Thirteen Hours

Whatever had she seen in him, that Bella? There had been a moment last night when he wondered if she was sleeping with him because she felt sorry for him, but he had been too aroused, too bloody grateful for her soft voice and big breasts and her mouth, jissis, that mouth, he had a thing about mouths, that's where the trouble had started. No. It had begun with Lize Beekman, but like A

Jissis.

Be

It wasn't a bergie. Griessel's heart skipped a beat as he climbed over the spiked railings of the church wall and saw the girl lying there. The ru

He walked down the narrow tarmac path, past tall palms and pine trees and a yellow notice board: STRICTLY AUTHORISED. CARS ONLY. AT OWNER'S OWN RISK, to the spot just left of the pretty grey church where, on the same tar, she lay stretched out.

He looked up at the perfect morning. Bright, with hardly any wind, just a faint breeze bearing fresh sea scents up the mountain. It was not a time to die.

Vusi stood beside her with Thick and Thin from Forensics, a police photographer and three men in SAPS uniform. Behind Griessel's back on the Long Street pavement there were more uniforms, at least four in the white shirts and black epaulettes of the Metro Police, all very self-important. Together with a group of bystanders they leaned their arms on the railings and stared at the motionless figure.

'Morning, Be

An hour later he was in the Commissioner's large conference room, along with six of the best 'new' people looking singularly unimpressed, all seated in a row on grey government-issue chairs. This time John Africa toned down his message: 'Be

Captain Be

Badly.

'Morning, Vusi,' he said.

'Hey, Be

'Like that aunty in Lord of the Rings,' said Arnold, the short, fat one. Collectively they were known in Cape police circles as Thick and Thin, usually in the tired crack 'Forensics will stand by you through Thick and Thin.'

' The Matrix, you ape,' said Jimmy.

'Whatever,' said Arnold.

'Morning,' said Griessel. He turned to the uniforms under the tree and took a deep breath, ready to tell them, 'This is a crime scene, get your butts to the other side of the wall,' and then he remembered that this was Vusi's case, he should shut up and mentor. He gave the uniforms a dirty look, with zero effect, and hunkered down to look at the body.

The girl lay on her belly with her head turned away from the , street. Her blonde hair was very short. Across her back were two short horizontal cuts, matching left and right on her shoulder blades. But these were not the cause of death. That was the huge gash across her throat, deep enough to expose the oesophagus. Her face, chest and shoulders lay in the wide pool of blood. The smell of death was already there, as bitter as copper.

'Jissis,' said Griessel, all his fear and revulsion welling up in him and he had to breathe, slow and easy, as Doc Barkhuizen had taught him. He had to distance himself, he must not internalise this.

He shut his eyes for a second. Then he looked up at the trees. He was searching for objectivity, but this was a dreadful way to die. And his mind wanted to spool through the event as it had happened, the knife flashing and slicing, sliding deep through her tissues.

He got up quickly, pretending to look around. Thick and Thin were bickering over something, as usual. He tried to listen.

Lord, she looked so young. Eighteen, nineteen?

What kind of madness did it take to cut the throat of a child like this? What kind of perversion?

He forced the images out of his mind, thought of the facts, the implications. She was white. That spelled trouble. That meant media attention and the whole cycle of crime-getting-out-of- control criticism starting all over again. It meant huge pressure and long hours, too many people with a finger in the pie and everyone trying to cover their ass and he didn't have the heart for all that any more.

'Trouble,' he said quietly to Vusi.

'I know.'

'It would be better if the uniforms stayed behind the wall.'

Ndabeni nodded and went over to the uniformed policemen. He asked them to go out another way, around the back of the church. They were reluctant, wanting to be part of the action. But they went.

Vusi came to stand beside him, notebook and pen in hand. 'All the gates are locked. There's a gate for cars over there near the church office, and the main gate in front of the building here. She must have jumped over the railings - it's the only way in here.' Vusi spoke too fast. He pointed at a coloured man standing on the pavement on the other side of the wall. 'That ou there ... James Dylan Fredericks, he found her. He's the day manager of Kauai Health Foods in Kloof Street. He says he comes in on the Golden Arrow bus from Mitchell's Plain and then he walks from the terminal. He went past here and something caught his eye. So he climbed over the wall, but when he saw the blood he went back and phoned the Caledon Square station because that's the number he has on speed dial for the shop.'