Gun Dealing (The Ryder Quartet Book 2)

by Ian Patrick

‘Thanks, Nadine. I think I’ll phone Nyawula and tell him. He’ll be pleased.’

  Fiona had sidled up to him and was now tickling his free ear with her tongue.

  ‘I’ve already told him, Jeremy,’ said Nadine.

  ‘Oh.’

  He tried to wriggle out of Fiona’s embrace, as she thrust her tongue deeper into his ear.

  ‘Yes. He’s really pleased that another piece of the puzzle has been found. Well, not found, but, possibly, within sight. I told him I’d be calling you with the news.’

  ‘Great, Nadine. Brilliant.’

  He fought hard to suppress a looming burst of giggles. Fiona’s reaction was to dig her fingers into his ribs and tickle.

  ‘I have to tell you, Jeremy, that your Mavis Tshabalala is an amazing woman.’

  ‘Yes?’

  He escaped from Fiona by running behind the sofa, as she had done earlier. Which prompted more barking from Sugar-Bear.

  ‘Yes. She is a natural. When she’s through with her internship with you guys, let me know. I’d love to take her under my wing.’

  ‘That’s really good to know, Nadine.’

  ‘Better get back to the dog, Jeremy. He sounds as if he needs a late-night walk.’

  ‘Will do, Nadine. Thanks, again. Fiona is waving goodbye, too. Talk soon!’

  ‘Bye, Jeremy. Kisses to Fiona.’

  And she was gone.

  He looked at Fiona and she responded with a sultry come-on. He feinted to his left and she ran the opposite way, straight into his arms. Sugar-Bear barked hysterically.

  They kissed, passionately.

  10 TUESDAY

  07.25.

  Mavis, Cronje, Koekemoer, Dippenaar and Pillay were in the outer office. The Captain was on the phone in his office. Ryder was with him. The two of them had come in together in earnest conversation while the others were in the car park enjoying the morning sun, and had simply called out their greetings while marching straight through to Nyawula’s office.

  The others were now gathered around the coffee urn.

  ‘So you went out on the road with Nadine Salm, yesterday, Mavis?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Koeks.’

  ‘She take you to that Cato Manor hijacking, Mavis?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Dipps.’

  ‘I hear the bastard just took the car and shot the driver a few times in the head,’ said Cronje. ‘These guys. Not enough to take the bloody car. Was that the first hijacking scene for you, Mavis?’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant Piet. The first one.’

  ‘Scary stuff, hey, Mavis?’

  ‘Very scary, Mr Koeks.’

  ‘Hope they catch the bastard,’ said Dippenaar. ‘He probably just hijacked the vehicle to get across town. Killed the guy so that he could drive his car a few miles then just abandon it. One person shot dead just for a short joy-ride.’

  ‘Maybe, Mr Dipps.’

  There was a pause as they all looked at her.

  ‘Maybe, Mavis? Why maybe? You think something else might have happened?’

  ‘Yes, Navi. Maybe. Maybe the man who is dead, maybe he was the hijacker.’

  ‘You mean the driver overpowered the hijacker, Mavis? Is that what Nadine Salm thinks?’

  ‘No, Detective Dipps. Nadine, she doesn’t say just one thing. She only looks at the evidence and then later she will say what maybe happened. But she says she is just lifting the evidence in some cases and testing the evidence in other cases.’

  There was another pause as the three detectives and Cronje mused.

  ‘And you, Mavis? What do you think happened?’

  ‘I’m not sure, Sergeant Piet. But I’m thinking maybe it is better to look at the bullets. Then the ballistics. Then if they can find the gun they can find the man. Or the woman.’

  ‘But wait a minute, Mavis,’ said Koekemoer. ‘Surely it’s much more likely that the guy who was shot dead was the victim? Why would you say that it could have been the other way around? What proof would there be of that?’

  ‘The dead man, Mr Koeks, he still had his wallet. With money inside.’

  Another pause. Which was more of a stunned silence than a pause. Then Pillay burst out laughing.

  ‘Mavis, you are the best! Koeks, I wish I had a camera to take some piccies of you whenever you’re in conversation with Mavis.’

  ‘Jirra, Mavis,’ said Koekemoer, ‘no wonder Nadine Salm takes you out to these crime scenes.’

  ‘You going to move into forensics one day, for sure, Mavis.’

