Gun Dealing (The Ryder Quartet Book 2) (15 page)

‘No way. I can’t think of a better
way to enjoy your gift. Who could possibly forget this particular bottle now?’

As they chattered on about things as
profoundly important as the merits of, or the scandal of ice in single malt
whisky, Ryder was occasionally up and down, speaking to the investigating
officers and the medics. He had been particularly pleased to be told by the
detective from Westville that he had pulled some strings on the phone to get
Nadine Salm, as one of the best forensics experts he knew in the province, to
come out in order to package and record the three weapons carefully, and to dig
up from the living room floor the bullet from the Desert Eagle. She had been
happy to do so, the detective told Ryder, even though it was near midnight and
even though there were no deaths.

‘The moment I told her that there
were two SIG Sauer 9mms involved, she said she would come immediately. Because
she was working on another case also involving SIG Sauers, she said, and what
was amazing was that she said she had just left her laboratory where she had
been doing tests with her assistant. Can you believe the woman? At this time of
night?’

‘Yeah. I’m not surprised. She’s well
known for that. Works around the clock. Gets amazing results.’

‘But she’s got a weird accent, hey,
Jeremy?’

‘Oh?’

‘
Ja
,
man. Weird. Not all the time. Just with some sounds, you know?’

Ryder could see that the detective
was about to demonstrate Nadine Salm’s distinctive and somewhat idiosyncratic
diphthongs.

‘Yes, I must admit I’ve noticed that
myself.’

‘
Ja
.
She said, about looking at other cases with SIGs, that she was
on a bit of a rool, you noo
?’

The detective chuckled and shook his
head.

‘
Blerrie
weird, don’t you think?’

‘Yup. It does sound a bit...’

‘I thought at first she was from
England, you know, but then I listened some more and thought no, man, maybe
she’s a Joburg
kugel
. But no, she’s
definitely not that….’

Ryder had no desire to chatter to the
detective about these matters, especially with his guests waiting, so he tried
to break off the conversation politely.

‘Anyway, I agree with you about her
talents. I’ve worked with her before and know her well. She certainly knows her
stuff...’

‘Oh,
ja
. Other thing. When I told her on the phone that the crime scene
was the home of Detective Jeremy Ryder she was really amazed, hey? She said
something about strange coincidences and stuff. Anyway she said she would come
right away so she should be here any minute.’

‘OK, that’s good, and look, I have to
head back to my guests...’

‘
Ja
,
sure, Jeremy. No problem.’

Ryder went back to the guests. It
wasn’t long before the house was crawling with different people doing different
tasks, while the dining room got progressively more animated.

According to the medics, all three of
the attackers would probably survive their wounds, horrendous as they were, but
all three of them were likely to spend a significant amount of time in
hospital. Particularly the man whose skull had encountered Fiona’s skillet. The
medics thought that of the three he was in the worst shape. By a long way.

Ryder insisted on more detailed work
than the investigating officers would normally have undertaken. Every angle was
covered, Ryder ensuring meticulous coverage of the whole scene. He questioned
the officers on their recording of detail, ensured that they paid closer
attention to aspects of the scene than they might otherwise have done, and
satisfied himself that the medics were clear about their responsibilities in
relation to the three patients. In the case of Nadine Salm, however, after
greeting her effusively upon arrival he left her and her assistant entirely
alone to do their own thing on the three weapons. No-one could advise Nadine,
he thought. She always knew exactly what she was doing.

Eventually police and medics and
patients and the rest all departed. As she took her leave, Nadine invited Ryder
to visit her lab the next day, if he could, and she was sure they would have
something for him on the KwaDukuza killings. He told her it would be his
priority to do so.
 

‘I also want to have a closer look at
this bullet I dug out of your lounge floor. Sorry about the hole and all, by
the way.’

‘No problem, Nadine. You do what you
have to do. Rather a hole in my floor than in one of my guests, right?’

‘Right. But I got to thinking as I
was
prising
this little feller up from your nice
Oregon pine flooring.’

She waved the evidence bag in front
of Ryder.

‘Oh yes?’

‘Well, nothing that I can tell you
just yet. But it made me think of a slug I dug out of someone else’s wall
earlier today. Can’t wait to have a closer look at it. Anyway, I’ll see you
tomorrow about the other stuff, Jeremy.’

‘Bye, Nadine. Good to see you.’

