Capture by Smith Roger

Author:Smith, Roger [Smith, Roger]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Tin Town
Published: 2012-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Vernon walks into Hout Bay cop shop like he owns the place, still high on what happened the night before—that black captain almost ready to kiss his ass he was so pleased at closing the case. Vernon gives the door to the captain’s office a half-knock and enters without waiting for a reply, expecting the darkie to be behind his desk, ready to treat him like he’s God’s gift.

The captain’s behind his nice wooden desk, okay, but there’s somebody else in the room: Dino Erasmus stands by the window. Erasmus turns and gives Vernon a smile that stretches his nostrils even wider.

“Vernon.”

“This is a surprise, Dino.”

“No, the Boogie thing was a surprise. This one I asked for.”

“Ja? Why?”

“Because it stinks worse than those cunts at that club of yours.”

Vernon keeps himself cool, gives the captain a glance. The black man looks troubled. He outranks Erasmus, but there’s no doubt who’s driving this session. Still, Vernon plays to the darkie. “Mind if I sit, Captain?”

The cop shakes his head. “No, no, Mr. Saul.”

Vernon sits, consciously relaxing, his body language talking chilled and in control. “Okay, Captain, so what’s up?”

“What’s up, Vernon,” Erasmus says, “is the shit you pulled last night in Llandudno is all too familiar, man. Dead body. Murder weapon. No witnesses. How many times you done it out on the Flats when you a cop? Plant tik and a weapon on some fucker who crossed you, say he drew on you?”

Vernon, not looking at Erasmus, says, “Captain, if the detective has any proof of these allegations I’d like to hear it.”

“Fuck proof,” Erasmus says, leaning on the desk, getting in Vernon’s face, snot hanging like tree bananas from the hairs in his gaping nostrils.

“Maybe you got away with that bullshit when you wasted tik dealers and gangsters. Who the fuck cared? But now we got a foreigner dead and you’re covering up for her murderer.”

Vernon tries to make eye contact with the darkie, who watches a meat fly banging up against the closed window. “Captain, you got my statement. If you got any questions, please put them to me.”

The captain skids his heavy-lidded eyes across to Vernon and shrugs. “This is in the hands of Special Investigations now.”

Vernon stands. “I got things to do.”

“Sit the fuck down, Saul,” Erasmus says.

Vernon looks at him. “Dino, you want me to stay, arrest me. Otherwise I’m out of here.” He heads for the door, tension making his left leg even heavier.

“I’m going to check forensics with a fine-tooth comb,” Erasmus says. “And I’m going to talk to your little friend, Nicholas Exley.”

Vernon closes the door—making an effort not to slam it—already scrolling his phone for Exley’s number as he walks through the charge office, past a blonde housewife moaning about a break-in and a drunken Xhosa wrapped in a tribal blanket passed out on a bench. By the time he’s outside in the sun he’s hearing Exley’s voicemail.

“Call me,” Vernon says, pocketing the phone.

He lights a smoke as he stares up

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