See if you can get hold of Snyman, Basie. Hell have them.
Louw walked to the telephone.
No, use the car phone. Im waiting for an urgent call.
Louw nodded and left. Joubert got up, idled toward the window. He looked at Nienabers newspaper and against the wall again, the smile, the neat hairstyle, the honest face.
What did you know, Oliver?
He studied all the certificates against the walclass="underline" ACADEMY OF HAIR DESIGN GOLDEN SCISSORS AWARD; CAPE COMMERCIAL COLLEGE BUSINESS SCHOOL THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT O. S. NIENABER COMPLETED THE COURSE IN SMALL BUSINESS MANAGEMENT; JUNIOR BUSINESSMAN OF THE YEAR. And the company registration certificate for Hair Today.
The telephone rang. Joubert reached it in two long strides.
That service was terminated, sir. This morning.
He put down the receiver and put his hand into his pocket, looking for a cigarette. He remembered that he no longer smoked. Was his timing right for stopping? He didn't have the time to worry about it now. He hurried out to the bedroom, where he found OGrady on his knees, in front of a nightstand.
Im going to Sea Point. Ill radio them to send a car for you from the office.
The elderly woman who opened the door for him spoke calmly about her daughters death. Next to her, in the sitting room of number 1314 Neptunes View, sat her gray husband, thin and quiet, staring at the floor. They were both dressed in black, good clothes.
The service was this morning, in the Sea Point church, but there werent many people. Five or six who left immediately after the service. At least her boss went to the crematorium with us. This is the way it is in the city. Our neighbors could come but theyve already gone home. We farm at Keimoes, Captain. Our son is in America, studying. He is on his way, but too late for the service.
Unfortunately Ill have to question you about her death, Mrs. Oberholzer.
I thought the police had finished the investigation, her husband said. They think it was an accident or something.
It mustve been the local station, sir. Im from Murder and Robbery.
She fell. Out of the window. Rina Oberholzer pointed at a room leading out of the sitting room.
Do you think they made a mistake? The other police? her husband asked.
How could he even start to explain? An underlined name in a telephone directory . . .
I dont know, Mr. Oberholzer. Im investigating another case. I . . . Her name . . . It might have nothing to do with it.
Theres so much evil in this world.
What kind of work did she do, Mrs. Oberholzer?
Secretarial, at Petrogas. For years now. Theres no work for young people in our town, Captain. They all go to the city to look for work. We were always worried. Its such a big place. But we thought it was better than Johannesburg.
Did you know her friends here?
Carrie was a social person, Captain. She had so many. Her letters were always full of names. There were so many. But where were they this morning? But thats the city. Full of fair-weather friends.
Oliver Nienaber?
They shook their heads.
Alexander MacDonald?
No. They didn't know. So many names.
Drew Wilson? Ferdy Ferreira? James Wallace?
They didn't react.
Who are these people, Captain? Carina Oberholzers father asked.
Theyre involved in another case. Did she have . . . a friend?
Husband and wife looked at each other.
Yes, a Portuguese. The mans voice was disapproving. A Catholic.
Do you know how to get hold of him?
At work, probably. He has a restaurant on the harbor.
A fish and chips shop.
Do you know his name?
Rina Oberholzer took her husbands hand. Da Costa, she said, as if the words were difficult to say. Julio da Costa.
34.
They had a conference in the parade room, Jouberts whole team, Griessel and some of his men, de Wit and the Brigadier.
Joubert read the bank robbers letter to his audience:
Dear Captain Joubert,
I wish to inform you that I am not the Mauser murderer. I also want to inform you that I wont execute a robbery at Premier, or any other bank, until youve caught the Mauser murderer. Im sorry about the farmer, Scholtz, who was shot but I actually had nothing to do with it.
Yours sincerely,
Don Chameleon (the Sweetheart Robber)
Joubert turned the paper round and showed it to the others. Typed, he said.
Typewriter. Not a computer printout. No prints, Griessel said.
Fuckin asshole, Vos said. He fancies his name.
Do you believe him? the Brigadier asked.
Griessel was firm. Yes, Brigadier. He and the Mauser make no sense. Too many differences.
I agree, the Brigadier nodded. What are you going to do now?
Im going to catch him, Brigadier, Griessel said.
I like your optimism.
I've got a feeling, Brigadier. Griessel took a pile of photographs out of his file and got up. If we look at these pictures theres one similarity. He pinned them to the notice board with thumbtacks.
Look carefully, he said. Look carefully, because I missed it at first. He stood back so that everyone could see. One thing doesnt change.
They all screwed up their eyes for a clearer vision.
They all look different to me, de Wit said pessimistically.
Brilliant, Colonel. Thats what I kept missing. They all look different. They dont look like the same person. Except when one looks very carefully. The nose. Look at the nose. Look carefully. It has a little twist at the end. You should be able to see it better from fairly far away because the photos arent good. The same guy but he looks completely different every time. And thats how Im going to get him.
Oh? de Wit said, prepared for the possibility of being embarrassed in front of the Brigadier should Griessel be spouting nonsense.
Hes a pro, Colonel. Not of robbery, but of disguise. He knows what hes doing with the wigs and the mustaches and the other stuff. Look at this one where hes an old man. Hell, he looks like an old man. Look at the wrinkles. Look at the clothes. Its as if hes playing a role in a flick. Everything is just right. Its too much to fool only the bank cameras. That guy is a pro. He enjoys it. He knows it.
Griessel turned back to his audience.
Its his job, his profession.
Ahhh, said the Brigadier.
De Wit rubbed his mole, pleased.