She was gone, along with her
assistant, and Ryder returned to his guests in the dining room.

 
When the bottle of Laphroaig was empty it became the signal for the
guests also to depart and for the three English visitors to go to bed, Jennifer
with a final tumbler of lesser-quality whisky to help her sleep after the
traumatic experience.

They departed amidst hugs and kisses
and laughter and tears.

Ryder and Fiona were left alone,
cleaning up in the kitchen.

‘I once told your mum that the reason
I married you was that you were a dab hand with a skillet.’

‘Hmmm. I am, aren’t I? Better be
careful from now on. No more coming up behind me in the kitchen.’

‘Well, I don’t know. I think I could
handle you better than that guy did.’

‘Think so? Want to try?’

‘Hmmm. Maybe.’

He took her in his arms and they
hugged, and became serious for a moment.

‘Things could have gone badly wrong,’
she said. ‘Makes me shudder to think of it.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘If you hadn’t...’

‘Shhh.’

‘OK.’

They parted and she looked at him.
Then kissed him.

‘Think Jennifer will be OK?’ he
asked.

‘Think so. Tough on her. Harry and
Katherine seemed OK. They’ll have some stories to tell in the UK, won’t they?
You think you should have stayed with Thames Valley Police? Much safer there.’

‘No way,’ Ryder said. ‘We would have
died of boredom. Much better to die with a skillet in your hand.’

She moved quickly and grabbed the
skillet, which was drying on the counter, and raised it above her head with two
hands. But he moved in too quickly for her and kissed her full on the mouth
with his arms enfolding her. Halfway through the kiss she brought the skillet
down ever so gently, lightly tapping his head with it. They parted.

‘Hate to get on the wrong side of
you,’ he said, exaggeratedly rubbing his head.

‘Then don’t. Bed time.’

And they started their well-known
routine, switching off the lights and priming the alarms. Then went to bed.

10.35.

Ryder, Pillay, Nyawula, Koekemoer and
Dippenaar were in the Captain’s office.

‘Any one of us would have been happy
to come out and help you sort out things, Jeremy. You should have called.’

‘I know that, Captain, but the action
was all over and it was near midnight and the Westville guys were handling it.
All of you guys have enough on your plates. For you to come out and help me
pick up the pieces would have been really good of you, but really wasn’t
necessary.’

‘
Ag,
jirra
, Jeremy, man. When Fiona called Piet this morning to say you were
checking in with the guys at Westville, he passed the phone over to me. She
told me all about it. I liked the bit with the frying pan, hey?’

‘Thanks, Dipps. Don’t mess with my
wife.’

‘I also heard about that bit, Jeremy.
I called Fiona the moment Piet told me. She seemed fine but she told me that your
guests were still a bit shaken this morning.’

‘I assume so, Captain. I left before
they were awake. Asked Fiona to say goodbye to them for me, ‘cos they’re flying
back to England. Taking a taxi to do some shopping at Gateway and then off to
the airport this afternoon and England tonight. They’ll have some stories to
tell over there.’

‘
Ja
,
Jeremy,’ said Koekemoer, ‘I hear that those English
ouens
think that crime is when someone steals your
flower-pot.’
 

That started a whole buzz of
conversation which Nyawula then brought to a close.

‘Anyway, Jeremy, I thought you’d like
to hear this.’

‘What’s that, Captain?’

‘I had a call from Nadine Salm a few
minutes ago. She was looking for you so Piet put her through to me.’

‘And?’

‘She’s been talking to her colleagues
in ballistics. They already have two pieces of information for us from the
action last night.’

‘Good grief. Does that woman ever
sleep?’ said Ryder. ‘What two pieces, Captain?’

‘The Desert Eagle on the one hand and
the two SIG Sauers on the other.’

All of the detectives knew Nyawula
well enough to know that he was about to announce a game-changer of some sort.

‘The two 9mms used in your robbery
were two of the three weapons used in Sunday’s shooting of the four
constables.’

Pandemonium. High fives and clenched
fists and back-slaps. Ryder punched the air as he
marvelled
at Nadine’s extraordinary commitment in turning all of that around so quickly.
Cronje came in from the interleading office to see what was happening.

‘Come in, Piet. I’ve just told them
about Nadine Salm’s report.’

‘
Yissus
,
Captain, I thought that someone had died in here.’

