Opened the door and put a foot on the ground. Griessel searched for the footprint.
Nothing. Too much grass.
He squatted on his haunches. Only one cigarette butt, that was all he needed. A little trace of saliva for DNA testing. But there was nothing to find, only a fat black insect that scurried through the faded grass.
Still squatting, he phoned Keyter.
?I have another job for you.?
30.
He knew it would be an hour or two before Forensics turned up. He wanted to determine assegai man?s route to the house. Had he climbed through the fence, here, without knowing where the homestead was? Possible, but unlikely. Along the road would be better. He could see headlights coming from far off and have enough time to duck into the shadows.
Griessel walked slowly along the road. The wind blew from diagonally in front. The sun shone on his back, his shoes crunched on the gravel. He scanned the ground for footprints. He became aware of a pleasurable feeling. Just him here. On the trail of the murderer. Alone. He never had been a team player. He had done his best detection work on his own.
Now he was a task team leader.
Joubert was hiding Benny?s alcoholism from the Area and Provincial Commissioners. Maybe he was lying about that because, despite the recent appointments of the top structures, the Force was like a small village. Everyone knew everything about everybody.
But why? Did Joubert feel sorry for Anna? Or was it loyalty to an old colleague who had come through the wars with him? The last two old soldiers, who had survived the antics of the old regime and affirmative action of the new era. Who had survived without becoming entangled in politics or monkey business.
No. It was because there was no one else. This morning he had sat and watched them. There were good people, enthusiastic young detectives, clever ones and hard workers and those with ambition, but they didn?t have the experience. They didn?t have twenty years of hard-grind policing behind them. Task team leader because he was a drunk-but-standing veteran.
But it was neither here nor there. He had better make it work, because it was all he had.
He walked as far as the smallholding?s driveway. No footprints. He turned up the drive, the wind now at his back. He knew the house was four hundred meters north. The question was, how long was it before the dogs had heard assegai man in the quiet of the night? He would have stopped, moved off the road and into hiding, at a place where he could overlook the yard.
The stables were ahead, on his left. A colored man was busy with a pitchfork. The man didn?t notice him. He kept on walking and could see the house now, two hundred meters further on. The place where Laurens had fallen.
The dogs began to bark.
He stopped. The workman looked up.
?Afternoon, sir,? said the man warily.
?Good afternoon.?
?Can I help you, sir??
?I?m from the police,? he said.
?Oh.?
?I just want to look around.?
?Okay, sir.?
The garden began here, shrubs and bushes in old overgrown beds. He would have jumped in behind the shrubbery when the dogs started barking in the night. Then made his way through the plants till he was closer to the house. Plenty of camouflage. He followed the imaginary route searching for tracks. He estimated the distance and built a picture. You could survey the whole yard from behind the garden plants. You could watch a woman in her nightclothes, with a firearm in her hand. You could see the dogs that barked nervously in the darkness. Now you were close to the house, close to her. You ignore her shouts. ?Who?s there?? Or perhaps a more threatening, ?Come out or I?ll shoot!? You wait until her back is turned and then you rush out of the shadows. Grab the firearm. Raise the assegai. The dog bites at your trousers. You kick.
Something like that.
He looked for footprints in the flowerbed.
Nothing.
How likely was that? Or was the fucker cool and calm enough to wipe them out?
The laborer was still standing and watching.
?What is your name??
?Willem, sir.?
He walked over to the man and put out his hand. ?I?m Benny Griessel.?
?Pleased to meet you, sir.?
?Bad business this, Willem.?
?A very bad business, sir.?
