“Only headlines and the first couple of paragraphs. Prins says Ringo was putty soft, so maybe his conscience pricked him.”
“In my book, conscience begins at home,” said the Colonel with a vague smile, fully aware he was being got at. “They were old friends, him and Vasari, and they’d always pleaded the same way together before. Huh! Here, let me have that fine little fellow.”
The kitten was passed over and its mother climbed into the Colonel’s lap. A huddle of manacled prisoners, being escorted across the yard by Security Branch plainclothesmen, looked at them curiously.
“Well, Colonel?”
The yard cat’s proud purring was like a row of dots.
“Well, Tromp, you just carry on, man. Let’s see where this theory of yours gets us. Personally, I find this case one big mess of assumption, presumption, names that link, names that don’t, and a bit of a nightmare into the bargain. But what else can one do? Blast away with your shotgun at anything that moves and you’re bound to hit something, I suppose.”
“Thanks, sir. It’s certainly reached that stage now.”
Colonel Muller yawned. “Only wish we’d managed one positive achievement today, that’s all.”
“Ach, we have,” replied Kramer, giving mother and son a last chuck under the chin. “I’d best go and give Ma Roberts a bell.”
12
But when Kramer heard that the parrot had taken ill, he hadn’t the stomach to add to Mrs. Roberts’s troubles. So instead he asked her whether she knew why her son had turned state evidence. It was the first thing that entered his head.
“So many people have asked that,” Mrs. Roberts replied in a voice twittering with revived indignation, “and it really isn’t at all fair. Especially as Tony made him do it, made him do what he’d never have done otherwise, the loyal little mite. If it hadn’t been for that kind Sergeant Prins, the Lord knows where he might have ended up! And to think that Tony could try a trick like that on his friend-that came as a terrible, terrible shock to us.”
Kramer winked at Zondi, who had just walked in with some photographs, and then tried to extract some sense from that bewildering outburst.
“Tony? You’re saying Tony Vasari-”
“Where they got the money from we’ll never know, of course.” Mrs. Roberts steamed straight on. “I mean, they lived only around the corner from here, in some flats not nearly as nice, and his father wore the greasiest overalls you’ve ever seen.”
“So where did it all come from? I certainly couldn’t tell you. Not from their pockets, you can be sure, because when it came to sending them back where they belonged, that was only possible through the generosity of others-or so I was told.”
Kramer gave a bemused grunt, and found it instantly mistaken for one of disapproval.
“Not that you must think for one moment there were any sour grapes on our part, Lieutenant Kramer-well, certainly not to begin with. In fact, when we heard Tony was getting Mr. Colgate, our feelings were quite the reverse. It wasn’t until Sergeant Prins-”
“Cecil Colgate?” Kramer interrupted to ask, realizing just how little notice he’d taken of the case at the time. “Do you mean Vasari was represented by the advocate himself? Or by the son who’s just started?”
“The Mr. Colgate.”
“Hell.”
“Now you see what I meant about the money! Of course, I was a proper dunce about these matters then, and thought that anything which helped Tony was bound to help Peterkins as well; I just wouldn’t have suspected for one moment what was really going on. Then, thank goodness, Sergeant Prins came of his own accord to explain it all. What an eye-opener that was!”
“Uh huh?”
“Surely you don’t need me-”
“Please, I’m interested.”
Zondi slipped him a note to say Jonkers had rung, and would be ringing again soon.
“Well,” said Mrs. Roberts, “when you have two people accused of something, Sergeant Prins said, and they both come up in court together, then it isn’t just the prosecutor who comes after them with his long knife. Oh, no; each person has to watch out for the other one’s lawyer, who’ll try to push the blame on him as quick as a flash, especially if they’re being paid lots to do it! And all my Peterkins had was the free lawyer, who wouldn’t be free if he was much good. Do you see?”
Kramer saw, all right. Prins had offered Ringo the immunity of turning state evidence as his only hope of escaping the rope. The irony being that Colgate would never have risked attacking Ringo if he’d stayed in the dock; he would have simply secured an acquittal for both accused by using his cross-examination to corroborate Vasari’s evidence. As tricks went, this one ranked dirtier than pricking holes in condoms, especially as it’d had the opposite effect.
“Hello-are you still there, Lieutenant?”
“Still here, ma’am.”
“Then you do understand, don’t you? Tony Vasari was only thinking of himself. Trust an Italian! Sergeant Prins said they were often very funny people, and not just because they’re Catholics. Very cowardly, I believe, and Mr. Kleint, who lives below and fought against them up north, says they aren’t clean either, not in their personal habits. Was Peter expected to stick his neck out for one of these? ‘Heavens,’ I said to Sergeant Prins, such a fair-minded man, ‘I must talk to my son immediately.’ And before I knew it, he’d got me special permission to go to the prison right then and there. Peterkins was horrified.”
“I bet,” said Kramer.
“Being the sweet boy he is, I still had to talk to him for rather a long time-and so did Sergeant Prins and some other kind men-before he’d stop his nonsense about telling tales on Tony. It made me feel a little awful, and I had to keep reminding myself of what those dreadful people were trying to do. What it came down to, of course, was that we simply hadn’t any choice in the matter.”
“Uh huh.”
“And then, as you know,” Mrs. Roberts said, sighing almost contentedly, “it all happened just as Sergeant Prins had told us it would, but my Peterkins was quite safe. Oh, you should have heard some of the things that Mr. Colgate accused him of! It was wicked. I had a good mind to write to his wife and tell her what I thought about her husband and how they’d made their money. All that swank and posh! The late Mr. Roberts may have been only a-”
“Are you sure,” Kramer cut in, circling an estimated R16,000 on his memo pad, “that Mr. Colgate wasn’t appearing pro deo? For nothing, in other words? He does do that sometimes.”
“No, he wasn’t,” she said firmly.
“And how would you-”
“Our own lawyer told me. In fact, he said he believed there was something very mysterious about the money-and I’ll leave you to decide what to make of that!”
Kramer changed the receiver over to his other ear, and took the cigarette Zondi was offering him.
“They couldn’t have sold some property, Mrs. Roberts?”
“What property? They were renting, the same as us. Mind you, they always found enough for all those trips up to Pretoria, but they didn’t think to save anything for later. Typical! The funeral was a disgrace.”
“Oh, ja? You went?”
“Hardly! Mrs. Kleint did-she’s ever so religious-and she swears she’s never seen anything cheaper or plainer. Isn’t that awful? You’d have thought they would care more about what they did with their own flesh and blood. I know my Peterkins won’t even dream of skimping on my arrangements, bless him, when the time comes!”
“You’re damn right, lady,” said Kramer, then found an excuse to ring off. “Jesus.…”