going off horizontally, away from the road. And then, because asymmetry was a quirk of all thorn trees, the neat look of the thing had been spoiled by a secondary trunk, sprouting out of the main one at head height, on the other, picnic-spot side.
“Shall I explain, Lieutenant?”
“Uh huh.”
“The deceased was dangling over this exact area where you see the red ants going in and out of their nest. His toes were almost touching, because of the stretch in the neck-it was terrible. So, as you can see, the rope went up and over that biggest branch, and down to where it was tied on the main part.”
“Just hold on,” Strydom interrupted, his head tipped back. “How could he have got it over a branch as high as that? He couldn’t have thrown it, with all the rest of the sticks in the way.”
“That was also a bloody long tow rope,” Kramer added.
“Not really, sir; usual double-length. Can I show you?”
“You’re about the right size.”
Grinning, Van Heerden went around to the far side of the tree and sprang onto a large boulder. He reached up, took a grip on the offshoot from the main trunk, and hauled himself into the air. Then he slipped his foot into the fork, swung round and stood triumphant, with his underpants showing.
“Very clever, Van. You worked that all out for yourself?”
“Didn’t have to, Lieutenant. This is where the end of the rope was tied, after he’d dropped the noose part over the branch. In line here with my face, when I’m upright, you see. Actually, it was Sergeant Arnot who said how obvious it was, when we were undoing the knot this morning.”
There he went again; no idea of tact at all.
But Doc Strydom seemed delighted, and took out his notebook to make a quick sketch.
“Don’t you see, Tromp? That must have also been how he achieved his drop. There’s nothing else he could have been standing on.”
“What about the rock?”
“You couldn’t swing off from there, man! Talk sense. The tree’s in the way, for a start. Van Heerden, will you try something for me?”
“Anything, Doctor, sir.”
“Stand on the fork with one foot only and see if you could jump out this side.”
The experiment was nearly a traumatic success.
“Excellent! And the Bible was in his left hand-yes, that would be in perfect keeping; he’d grip with his right.”
“Erasmus,” muttered Kramer, “was left-handed. One reason we didn’t spot his gun the moment-”
“Ach! Van Heerden, can you do the same the other way round the trunk?”
This was attempted and then aborted, when Van Heerden’s head engaged some minor branches.
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but a bloke can’t manage it if he isn’t standing up straight; you get too bulky, if you understand. You don’t have to grip hard though-just a touch to keep your balance.”
“See, Tromp?”
Kramer glanced around for Zondi, and picked him out in conversation with the two Doringboom Bantu constables. Then he beckoned to the young demonstrator.
“Okay, Tarzan, it’s time for walkies, so down you come. I want that sketch plan, correct in every detail, on your sergeant’s desk before I leave today. In inches as well, okay? Because all this metrication business gives me a pain in the arse.”
“What would you estimate the drop at?” Strydom said, stepping back to improve the perspective. “I’d say it was approximately two-er-six feet. Pity we didn’t ask the lad to take the tape measure up with him.”
Van Heerden laughed as he overhead this, and tapped his clipboard. “There’s no need for all that fuss, surely? You measure from where his foot was, on the fork, and then down to a couple of inches from the ground, where his foot ended up! Five foot ten, I’ve got here.”
This time Strydom did appear somewhat put out, but Kramer, who enjoyed the triumph of common sense over rare idiocy, was forgiving. He even offered Van Heerden a Lucky Strike, while firing a sudden question.
“What car’s tracks are these?”
“Them? They must come from the ambulance-from when it was backed in under here this morning.”
“Didn’t anyone check the ground?”
“In what way, Lieutenant? It was all trampled by the umfaans and who’s going to-”
“I am, Constable Van Heerden. You have seen a cowboy film, I suppose? Where they make the bloke sit on his horse with the noose round his neck?”
“Now, now, my friend,” Strydom intervened. “You are going too far! Even if you are suggesting he stood on the top of one! How could he be made to meekly do that? We must stick to the facts.”
That could have triggered something unpleasant if Zondi hadn’t chosen to sidle up then, his brows raised deferentially for permission to speak.
“Let’s hear it, Hopalong,” said Van Heerden.
“Thank you, sir. Lieutenant, I have been talking with one of the others who interrogated the children this morning. Would you wish to do likewise?”
“Which one is it, Sergeant?” Kramer asked.
“Agrippa Ngidi, sir.”
“Hey, Fatso! Over here, man-at the double!” Van Heerden bawled. “Your boy had better interpret; this one’s useless.”
The larger of the two jogged up, stamped to attention, and Zondi had to sway out of the path of a sledge- hammer salute.
“Suh!” boomed Ngidi, who bore tribal scars on his plump cheeks.
“Carry on, Sergeant Zondi.”
As melodic Zulu became Afrikaans, Strydom stirred restlessly, but Kramer was determined to hear the man out. Ngidi had arrived with Sergeant Arnot a little before eight, and had been detailed to deal with the farm laborers’ children who’d found the body. These children came to the picnic spot early every morning, to see what food might have been thrown in the food bin, and to wait on in hope of begging scraps off motorists who paused there for breakfast. The body had frightened them badly, and only the smoke of the caravaners’ fire had lured them back. At this stage, the body hadn’t been noticed from where the tables were, being hidden by the tree, and the morning rather misty. After showing the whites what one of their kind had done to himself, the children had watched the family pack up and go. Uncertain if they were not entitled to the bacon left untouched on the stones around the fire, most of them had stayed on to see what would happen next.
“Did he ask these kids if they’d seen the dead man’s car here before?” Kramer broke in. “Or anything about any other vehicle that was familiar to them?”
The question put a worried frown on Ngidi’s face, and he whispered his reply apologetically.
“He says, Lieutenant, that his only orders were to make sure that the children had stolen nothing from the deceased’s clothing, or from the motorcar, which had been left unlocked.”
“And then?”
“He was instructed to chase these children away. His superior waited here for him to return, and that is all. They then returned to Doringboom.”
Kramer fell into a ponder.
“You can bugger off now, Fats,” Van Heerden told Ngidi. “Be sure you’re ready with the tape when I come, because the boss has still a lot to do.”
“No, first ask him where the kids live, Zondi.”
“To hell and gone,” declared Van Heerden, “and there’s not a road anywhere near that I know of. Five kilometers, at least.”
“Lieutenant,” Zondi said quietly. “Ngidi can show me the path they have made.”
“Fine. Then you see you have a proper word with them. Hitch a lift in the constable’s van afterwards, or we’ll pick you up on the way back. Okay?”
“Sir.”
“Excuse me,” Strydom butted in, “but are you sure that sending him such a-”