‘And what about the Desert Eagle,
Captain?’ asked Pillay.

‘According to Nadine Salm, the Desert
Eagle used last night at Jeremy’s home was the same one used in two different
homicides in Umlazi two years ago. Nadine says that ballistics have an open
file on those two homicides and were hoping this weapon would re-appear
sometime.’

Ryder was suddenly thinking again
about the sequence of events in his home. What was it that one of the robbers
had said last night? His mind raced as he tried to recall. The guy had said
something that had only partly registered in Ryder’s brain. He tried to recall
it.

It started coming slowly into focus
as he replayed the scene in his head. The guy who had reached out for Busisiwe
with the worst of intentions. What was it he had said?

Then
later we want to talk to the Detective,
Mr
Jeremy
Ryder, after we have some fun
.

Ryder paused as the recollection came
into focus.

‘What is it, Jeremy?
Jirra, okie
, you still with us?’

’I’ve just thought of something,
Dipps.’

‘What, Jeremy?’

‘I’ve just remembered a moment from
last night, Captain. One of the guys said, while they were holding us at
gunpoint, one of them said
we want to
talk to the Detective,
Mr
Jeremy Ryder.
Never
mind how they found out where I live - that probably wouldn’t be too difficult.
What intrigues me is that the reason for their visit wasn’t just robbery. The
reason for their visit was me.’

10.45.

Thabethe wasn’t taking any chances.
He had started calling the
Mx
favourite
on his cell-phone. The number for Macks. Then,
before it connected, he had shut off the call. Better not link the two phones
again, just in case. Find a public call-box. Safer. At least until he knew what
might have happened last night.

Had they put Ryder down? Had they got
the cop off his back? There was nothing on the radio about a cop-killing in
Westville. Maybe the cops were keeping it quiet for as long as they could.

After trying three obsolete public call-boxes
without success, he took his chances at a small grocer. He handed over the cash
first and then made the call. The grocer monitored the number, and only after
ensuring that it was a standard cell-phone call with no international prefix,
did he retreat a few paces to let Thabethe speak in private. When Thabethe
stared at him he retreated further.

There was no need. The call kicked
through to voice-mail. Macks either couldn’t or wouldn’t take the call.

Thabethe left the grocer and paused
on the pavement, undecided. Then he began to think back on the day he had seen
Mrs
Ryder at the station. Way back in the days when he was
still in the uniform of a police constable. When, after making her delivery,
she had said that she was going back home to Westville.

He strode over to the Ford.

Time to visit the Ryder home, he
thought.

11.05.

Ryder and Pillay were in her car, on
their way to see Nadine Salm. Following Ryder’s revelation, the detectives had
worked through various possibilities together. The main thread that had emerged
from the discussion in Nyawula’s office, and which was the theory they were now
working on, was that the three perps had somehow linked Ryder to the
investigation of the KwaDukuza homicides and that they had had the intention to
take him out of the picture without it looking like a straightforward hit on a
cop.

And while making it look like a
robbery gone wrong, to pick up some spoils in the process. A typical Westville
dinner-party. Likely to have some rich pickings. Why just take out a cop when
you can also pick up some fat wallets and purses?

 They had chosen the wrong
modus operandi
, thought Pillay. They
would have been better advised to resort to the sniper’s role. Hit and then
scarper. But they didn’t. Big mistake. Anyone thinking they could take Ryder
out face to face would need to shoot first and talk later. Give Jeremy half a
second, she thought, and he’ll gobble it up, say thank you, and break your
neck.

‘It makes sense, Jeremy. These guys
knew that the KwaDukuza case would remain a cop priority and that they would be
hunted down. They wanted you taken out before you got close to them.’

‘I think you’re right, Navi. The
thing to find out, then, is how they knew that I was leading on the KwaDukuza
homicides. A Durban detective on a KwaDukuza case. Outside the Cluster.
Unusual. Who’s been talking? Anyway, let’s see what the sharp Nadine and her
assistant have to say about the three weapons.’

12.35.

The 1974 Ford XLE was inconspicuously
parked twenty paces down from the driveway. There was a fair bit of activity at
the Ryder home.

A police car had pulled away from the
house just as Thabethe came down the road from the intersection. He had watched
in the rear-view mirror as the cops went up the hill. Then he had gone down
almost to the next intersection, turned around, and come back up the hill,
stopping well before the Ryders’ driveway.

