?Yes?? A light began to go on for him. There is no such thing as a free curry and rice.
?Delivered to my postbox at the entry hall. And somebody is stealing it. Not every morning, mind you. But often. I?ve tried everything. I?ve even watched the inner door from the garden. I believe you detectives would call it a stakeout, am I right??
?That?s right.?
?But the perpetrator is very elusive. I have made no headway.?
?My goodness,? he said. He had no idea what else to say.
?But now we have a real detective in the building,? she said with immense satisfaction and sat back in her chair.
Griessel?s phone rang in his shirt pocket.
?I?m sorry,? he said. ?I have to take this.?
?Of course you do, my dear.?
He took the phone out. ?Griessel.?
?Benny, it?s Anwar,? said Inspector Anwar Mohammed. ?We?ve got her.?
?Who??
?Your assegai woman. Artemis.?
?Assegai woman??
?Yup. She?s made a complete statement.?
?Where are you??
?Twenty-three Petunia Street in Bishop Lavis.?
He got up. ?You?ll have to direct me. I?ll phone you when I?m nearby.?
?Okay, Benny.?
He switched off the connection. ?I?m really sorry, but I have to go.?
?Of course. Duty calls, it seems.?
?Yes, it?s this case I?m working on.?
?Well, Benny, it was wonderful meeting you.?
?And you too,? he said on the way to the door.
?Do you like roast lamb??
?Oh, yes, but you mustn?t go to any trouble.?
?No trouble,? she said with a big white smile. ?Now that you?re working on my case.?
Petunia Street was in uproar. Under the streetlights stood a couple of hundred spectators, so that he had to drive slowly and wait for them to open a path for him. In front of number 23 rotated the blue lights of three police vans and the red ones of an ambulance. Forensics and the video team?s two Toyota minibuses were parked halfway up the pavement. In front of the house next door were two minibuses from the SABC and e.tv.
He got out and had to push his way through the bystanders. On the lawn a colored constable in uniform tried to stop him. He showed his plastic ID card and instructed him to call in more people for crowd control.
?There aren?t any more, the entire station is here already,? was the reply.
Griessel walked through the open front door. Two uniformed members sat in the sitting room watching television.
?No, damnit,? Griessel said to them. ?The crowd is about to come in the door and you sit here watching TV??
?Don?t worry,? one answered. ?This is Bishop Lavis. The people are curious, but decent.?
Anwar Mohammed heard his voice and came out of an inner room.
?Get these people outside, Anwar, this is a fucking crime scene.?
?You heard the inspector, hey??
The men stood up reluctantly. ?But it?s
?I don?t care what it is. Go and do your work,? said Mohammed. Then, to Griessel: ?The victim is here, Benny.? He led the way to the kitchen.
Griessel saw the blood first?a thick gay arc of red starting on the kitchen cupboard door and sweeping up, all the way to the ceiling. To the right against the fridge and stove was more blood in the distinctive spatters of a severed artery. A man lay in a fetal position in the corner of the smallish room. The two members of the video team were setting up lights to film the scene. The light made the reddish-brown blood on the victim?s shirt glisten. There were a few rips in the material. Beside him lay an assegai. The wooden shaft was about a metro long, the bloodied blade about thirty centimeters long and three or four centimeters wide.
?This is not the assegai man,? said Griessel.
?How can you know??
?Whole MO is different, Anwar. And this blade is too small.?