  ‘Thank you, Detective Dipps.’

  ‘Tell us some more, Mavis. You got any other ideas about what might have happened?’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant Piet. I was thinking last night.’

  ‘Tell us, Mavis,’ said Dippenaar.

  ‘I was thinking when Miss Nadine dropped me in her car...’

  ‘What, Mavis?’

  ‘I was thinking, Detective Koeks, that maybe when they get the ballistics report, then maybe they will find that the one who shot that man is maybe the same one who has done some other bad things. Or maybe he is just using the gun that has done the bad things. Or maybe she is using the gun that has done the bad things...’

  ‘Yissus, Mavis. One afternoon with Nadine Salm and every sentence you speak is, like, so careful, you know. Maybe him. Maybe her. Can’t be sure till you get the evidence. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thinking that’s a good thing. I’m not criticising, you know?’

  ‘I know, Detective Dipps. I know. Miss Nadine teaches me to ask questions but not to make decisions until I see the evidence.’

  ‘Good call, Mavis. You follow Nadine’s advice.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Navi.’

  ‘Ja. Well. No. All the same, I think I would find it difficult to do that all the time, guys,’ said Koekemoer. ‘Imagine being Nadine’s husband. Bet he has a hard time at home.’

  ‘Ja, Koeks. I agree. How do they decide on what’s for dinner? A hunnert questions first, check the evidence, then decide OK, we’ve eliminated any doubt, so we’ll have boiled potatoes tonight,’ said Dippenaar.

  ‘Ja,’ added Cronje, ‘actually I wonder what her husband does for a living. Maybe he’s also a forensics guy. Imagine the discussions over their roast pork. You think it was stabbed before it was roasted? No, jong, this pig was drowned and only then roasted. Have you ever met Nadine’s husband, Mavis?’

  ‘No, Sergeant Piet. Miss Nadine is gay.’

  Another stunned silence.

  ‘What? Nadine Salm? Gay?’ said Koekemoer.

  Pillay burst out laughing.

  ‘You guys! Amazing! Mavis, will you just have a good look at these guys! Shock. Horror! A beautiful woman like Nadine Salm. How can she possibly be gay! Hey, guys, haven’t you seen Nadine’s assistant? Another beautiful woman. Haven’t you seen them working together? Are you guys blind, or do you just see flowing ramparts of blonde hair when you look at them? Mavis, am I right? Nadine’s assistant is her partner, right?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Navi,’ said Mavis, giggling too, now, at the total discomfiture of the three men.

  ‘Jirra. I don’t know,’ said Koekemoer.

  ‘Yissus. Me too, Koeks,’ said Dippenaar.

  ‘I have to admit...’ said Cronje.

  ‘Am I wrong, Mavis, or is it just men? I wonder if Jeremy thinks the same as these guys?’ said Pillay. As if on cue, Ryder entered from the inner office, making directly for the exit door to the car park.

  ‘Sorry, guys, in a bit of a hurry. See you later.’

  ‘Jeremy, sorry, just a second...’

  ‘What is it, Navi?’

  ‘Koeks has a quick question for you before you go.’

  ‘Sure, what is it, Koeks?’

  ‘Ah… well… OK, sorry, Jeremy, just very quickly, then… do you know… is Nadine Salm married? Do you know her husband?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Koeks. Nadine Salm is gay. Sorry guys, gotta go.’

  And Ryder went down the stairs into the car park.

  Laughter all around, loudest from Mavis.
Which served to bring the Captain out of his office.

  ‘Any coffee available, Piet?’

  ‘Sure, Captain, coming right up.’

  ‘What’s all the levity about?’

  ‘Nothing important, Captain,’ said Pillay. ‘But a quick question, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Sure, Navi. What?’

  ‘Do you know if Nadine Salm is married?’

  ‘Don’t think so, Navi. She’s gay. And in a relationship with a very talented young woman. Haven’t you met her assistant? Can you bring the coffee through for me, Piet? Got to call my opposite number at Cato Manor.’

  ‘Sure thing, Captain,’ said Cronje. ‘Coming right up.’

  As the Captain returned to his office, the three men looked at each other, crestfallen. To the infinite, chortling, joy of the two women.

  08.25.

