Part 27 (1/2)

Emmanuel was halfway back to The Protea Guesthouse when the singing began. It was a popular tune rendered almost unrecognizable by a high-pitched voice that broke on every fifth word and then started up again like a scratched record. He located the drunken songbird behind the coloured church.

”Hansie.” Emmanuel greeted the tottering figure. ”What are you doing out here?”

”Sarge, howzit?” The teenaged policeman held up two bottles of whiskey triumphantly. ”See? Louis said he wouldn't give it, but he did when he saw the uniform. My uniform.”

”Tiny gave you those bottles?” One of them was already half empty. Hansie was having the time of it.

”Won't give any to Louis. But he gives to me because of the uniform.”

”Where are you going with the bottles, Hansie?”

”Louis bet me I couldn't but I did.” Hansie thumped his chest. ”Because I am the law and people respect the law.”

”You going back to Louis's house?”

”The shed.” The boy squinted out across the dark veldt, then turned in an unsteady circle. ”Louis said take the kaffir path but I don't know...where...where's the way back?”

Emmanuel put his arm around Hansie's shoulder. He was interested in how the lion of G.o.d managed to talk his friend into shaking down a coloured merchant for liquor.

”I'll show you,” he said, and turned Hansie in the direction of the nonwhite houses in order to get more time to ”interrogate” him. ”Why didn't Louis get the bottles? He knows the kaffir path better than you, doesn't he?”

”See.” Hansie held the bottles up. ”I got them. Me.”

”Good job.” Emmanuel tried another tack. ”Does Louis normally get the bottles?”

”Ja. But he sent me this time.”

”Why?” It was hard to stop himself from smacking some sense into the idiot constable.

”He went, but Tiny said no, no, no dice.”

”Why?”

”Captain found out about the drinking. He sent Louis away to a farm in the Drakensbergs...long way away up in the mountains.” Hansie gave a full-bodied burp that echoed across the empty veldt. Up ahead, the light from the captain's work shed punctuated the darkness.

”That's the shed. Go in but don't tell anyone you saw me. Understand?”

”Ja.” The drunken Afrikaner lurched forward, eager to show his spoils.

Emmanuel spun Hansie around to face him and leveled the police boy a severe glance, the kind used by headmasters about to hand out a ”six of the best” caning.

”Forget you saw me. That's an order, Hepple.”

”Yes, sir, Detective Sergeant, sir.”

Emmanuel launched Hansie toward the light with a gentle push. The inebriated boy stumbled toward the open door with the bottles held aloft like the conquering hero. A chorus of cheers greeted his entrance. Louis wasn't the only one waiting for the whiskey river to start flowing.

At the open shed door, Emmanuel risked a quick look in. Hansie, Louis and two freckle-nosed teenagers sat on an oil-stained blanket and pa.s.sed the half-empty whiskey bottle among them. The second bottle of amber was placed in the middle of the circle with its top off in readiness.

”Hey, Hansie.” A boy with a train-tunnel-sized gap between his front teeth took a swig. ”Louis here says that Botha's daughter isn't the prettiest girl in the district. Says he's seen better.”

”Who?” Hansie was flabbergasted. ”Who could be better than her? No one.”

”I've got different tastes from you.” Louis pushed his messy blond hair from his forehead. ”Just remember that no matter how modest women are in their appearance, no matter how shy and clean, they are the reason Adam fell into sin.”

”That's exactly what I'm hoping for, man!” Hansie replied.

The policeman's answer set off a round of laughter that continued even as Emmanuel slipped away into the veldt. He didn't have to stay longer to know how the evening would unravel. There'd be talk of girls, imagined and real, then someone, most likely Hansie, would lie about having lost his virginity. There'd be more talk of girls and cars and the next big social dance. And during all this, Louis the sleeping lion of G.o.d, and Louis the juvenile delinquent, would jostle for supremacy.

15.

EMMANUEL CALLED IN at the Grace of G.o.d Hospital early the next morning and found Sister Bernadette and Sister Angelina supervising a breakfast of cold porridge without milk for the twenty or so orphans collected on the open veranda. He waited until they'd dished up the last bowl, then approached them. He had no idea how to ask for what he wanted. at the Grace of G.o.d Hospital early the next morning and found Sister Bernadette and Sister Angelina supervising a breakfast of cold porridge without milk for the twenty or so orphans collected on the open veranda. He waited until they'd dished up the last bowl, then approached them. He had no idea how to ask for what he wanted.

”Sisters...” He cleared his throat and started again. ”Sisters, I'd like you to witness a likeness of Captain Pretorius for me.”

”Of course,” Sister Bernadette said. The tiny white nun wiped her pale hands on her ap.r.o.n. ”Do you have a pen, Detective?”

”Yes, I do...it's just that...I...” He trailed off.

”Yes?” Sister Angelina prompted.

”I should warn you that it's a...a provocative image. One that might upset or shock you.”

”Oh...” Sister Bernadette's smile was strained. ”In that case we should get it over and done with as quickly as possible.”

G.o.d bless the pragmatic Catholic sisters, Emmanuel thought, and pulled the second of the two envelopes from the leather satchel. In fifteen minutes the photographs were due on an express bus to Jo'burg with Miss Byrd's cousin, Delores Bunton.

Sister Angelina motioned him over to the far end of the veranda to an old gurney covered by a sheet. They were out of sight and earshot of the children. Emmanuel hesitated, then pulled the image free.

”Look at the photo,” he said, ”then turn it over and write 'I swear that this is a true image of Captain Willem Pretorius.' Sign your names underneath and date it, please.”

He put the image faceup on the trolley and felt the heat of a blush in his cheeks.

”Oh, my,” Sister Bernadette gasped.

”Gracious.” Sister Angelina crossed herself and blinked hard.

”This is a surprise,” the little Irish nun muttered. ”I had no idea.”

”Yebo.” The black nun pursed her lips. ”Who knew the captain had such a big smile.”

”Yes.” Sister Bernadette pushed an imaginary strand of hair into her head covering. ”I don't recall seeing him this happy before.”