‘What did he say?’
‘He said he fucked them and then he shot them.’
‘Delightful,’ said Clare. ‘Have you traced him yet?’
‘We did,’ said Riedwaan. ‘It’s someone in Pollsmoor Prison. Either a warder or a prisoner on cleaning duty who has been using the phone.’
They were in Clifton now. Luxurious blocks of flats loomed on either side of the narrow winding road. ‘It’s number 473,’ said Clare.
‘There it is. Park here, this will be fine.’ Riedwaan got out and crossed the road. ‘What number is the flat?’
‘Apartment 2B,’ said Clare.
‘The lights are on, so somebody’s at home,’ said Riedwaan, pressing the doorbell. ‘Shall we go and see who it is?’
‘Yes?’ came a disembodied female voice.
‘This is Inspector Faizal. I was hoping to come up with my colleague and talk to Mr Da Cunha. Is he in?’
There was a muffled conversation before the door clicked open. Riedwaan and Clare entered the lobby where an enormous vase of lilies and orange blossom was perched on a table with delicate legs. They took the steps and headed up for the second floor. There were only two apartments on that level, and the door of number 2B was ajar. Riedwaan pushed open the door and went inside. The opulence was overwhelming.
‘Good evening.’ A woman with a faint moustache bore down on them. ‘Do come and sit down. My husband will be home any minute. Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Riedwaan. ‘We’re fine. We’ll just wait until he gets in. I hope we aren’t disturbing you?’
‘Not at all,’ said Mrs Da Cunha. ‘We always eat late. It’s a Mediterranean habit that is hard to break. This is my daughter, Ana-Rosa.’ She introduced the pretty, plump teenager who came in with two cups of coffee on a tray, the girl blushing scarlet at the mention of her name. Clare was glad of the hot drink.
‘My husband is usually home by nine,’ said Mrs Da Cunha. She looked at her watch. ‘He should be here any minute now. Tell me, why do you want to see him?’
‘We just want to ask him a few questions. Does he usually work this late?’ asked Riedwaan.
‘He does work late. He has fishing boats, so they come in at different times. He also goes to the Portuguese Club on some evenings, doesn’t he, Ana-Rosa?’ The girl nodded, then blushed again and twisted her skirt in her hands. There was a sound at the door. ‘That must be him. I’ll bring him in here. Come, Ana.’ She swept from the room, the girl in her wake.
Mr Da Cunha came in, closing the door behind him. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked, proffering a hand to Riedwaan and nodding to Clare.
‘Good evening, Mr Da Cunha. Or can I call you Rick?’ Riedwaan asked.
Da Cunha sat down abruptly. ‘Why do you call me that?’
‘We know a friend of yours,’ replied Riedwaan. ‘A very pretty boy called Clinton. He tells us you were with him on Wednesday night.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Da Cunha. ‘I was at home on Wednesday evening.’
‘I’m sure you were,’ said Clare. ‘But your wife tells us that you usually eat late. So where were you before dinner?’
‘I was at work. Then I went to the club and had some drinks. Then I came home.’
‘Funny, that. The barman at Lulu’s told me that you were ordering double whiskeys from him at seven forty- five. You ordered two. One for you and one for your little friend.’
‘Okay, I was there. So what? What harm does it do? He’s not underage, is he?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Riedwaan, contempt in his voice. He leaned close to Da Cunha. ‘But perhaps you would care to tell me exactly what you did on Wednesday. And what you were doing last weekend. And don’t leave anything out. We will be checking everything.’
‘Are you from the tax office?’
‘No,’ said Riedwaan. ‘I am a serious and violent crimes officer and we are investigating a murder.’
Da Cunha’s eyes widened. ‘Who died?’ he asked.
‘A young girl. About your daughter’s age,’ said Clare. ‘Clinton found her body just after he had finished servicing yours.’
‘We found it curious that you were so insistent that you went to Graaff’s Pool. Perhaps you could fill us in,’ Riedwaan prompted.
‘I like it outside,’ Da Cunha said. ‘It’s wrong, I know, but I like it with that boy. And outside it feels free. I grew up on the sea. That is all there is to it.’ He raised his eyes and looked at them. ‘You can check. I was at work all day. I left at five-thirty and went from work to play cards at the Portuguese Club in Green Point. I went to Lulu’s on the way home and I had dinner here at nine.’
‘And last weekend?’
‘I went with my family to our house in Betty’s Bay. We had some of my wife’s friends there. You can check with them.’
‘We will,’ said Riedwaan. He towered over the seated man. ‘We most certainly will.’ He handed Da Cunha a notepad. ‘Put their names and phone numbers down there, if you don’t mind.’
Da Cunha took the pad and wrote down several numbers. This took him some time – he was shaking, which made it difficult for him to get the numbers from his cellphone. Riedwaan glanced at the piece of paper.
‘Thanks.’
‘Did you notice anything unusual when you went down to Graaff’s Pool?’ asked Clare, her voice deceptively gentle.
‘No, nothing really,’ said Da Cunha, averting his eyes from Riedwaan with relief. ‘I did notice that they seem to have finished the work on the tunnel, though.’
‘Which tunnel is that?’ asked Riedwaan, interested.
‘That old tunnel. The Graaff family used it to get from their house to the beach. It was them who had the wall put up because they liked to swim naked. The tunnel wasn’t used after they donated the pool to the city. But I heard that it had been repaired.’
‘Thanks,’ said Clare. ‘I’m sure we’ll be meeting again.’
Da Cunha saw them out. Clare and Riedwaan heard his wife, her voice shrill and loud, launch into a tirade as Da Cunha closed the door. They heard the daughter’s pleas, too, as they made their way down the stairs.
‘What do you think?’ asked Riedwaan.
‘Check him out,’ said Clare. ‘I don’t like what he does, but I don’t think it was him.’
The car doors slammed. ‘Interesting about that tunnel,’ said Riedwaan. ‘I didn’t know it was open.’
‘There’s a boulder that screens the opening. You wouldn’t see it if you didn’t know it was there. It leads under Main Road. Nowhere else, as far as I know,’ said Clare. ‘Will you check if there was any CCTV footage there? I think it would be worth searching that, too.’
Riedwaan flipped open his phone. ‘I’m going to ask Joe to get it sealed off. Then we can search it tomorrow when it’s light.’ Riedwaan rattled out a series of instructions to Joe.
‘Let’s get something to eat before we go back to the station,’ suggested Clare.
‘Okay.’ They stopped and ordered Thai curries to take away. Clare headed back to the station to drop Riedwaan.
‘You coming in?’
‘Yes,’ said Clare. ‘I want to get working on this now. I’m never going to sleep tonight.’
They passed Joe Zulu as they entered the caravan. ‘I’ll see you later,’ Joe said. I’m going to get that tunnel cordoned off. How did you know about it?’ he asked them.
‘A fluke,’ said Clare. ‘We were questioning the man who was with Clinton at Graaff’s Pool, and he mentioned it had been repaired.’
Clare opened the polystyrene containers. The food was delicious. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was.
