“Can I be of service?” Jarvis asked stuffily.
“Your daughter Caroline-I’d like that interview.”
“But if it’s about that Swanepoel lad, I’ve already-”
“It isn’t, Captain. I’ve handed that case over to a subordinate. I’m conducting further investigations into the death of Andrew Cutler.”
“Good Lord! I thought that whole wretched business was over.”
“So did we-until we caught this housebreaker who’s been doing the rounds up here in Greenside. He’s got some funny stories to tell.”
Jarvis patted his pockets and drew out a gnarled pipe. He poked the stem at Kramer.
“But how does this involve Caroline?”
“It involves everyone in this house, Captain,” Kramer answered solemnly. “But I’d like my first statement from her.”
With a surprisingly swift movement, Jarvis positioned himself across the foot of the stairs.
“You will not proceed beyond this point, Lieutenant, until you make yourself perfectly clear. This is worse than the confounded Gestapo!”
Kramer had heard that one before.
“Has it not occurred to you, Captain, that Cutler’s death was strangely sudden for someone his age-just falling in your swimming bath like that?”
“According to the police surgeon, your police surgeon, it could have happened if he had simply rolled in. A matter of chance.”
“But he could have been pushed.”
“By whom, sir?”
“By a housebreaker trying to make a getaway and finding the boy barring the path.”
The ramrod snapped, causing Jarvis to subside suddenly onto the bottom step.
“This is appalling, Lieutenant. It never once crossed my mind that
…”
“Ours neither. Until this suspect made us think twice. For a hard case, he seemed a bit too worried we had caught up with him-carried on as if there had been aggravating circumstances.”
“I’m sorry, old boy, not quite with you.”
“That’s when housebreaking can become a capital offense. We checked back and discovered two interesting things: the first was he had not burgled a house since the night of November the fifteenth-”
“The night Andy died?”
“Yes, although it tied up only after we’d checked out our crime sheet for that week. The other thing was a lipstick found among the recovered property; it is not a common brand, and we were able to trace the sale of a similar lipstick to this house.”
“That’s a damn funny thing to steal!”
Of course it was. Kramer, who had almost begun to believe the story, struck himself an invisible blow. But no harm done.
“You could say this wog is a damn funny bloke,” he went on. “A bit crazy, if you ask me. He agrees to anything you say.”
“Have you asked him if he did it?”
“Naturally.”
“And what does he say?”
“I told you, he agrees to anything-but the prosecution expects me at least to attempt to find some actual proof.”
“Will he hang either way?”
“Who knows? Personally, I think he’ll be locked away safe in the loony bin.”
Jarvis got his pipe alight.
“Then you might say this was nothing much more than a formality?”
“Off the record, yes.”
“No real need to bother Caroline, then?”
“I would have thought, sir,” Kramer said, “that you would realize that when the Colonel gives an order, you do your utmost to carry it out.”
That brought Jarvis back on parade. He straightened up and nodded curtly.
“Quite so. I’d forgotten you chappies were really a paramilitary outfit. And a damn good thing, too, if I may say so. I’ll tell Caroline you’re here, and then you can go up to her.”
Kramer clicked his heels together.
And spent the wait on a closer examination of the curious brass plates decorating the roof beam.
Pembrook had been so much better since lunchtime that he found himself given a clean bill of health just to get him out of the place. The decision was taken by the assistant district surgeon, who obviously thought his superior overcautious in ordering a day’s rest.
“There’s a good Rugby match at the Station Ground,” he advised. “Go and get some fresh air.”
“I will,” Pembrook answered, heading straight for the car pool and cadging a lift to 39 Woodland Avenue, which turned out to be the biggest house he had ever been inside.
Not that he was allowed further than the hall until the mistress had been summoned by a Bantu maid of infuriating superiority. The black bitch had given him the very distinct impression he should have presented himself at the back door, and he deeply resented that.
But she must have been new and not the usual carbon copy of her employer, because Sally Jarvis’s grandmother, Mrs. Trubshaw, was exceptionally hospitable-despite her natural concern that he should call. She ushered him into the drawing room and sent another maid for her granddaughter, adding an order for tea. “And now,” she said, taking up her embroidery, “ do tell me about yourself. It’s so unusual to come across one of us in your profession.”
She had to be joking.
The girl lying demure and dainty between the candy-striped sheets might have made it a lasting impression if Kramer had not noticed the hockey stick and shin guards under the window. She had to be tough, to play goalie. For the rest, she was-her head at any rate-a typical adaptation of the current debutante ideal now the State President had permitted such things: shoulder-length blond hair, plucked eyebrows, pert nose, and arrogant chin. The eyes were green and unabashed. The mouth ever so slightly sorry for itself.
“Hello, Caroline, I’m Lieutenant Kramer of the CID.”
“Hello.”
“How are you feeling-any better?”
“It only hurts a little, thank you.”
“Uhuh. Mind if I sit here? I’ve got just a couple of questions to ask you.”
“Daddy told me.”
