Liedjie slipped back to the municipal building and when the guard stood she said, “My mother left her paper,” and he sat again. She bolted up the stairs two at a time and checked the passage was empty. Most of the doors were closed but she worked down the row, trying each one and peering in. There were a few men working, their eyes filling with panic when the door opened. They all knew about the mayor, she thought, smiling.
“Sorry for disturbing,” she said, closing the door before they could say anything, and moving on to the next. He was not here. But with his father’s death maybe he wouldn’t be at work.
“Are you looking for someone?”
The voice made her jump and she spun around. He was suspicious and she played it straight. “Sorry, Inspector. Is Robert here?”
“There is no Robert,” he said.
“The new computer man, from Cape Town. I think he was Mr Louis’ son.”
“Did you actually meet this person?” Inspector Windvogel said.
“Yes, he came to Bless Me Jesus, but then I didn’t know he was Mr Louis’ family. If I had, I wouldn’t have gone with him.” She felt tearful and embarrassed. “I want to end it, you know, tell him it’s over.” She paused, then said, “Don’t tell my mother.”
“Ah,” he said. “But this man, this Robert, doesn’t work here.”
When Liedjie looked unsure, he said, “Come, sit down and tell me about him.”
Robert saw her come out with her mother and Katjie. He was about to follow them, when she left the older women and went back to the municipality. She was taking a long time, but he stayed where he was and waited.
That night, when they burned the car, he should have come straight back to the offices and dealt with things here while their attention was in the lokasie. His father had given him keys for the municipal building and he knew how to disable the alarm. Years of work had been wasted in those lost files. Plus he could have wiped the hard drive.
Robert watched the building, squinting against the Karoo sun. She still hadn’t come out. There was nothing to worry about, but he hadn’t got to where he was without thinking ahead, foreseeing problems and dealing with them. He was quite sure they didn’t know about him and, with his father dead, there was no one else to blame. There was the mayor, stupid and greedy, but he did not know much. His father had never told him who his inside agent was.
When she came out and crossed the road in front of the museum, he got out of his car and followed her. In a clothes shop on the main street, he slipped in behind her and, as she flicked through a rack of skirts, he put a hand on her shoulder.
“Where’s my car key?” he said.
She froze under his hand, but her voice when she spoke was even. “Robert, I thought you had gone.”
He squeezed her shoulder and chuckled softly when he saw her fear, but she sucked in her breath and met his gaze. He squeezed her shoulder again, harder this time.
“Yes, I found your Mercedes key. It was where my mother keeps things safe from skelms. You just didn’t know where to look.”
“Give it to me.”
“You killed my father.”
His hand dropped and she knew she was right.
“I have given your key to Inspector Windvogel. I gave it to him when I told him about you.”
A shop assistant approached and Robert turned. The girl stepped back, afraid of what she saw in his eyes.
“You will come with me to Cape Town,” he said. It was a demand.
“This thing is over. I don’t want to see you again. The policeman knows your name, Robert.” She said it quietly, and he stepped back, his hand raised to hit her.
“We don’t want trouble in here. I am going to call the cops,” the shop assistant said loudly, picking up the phone. Other shoppers stopped their browsing and watched.
Robert stared at Liedjie and then, without a word, he left the shop and dissolved into the afternoon crowd. The shop assistant brought water, which Liedjie drank in one gulp.
“Meisie, that outjie is no good,” she said. “Los vir hom.” Then she stuck her head out of the shop door and looked up and down the street. “He is gone,” she said.
Liedjie stayed in the shop until closing time and then she and the shop assistant walked to the taxi rank. Today it felt too far to walk home.