“It worked well, boss?”
“Spot on. It ties up right down the line. Miss Le Roux was in a vice racket all right. Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
Zondi chose the sofa and it fitted his length perfectly.
“We’ll start with the tape. We tried it out on Miss Henry and on the girl. They definitely thought it was ghosts at work up here.”
He paused for the chuckle.
“This tape is what they heard at night when those men came here. Another point: it runs exactly one hour, Mr Perkins tells me. The men stayed here for exactly an hour each time.”
“She works like a factory man, boss.”
“Piecework? Ten Rand an hour, according to Sergeant Van Niekerk. He also said on the phone he was going to finish that list of organ sales, but there isn’t much point now.”
“Boss?”
“No lessons; not in music, Zondi. How could they say to their wives they were going to their music teacher and then not be able to play any better?”
“This driver I talked with said that his boss took his car by himself two nights a week.”
“Did he say why?”
“Yes. Boss Trenshaw tells him he goes to long meetings but he likes to drive himself a little, too. He believe him, boss.”
“And the way I see it, there is no real reason why he shouldn’t. I don’t mean meetings here though. Oh no, he would be too clever to use the girl himself. How big is he?”
“Five foot eight inches.”
“Uhuh. Middling but average-so is Sergeant Van Niekerk and Mr Perkins. I think we can say his meetings are with the lot behind all this. They’ve probably got quite a ring of girls like this one. It’s the type that Trenshaw mixes with who go for this sort of thing. They’ve got the money and the troubles with their women. You should see their wives at the races on Saturday-very posh, yes, but when they stand by a stallion they go all bloody twitchy.”
A sense of shock was registered by the clicking of Zondi’s tongue.
“Yes, I’m sure there are probably more girls than one because this gang is on the ball. They went to a lot of trouble setting up this tape. I think we’ll have to look around some more music teachers inTrekkersburg-it’s like the massage game but not so likely to make you think twice.”
“You know what this Boss Trenshaw does for his work?”
“Give me the stuff now.”
Kramer read rapidly down the itemised information. He whistled.
“Protea Electronics! There’s where the tape came from for a start. And he’s worked as a youngster in the Prison Service!”
Zondi did his memory trick.
“The newspaper it says: ‘Councillor Trenshaw has come a long way since his first job as a civilian instructor in radio repairs at Pretoria Central. He was only nineteen at the time and had studied at night school.’ ”
“A long way? I’ll say, and he’s brought some of his old contacts along, too, for the ride.”
“But why kill this girl, boss? That is what I do not understand. It is taking a big chance.”
“You forget, Zondi: not the way they did it. If it hadn’t been for Mr Abbott there would have been no trouble.”
“Still I ask why, boss.”
“Because she could have caused them a lot of trouble if she had wanted to. She was Coloured, remember? The chances are they did not know this.”
“Lenny knew.”
“I’ve been changing my mind about his position with this gang. I’m beginning to think he was what started the trouble for them. He found out what his sister was doing and tried to blackmail them with the Act.”
“He did not belong. I see.”
“I think it’s an all-white arrangement. That’s why our blokes haven’t picked anything up. Mine are too low class and yours-well!”
“And maybe this is why we can’t find Lenny. They have done things to him, too.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Shoe Shoe?”
“The same. He knew something and he tried to get money for it. How easy it would be for him to talk to Trenshaw on the City Hall steps. I think we know what the Steam Pig is now.”
There was a tinkle of crockery and Miss Henry appeared at the door with a tray.
“Just thought you might be needing a little something about now,” she said and gaped at the recumbent Zondi.
“My boy’s sick,” he explained, taking the tray.
“Poor thing, he doesn’t look very strong, being such a mite. Can I get you anything for him?”
“He’ll be all right. He eats too much. Thanks for the tea.”
Miss Henry bobbed a curtsey and went away.
“Boss Kramer,” Zondi said, “I have one more thing to ask you.”
“Go on.”
“Why is it that you are so sure that you must catch Trenshaw but you just sit and talk all afternoon? My watch says it is four o’clock.”
“Just going,” Kramer replied from the door. “You take the Chev and wait with Sergeant Van Niekerk. This is not a job for kaffirs.”
Zondi had tea first.
Protea Electronics was in a new building in the old quarter of central Trekkersburg. The sign outside was small enough to indicate that it did big business.
Kramer could smell there was still sawdust about, left by the shopfitters who had constructed the very smart panelled reception counter. He rang the bell. Immediately a middle-aged woman with belligerent chins appeared through a door marked manager’s secretary. She did not ask him what he wanted but simply stared like a laser beam in the apparent hope he would disintegrate.
“I want to see Mr Trenshaw.”
“Who are you?”
“Mr Kramer.”
“Of?”
“Trekkersburg.”
She thought about it.
“Of?”
“I’m from the City Hall.”
“Then why come here?”
“Because I want to see Mr Trenshaw.”
“That sounds very stupid.”
Kramer had had enough.
“Tell me where your boss is and make it snappy!”
The electronic bitch robot switched wavelength.
“I’m very sorry, sir, but he’s at the City Hall at present for a cocktail party.”
“What cocktail party?”
“It’s in the Assembly Room-just off the Council Chamber.”
“I know the bloody plan of the place. I want to know what party this is.”
“Councillor Trenshaw told me it was to mark the signing of a contract, I think. The one for the big new native township they’re going to build out the other side of Peacehaven.”
“Oh, the five-million Rand one.”
“It’s ten as far as I can remember.”
“Well, you’re wrong, madam.”
