“Look, Doctor, I’ve got what I wanted now so I don’t give a stuff about your excuses.”
Then the dizzy pleasure of having a hunch come off softened him.
“We all make mistakes, you said so yourself.”
“But what will the Colonel say?”
“None of his bloody business, don’t you worry.”
“I appreciate this.”
“You’d better.”
“If there’s anything I-”
“Yes, tell me who makes these things around here.”
Dr Strydom gulped.
Then Mr Abbott spoke up on his friend’s behalf, he owed him a favour: “The wife wears contacts herself. There’s a specialist who does them, Mr Trudeau.”
“Hey?”
“It’s a French name, but he lives in Trekkersburg.”
“Where?”
“He might still be in his rooms,” Dr Strydom said. “Let me try and track him down for you. I know the ropes.”
Dr Strydom was gone for three minutes. He came back looking glum.
“Not in his rooms and not at home,” he reported. “His wife says he isn’t on call, so she hasn’t any way of contacting him. But she is expecting him home for dinner at eight.”
“Address?”
“47 Benjamin Drive, Greenside.”
Dr Strydom was now very much on the ball and determined to stay there.
Kramer wrote it down.
“Good,” he said.
Mr Abbott cleared his throat. “Care for a sundowner, Lieutenant?”
“I suppose you boys are going to have one?”
“I need one,” Dr Strydom laughed, showing he was still smarting over his clumsiness.
“Let’s go,” Kramer said, and they trooped through to the showroom, took their glasses and sat in a ruminative silence broken only when Farthing rang to say he would be late.
Dr Strydom left at five to five for the prison but Kramer stayed on. Georgie had been out and bought a really good brandy now the hellcat was away. There was nothing for him to do that he could not do right there until seven o’clock. And that was think.
Think about Miss Le Roux. Order the facts and analyse them. Georgie would not interrupt because Georgie was far too intent on savouring each sip.
But before he could begin, the known was again overwhelmed and brushed aside by the unknown-like the tape and the contacts. Yes, those blue lenses suggested something far more significant than dowdy frocks over naughty knickers. He wished he could see the damned specialist right away.
Kramer took out the stray card on which he had written the man’s address and glanced at it idly. He was looking at the other side-at the jeweller’s reminder to Miss Le Roux. God, he had forgotten clean about it.
What the article was he had no idea for it simply stated: “Adjustment”. Jewellery: that rang a bell. Of course, Georgie said she had none when he looked her over. Not even a ring. Which was very odd because even nuns wore rings. Wait a minute, maybe you could call making a ring larger or smaller adjusting it. Every Afrikaner knew English was a hell of a language.
“Hey, Georgie, have you ever heard about adjusting a ring?”
“Is this a funny story?” Mr Abbott asked hopefully.
“No, a straight question. Can you or can’t you?”
“Quite all right, I should say.”
“Good.”
“That’s all?”
“Well, what sort of ring would you have adjusted?”
“We pass a lot on to relatives, they have them changed to fit.”
“Of course.”
“And-”
“Yes?”
“I was just going to say, engagement rings. Sometimes they are bought by the chap in another town or something.”
Mr Abbott was gratified, if startled, to note the effect his words of wisdom had upon Kramer.
“Christ, that’s it! He doesn’t live here!”
And Kramer was gone.
The prissy little man behind the clocks counter was not at all eager to serve a customer who pushed aside the boy as he was closing the doors on the many strokes of five-thirty.
Kramer put down the card and asked: “Please let me have this.”
“Hmm, you’re not Miss Le Roux,” sniffed the assistant.
“No, but-”
“You understand we can’t have just anybody walking off with expensive goods for the price of the repair work. Have you a note from this lady?”
“No.”
“Then I can’t let you have it.”
“Come on, please, it’s late.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, that could be one of the oldest dodges in the book.”
“What?”
“Coming rushing in here at closing time and hoping to catch the assistant off his guard.”
Kramer had purposefully refrained from identifying himself. Whenever he came across this sort of snivelling misery, he made it his job to make him even more miserable. Safeguarding property was one thing-being bloody rude was another. He was never in too much of a hurry for an object lesson.
“You’ll pay for that remark.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will. Now get out.”
“Or you’ll call the police?”
“Yes.”
The assistant snatched up the card as Kramer undid his jacket button and leaned across.
“Now, little man, tell me very politely what you see in there.”
The assistant had no need to be told where to look. As the jacket fell open his eyes had fixed on the. 38 Smith and Wesson stuck in the waistband. He clutched the counter and his heart went tock-tock. Then he began to sway.
“What seems to be the trouble, Finstock?”
Kramer turned and smiled affably at a portly old gentleman approaching in pinstripes.
“Careful, he’s got a gun, Mr Williams!” warned Finstock, scurrying to his side.
Mr Williams put his keys behind his back and looked very solemn.
“He has, I saw it in his trousers!”
“Good evening, sir, I’m from the CID-here’s my warrant card.”
Mr Williams read it from where he was standing and then turned to Finstock.
“Your nerves again, I suppose, Finstock? That will be all for today.”
“Funny bloke,” Kramer said a moment later.
“Very, very trying at times,” agreed Mr Williams. “I’ve been meaning to speak to him. Now, officer, can I be of any assistance?”
“Yes, it’s some repair work. Your man insisted I produce a letter from the lady but she is unfortunately dead.”
“Bless my soul, the poor creature. But have you the card?”
