pushing it back to the restaurant?’
‘I just . . .’ And Scarlett January began to weep again. Christel de Haan stood up, gave her a couple of tissues and sat down again.
When she had regained some control, she said: ‘Uncle, I . . . I’m a bit shy, uncle . . .’
Cupido leaned closer and whispered in her ear. ‘So just tell me, I won’t tell a soul.’
She nodded, blew her nose, and turned her mouth to his ear.‘Daddy says I was born with the helm . . .’
‘OK.’
‘Because I get these gevoelentes ; premonitions.’
‘I understand.’
‘When I was walking there, I got this feeling, uncle.’
‘What sort of feeling, sistertjie ?’ he whispered, barely audible.
‘Evil, uncle. A terrible evil. Over there by the bougainvillea.’
6
Tyrone told his sister about her results. He sat on the only easy chair in Nadia’s one-bedroom flat – the one with the broken leg that he had found thrown out in front of a house in the Bo-Kaap. He had mended it. Not good workmanship, because he didn’t know much about woodwork. But it was sturdy, and it was comfortable.
‘So, I’m very proud of you,’ he said.
She sat at the big work table with her long black hair, and delicate, almost fragile beauty. He had swapped it for a stolen iPhone at the second-hand shop in Woodstock’s Albert Street.
‘Thanks, boetie .’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll have the money by the end of the month,’ he said. He took out his wallet. ‘Here’s the rent for the flat.’
‘No, I only need a thousand, I got lekker big tips.’
‘That’s what I want to talk about. Tips or not, you’re here to study.’
‘But I like the work, boetie .’
‘I understand, but nou’s dit crunch time.’
‘I can’t just sit and swot all day.’
‘So go for a walk. Or socialise a bit.’
‘No. We eat for free, at the end of the shift, it saves me good money. And where will you get more than five thousand rand by the end of the month?’
‘Big paint job in Rose Street, a whole block of flats. I’m one of the subcontractors for Donnie Fish. And it’s interiors too, so it can ma’ rain. And in any case, the Cape economy is booming again, tourism is up seventeen per cent. Ek sê jou , by December there will be enough for half of next year’s class fees as well. You just swot, so that you make the selection. I don’t want you wasting your time with waitressing.’
‘It’s not wasting time.’ She had that stubborn look around her mouth that he had known since they were little. ‘And I will make the selection.’
He knew he wasn’t going to convince her. ‘That’s what I want to hear.’
The four extra Hawks detectives arrived – Lieutenant Vusumuzi Ndabeni, small of stature, with a manicured goatee and wide-awake eyes; Lieutenant Cedric ‘Ulinda’ Radebe, the ex-boxer, whose nickname in Zulu meant ‘honey badger’; Captain Mooiwillem Liebenberg, the DPCI’s best-looking detective and most respected skirt-chaser; and Captain Frankie Fillander, the veteran with a long scar from his ear to his crown from a knife wound.
Standing on the lawn of the guesthouse, Griessel brought them up to date with the details. He had to concentrate, because the weariness was a burden growing steadily heavier. And he was increasingly self-conscious about his appearance, and the looks that he was getting from his colleagues. He asked Ndabeni and Fillander, the gentlest of the officers, to question the farm workers, and told Radebe and Liebenberg to talk to the bodyguards.
Then he and Cupido walked to the veranda to hear whether Forensics were finished yet. The wind blew suddenly chill again.
‘Global warming?’ said Cupido as he looked up at the dark clouds once more looming in the east. ‘Seems to me every winter is colder and wetter.’
Griessel’s cellphone made a cheerful sound in his trouser pocket. He knew who and what it was.
His colleague looked keenly at him. ‘But that’s an iPhone you got there.’
‘Yes,’ said
‘I just . . .’ And Scarlett January began to weep again. Christel de Haan stood up, gave her a couple of tissues and sat down again.
When she had regained some control, she said: ‘Uncle, I . . . I’m a bit shy, uncle . . .’