  Koos van Rensburg had put a call through to Ryder while he was with Nyawula. Ryder told him he was just finishing up in a meeting and would come right over.

  He felt the need to be on the road. To try and join up a few loose ends. He thought best when he was behind the wheel of his Camry.

  As he drove, he mused over the events of the past couple of weeks. They had not been easy. Two weeks ago he had shot and killed a guy who had murdered an old couple, lost his buddy Ed Trewhella to a gangster’s bullet, taken a heavy blow on the head from the same gangster, head-butted and then smashed the skull of a body-building, drug-dealing, giant Redwood of a man, and with his team had then ripped out the heart of a gambling ring linked to police corruption. All in one week.

  But he had missed nailing the elusive Thabethe.

  Then last week had been just as tough. He had struggled through Ed’s funeral, tracked various lines of enquiry on the appalling police killings in KwaDukuza, smashed to a pulp two armed and dangerous burglars in his own home, his wife taking down a third man, equally dangerous, and once again he had been frustrated, this time even further, by Thabethe’s ability to slide through the smallest of gaps. And during all of this he had tried to keep up with the never-ending burden of administrative work while picking up smaller cases as they arose each and every day. Talk about the thin blue line.

  But there were compensations, as he found when he entered hobbit-land. Van Rensburg’s team had been hard at work. Discarded polystyrene cups everywhere. Hairy, untidy, smelly hobbits wearing headphones and muttering quietly to whoever they were connected to. Occasional peals of joy, fists pumping the air as another strike was achieved.

  ‘OK, Jeremy. My guys have traced a total of four calls now between phones one and two. I told you on Saturday that we know phone two is registered to the guy called Mkhize. Phone number one, it might not surprise you, is not identifiable by name. It’s been passed on, stolen, unlocked, fiddled with, and, as you mentioned to me, probably stolen again most recently on Sunday night ten days ago.’

  ‘And we’re pretty damned sure, Koos, that it’s the same phone that was lost by a guy we know who’s recovering in Addington Hospital.’

  ‘The Themba guy. So I’ve been told, Jeremy. Poor guy took on Detective Ryder in his home, I hear?’

  ‘Yep. But he lost his phone long before I met him, Koos.’

  ‘Anyway, Jeremy. You know about the calls last Monday night at 9.30, on Wednesday morning at 10.20 and on Thursday at 13.00. But we thought you would be interested in this. Phone two called phone one again on Sunday at exactly 14.00, and we now know that on all of these occasions phone number two was located at Nomivi’s.’

  ‘No surprise. That’s where Mkhize hangs out.’

  ‘Looks like it. So, anyway, here’s the most recent information. The call on Thursday from Mkhize to phone one was picked up by phone one in Cato Manor. We can give you more or less the coordinates to the place where the call was taken, but nothing particularly exciting. In the middle of nowhere, really. No significant buildings around. The phone call on Sunday was picked up by phone one at Wilson’s Wharf.’

  Ryder was impressed. And enormously grateful, and said so.

  He didn’t share with Van Rensburg his thoughts on the Wilson’s Wharf connection. His mind was racing over possibilities related to that. As a consequence of which he had not registered any particular significance in the reference to Cato Manor.

  09.05.

  ‘Mavis, fancy another coffee?’

  ‘Thank you, Navi. Yes, please. That will be nice.’

  ‘Let’s go and have it outside. I need some more of that sun to go with it.’

  The two of them took their mugs outside and chatted while leaning up against a couple of the cars in the car park.

  ‘That was really interesting stuff you picked up about the hijacking on Thursday, Mavis. Very impressive.’

  ‘Thank you, Navi.’

  ‘I remember my first interest in detective work was sparked by some forensics stuff they showed me when I was an intern.’

  ‘I was wondering, Navi, why Nadine is not also a detective.’

  ‘What? Nadine? Oh, yes, I see what you mean. She’s amazing, isn’t she? Well, maybe she gets so much pleasure out of the forensics and the ballistics that she doesn’t need any more in her life than that. Maybe she’s heard about the reports and forms we all have to fill in.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure, Navi. Maybe.’

  ‘Tell, me, Mavis, how you would like to see your career going in the next couple of years.’

  Mavis was very happy with the question. She had thought through the answer frequently. She smiled as she took another sip of coffee.

  ‘Me and Sinethemba, Navi. We talked about that one. Many times...’

