Death Dealing (23 page)

‘What you thinking,
bra
Skhura?’ asked Mgwazeni.

‘I’m thinking about
that woman.’

‘The one who kicked
Wakashe?’

‘That one.’

‘That
bitch.
I am
going to get that bitch,’ said Wakashe.

‘I’m thinking
something else,’ said Thabethe.

‘What,
bra
? What you think?’ said Mgwazeni.

‘I think I’m remembering
something.’

‘What? What,
Skhura?’ said Wakashe.

‘I was looking at
the police newsletter one day, there in the
tronk
in Westville. You remember that day, Mgwazeni? That day we two, we were reading
that news piece that the one guy left on the bench there, at lunch? We were
swearing at that young fat cop woman who was in the news. She was talking about
her work. She got some prize there because she was doing some research for
amaphoyisa
. She was being the
goody-goody cop.’

‘Yes… yes, Skhura…
yes, I remember,’ said Mgwazeni. ‘You’re right. There was some interview with
that woman. They put it there in the news. That photo you showed me. Fat woman.
She was doing research in Kranskop or somewhere.’

‘Greytown.’

‘Is right, Skhura.
Greytown. Is right. That was the same one. I remember her face, now. That was
the same one last night.’

‘What are you two
talking?’ asked Wakashe, impatiently.

‘That woman,
Wakashe,’ said Thabethe, ‘that woman from last night is a cop. She was doing
work for
amaphoyisa
in Greytown and
they wrote some story about her. There was a photo of her in that newspaper.
She was fat. I remember. We were laughing,
me and Mgwazeni
.
He was saying he would like to stick his knife into all that flesh.’

Mgwazeni laughed as
he remembered.

‘That’s the one.
You’re right, Skhura. There was this photo, Wakashe. She was smiling at the
camera, and we were talking about her being the fat one…’

‘She was not
looking fat last night, Mgwazeni. She was different. She kicked Wakashe.
Remember how high? She can lift her leg, that one.’

Thabethe and
Mgwazeni laughed. Wakashe did not. He swore, and slapped his right hand down on
the ground, forgetting that it was bandaged with a partial cast and two fingers
in splints. That led to a scream of pain and further cursing, and more laughter
from his two friends. Then they commiserated with him, as they realised he had
hurt himself.

‘Sorry,
bra.
Sorry,
Wakashe,’ said Mgwazeni.

The two of them
waited for Wakashe to recover. Eventually the pain receded. Thabethe pulled out
another three joints, and soon they were drawing more of the foul mixture into
their lungs. They talked, long into the night. As they talked, their wet
clothes became clammy and uncomfortable. There were mosquitoes around, in
abundance. The three men cursed and slapped. Gradually they could feel the
oppressive humidity of Durban returning. The drenching rain had washed away the
dirt of the day, and had then passed on, out over the Indian Ocean, heading
toward Australia. Now there was not a cloud in the sky. All they could see
above the canopy of bushes were bright stars. Out at sea they could see the
lights of ships at anchor, and some others far out on the horizon.

The conversation
ranged over a number of different subjects, but they kept coming back to one.
They wanted to find out more about this woman cop, who just a few months ago
looked like a chubby schoolgirl, and last night had looked not only much
thinner
but
a whole lot fitter and stronger.

Thabethe thought he
knew how he could find some information on her.
That police
newsletter.
He knew it quite well. He had seen it a number of times
before. He also knew that many of its news items were drawn from the SAPS
Facebook site. Tomorrow, he told his companions, they would head for town. He
knew where they could find a connection to the
internet
.

He thought he could
find an electronic version of that news item, along with the photo of the woman
and her name. He knew that the moment he read her name somewhere it would come
back to him. She was definitely the one who had appeared in the newsletter.

10.30.

Nyawula and Ryder
were being congratulated by the team
. News had just come in that the Captain had been officially promoted
to the rank of Major and that Ryder had been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant.
It had been a long time in the making. There was consensus not only in the team
but
beyond, in the rest of Durban Central, that both
Ryder and Nyawula were performing at levels way above their current official positions,
and it was a scandal that they didn’t hold higher rank. The promotions had in
fact been initiated some time ago, but given a dispute between SAPS management and
the unions some matters of policy had had to be interrogated back and forth in
the Labour Court and the Labour Appeal Court. Then followed further haggling
and finally the way ahead had been cleared. The individual applications for
promotion had had to be shelved pending resolution.

‘I must say it’s been a long journey
from the days of the original SSSBC agreement back in 2011,’ Nyawula was
saying, in response to a comment from Piet Cronje.

‘What’s SSSBC?’ whispered Dippenaar
to Koekemoer.

‘
Dunno
, Dipps. You’re the
dictionary man. Why don’t you check it out? It’s probably something like
Some Silly Stupid Binding Contract
.’

‘It means
Safety and Security Sectoral Bargaining Council
, Dipps,’ said
Cronje, who had overhead the exchange. ‘They all came to an agreement back then
about the qualifications and experience expected for promotion to different
ranks and grades. So there’s a check-list of things they agreed must be in
place before someone can get promoted.’

‘See, Dipps? Exactly like I said,’
replied Koekemoer. Some Silly Stupid Binding Contract.’

‘
Fokoff
,
Koeks,’ responded Dippenaar. ‘So, Captain… I mean Major… do we have to salute
you from now on?’

‘No, Dipps, not at
all.
Only
when I’m with my wife.
Just to impress her, you know?’

‘It’s crazy that its taken so long,
Captain…’ Pillay began.

‘Major!’ interrupted Koekemoer.

‘…I mean Major. It’s been a couple
of years now, hasn’t it?’

‘That’s right, Navi. But the big
hold-up was with promotions to the ranks of Lieutenant and Major. As you know,
in your own case it was easier, although there was some arm-twisting behind the
scenes.’