Cupido leaned closer and whispered in her ear. ‘So just tell me, I won’t tell a soul.’
She nodded, blew her nose, and turned her mouth to his ear.‘Daddy says I was born with the helm . . .’
‘OK.’
‘Because I get these gevoelentes ; premonitions.’
‘I understand.’
‘When I was walking there, I got this feeling, uncle.’
‘What sort of feeling, sistertjie ?’ he whispered, barely audible.
‘Evil, uncle. A terrible evil. Over there by the bougainvillea.’
6
Tyrone told his sister about her results. He sat on the only easy chair in Nadia’s one-bedroom flat – the one with the broken leg that he had found thrown out in front of a house in the Bo-Kaap. He had mended it. Not good workmanship, because he didn’t know much about woodwork. But it was sturdy, and it was comfortable.
‘So, I’m very proud of you,’ he said.
She sat at the big work table with her long black hair, and delicate, almost fragile beauty. He had swapped it for a stolen iPhone at the second-hand shop in Woodstock’s Albert Street.
‘Thanks, boetie .’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll have the money by the end of the month,’ he said. He took out his wallet. ‘Here’s the rent for the flat.’
‘No, I only need a thousand, I got lekker big tips.’
‘That’s what I want to talk about. Tips or not, you’re here to study.’
‘But I like the work, boetie .’
‘I understand, but nou’s dit crunch time.’
‘I can’t just sit and swot all day.’
‘So go for a walk. Or socialise a bit.’
‘No. We eat for free, at the end of the shift, it saves me good money. And where will you get more than five thousand rand by the end of the month?’
‘Big paint job in Rose Street, a whole block of flats. I’m one of the subcontractors for Donnie Fish. And it’s interiors too, so it can ma’ rain. And in any case, the Cape economy is booming again, tourism is up seventeen per cent. Ek sê jou , by December there will be enough for half of next year’s class fees as well. You just swot, so that you make the selection. I don’t want you wasting your time with waitressing.’
‘It’s not wasting time.’ She had that stubborn look around her mouth that he had known since they were little. ‘And I will make the selection.’
He knew he wasn’t going to convince her. ‘That’s what I want to hear.’
The four extra Hawks detectives arrived – Lieutenant Vusumuzi Ndabeni, small of stature, with a manicured goatee and wide-awake eyes; Lieutenant Cedric ‘Ulinda’ Radebe, the ex-boxer, whose nickname in Zulu meant ‘honey badger’; Captain Mooiwillem Liebenberg, the DPCI’s best-looking detective and most respected skirt-chaser; and Captain Frankie Fillander, the veteran with a long scar from his ear to his crown from a knife wound.
Standing on the lawn of the guesthouse, Griessel brought them up to date with the details. He had to concentrate, because the weariness was a burden growing steadily heavier. And he was increasingly self-conscious about his appearance, and the looks that he was getting from his colleagues. He asked Ndabeni and Fillander, the gentlest of the officers, to question the farm workers, and told Radebe and Liebenberg to talk to the bodyguards.
Then he and Cupido walked to the veranda to hear whether Forensics were finished yet. The wind blew suddenly chill again.
‘Global warming?’ said Cupido as he looked up at the dark clouds once more looming in the east. ‘Seems to me every winter is colder and wetter.’
Griessel’s cellphone made a cheerful sound in his trouser pocket. He knew who and what it was.
His colleague looked keenly at him. ‘But that’s an iPhone you got there.’
‘Yes,’ said
Similar Books
My Texas Sweetheart (book one)
Pauliena Acheson
Cheri Red (sWet)
Charisma Knight
Angel Stations
Gary Gibson
Wings of Lomay
Devri Walls
Five Parts Dead
Tim Pegler
Can't Shake You
Molly McLain
A Cast of Vultures
Judith Flanders
Charmed by His Love
Janet Chapman
Through the Fire
Donna Hill
The Hen of the Baskervilles
Donna Andrews