knows the white people must respect him.”
“OK, man, OK. So what do I tell the Colonel?”
“He knows what Shoe Shoe’s telling Gershwin about the bosses.”
“He doesn’t believe it.”
“Tell him the other thing then.”
“Fine, I just walk into his office and say I’ve linked Councillor Trenshaw with the murdered girl. How? Oh, easy, sir. You see he did a strange thing. Right after going to a friend’s funeral he went round the back and saw what he thought was the girl in question being burned up to nothing. He waited until she was nothing, sir, and then said how pleased he was with how things were going.”
“You’re talking a silly way, boss.”
Kramer shared out the remainder of the meal they had bought in Durban at the pie-cart. Zondi took his portion gratefully.
“Let me try again, then. I’ll say I have reason to believe that Councillor Trenshaw was seen and heard acting suspiciously at the crematorium on Tuesday this week. Asked to give an explanation for this allegation, I will state that whatever a man’s sense of responsibility, there is a time and a place. I will point out that this girl’s funeral was advertised in the Press that morning and that, according to information received from the superintendent of the crematorium, the aforesaid Councillor Trenshaw did not admit to a close relationship with the deceased party involved in the funeral which followed.”
He paused to take a bite from his fragment of pie.
“I will then add that, in my opinion, Councillor Trenshaw displayed an unnatural interest in the workings of the establishment-and an unnatural interest in the incineration of a body, believed to be that of the girl in the funeral advertisement.
“I will state that his interest went beyond the casual interest of a normal person observing such proceedings in that he insisted on staying until the body was totally destroyed.
“And at this point I will ask permission to introduce a hypothesis which may shed some light on the matter.”
Zondi snorted, showering crust flakes all over his suit.
“What’s the matter? Do I sound like Sam Safrinsky?”
“Supreme court, boss! Not just Jewboy lawyer.”
“Thanks. Do you know what a hypothesis is?”
“Very dirty talk that, boss.”
The laughter did a lot for both of them.
“Listen and learn then, kaffir. My hypothesis is that Councillor Trenshaw is taking part in some illegal enterprise of a nature so serious that it involves the liquidation of certain of its members when they prove difficult or of no further use. Furthermore, I suggest that a man of Councillor Trenshaw’s education and intelligence could well be the head of this enterprise. This is improbable but not, with respect, impossible.
“And on this basis, I suggest that Councillor Trenshaw went to the crematorium with the express purpose of reassuring himself that certain evidence had been satisfactorily destroyed-to use his own words.
“Furthermore, there is the question of the method used. If we allow this hypothesis to include the death of Bantu male Shoe Shoe, we will note that this was carried out by proxy. It was done badly but did not in any way provide an obvious link to this alleged enterprise. You could say that whoever ordered the killing was satisfied that the victim could not reveal anything specific-from this we deduce the victim had already been interrogated-and that it was much safer to have it done in this way.
“But then we come to the girl. There need be no scruples in killing her for she is a Coloured and they know her position. But as far as the world is concerned, she is a white. The gang, if I may call it that, takes the precaution of importing an assassin from the Rand. All goes according to plan but Councillor Trenshaw is understandably anxious there will be no hitches. How very natural for him to display such an interest in her final disposal.”
It was still very quiet beside the lake.
“You are right, it is no good, boss,” Zondi said after dusting himself down. “This ‘high’ thing you are talking about does not put Tessa with Boss Trenshaw before she gets killed.”
“I know it doesn’t, Zondi. It’s all bloody bull probably. And we can’t risk our necks on that. I’m not even sure that Byers bloke was telling the exact truth. He could have been building up his story to make it sound even better for him. Look, it’s half past twelve now. Take me up there again quickly and then we’ll get back to see what Sergeant Van Niekerk has found out.”
14
The door opened cautiously. The Colonel put his head around it and beamed when he saw Van Niekerk was alone in the office.
“Ah, Sergeant, it is good to find a man who likes his work.”
Van Niekerk shot to his feet.
“Good morning-I mean good afternoon, sir.”
“I’m not disturbing you am I?”
“No, sir. I was just bringing the crime sheet up to date.”
“Very good. Do you mind if I see it? This is excellent. So clear. I must try and introduce this method to other members of the squad.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And what were you writing on it?”
“That entry there, sir, in green. I’ve just been doing a check on Miss Phil-er, Miss Le Roux’s finances. I found that she had over two hundred Rand in a building society under a false name.”
“Had? In what sense?”
“She took it all out last week.”
“That’s good. It ties in with Lieutenant Kramer’s theory that she was about to leave us when it happened. But where is he now?”
“Out with Zondi-they’ve been gone all morning.”
“Hmmm. No idea where, I suppose?”
“Round the informers. He also said they might call at the crematorium.”
The Colonel bent over the crime sheet.
“What happened in Durban to make him want to go there? I see they didn’t get this Lenny bloke after all.”
“No, sir.”
“Well, I won’t ask any more questions until I see him tonight,” the Colonel chuckled.
“Tonight, sir?”
“Hasn’t he told you? About my little plan? That’s the Lieutenant for you.”
And the Colonel was gone, leaving Van Niekerk looking very vexed indeed.
There were a number of vehicles in the car park near the entrance to the crematorium building but no sign of a hearse anywhere.
“What’s going on?” Kramer muttered as Zondi backed the Chev up beside them. “Must be it’s all over and they’re just coming out. The undertaker’s boys have already burnt it home for lunch.”
He looked at his watch. It was almost one o’clock.
Then Zondi switched off the engine and they could hear the sound of organ music dimly through the thick stone walls of the chapel. There was a rapid fade on the last verse and Kramer smiled.
“Mr Byers is in a hurry for his lunch, too,” he said.
They waited for the mourners to emerge. Nothing happened. Then the organ started up again.
“This priest’s got a lot to say for himself, hey Zondi?”
“It is their way, boss.”
