had started it
off by remarking that by this time in the morning Trewhella would normally have
told half a dozen jokes, whereas the only joke so far today had been Dippenaar,
on his arrival, greeting them all in Afrikaans for a change.
‘I’ve noticed, ou boet , that it’s only me and Piet that talk Afrikaans in this
place now.’
‘ Ag,
kak, man ,’ Dippenaar responded.
Cronje reported that Mavis had called
in earlier to say that she would be late. She was still broken up by the death
of Sinethemba and had had a rough night with the Ngobeni family, who were still
inconsolable.
That led to further reminiscences
about the student constable, and a further downward spiral in the mood.
In response to a question from
Koekemoer, Pillay said that Ryder would be late this morning.
Cronje’s desk phone rang and he took
the call.
‘Hullo, Cronje. Sorry? Who? Oh, yes,
Captain. Sorry, Ma’am. Sorry. I mean Miss. Yes. Yes, he’s in. I’ll put you
through, Captain.’
He transferred the call to Captain
Nyawula.
‘Station Commander at Folweni,’ he
said to the others.
‘Do they also start early down there,
Piet? I thought it was just us.’
‘I dunno , Navi. I thought Nyawula was the only captain that started
early. He’s asked me before to try and get some of the different okes on the line, and both of us
eventually realised that it was usually no good
trying to get a Station Commander on the phone before 8.00 am. This one sounds
different. She was quite, how can I say, sharp, you know?’
Dippenaar yawned loudly and
stretched.
‘ Yissus,
ou broer,’ said Koekemoer, ‘what were you dopping last night?’
‘ Ag,
nee, man ,’ came the reply. ‘Only tea last night. I actually had an early
night for a change.’
‘ Actually ? Actually ? Yissus , Dipps, you becoming more like an Engelsman every day. I swear, hey, ever since old Ed joined us you
started talking more English and less Afrikaans. Like English English , you know? Not just Seffrikan English. Actually. I beg yours. May I have the next dance? Could I prevail upon
you ? Are you actually a closet soutpiel,
jong ?’
‘ Actually ? Ja , Koeks, actually I actually am.’
Nyawula entered from the inner
office.
‘Koeks. Dipps. You saw Sergeant
Dlamini yesterday?’
‘Yes, Captain,’ they replied
together.
‘How was he when you left him?’
‘ Ag ,
he was in a bad way, Captain,’ said Koekemoer. ‘We left him at about three
o’clock.’
‘Very bad, Captain. He was still
messed up about Constable Xana. Actually, we were quite worried about him when
we left him, hey Koeks?’
‘That was my opposite number from
Folweni Station on the phone, men. I need you both to go back down there as
soon as you can. Now, if possible.’
‘What’s happened, Captain?’ asked
Pillay.
‘The Captain didn’t have anything
more than a first responder report, but she’s been told that Sergeant Dlamini
shot himself last night. He’s dead.’
08.55.
Maishe, the policeman friend in
Durban North, was unable to help. Themba’s exasperation had grown to bursting
point. The more he insisted that Detective Jimmy Rider’s name must be on the
database, the more the constable asserted the contrary.
‘I’m telling you, Themba, I am
looking now at this computer. I am looking at all the names in KwaZulu-Natal.
All over. Everywhere. There is no Jimmy Rider, or James Rider or Jiminy Rider.
Or Jeremy Rider. There is fokall Rider.’
‘And I’m telling you, Maishe, wena , that his name is there. He is a
detective in Durban, I think Durban Central. You try Durban Harbour ?
You try Durban Point? What about maybe Isipingo? He is Jimmy Rider. Maybe
Jiminy Rider. Maybe James. I don’t know. But Rider. Detective Rider. Look
properly, wena !’
‘I’m telling you I’m looking. I’m
looking now. I got all the names. I’m looking at R and a . I’m looking at R and e and R and i and o and u . There is
nothing, I’m telling you.’