She was nervous despite appearances-it showed in her voice. But curiously, not as much as he anticipated.
“What did your father tell you, then?”
“You know, about Andy. Something to do with a burglar.”
Kramer opened his notebook and wrote her name at the head of the page.
“The medical evidence suggests that Andy was drowned somewhere around eleven o’clock-where were you at this time?”
“I’ve already-”
“Please, miss. It’s best we start from scratch again. Just answer my questions.”
“I was here, asleep in my bed. I got in just before ten, had a shower and listened to pop on Springbok Radio. I must have dropped off before the advertisements because I don’t remember hearing them.”
“Say about ten-thirty, then?”
“Yes.”
The old, old story: much too glib, much too swiftly phrased, much too earnest. She was lying. Gold dust at the first turn of his shovel. And the ready means to assay it.
“But what if I told you there wasn’t any pop on Springbok that night? If you remember, it was the day of General Marais’s state funeral-all stations were playing solemn music.”
“Then it must have been Lourenco Marques. I didn’t really notice. Does it matter?”
He put a tick in the margin.
“ Ach, no! Us blokes just get in a habit of examining the facts. So you were asleep here. Did anything wake you? Did you hear any sounds?”
“Nothing at all until Jackson brought in my orange juice in the morning.”
“Dead to the world,” Kramer said, as he made a note.
“Pardon?”
“I said, Did you like him?”
“Who?”
“The American. Did you like him? Yes or no?”
“No,” she said spontaneously, and then looked appalled at herself.
“Don’t worry, your father’s already said he was a bit of
a you-know-what.”
“Hell’s bells!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Daddy’s a jolly sight cleverer than I thought. Me and my friends thought Andy was effeminate until we found out.”
Kramer played for time by demonstrating his nasty smoker’s cough.
“But surely he wasn’t as bad as that?” he croaked.
“He was, though! A proper sex maniac with hands like hairy spiders running all over you.”
“I don’t believe it, miss.”
Which made it his turn to lie; Caroline sounded entirely, perplexingly genuine about her allegation. He began to share the confusion of a snake in a tuba.
“It’s true!”
“Then prove it. Tell me some more.”
“Are you going to write this down, too?”
“No, and I won’t repeat it either if you like. But it’ll help to give me a picture.”
The way she regarded him was probably the same as when she summed up a school friend before parting with a piece of juicy gossip. Even Lisbet had not managed to make him feel as young.
“Well,” she said, “promise not to let my parents know, but one night I even found him waiting in my bed! Honestly, I’m not bluffing. And what was really awful was that I’d started to undress before I noticed him. I’d come in rather late and I didn’t want to put on the light in case Daddy saw it under the door and there was a row. He’s terribly strict about being in bed by ten-none of my friends have to be. It’s really unfair.”
“But what happened when you saw him?”
“You’d never guess. He pulled his trousers out from under the bedclothes and asked me to hang them over a chair!”
“Did you?” Kramer chuckled, showing willing.
“I’d jolly well think not! I clouted him as hard as I could with a hanger-that made him scoot. I had to throw his pants after him, he went out of the door so fast.”
They both laughed.
“But why didn’t you tell your parents, Caroline? He sounds like he was dangerous.”
“You don’t know them, obviously. There would have been a terrible scene. Worse than that, they’d have gone mad at what people would think if we got rid of Andy without an explanation. My father’s spent half his life thinking about the Regiment and the other half about the Family Name. He can’t see a difference. He said ‘Welcome to the mess’ on Andy’s first night here and this made him a guest. Oh, something very special. It would have been a disgrace to the Family Name if he had gone, because people would think the thing was really our fault.”
“So you didn’t feel too bad when he drowned?”
She gasped.
“What a horrible thing to say! Of course I was upset-although it still doesn’t seem real and I forget when I’m talking.”
“My apologies.”
“You see, he was much better when he knew where he stood with me and my friends. And, in some ways, you couldn’t really blame him. America’s so different to us. He got a letter one day from Puerto Rico and in it was a picture of his girl friend pregnant in a bikini! ”
“Hey?”
“Yes, his mother, no less, had taken her down there for an abortion.”
“What about the girl’s ma?”
“Andy said she was too fed up to bother. It had happened once before.”
“These Americans.”
“Oh, they’re not all like that. Tracey Williams, she’s staying with the Flints, is quite different. She doesn’t go in for free love and smoking dagga and all that; in fact, she said Andy wouldn’t have had anything to do with her set at home.”
“How was he chosen to come?”
“I think there was a bit of a mistake.”
“I’ll say.”
But this was getting a little too cozy for Kramer not to have his suspicions. He put down his notebook and went over to the window. Jarvis was out there on the lawn, remonstrating with a garden boy.
“You don’t seem to have had much luck with your guests,” he murmured casually.
“You mean?”
The voice was apprehensive again.
“Boetie Swanepoel. He seems to have made a real pest of himself.” Kramer swung round in time to see an expression of cold indifference on her face. “Your father also had a few words to say about him.”
“Oh?”