‘
Ja
, Navi.
 
I
remember when you made Detective we were all wondering if you had threatened
the boss with some
kick-boxing
…’ added Koekemoer.

‘No, man, Koeks.
It was an arm-wrestling bet with Navi that the
boss lost,’ said Cronje.

Amidst the levity, Pillay noticed
that Ryder was sombre. He appeared lost, deep in thought. She thought he looked
as if he had Kwanele Khuzwayo in mind. She was correct in her surmise. Just as
she was about to speak, he intervened.

‘Don’t think I’m pulling rank,
anyone,’ said Ryder, ‘but I think we all need to get back on the job, so if
you’ll just salute me, or bow down to me if you prefer, I’ll get going. I need
a word with the Major.’

They started to move out amidst the
false genuflections and
wise-cracks
, and Mavis took
the opportunity to take Pillay aside.

‘Navi, I’m sorry, I hope you don’t
mind…’

‘No problem,
Mavis.
What is it?’

‘Can we talk… I don’t want to…’

‘Come on, Mavis,
let’s go outside.’

She took Mavis by
the arm and they moved outside. Pillay could see she was troubled. She had
noticed it from the moment Mavis arrived in the office, but they hadn’t had an
opportunity to engage with each other until now. They moved into the centre of
the car park, avoiding a few other groups who were taking a tea break outdoors
in an attempt to escape the oppressive heat indoors.
Load-shedding
had produced another electricity outage and no air conditioners or fans were
working.

‘OK,
Mavis.
What’s
happening?’

‘Navi, the most
amazing thing happened last night. It’s such a coincidence…’

The story Mavis had
decided to tell was that she had gone to a club with a friend and in an
extraordinary coincidence she had seen a man at a distance who had looked like
Thabethe. She had to be careful. If she told Pillay she had definitely seen
Thabethe, the obvious question would be about why she had not called it in
immediately. She also wanted to share with Pillay the news that Thabethe had
been with both Mgwazeni and Wakashe, but for the same reason she had to
suppress that information. The best she could hope for, she had decided in the
early hours of the morning, was that the mere glimpse of a man who
might
be Thabethe would be sufficient to
prompt Nyawula to put a surveillance team on duty at Mabaleng’s.

Within minutes
Pillay took her back inside to speak to Nyawula. Ryder was still with him. Having
rehearsed the speech on Pillay, Mavis felt a little more confident about
telling a white lie to Nyawula and Ryder, and she imparted the information
easily. Nyawula got on the case immediately and in liaison with his opposite
numbers in KwaMashu and Newlands East it was agreed that two men would be
posted at Mabaleng’s that night. A photo of Thabethe was emailed within
minutes.

‘Good work, Mavis.
Don’t worry if nothing comes of it. I accept what you say that it might not
have been Thabethe, but it’s worth getting someone out there tonight just in
case it’s become his favourite haunt.’

‘Thank
you, Captain.
I mean Major.’

Pillay could see
that Nyawula needed to get on to other things so she touched Mavis on the
shoulder and they took their leave, Ryder following them out.

‘Good work, Mavis,’
he said. ‘I can’t help thinking that the more people like Thabethe we can take
down, the safer it’ll be for people like the Khuzwayo family.’

‘Thank
you, Jeremy.
I hope they get him and his friends.’

‘We’ll see. We’ll
see. On a completely different subject, can I ask the two of you for some
advice?’

‘
Of course
,’ the two women chorused
together, sensing a complete change in mood from Ryder. A change that they both
instinctively felt they wanted to nurture and support, because he had seemed so
depressed in the office.

‘It’s Fiona’s
birthday on Sunday and I was speaking to a couple of people. As a result, I’ve
decided I want to get her a collection of things from a branch of The Body Shop,
somewhere. I only have this afternoon to do it, because I have a workshop that
will last most of tomorrow, and…’

‘I live right next
to The Musgrave Centre, and there’s a Body Shop there. I’m going to do some
shopping in Musgrave tomorrow morning, so I can get it for you.’

‘Oh. Well, Mavis.
No, I can’t expect you to…’

‘I’m going to be
there anyway. Really. It’s easy for me.’

‘Besides, Jeremy,’
interjected Pillay, ‘you’re not going to tell us you know better than Mavis
what kinds of Body Shop products Fiona would prefer?’

They both laughed
at Ryder’s uncharacteristic loss of words, and Mavis continued.

‘I’m also going out
to Westville to have lunch with a friend tomorrow, so I can buy a nice little
package for Fiona and drop it off for you at your house on my way to lunch. How
much do you want to spend?’

‘Oh. Well, Mavis.
Thank you. I don’t know, really. Whatever it costs…’

‘Well let me just
choose some things to put together for Fiona, and then I’ll let you know what
it cost, and you can pay me back next week. Shall I get a card, too?’

‘Uh…
no, thanks, Mavis.
I’ve already got a card. Bought it some weeks ago. When I saw it I thought
immediately… well, great. Thanks very much. Are you sure you can…?’

‘I’ll drop it off
around noon, if that’s OK. You said you’d be out. I’ll make sure it’s wrapped
nicely, and then I’ll also wrap it in another big bag so Fiona doesn’t know
what it is. When I drop it off shall I tell her that it’s some books and documents
or something for you?’

They worked out the
details of the subterfuge and eventually parted to go their separate ways.

Ryder
was relieved. He had thought he might get things wrong in selecting the
products. Fiona had a way of being inscrutable when declaring how much she
liked his birthday gifts to her. What did he know about these matters? He had
far more faith in Mavis Tshabalala’s judgement than in his own. There was a cop
who was growing in leaps and bounds, he mused to himself as he drove off in the
Camry.