‘Listen, Maishe, the name
off by remarking that by this time in the morning Trewhella would normally have
told half a dozen jokes, whereas the only joke so far today had been Dippenaar,
on his arrival, greeting them all in Afrikaans for a change.
‘I’ve noticed, ou boet , that it’s only me and Piet that talk Afrikaans in this
place now.’
‘ Ag,
kak, man ,’ Dippenaar responded.
Cronje reported that Mavis had called
in earlier to say that she would be late. She was still broken up by the death
of Sinethemba and had had a rough night with the Ngobeni family, who were still
inconsolable.
That led to further reminiscences
about the student constable, and a further downward spiral in the mood.
In response to a question from
Koekemoer, Pillay said that Ryder would be late this morning.
Cronje’s desk phone rang and he took
the call.
‘Hullo, Cronje. Sorry? Who? Oh, yes,
Captain. Sorry, Ma’am. Sorry. I mean Miss. Yes. Yes, he’s in. I’ll put you
through, Captain.’
He transferred the call to Captain
Nyawula.
‘Station Commander at Folweni,’ he
said to the others.
‘Do they also start early down there,
Piet? I thought it was just us.’
‘I dunno , Navi. I thought Nyawula was the only captain that started
early. He’s asked me before to try and get some of the different okes on the line, and both of us
eventually realised that it was usually no good
trying to get a Station Commander on the phone before 8.00 am. This one sounds
different. She was quite, how can I say, sharp, you know?’
Dippenaar yawned loudly and
stretched.
‘ Yissus,
ou broer,’ said Koekemoer, ‘what were you dopping last night?’
‘ Ag,
nee, man ,’ came the reply. ‘Only tea last night. I actually had an early
night for a change.’
‘ Actually ? Actually ? Yissus , Dipps, you becoming more like an Engelsman every day. I swear, hey, ever since old Ed joined us you
started talking more English and less Afrikaans. Like English English , you know? Not just Seffrikan English. Actually. I beg yours. May I have the next dance? Could I prevail upon
you ? Are you actually a closet soutpiel,
jong ?’
‘ Actually ? Ja , Koeks, actually I actually am.’
Nyawula entered from the inner
office.
‘Koeks. Dipps. You saw Sergeant
Dlamini yesterday?’
‘Yes, Captain,’ they replied
together.
‘How was he when you left him?’
‘ Ag ,
he was in a bad way, Captain,’ said Koekemoer. ‘We left him at about three
o’clock.’
‘Very bad, Captain. He was still
messed up about Constable Xana. Actually, we were quite worried about him when
we left him, hey Koeks?’
‘That was my opposite number from
Folweni Station on the phone, men. I need you both to go back down there as
soon as you can. Now, if possible.’
‘What’s happened, Captain?’ asked
Pillay.
‘The Captain didn’t have anything
more than a first responder report, but she’s been told that Sergeant Dlamini
shot himself last night. He’s dead.’
08.55.
Maishe, the policeman friend in
Durban North, was unable to help. Themba’s exasperation had grown to bursting
point. The more he insisted that Detective Jimmy Rider’s name must be on the
database, the more the constable asserted the contrary.
‘I’m telling you, Themba, I am
looking now at this computer. I am looking at all the names in KwaZulu-Natal.
All over. Everywhere. There is no Jimmy Rider, or James Rider or Jiminy Rider.
Or Jeremy Rider. There is fokall Rider.’
‘And I’m telling you, Maishe, wena , that his name is there. He is a
detective in Durban, I think Durban Central. You try Durban Harbour ?
You try Durban Point? What about maybe Isipingo? He is Jimmy Rider. Maybe
Jiminy Rider. Maybe James. I don’t know. But Rider. Detective Rider. Look
properly, wena !’
‘I’m telling you I’m looking. I’m
looking now. I got all the names. I’m looking at R and a . I’m looking at R and e and R and i and o and u . There is
nothing, I’m telling you.’
‘Listen, Maishe, the name
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