James McClure - The Caterpillar Cop

“Oh?”

“Were you surprised to hear what happened up at the country club, Caroline?”

“I think it’s shocking.”

“Apart from that? You seem pretty perceptive for a teenager. How do you suppose he was lured there?”

This forced her into making a reply.

“Well, he was the sort of kid who’d never miss an opportunity. A chancer, like Mummy says. He only took any notice of poor Sally because of the swimming bath, that stuck out a mile. Of course, we couldn’t tell her. She was so defensive about him, especially because he-wasn’t English.”

“What did he do that particularly annoyed you?”

“I’ve told you, treat Sally like an admission ticket. And he was always prying about the place. I caught him here in my room once, going through my dressing table.”

“Haven’t I heard this story before?” Kramer said flatly. “Or did he keep his pants on?”

She blushed-but with anger.

“Well, really!” she said. “I think you’d better fetch Daddy.”

“A joke. You don’t have to laugh if you don’t want to. Did Boetie tell jokes?”

“No.”

“Then let’s have your father up. He said Boetie told you a dirty story the last time he was here. Is that true? Or is everything you’ve been telling me just lies?”

“He’ll kick you out when he hears!”

“Give me an answer or-”

“What?”

“He might be very interested in what was allowed to go on under his nose.”

Caroline literally cowered-Kramer had never seen it done before in such surroundings. It gave him a warm sense of the brotherhood of man. Fear was the second great leveler, and a lot more practical.

“It wasn’t a joke, just something-”

“Go on!”

“Something crude and horrid he said to me. It came out of the blue, too, and didn’t even make sense.”

“The exact words, please.”

“He-he said he’d seen me fighting with Andy. In the garden. At night. I was sitting on him-and I hadn’t had any clothes on.”

“Fighting?”

She nodded, keeping her moistening eyes averted.

“When did he say this was? Caroline, I want an answer!”

“Do you think I’d stand for any more than that?” she flared. “I went straight to Daddy-but I didn’t say exactly what happened because he’d have exploded. He took Boetie into his study and told him never to come back.”

“And why do you think Boetie said this to you?”

“Because he was a nasty, dirty-minded bit of scum, that’s why! I’m not at all surprised what happened to him.”

“Young lady,” said Kramer, “I’m sorry I’ve had to push you like this, but you’ve just given me an insight into Boetie Swanepoel that nobody else could have done. It’ll help me a lot with the case.”

Caroline could not help glancing round.

“But I thought you came to see me about Andy?” she said in a whisper. “Was it a trick?”

“Oh, no, a coincidence. The boy’s none of my business but I’ll pass on the information without naming names. Now I’ve taken up enough of your time when you’re not feeling well. I’ll say thanks and get going. There’s nothing else about Andy to add?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fine. Now if you’ll just give me the address of this boyfriend of yours.”

She sat up, wincing at a pain but not caring.

“What’s Glen got to do with Andy?” she asked.

“Routine-corroboration of your statement.”

“Please don’t ask him! I’d rather tell you myself.”

Kramer sat down and stretched out his legs. He signaled for her to proceed.

“You see, I wasn’t being truthful about the night of Andy’s accident. I wasn’t here-I sneaked out again when Daddy thought I’d gone to my bedroom. Glen was waiting in his car in the road. There was this party for Tracey-Sally let me in the back door.”

“And that’s the truth?”

“Yes, I promise. Honestly.”

“Suppose I ask Sally?”

“You can, she’ll say the same thing. I woke her up by chucking stones up at her window at about three and-”

“I believe you, Caroline.” Kramer sighed and meant it. “Forget what I said about telling your father anything. Your secrets are safe with me.”

Poor bloody kid. He tried to reach the door before gratitude engulfed him.

“Just a moment, Lieutenant,” she called.

“Uhuh?”

“Weren’t you going to ask me about my lipstick? That’s what Daddy said.”

“Oh, that.”

“Mine did disappear that night because I wanted to wear it at the party. But it couldn’t have been the burglar because I missed it before supper.”

Everything was working out perfectly for Pembrook. No sooner had he dropped off the statement for Telex transmission to Trekkersburg than he was traveling there himself in a flashy new sports car.

Thanks to old Mrs. Trubshaw, of course, a real lady for all her frills and fancies; one whose claim to being a “born arranger if nothing else” was entirely justified. First she arranged his interview with Sally so tactfully the little pudding showed no reluctance to talk, then she arranged a seat for him at the supper table because she realized what ages these things took, and finally she arranged-having heard a graphic account of the flight-for her neighbors’ son to give him a lift back that very night.

This bloke, by the name of Pete Talbot, had agreed so readily to the idea that Pembrook experienced an attack of cringe, suspecting he was being offered a demonstration rather than a favor. And he was right: Pete, an engineering student at Durban University, had made the midweek trip up only to complete the running-in mileage and intended, on the way down, to really let rip. But Kramer was probably spitting buckshot and that had settled it.

“Fan-as-ic!” bawled Pete, having his t ’s torn away by the wind as they side-swept into another tight bend.

Pembrook yelled back: “Staring oo izzle!”

So the car slithered to a halt for Pete to display his expertise by getting the top up in one minute flat.

“Bloody quiet, isn’t it?” Pete said as he drove on.

“Yes, pity about the rain-I was enjoying that.”

“You were? Great! Fantastic!”

“Buy this yourself?”

“Parents did.”

Imagine that, enough moola lying around to pay Pembrook’s salary for two years-or his old man’s pension for six, come to think of it. Some people…

“I’ll have to get a radio,” Pete said. “Helps keep you awake on these straight stretches. What were you doing over at the Trubshaws’? Sally gone and done something naughty at last?”

“You know her, then?”

“Oh, sure. Had a pash for her big sister once.”

“And was she?”

“What?”

“Passionate, too?”

“Never got the chance to find out. That father of hers is a right bastard. Met her at Trubshaws’ one school holiday, you see, just before term. So when I got back to Durban, I whipped up to see her in the old jalopy. Man!”

“Shall I light you one?”

“Thanks. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I chickened out the second time he caught me bringing her back late. I was expecting a bit of a sesh, not the bloody Riot Act. Christ, and who does he think he is, the bastard?”

“Here you are.”

“Smoke Texan and-hey, it isn’t him, is it?”

“Who?”

“ Captain Jarvis-the one that’s in trouble with you chaps?”

“Hell, no! The family are just providing background to a case.”

“Pity.”

“Uhuh?” More than colds were catching.

“Well, he could come down a peg or two. He isn’t what he makes himself out to be, not by a long chalk. You should hear his ma-in-law, Granny Trubshaw, go on about him to my old lady. In the first place, that’s only a wartime commission he’s got. You can’t blame the regulars who finished up captain or major or colonel from hanging on to their rank, I mean it’s like calling yourself ‘doctor’ after years of hard graft. But our friend Jarvis was just a manager on a rubber plantation in Malaya until the Japs came. Whoever was in charge gave him some Malayan soldiers to boss around and that was how it happened.”