Dead Before Dying: A Novel by Meyer Deon

Author:Meyer, Deon [Meyer, Deon]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FIC000000
Publisher: Hachette Book Group
Published: 2008-01-31T23:00:00+00:00

First of all he had the whole area cordoned off—the plot, the small wooden house, the sidewalk, and a part of the street.

He was astonished by the beauty of the surroundings. The street was a contour against the slopes of Karbonkelberg, the wooden frame houses in an uneven row a picture postcard of Cape beauty. It wasn’t a place for death.

He had placed the local station’s uniform personnel at the garden gate with instructions that for the present only the pathologist and the forensic unit were to be allowed access to the scene of the murder.

Fat Sergeant Tony O’Grady had waylaid Joubert and Gerrit Snyman in Murder and Robbery’s parking area. “Can I come with you, Cappy? This thing fascinates me. And Captain Vos says it’s okay.”

Now the three were looking at the corpse. They couldn’t get too close because blood lay in a wide pool around the body. But they could see that Alexander MacDonald had been a big, rugged man, with thin red hair, a red beard, and huge hands and feet. In his last moments he’d worn nothing except a pair of shorts. Even in death the bulk of his chest and upper arms was impressive.

They could also see that the murder of Alexander MacDonald was somewhat different from the previous ones.

The one shot was through his neck, and the blood had spouted onto the wall and the few pieces of furniture and eventually spilled over the floor.

The other was between his legs, more or less where his sexual organs had been.

Fat Sergeant Tony O’Grady’s mouth was full of his staple food. It was his escape and his downfall. It was also the reason for his nickname, Nougat. He trod carefully between the pool of blood’s tributaries and said: “This is new, Cappy. This is new.”

Joubert said nothing. He looked at the room, the way the body was lying.

“Doesn’t look like an accident, the shot between the balls.” O’Grady bit off another piece of nougat. “Wonder if he was shot there first? Must be fucking sore, hey, Cappy?”

“Looks as if he was shot at the door. First in the neck, I think. Look at the blood against the wall here. Carotid artery spouts like that. Then he fell. Then he gave him the second shot.”

“Right up the prick, poor bastard.”

A uniformed constable called carefully from the small front veranda. Joubert peered around the door. “Here are a lot of people from Murder and Robbery looking for you, Captain,” said the constable and pointed to the street. Joubert’s eyes followed the pointing finger. Eight unmarked police cars had suddenly filled the street. The detectives stood at the garden gate like a rugby team posing for a group photo. He walked to them.

Murder and Robbery’s only officer of color, Lieutenant Leon Petersen, was the group’s spokesman.

“The Colonel sent us, Captain. To help. He said the district commissioner had phoned the Brigadier and the Brigadier had phoned him. They’re suddenly wide awake about this”—he indicated the house—“thing. He said the

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