#Youdunnit: Three Short Stories by French Nicci & Gunn Alastair & Weaver Tim

Author:French, Nicci & Gunn, Alastair & Weaver, Tim [French, Nicci & Gunn, Alastair & Weaver, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781405916530
Amazon: B00G6MR6TE
Goodreads: 18808746
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2013-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

#Thursday_13_September_2007

They met in a café on Loop Street. Raker was an Englishman in his early thirties, tall and broad, dark haired and handsome, despite a week’s beard growth. He already had a pen and pad adjacent to one another on the table in front of him. The pen had the name of his newspaper written on it. As Zill approached, Raker got up and the two of them shook hands. There was a brief moment of discomfort – a silence as they both sized each other up – and then the waitress wandered over and took their order. Zill ordered a cheeseburger and a bottle of Castle; Raker a black coffee and a chicken salad.

‘I was sorry to hear about your wife,’ Raker said.

Zill eyed him and then nodded, shrugging off the jacket he’d been wearing. ‘You don’t sound like a local.’

‘I’m just passing through.’

‘Doing what?’

‘I was here for the elections in 1994. I came back in 2000 to write a story on the country, to see what had changed. They’ve asked me to do the same this year.’

‘And after that?’

‘I’m flying out to Los Angeles next week to cover the elections.’

Zill looked at the cars passing on Loop Street, sun glinting off their windows. A line of palm trees bisected the road, fronds gently snapping and twisting in the breeze.

‘Where’s your colleague?’ Raker asked.

Zill pointed further up the street, to where Lucinda was waiting in the passenger seat of his Audi. ‘You said you wanted to meet me alone.’

‘I’ll tell you what I know,’ Raker said, ‘then you can decide yourself whether you want to share it with her. I don’t know what kind of arrangement you have with her.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Raker held up a hand. ‘Nothing. Calm down.’

‘What do you want, Raker?’

‘It’s about your wife.’

Zill felt himself stiffen. ‘What about her?’

The waitress re-emerged with their drinks. Raker leaned back in his seat, pulling his pad towards him. ‘Is there anything else I can get you?’ she asked them.

Raker was the only one to reply: ‘That’s fine. Thank you.’

As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Zill edged forward in his seat, arms out in front of him, hands flat to the table. ‘What about my wife?’

‘Do you know a Patricia du Toit?’

Zill frowned. ‘She lives in the same housing complex as me. So?’

‘So she works for one of my newspaper’s affiliates here in Cape Town, as a PA. They rent space in our office. Anyway, I’ve got to know her a little bit and – a month or so back – she told me her husband was currently out of work. Do you know him too?’

Zill thought of the last time he’d seen the husband. The morning Susan was killed. Du Toit had been carrying a video camera, watching Zill try to get the Polo started.

‘Zill?’ Raker said. ‘Do you know him too?’

‘Not really.’

Raker flipped open the front page of his pad. It was full of notes. When Zill tried to decipher some of it, he realized it was all in shorthand.

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