“Were you surprised to hear what happened up at the country club, Caroline?”
“I think it’s shocking.”
“Apart from that? You seem pretty perceptive for a teenager. How do you suppose he was lured there?”
This forced her into making a reply.
“Well, he was the sort of kid who’d never miss an opportunity. A chancer, like Mummy says. He only took any notice of poor Sally because of the swimming bath, that stuck out a mile. Of course, we couldn’t tell her. She was so defensive about him, especially because he-wasn’t English.”
“What did he do that particularly annoyed you?”
“I’ve told you, treat Sally like an admission ticket. And he was always prying about the place. I caught him here in my room once, going through my dressing table.”
“Haven’t I heard this story before?” Kramer said flatly. “Or did he keep his pants on?”
She blushed-but with anger.
“Well, really!” she said. “I think you’d better fetch Daddy.”
“A joke. You don’t have to laugh if you don’t want to. Did Boetie tell jokes?”
“No.”
“Then let’s have your father up. He said Boetie told you a dirty story the last time he was here. Is that true? Or is everything you’ve been telling me just lies?”
“He’ll kick you out when he hears!”
“Give me an answer or-”
“What?”
“He might be very interested in what was allowed to go on under his nose.”
Caroline literally cowered-Kramer had never seen it done before in such surroundings. It gave him a warm sense of the brotherhood of man. Fear was the second great leveler, and a lot more practical.
“It wasn’t a joke, just something-”
“Go on!”
“Something crude and horrid he said to me. It came out of the blue, too, and didn’t even make sense.”
“The exact words, please.”
“He-he said he’d seen me fighting with Andy. In the garden. At night. I was sitting on him-and I hadn’t had any clothes on.”
“Fighting?”
She nodded, keeping her moistening eyes averted.
“When did he say this was? Caroline, I want an answer!”
“Do you think I’d stand for any more than that?” she flared. “I went straight to Daddy-but I didn’t say exactly what happened because he’d have exploded. He took Boetie into his study and told him never to come back.”
“And why do you think Boetie said this to you?”
“Because he was a nasty, dirty-minded bit of scum, that’s why! I’m not at all surprised what happened to him.”
“Young lady,” said Kramer, “I’m sorry I’ve had to push you like this, but you’ve just given me an insight into Boetie Swanepoel that nobody else could have done. It’ll help me a lot with the case.”
Caroline could not help glancing round.
“But I thought you came to see me about Andy?” she said in a whisper. “Was it a trick?”
“Oh, no, a coincidence. The boy’s none of my business but I’ll pass on the information without naming names. Now I’ve taken up enough of your time when you’re not feeling well. I’ll say thanks and get going. There’s nothing else about Andy to add?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Fine. Now if you’ll just give me the address of this boyfriend of yours.”
She sat up, wincing at a pain but not caring.
“What’s Glen got to do with Andy?” she asked.
“Routine-corroboration of your statement.”
“Please don’t ask him! I’d rather tell you myself.�
�
Kramer sat down and stretched out his legs. He signaled for her to proceed.
“You see, I wasn’t being truthful about the night of Andy’s accident. I wasn’t here-I sneaked out again when Daddy thought I’d gone to my bedroom. Glen was waiting in his car in the road. There was this party for Tracey-Sally let me in the back door.”
“And that’s the truth?”
“Yes, I promise. Honestly.”
“Suppose I ask Sally?”
“You can, she’ll say the same thing. I woke her up by chucking stones up at her window at about three and-”
“I believe you, Caroline.” Kramer sighed and meant it. “Forget what I said about telling your father anything. Your secrets are safe with me.”
Poor bloody kid. He tried to reach the door before gratitude engulfed him.
“Just a moment, Lieutenant,” she called.
“Uhuh?”
“Weren’t you going to ask me about my lipstick? That’s what Daddy said.”
“Oh, that.”
“Mine did disappear that night because I wanted to wear it at the party. But it couldn’t have been the burglar because I missed it before supper.”
13
Everything was working out perfectly for Pembrook. No sooner had he dropped off the statement for Telex transmission to Trekkersburg than he was traveling there himself in a flashy new sports car.
Thanks to old Mrs. Trubshaw, of course, a real lady for all her frills and fancies; one whose claim to being a “born arranger if nothing else” was entirely justified. First she arranged his interview with Sally so tactfully the little pudding showed no reluctance to talk, then she arranged a seat for him at the supper table because she realized what ages these things took, and finally she arranged-having heard a graphic account of the flight-for her neighbors’ son to give him a lift back that very night.
This bloke, by the name of Pete Talbot, had agreed so readily to the idea that Pembrook experienced an attack of cringe, suspecting he was being offered a demonstration rather than a favor. And he was right: Pete, an engineering student at Durban University, had made the midweek trip up only to complete the running-in mileage and intended, on the way down, to really let rip. But Kramer was probably spitting buckshot and that had settled it.
“Fan-as-ic!” bawled Pete, having his t ’s torn away by the wind as they side-swept into another tight bend.
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