particularly his mustache-were defined with exceptional clarity; they were sharp, in the physical sense, but it was the strong coloring that gave such an edge. The face was deeply tanned, from a line just above a normal collar, the cheeks had circles of red on them, the mustache itself was pitch black, while the hair fringing the pate was shark gray; the eyes were brown, the teeth whiter than a new golfball. The first thing Kramer thought of was a model soldier, dismissed it as too trite, and then could not think of a better comparison. That was what the man looked like, and he stood like one, too, making the best of his five-footten heavy build, and no visible scars or tattoos.
He wore a tailored suit as muted in its tone as the furnishings, offset by a single carnation.
“Gentlemen generally make an appointment,” Jarvis remarked in military English with a militant edge to it. “However, seeing as you’re here, come in, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I do not speak Cape Dutch.”
“That’s all right, sir. I’m paid to be bilingual. Just a casual inquiry.”
Kramer made his way over, using the many rugs like stepping stones, and was waved diffidently into a leather chair.
“Drink?”
“Later maybe. Is your wife not here this morning?”
“Mrs. Jarvis is about the place, but I am sure that there is no necessity for troubling her with whatever you have come about.”
“I thought that might be obvious, sir.”
“Is it? I would have thought our connection with the boy hardly warranted your attention. It was very much a passing phase on Sally Ann’s part.”
“Surely that’s an assumption?”
“Made himself unpopular, I’m afraid, rather inevitably really. He was not quite our-”
“Go on, sir?”
Jarvis eyed Kramer carefully.
“Shall we say, cup of tea, Lieutenant?”
“Uhuh. And yet he came to your house very frequently.”
“Got that off his school friends, did you? I’m afraid he must have exaggerated to impress them. I would not place his visits at over half a dozen at the most.”
“So you’re not sorry he’s dead?”
Jarvis reddened. “That is a most outrageous remark, sir! You will withdraw it at once!”
“I was only asking, Captain. You’re not the first person to seem-you know. Far from it.”
Jarvis took a decanter from a tray and poured a whisky.
“Think I’ll join you, sir, after all,” Kramer said.
“Good man.”
With them both seated, the tension eased slightly. They raised glasses and drank.
“I imagine you prefer a Cape brandy?” Jarvis said conversationally.
“To tell the truth, Captain, I usually order Pernod.”
“Remarkable,” Jarvis muttered to himself. Then added quickly, “Is there anything specific you want to know about the boy?”
“Yes, we’d like to know when he was last here.”
“On Saturday afternoon. He came to bathe, I believe.”
“So your daughter was friendly with him as recently as that?”
“That was when it happened, Lieutenant. He overstepped the mark with some of his schoolboy smut. My elder daughter was not amused. Sally tried to defend him and realized, during the kafuffel that then took place, how dreadfully-er-common he was.”
“Smut? You mean a joke?”
“I do. A deplorable piece of filth, so I was told.”
“By whom? Sally?”
“No, Caroline, my eldest daughter.”
“What happened then?”
“He left under a cloud.”
“I see.”
“May I emphasize something, Lieutenant? When I use the word ‘common’ I refer to a chap’s breeding. I have the greatest respect for the forefathers of this country. The Boers were the finest mounted warriors since the Huns-Winston himself says so in one of his books.”
A pretty speech.
“You mean you were lucky to win?” Kramer asked with a laugh.
Jarvis reddened again-he was better value than a performing chameleon.
“Perhaps so, Lieutenant. I must say your people were a surprise after the peasantry we were used to scrapping with.”
Oh, very nicely done. However, Kramer was not there to settle old scores, but a new one. And he still had no idea who the enemy was.
“Did any member of your family see Boetie again after his incident?”
“No. I’m quite sure they would have mentioned it.”
“Nevertheless, could I have a word with your daughters this evening, Captain? After school?”
“Caroline is in the nursing home having a cyst removed. I wonder if you’d not-”
“Sally, then?”
“I sent her up to her grandmother on the Witwatersrand.”
“When was this?”
“On Monday, directly I saw the news in the paper. It would have upset her dreadfully. I know what I said about their little liaison, but the child’s had enough to contend with recently.”
Kramer got up and put his glass on the tray. He had the air of a man who had suddenly lost interest in the matter in hand and just wanted to beat a friendly retreat.
“Of course, I’d forgotten,” he said. “You also had that sad business concerning the American youth. I was in Zululand at the time.”
“Lovely part of the world, that,” murmured Jarvis, accompanying him over to the door. “I’ll show you out myself.”
“There was one thing I never quite did understand about that accident.”
“Really, Lieutenant? This is your mackintosh, I believe.”
“The bit about the American’s clothes. The story goes he was stripped down and probably about to have a swim when he fell in accidentally.”
“That’s what happened.”
“But where was his swimming costume? I’ve never seen that mentioned.”
Kramer took his raincoat from the hands outstretched to help him on with it so that he would be able to keep his eyes on Jarvis’s face. A slight tremor.
“Then your colleagues have kept their word,” Jarvis said quietly.
“Not that I’ve been asking questions, but I’d like to know out of curiosity.”
“You’re an astute man, Lieutenant, but the explanation is simple: he often swam alone without one. He was rather given to that sort of thing.”
“Walking round nude?”
“Something of that order. Surprising what American youth considers normal these days. Even so, we felt obliged to be discreet in the matter for his parents’ sake. Sergeant Brandsma was most understanding. We didn’t want the papers calling Andrew a hippie either-it’s such a vulgar expression-and they would have leaped at it. As it was, the press wallahs did rather overdo-”
“But was he a hippie, in your opinion?”
“Sheer affectation! Came of excellent stock-told me his father liked his pimp’s trousers no better than I did. Never could get him to have a decent haircut, but we did calm down his clothes a bit. His manners themselves were remarkably good.”
“What did your daughters and their friends think of him?”
“Sally and Caroline were all right, but I’m afraid the others suspected him of being-er-sissy. Hair that length is
