“You, Willie, you’re to check the name out in Records-see even if you can find some bunch with the same initials.”
“Just two things, sir: why didn’t Gershwin come out with this before-”
“Because he thought it was rubbish.”
“And did he say what white men were heard talking?”
“No, Gershwin just imagined that Shoe Shoe overheard things said from where he sat at the side of the City Hall steps. He must have done, come to think of it-it’s the sort of place that people speak their minds, especially coming away from meetings when they’ve had to bottle it all up.”
“You’re saying that Shoe Shoe got this off city councillors and that, are you, sir?”
“No, I’m not, just giving an example-be sensible, man. I’m talking about what Gershwin thought. Shoe Shoe could have picked it up round the back in his wheelbarrow-the car park’s right by his sleeping place.”
“Europeans often say private things in front of Bantu,” Zondi chipped in. “They do not expect men like Shoe Shoe can speak their language, either.”
Kramer suddenly realised that he had spoken critically to Van Niekerk in front of Zondi. He hastened to make amends.
“Tell me, old mate,” he said, “where were you off in such a hurry to? Get a hot tip on the geegees?”
He knew Van Niekerk’s weakness, but it misfired. The man squirmed and frowned for a reply.
“I’ve just had an idea, sir,” he said with recruit-like eagerness. “This expression, for want of a better word, is in English. Now I know there is an English saying ‘pig iron’-do you think that ‘steam pig’ is another of these sayings?”
“It’s worth a check,” Kramer agreed. “Now come on, man, what has been happening round here?”
“Well, to cut a long story short, I did get a tip-off, sir, but from Georgie Abbott. He rang to say somebody was on his premises asking after Miss Le Roux.”
“For God’s sake, man! Why didn’t you say so in the first place? I’ll see them right away.”
Van Niekerk swallowed hard.
“I let her go, sir.”
Only Zondi’s presence saved Van Niekerk from castration. Anything less drastic held no interest for Kramer, so he simply asked: “Why?”
“Because, because there wasn’t much to it, sir. She said that she was a dressmaker, that she had made two or three frocks for Miss Le Roux about two years ago. She remembered her because she was such a nice, polite young lady.”
“Why wasn’t she at the funeral?”
“She didn’t know her that well, sir. She says she thought she’d be sort of intruding.”
“Into what? Did she know if the girl had a family?”
“I asked her that, sir. She said there had never been any mention of one but she had the impression her customer came from somewhere in the Cape.”
“If she knew all this, why didn’t she come to us then?”
“That was it, sir. She said she didn’t know about the report in the Gazette. She was quite surprised when I told her.”
“Then what in God’s name was she doing in Abbott’s place?”
“Well, she said she was just passing and had seen the funeral notice and couldn’t help wondering why a young girl like that had passed away so sudden. Those are her words, sir-they’re here in my notebook.”
“Go on, Willie.”
The familiarity heartened Van Niekerk.
“So she just nipped in and tried to chat up Georgie. You know what old women are.”
“She was an old woman then?”
“Oh, yes, a nice old girl-about sixty-five, you know.”
“Uhuh. Tell me, did she seem at all-er, frightened of speaking to you? Why do you hesitate?”
“Because it’s difficult to say. People are funny when they talk to police. I’d say no more nervous than usual.”
“Good. Then it seems you did a very good job. But I’d still like a word with her, might be something else I could get.”
“Of course, sir, she gave me her name and address. A Mrs Johnson. Gladys Johnson.”
“Fine-and where does she live?”
“One-six-nine Biddulph Street.”
Van Niekerk crossed confidently to the map and ran his finger along Biddulph Street to where one-six-nine was marked. Zondi took one glance and discreetly left the room.
For, according to the map, Mrs Gladys Johnson was the old woman who lived in a shoe factory.
10
As it happened, there was no need for Kramer to say anything. Van Niekerk said it all, out aloud to himself, over and over again.
“So she lied to you,” Kramer interrupted.
“The bitch.”
“Cut it out now, Sergeant. I want to get after her while there’s a chance. She didn’t lie to you anyway, she lied to us-the force. Why?”
This stopped Van Niekerk taking ridiculous punches at the wall.
“Well, because she was trying to hide something. Cover up a connection with the girl.”
“Right. What gets me is this address she cooked up. How did she come out with it? Did she stutter or anything?”
Van Niekerk closed his eyes.
“No, it was pat enough. First the number. I wrote it down. Then the street.”
“Biddulph Street. She knew the name but not much else about it.”
“Most probably the first one that came to mind, sir.”
“Or the only one she knew in Trekkersburg. Funny choice, I must say.”
“You mean she could be a stranger here?”
“Yes, I do and that’s what makes me feel we’ll have to move fast on this one even if she isn’t too good on her legs.”
“We could put out a radio call to all the vans.”
Kramer was in half a mind to do just that but the other half rebelled.
“How long is it since you left her at Abbott’s?”
“About ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Not so long I can’t chance a call to him first then,” Kramer replied and began dialling the funeral parlour. “He might have picked up something.”
Mr Abbott racked his brains. No, he didn’t ask her about where she lived. Never thought to. Kramer urged him to remember everything which had happened after Van Niekerk left. Negative. Wait a minute though, now he came to think of it he had seen her from his doorstep stop to ask the newsboy at the corner something.
“Get going and ask him what she wanted,” Kramer ordered.
Van Niekerk suddenly clicked his fingers, took out one of the reports and typed out a short list from it on pink paper.
“Yes?” Kramer said as the other receiver was picked up again. “She asked the way to Biddulph Street? Boy, this is a lulu. Ta.”
He went over to the map.
“I’ve got it!” he exploded suddenly. “The Biddulph Street out-of-town bus terminus! Why the jesus didn’t we think of it before? It fits.”
“I’ll say-shall I come with you, sir?”
