Random Violence

by Jassy Mackenzie

  He indicated the back door.

  “Get in please.”

  “No handcuffs?” Whiteley yanked open the back door and heaved himself inside.

  David climbed in the driver’s seat. The younger officer got into the back with Whiteley.

  “We’ll risk the trip without handcuffs, sir. After all, we don’t want to offend your human rights unnecessarily.”

  David started the ignition and drove to the station.

  An hour later, he was on the phone to Jade.

  “We’ve got Whiteley in custody.”

  “What’s he saying?”

  “Not a bloody lot. He claims he’s an unemployed construc-tion worker.”

  “Right. Do you believe him?”

  David sighed. “At this stage, I wouldn’t believe him if he told me what time it was. He’s a liar. And he doesn’t respect the police either. He’s playing with us.”

  “What about the axe?”

  “Claims he had a break-in the night he bought it, and it was stolen. Also claims he reported the crime.”

  “And did he?”

  “I’m following it up. As fast as I can. His lawyer’s arrived, and he’s a complete asshole. He’s ordering us to release Whiteley. And he’s starting to ask difficult questions about how we traced him through the axe. He wants to take the matter higher. If Commissioner Williams finds out what we did, I’ll be in deep shit. I’m hoping Whiteley lied about the burglary. Then I’ll have some leverage.”

  Jade made a sympathetic noise. “Unemployed construc-tion workers can obviously afford the best legal advice in the business. Does he have an alibi for the time of the murder?”

  “He says he was at home alone.”

  “Fancy that. What’s in his home, anyway?”

  “Jadey, not a lot. Not a lot at all. My guys have just rung; they’ve finished searching. Won’t you drive over and take a look before they go? I want you to tell me what you think.”

  David slammed down the phone, then picked it up again and dialed the Townview station.

  After two phone calls to Townview had got him nowhere, David lost his temper. He was sick of hearing that the officer in charge was busy or on another call. He grabbed his car keys, marched out of the building and started his engine with a roar. If they wouldn’t talk to him on the phone, wait till he pitched up on their doorstep. They would talk then, all right.

  The Townview police station was dusty and dirty, with yel-lowing notices on the wall informing the public about things nobody bothered to read. He shook his head as he thought what Jade’s father would do if he saw the average police station today and how it compared to the ones he commanded.

  Commissioner de Jong would have exploded in a bout of furious energy, a trait that Jade had inherited and, because of that, always amused him. He would have scrubbed the place down, put in a request for new chairs, ripped the old posters off the walls. He would have repaired and patched and given the place a fresh coat of paint. Removed those dusty old blinds and brightened the place up. And knowing Jade’s father, if it still wasn’t bright enough, he would have knocked another couple of windows into the wall himself without bothering to ask permission first.

  David’s greeting was not returned by the large lady con-stable at the front desk. She looked up at him with dull eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like to see your station commander.”

  “In connection with?”

  “Private matter. And urgent,” he added, as she heaved herself to her feet and lumbered across the room. She was unfit and unkempt and her uniform was stretched to its limit in every direction.

  David was kept waiting another half hour, which did not improve his mood. He watched a long line of people form and edge forward with excruciating slowness. He listened to the list of crimes. Cell phone theft. Handbag theft. Car hijacking. House break-ins. The police station was evidently under-staffed, the officers demoralized. If de Jong were there, redec-orating wouldn’t have ended with the paint on the walls. He would have put in a few new faces and shoved fireworks up the backsides of the existing staff. Or maybe not. Maybe the system was crippled to the extent that even the most dynamic individuals couldn’t change it.

  The Townview Station Commander was a sorry spec-imen. Overweight, wheezing and with a deliberately slug-gish manner that had doubtless filtered down to the other officers. He looked about fifty, although he was so fat it was difficult to tell.

  “What case are you talking about? Couldn’t the constable at the front desk have helped you?”

  “I don’t have the time to spend an hour explaining it to her and then have her refer me to you. I’ve got a man in custody with a lawyer who’s got his stopwatch on, counting the minutes we’re detaining him without ‘adequate’ proof.”

  “You say it’s a burglary?”

  “It was reported to your station nearly a week ago, but you never followed it up.”

  The commander shrugged. “A burglary is a low priority case.”

  David felt his jaw clench. “A burglary is a crime. That’s what the South African police service is for. We fight crime.”

  A mound of case dockets lay on the desk, papers spilling everywhere. The chief pushed a couple to one side and then gave up the search. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he wouldn’t meet David’s accusing stare. David would have bet a million rand that in the bottom drawer of his desk there was a bottle of alcohol.

  “It obviously didn’t come through to me. It must still be waiting at the front desk.”

  “What the hell are you doing leaving dockets in your front office?”

  “It’s our policy here.” He raised a hand and fiddled with his nose.

  “You don’t really give a shit, do you? You’re just marking time till your retirement.”

  “I will not be spoken to like that.” The chief pushed his chair back and it toppled over, landing on the tiles with a crash.

  “Then do your job. Find me the bloody report.”

  “Get out.”

