in a motor bike accident; but that was his best friend ‘Bilby’. Another rumour was he had a serious heart attack, and was comatosed for a few days before dying; but that was his mentor Sahib.

Few knew Cudgee had been drugged and raped and literally left for dead, her weak heart collapsing under the pull of the ruffies.
One morning, laden with wine bottles, he slipped and fell, breaking a bottle of red on the cellar stairs. A shaft from the splintered bottle pierced his heart like a stingray barb. He felt no pain, more so, a thawing peace as the warm red fluid seeped from his body and blended with that of the bottle. His ebbing thought, “At last, I am going to be with Cudgee” – The Chameleon was no more. Akin to Lady Chatterly, The Chameleon had died from a broken heart, the autopsy confirming emotional cardiomyopathy – the alcohol simply filling the fissures of his fractured heart.