  09.10.

  As Ryder drove away from Van Rensburg and his team he was in no doubt that phone number one was none other than Thabethe. Who else would Mkhize be calling? But even more important than that, he thought, was the connection to Wilson’s Wharf. If he was correct about phone number one, what was Thabethe doing down there?

  Thabethe. Nyaope. The guy was never too far from his whoonga, by all accounts. And the week before last Ryder and his team had bust open an intended nyaope deal centred on Wilson’s Wharf. The Yacht Club. That big redheaded guy on steroids. The guy they called Red Rooster. Big Red. The guy with the yacht. Muscle-bound thug. He and Pillay had taken down a big operation there, put the guy in hospital, and from there he had been sent to prison. Or had he?

  The thought struck Ryder like a blow between the eyes. He cursed loudly to himself and pulled over, skidding to a halt with the drivers of the cars behind him smacking their horns in irritation. He flicked open the iPhone and placed a call to Cronje.

  ‘Piet? Jeremy.’

  ‘What’s up, Jeremy?’

  ‘Piet I want you to do something for me, please. Quick, if you can.’

  ‘Sure, Jeremy. Hit me.’

  ‘Remember that big bastard with red hair from two weeks back?’

  ‘The guy with the yacht. And the fractured skull, once he met you?’

  ‘The same, Piet. I want you to find out, please, what happened to him. Where is he? Is he out of hospital? Is he in custody? Quick as you can, please Piet.’

  ‘OK, Jeremy. I’ll call you back.’

  *

  Ryder cursed as Cronje gave him the news. He hung up, but not before asking the sergeant to get Pillay to call him as soon as possible, and then jammed his foot down onto the accelerator.

  Big Red’s lawyer had sprung him. Out on bail. The bastard was out and about. Why hadn’t Ryder been told? Surely the Westville cops would have tracked the matter and let him know?

  He didn’t have time to work through the scenario, let alone contact some Westville official to ask why, and then have them wheedle out of it on the grounds of under-staffing, resource deficiencies, you name it.

  His phone rang. Pillay.

  ‘Navi, we’ve got a problem.’

  ‘What is it, Jeremy?’

  ‘Remember Big Red?’

  ‘The guy with the yacht?’

  ‘An
d the endless supply of whoonga.’

  ‘Red Rooster. Don’t tell me. Did he die in hospital?’

  ‘If only. No, Navi. The bastard’s out of hospital. But not in jail. His lawyer got him out on bail.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Exactly. Navi, I’m on my way out to his place in Westville, to see whether I can see any activity there. Westville confiscated all the nyaope we bust him for, but I thought that if he had so much packaged together when we bust him at home, he must have access to more. I need you to go and check out Wilson’s Wharf. They confiscated his yacht after the bust, but none of us thought to check whether he had another boat down there. But be careful. Look but don’t intervene.’

  ‘I’m on my way, Jeremy.’

  ‘Call me if you get anything. Same for me if I find anything at his place.’

  Ryder stepped on the gas as he rang off and within minutes he arrived at the house in Westville where he and Navi had bust Big Red’s intended nyaope deal the week before last.

  He pulled the car up around the corner, at virtually the same place from where he and Pillay had staked the place out before they took down the big man and his accomplice. He had no paperwork in place, so he had to be careful. If he had managed to get the guy out on bail, Big Red’s lawyer might be the type to argue police harassment.

  Ryder prepared himself for a long wait.

  09.55.

  Pillay was on watch at Wilson’s Wharf. On a whim, she had quickly asked both Nyawula and Cronje if she could take Mavis with her. There was no intended action, she had explained. Simply a stake-out, and it might be good for Mavis. Both Nyawula and Cronje had thought it a good idea. Mavis had been ecstatic.

  The two of them now sat in Pillay’s car, unobtrusive, eyes scanning the area in front of the Royal Yacht Club as they talked.

  Pillay’s phone rang. Ryder.

  ‘Hi Jeremy. I’m sitting looking at the Yacht Club. Nothing doing so far. Mavis is with me, by the way. The Captain thought it would be a good idea.’

  ‘Sure is, Navi. Good for her, and if your arm is still giving you any trouble, Mavis will come in handy if Red Rooster tries to mess with you.’

  ‘I’d love him to try.’

  ‘I was thinking, Navi.’