  “Not until I’ve got what I need.” David towered over the man, looking down in disgust at his greasy scalp. The com-mander looked up at him and then he shuffled through to the front desk and barked out an order. The lady constable with the ill-fitting uniform stopped pretending to help the long line of customers. She let out an impatient sigh and, dragging a chair behind her, plonked herself down next to a pile of dockets on the dirty floor.

  David stood and watched her. He was fuming, but he knew that the people stranded in the queue were probably even angrier. If he hadn’t been in such a bloody hurry to get back to his office, he would have dragged the fat officer’s sorry ass over to the counter and told him to deal with the public himself.

  It took the constable twenty minutes to sort through the folders. Eventually she unearthed a single sheet of paper. She handed it to her boss.

  “Here you are,” he said, passing it to David.

  It contained words written in an indecipherable scrawl. He squinted down at the uneven letters. A phone call had been made to Townview Police Station on the date that Whiteley had stated. The sergeant who had taken the call had recorded his name, ID number, address and landline number. A semi-literate sentence beneath stated that “tools for cutting the garden” had been stolen.

  “So. This report was made, but never followed up?” David asked.

  The two officers stared at him in silence.

  David made a copy of the report, strode out of the station, climbed into his vehicle and roared away.

  The Townview commander was a fool and his paralyzing incompetence had turned an already struggling station into an incapable one. It had also made David’s situation impos-sible. What with this inefficiency, his lawyer’s threats, and no legally obtained evidence to tie Whiteley to the crime scene, they wouldn’t be able to keep him in custody any longer.

  29

  Jade pulled up outside Whiteboy’s house. Before she walked in, she went over to the shed. The broken
door was hanging open. Streaks of silvery dust showed that the team had fin-gerprinted it already. She peered inside. It was empty. Next to it was a dog kennel. She squatted down and looked through the wooden entrance at the bare floor. It had been a long time since any dog had slept in there.

  Then she went into the house and had a look around. Some of the old houses in the less fashionable parts of Johan-nesburg had been beautifully finished. She’d seen homes in Kensington with intricately crafted pressed ceilings and smooth, golden-hued wooden floors. Their owners took pride in restoring them to their original glory, displaying the workmanship and attention to detail that the new rich in their Sandton mansions didn’t understand or appreciate.

  This house was not one of them. Instead, she found herself standing on a frayed gray carpet. The paint on the walls looked yellowish and old. The hallway was dark; the naked bulb suspended from the ceiling by a duo of electrical wires had blown.

  She stepped into the lounge, where the light was only brighter because the morning sun was shining through the window. The sun’s rays picked out the motes of dust whirling in the air. The wooden arms of the chair and the top of the television were dulled by grime.

  The bedroom and bathroom were basic. The double bed sagged in the middle. A duvet lay crumpled on top. In the cupboard were a few garments similar to the ones Whiteboy had been wearing when he was taken away. Faded jeans, T-shirts with stretched necklines and sweat stains under the arms. Jade saw a toothbrush and a razor on the bathroom windowsill.

  After she’d completed her tour of the house she phoned David.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think he lives somewhere else.”

  “I think so too.”

  “This place looks empty. It’s as if he’s moved in for a day or two. There’s no food in the kitchen. Just a tin of coffee.”

  “Canvass the neighbors. See if they know anything.”

  “Will do.”

  Jade left the lonely house. On her way out of the gate she looked at the garage where the officers were now busy. Inside was an ancient-looking truck with a splintered headlight. The grille looked uneven, as if the car was sneering at her. She wondered if it contained any useful evidence. She doubted it. Where was the black Mercedes that the shopkeeper had seen pulling up outside Grobbelaar’s office? That car would be a treasure trove of damning evidence.

  Jade didn’t have any luck with the neighbors. The lady next door to Whiteboy was stone deaf and short-sighted. The house opposite was locked up and empty. For sale, if the sign that had fallen flat on its face outside could be believed. She went back to her car feeling discouraged. Like her father used to say, “Sometimes you get a break in a case and sometimes you just don’t.”

  David was on the phone when she walked into his office. From the cagey way he started talking when he saw her, and the fact he wouldn’t look her in the eye, she deduced he must be speaking to his wife. She left and went to wait in the cor-ridor. Why did life have to be so damn complicated? She drew her fist back and punched the wall, imagining it was Naisha’s irritatingly pretty face.

  Williams rounded the corner. He looked alarmed to see Jade assaulting government property. She lowered her hand in a hurry, and said good morning. He returned the greeting but didn’t stop to chat. He bustled past towards his own office. She hoped her actions hadn’t further prejudiced him against David. Although she was sure she wasn’t the first person who had stood outside an investigator’s room and taken out their frustration on a wall.

  “Jade,” David called.

  She walked back into his office rubbing her knuckles.

  “How’s Piet?” she asked.

  David shook his head. “Not coping well.”

  “Is he safe, at least?”

  “Safe enough. He’s with two other guys as badly scared as he is. Neither of them looks violent. I’ve just bought them a pack of cigarettes.”

  “When’s he getting out?”

  “When we’ve cleared him. Although, if we can’t link him to the crime, we are obliged to release him on Tuesday.” He sighed. “Williams wants us to confirm that he didn’t arrange the murder of the gangster as well as the hit on his wife.”