He waited, and watched. Ten minutes
later a taxi arrived and moved up the driveway to park in front of the house.
He saw three people with three large suitcases and four or five smaller bags -
more luggage, surely, than was needed for only three people -
 
emerge from the house. They were helped
by another woman who then appeared. He
recognised
her
as Ryder’s wife. He had previously seen her only once, he thought. That time at
the station, when she had made the delivery for her husband. Maybe again some
other time, somewhere else, but he couldn’t remember.

The taxi driver assisted. Then there
were hugs and kisses and embraces and chatter and soon the three people with
the luggage were on their way.

Thabethe watched intently.
Mrs
Ryder stood and watched the departing taxi. She didn’t
look like a woman whose husband had just been murdered.

But suddenly the taxi stopped,
halfway down the driveway. It then reversed back up. There was a commotion
inside. Then the older woman clambered out and ran a few paces back to Ryder’s
wife. She was crying. She hugged the Ryder woman. Maybe it was true. Maybe
there had been a hit on Ryder. Maybe he was in hospital. Maybe he was dead.
This woman seemed unbelievably upset.

But as he watched the Ryder woman
comforting the older woman, he soon abandoned that theory. The tears turned to
laughter. More hugs. The younger man got out of the taxi and came back to fetch
back the older woman. He took her by the elbow. More tears and hugs.

These people, thought Thabethe. They
don’t know how to leave.

The taxi eventually took off again.
The Ryder woman watched them go down the driveway and then turn up the road.
Then she went back into the house.

Thabethe waited for another fifteen
minutes. Nothing. No-one came. No-one went. He started the Ford and moved
slowly up toward the intersection. He paused at the top of the hill, as if
undecided whether to go back.

He decided it was too risky. Best to
have a closer look under cover of darkness. Come back later and sit, and watch.

He drove off, slowly, in the
direction of the old main road.

12.45.

Ryder and Pillay drove down Joe Slovo
Street away from the session with Nadine Salm. They felt
energised
,
with enhanced admiration for the forensics expert. She had taken them
painstakingly through the interesting connections she had made.

Before the Ryder dinner party Nadine
had already ensured that her colleagues had
 
done exhaustive tests on the ballistics
evidence from the Sunday KwaDukuza homicides. By late Wednesday afternoon there
was no doubt in their minds that the four constables had all been shot with 9mm
rounds from three SIG Sauers. She herself had worked on the twenty-four bullets
that had been removed from the bodies of the four constables. A twenty-fifth slug
was found in the skull of the passing motorist who had flipped his vehicle. The
bullet had struck the sphenoid bone but was still
recognisable
as a match against the bullets taken from the other four bodies. In all,
therefore, twenty-five bullets from three SIG Sauers were recovered from the
five bodies.

Nadine told the two detectives that a
thorough search of the area on both Monday and Tuesday, along with her
assistant, had identified a further eleven slugs embedded in trees, in logs,
and - in one case, only because of an entirely fortuitous discovery - in the
earth. All of these were on the north-facing slope of the hill on the southern
side of the R74, in a range some ten or fifteen feet below where the two
witnesses had sat. In total, therefore, there was evidence to suggest that at
least thirty-six rounds had been fired. Given that the weapons had a capacity
of fifteen rounds each, there was a high probability that further rounds had
been fired, that the bullets had gone astray, and that they were buried
somewhere on the hill opposite the scene of the action. These bullets, if they
existed, were unlikely to be found.

In regard to the bullets retrieved
from the bodies, she painted a picture of deliberate and systematic massacre by
the three perps. This picture, in her opinion, would probably soon be matched
by the pathologist reports that would include details of the further violation
of Cst. Xana. And DNA, of course. Which would be tested not by her but by
others.

The part of the discussion with
Nadine that had most intrigued both Pillay and Ryder was her foray into the
information on SIG Sauers. It was clear that she had done considerable research
on the weapon, which she acknowledged to be without doubt her
favourite
pistol.

‘The Schweizerische Industrie
Gesellschaft company dates from the mid-nineteenth century. They started with a
focus on railway rolling stock, and joined with the Sauer gun-making company
after the second world war.’

‘Fascinating,’ said Pillay. ‘I
thought it was a fairly recent development on the small arms scene. A nineties
weapon at the earliest, I thought.’