Oh?
The ballistics guys in Pretoria are on the jump, Colonel. Because you evidently phoned them. I must thank you.
Its my job, Captain, to support my staff. Then his tone of voice changed. But what do I tell the Brigadier?
Im doing my best, Colonel, Joubert said softly.
But is that enough, Captain? de Wit asked and smiled.
He wants to nail you, Mat. And youre taking it lying down?
Voss hand was on Jouberts shoulder. They were walking down the passage on their way to their offices.
Joubert said nothing because he thought it hadn't gone too badly. At least hed made a contribution, had had something to say. Usually he simply sat there . . .
Hes got no right to jerk you around like that.
Yes, Gerry.
Vos stopped in front of his office door. Youll have to take him on, Mat. You know that?
Joubert nodded.
Im with you, partner. All the way.
He mumbled his thanks and walked to his office. The ocher-colored SAP3 case files were piled up on his desk. He sat down. On top of the pile the two files slotted into one Wallaces and Wilsons. He pushed the pile to one side and opened the two dossiers. Each dossier had three sections. Section A was for applicable evidence that could be used in court. Both files were pretty thin. Pictures taken by the pathologist. The forensic report, the ballistic findings, pictures of the scene.
Section B held his notes about the questioning and other corresponding matters. There were his summaries of conversations with Margaret Wallace, Walter Schutte, Zeelie . . .
In section C he had made notes of everything hed done in each investigation. His actions, those involved, the times when they occurred everything written down in his untidy scrawl.
He took a new, clean SAP3, took out his notebook, unfolded the report of the uniformed constable who was first on the scene, and started giving substance to the Ferdy Ferreira file.
His thoughts drifted back to de Wits question.
But is it enough, Captain?
Was it? Would someone else be able to slot in the pieces of the bloody puzzle to form a picture? Would someone who didn't have a gray veil between himself and the world have asked better questions? Shown a sharper insight into human actions? Found a suspect in the narrow range?
He looked at the dossiers. The work wasn't bad. Without the former enthusiasm. But that was improving. Better than those dark, dark days of the disciplinary trial and the detectives who had refused to work with him. Better than . . .
He wanted to think about it. Examine the reasons.
The telephone rang. He picked up the receiver. Captain, its time for the fame game again, said Cloete of public relations.
Oh?
The TV guys want an interview. And you know how important they are to us.
20.
The bank robber walked into Premier Banks Milnerton branch at 3:32 P.M. There was a bounce in his step. He looked like Elvis Presley today. His black hair was combed back with a curl in the floppy lock, he had sideburns, and heavy eyebrows above the dark glasses. He was dressed with a certain flamboyance in a pair of white trousers, white shoes, a white shirt, and a white jacket.
But his cravat and the weapon under his jacket were black.
Hello, he said to Rosa Wasserman, a fat nineteen-year-old brunette with nervous problems.
Good afternoon, sir, said Rosa, Can I help you?
Today the bank robber was doing his thing to the beat of rock and roll that only he could hear in the concert hall of his head. But there were observable signs, like the right foot tapping away, the voice that imitated the deceased Kings.
Indeed, sweetheart. Fetch us one of those large bank bags and fill it with fifty-rand notes. I've got a large old gun under my coat and I dont want to use it.
The edge of the white coat was lifted slightly. Rosa heard the word sweetheart, saw the black stock of the gun. She turned to stone, her mouth at half cock, accentuating her double chin.
Keep the foot off the alarm as well. Come on, sweetheart, lets boogie.
Rosas pulse rate had increased dramatically. So had the tempo of her breathing. The bank robber saw it.
What perfume do you use? It smells delicious.
This didn't work with Rosa Wasserman. He saw panic striking her the hands shook, the bosom heaved, the eyes grew wild, the nostrils distended, the double chin developed a life of its own.
Seems like I shouldve brought my Mauser, said Elvis, and with this one brief sentence changed his status permanently.
Rosa sometimes glanced at Die Burger in the morning before her father paged through it. She knew about the Mauser murders. Her fear of the man in front of her intensified. She put her hands over her ears as if she didn't want to hear the shot that would end her life.
She screamed with every ounce of power in her large body and pressed the alarm with determination.
When the lengthy scream stopped, the robber recovered. Sweetheart, youll pay for this, Elvis said and turned toward the door.
The alarm didn't ring in the bank itself, only on the computerized control panel of a security firm. Rosas yell had petrified everyone else in the bank. They stared at her, not at the man in white. The bank robber walked out the door. Rosa pointed to him and shrieked again. The other people in the bank followed her pointing finger, heads turning in surprise, but the robber had disappeared.
Joubert drove from Premier Bank in Milnerton to the sanatorium. He was annoyed. The newspaper reporters had asked endless questions. He knew they would go to town with this story. One look at the Argus poster was indication enough.
MAUSER
MURDERER
ON THE
RAMPAGE
Fortunately the attempted bank robbery was too late to hit todays newspapers. Television hadn't even heard about it. But tomorrow all hell would be let loose. Joubert had told the small group of reporters that it didn't necessarily indicate a connection between the bank robbery and the Mauser murders. The robber might have said it for effect. That wasn't what they wanted to hear.
But you cant exclude the possibility of a connection, Captain?
No.
They all scribbled in their notebooks.
Rosa Wasserman had changed from a pathetic bundle of fear into the woman of the hour. It was she who had blurted out the information to the reporters that the bank robber had spoken of his Mauser.
And he threatened me with death.
Benny Griessel wouldve loved it. This circus. Benny wouldve shared his usual ironic perspective on the media with him.
Joubert stopped in front of the redbrick building and walked in. At reception he told them he wanted to see Benny Griessel. The two nurses looked meaningfully at each other.