  “Williams is seriously overestimating Piet’s abilities.”

  David rolled his eyes. “I know. But in the meantime, I’ve got us another lead.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ellie Myers’ father. Name of Bill Scott. He lives in Her-manus, in the Cape. I’ve booked flights for us tomorrow morning.” He smiled. “Pack your bags, Jadey. We’re going to the seaside.”

  The 8.30 a.m. flight took off in the chill of a Johannesburg winter morning.

  “Weather in Cape Town will probably be crap,” David pre-dicted with gloomy satisfaction. “Bound to be as cold as this, and pissing with rain.”

  He was wrong. The plane descended from a bright, cloud-less sky, and they walked across to the airport in mild sun-shine. A few minutes later, they were in a hired car heading out of town on the N2. Jade was at the wheel. She’d told David it was her turn to drive. He could navigate.

  “Ever been to Hermanus before?” she asked him.

  “Never.”

  “Me neither. When you mentioned the name, I had this image of a sleepy little town filled with retirement homes.”

  “Probably is.” David studied the map. “But it’s also a tourist attraction. Famous for the Southern Right whales, according to this brochure. They come into the bay to mate. Walker Bay, it’s called.” He squinted at the printed informa-tion. “Hey, check this out, Jadey. We’ve arrived bang at the start of their breeding season. It begins in June and carries on till October. We can sit on the cliffs and watch whales shagging.”

  Jade smiled. “With such a poetic description, how could I resist?”

  “I’m a born tour guide.” David cranked his seat back and gazed out of the window. “Welcome to the fairest Cape. Great weather, nice mountains. Are those vineyards I can see in the distance over there?”

  Ever since Jade had seen David with Naisha, she’d felt uneasy in his company. Awkward in a way she never had before. Whenever she thought about what she had said, she felt herself start to blush with embarrassment. She wished she could turn back the clock, so she could have known what the situation was before she’d behaved like a lovelorn idiot, not afterwards. Why hadn’t David told her, for heaven’s sake? Hey Jade, he could have said. About this spark that you’ve always felt between us—well, it’s not going to happen, because I’m married and still in love with my wife. There. Easy. She would have told him had the roles been reversed.

  Or would she, Jade wondered. She hadn’t actually told David much. He didn’t know about her dark past. What would he think if he knew he was sharing a car with a woman who had killed in cold blood?

  Jade shivered. He must never know.

  The drive to Hermanus took just over an hour. By the time they were driving into the middle of the tourist town, her tension had abated and she felt more relaxed in his company once again.

  “Marine Drive is on the seafront. Or rather, the cliff front. Turn right here.”

  The coastal road was lined with holiday cottages and B&Bs. Jade drove along slowly while David peered at the house names.

  “Villa Tranquilla. Who the hell thought that one up? Whale View Cottage. Whale Watchers’ Retreat. Southern Right Manor. You’d never think there were whales around here, would you? Keep going. We’re nearly there. See? Here we are. Number thirty-three. Looks like old Mr. Scott doesn’t have a name for his house.” David exhaled and folded the map. “That’s a welcome relief, isn’t it?”

  Jade climbed out of the car and stretched her arms. The air smelt and tasted salty. She walked over to the side of the road and looked down the short, steep slope at the waves breaking on the rocks below. Seagulls wheeled overhead. She could see a couple of ships far out on the horizon. Closer by, a couple were strolling along a path that overlooked the cliff-side view. They loo
ked content together, fingers entwined. As she watched them, the woman said something to the man and they both laughed. He leaned over and planted a kiss on her neck. Watching this display of casual affection, Jade felt a stab of unreasonable jealousy and looked away.

  “Beautiful location,” she said.

  David nodded, and straightened up from adjusting his shoelace. “Might put in a request for a transfer down here when I get fired from the unit. Become part of the local constabulary.”

  “Don’t know if there’s enough crime for you to have a job here. Look at all these houses. They don’t have electric fencing. Some of them don’t even have walls. This is like Jo’burg was when I was a little kid.”

  “There’s always crime, Jade. Stay here for a month and you’ll hear the stories. Same as anywhere in the world. It always looks like paradise till you buy a house.”

  Mr. Scott’s property was large and white-walled, with a low iron gate. There was no bell or intercom visible. No security system at all that she could see.

  “Guess we just walk up and knock. What an unusual expe-rience.” The gate opened smoothly. She walked up the path and knocked on the white-painted front door, David close behind her.

  After a long pause she heard deliberate footsteps. The door swung open.

  An elderly man stood under the high arch of the doorway. His gray hair was neatly combed over a bald patch on the top of his head and bushy white eyebrows veiled his piercing blue eyes. In spite of his age, his bearing was authoritative. He glowered at the two strangers on his doorstep as if they were collecting for a charity he didn’t approve of.

  “Can I help you?” His voice was surprisingly deep. It rasped in his throat.

  “Mr. Bill Scott? My name is Jade. This is Superintendent Patel of the Johannesburg Police Service. We’ve come down here to try and obtain some information regarding a case.”