Read Online The Blood of an Englishman by James McClure - Free Book Online Page B

his desk. “While you were out this morning, I had another look at the statement you took from Bradshaw. The description it gives ofhis assailant is very woolly, Lieutenant, very subjective. All it says here is, ‘There was this massive bloke, built like a brick shit-house.’ Am I right in thinking you weren’t taking him too seriously at the time? I usually expect my officers to do better than that. I’m also grateful when the wording of a description can be used on a ‘wanted’ bulletin without causing grave offence to the general public.”
    Kramer shrugged. “Okay, so I didn’t go into it too deeply, sir, but as we both agreed—”
    “You didn’t go into it at all, Tromp! Let’s be honest about this. What we want is a little more precision. What we want is the best possible description of this suspect! Remember, he’s out there somewhere at this very minute, and—who knows?—he could be lining up his next victim!”
    “That would depend—” began Kramer.
    “Please, Tromp, no half-baked theories at this stage. If you find a pattern that links Bradshaw and Hookham together, well and good, but until such time, we must view this killer as some sort of maniac working at random. In my opinion, every living soul in Trekkersburg is at risk.”
    “You could equally say—”
    “And our only means of diminishing that risk is to provide ourselves with a clear picture of the enemy.
That
is your priority.”
    Kramer gave up trying to finish a sentence, and reached over for the telephone. “You want me to see Bradshaw again, sir?”
    “Who else? The housemaid’s the only other eye-witness so far, but she was too far away.”
    “Right, then I’ll try and get him before he goes back to the river.”
    “What river?” Colonel Muller raised a quizzical brow.
    Kramer paused in his dialing only long enough to tap the topmost newspaper cutting in the docket, which Colonel Muller then read while they waited for a reply.
    “After discharging himself from the hospital yesterday,” wrote the
Gazette
’s Crime Reporter, “Mr. Bradshaw said that he might take himself away for a few days to his fishing cottage. ‘It’s all been a bit of a shock to the system,’ he told me, ‘but it’s nothing that a day or two with a trout rod can’t cure! I just hope my arm will be up to it.’ It is believed that his son, Mr. Darren Bradshaw, will continue to run the family business until his father is properly recovered again. Mr. Bradshaw Jr. is a student at the Kritzinger Business Studies College in Johannesburg, and an Old Boy of Trekkersburg High.”
    True to form, the telephone in the fishing cottage rang and rang. “I must have missed him,” said Kramer, “or perhaps he’s taken some sandwiches out with him.”
    “Hey? No answer? I’m not sure I like that, Tromp!”
    “Ach, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, Colonel. If you knew the—”
    “But I mean, what the hell’s the
Gazette
publishing this sort of thing for? This is what I’m always saying about newspapers! Honestly, they are our number one cause of crime in this country! If our friend was determined to get him, then all he had to do was—”
    “It doesn’t give the whereabouts of the fishing cottage, Colonel,” Kramer pointed out.
    “Would that be so difficult to discover? Don’t be damned silly, man! God, if I’d only seen this before, I’d have—”
    Kramer killed the call and dialed another number.
    “Who are you ringing now?” asked Colonel Muller.
    “Bradshaw’s house. It’s possible that he’s come home already.”
    An engaged tone.
    “Why haven’t you been keeping a proper check on his movements, Lieutenant?”
    “Didn’t see the need, Colonel. In fact, not until—”
    “But this is ridiculous, man! No answer?”
    “They’re still talking.”
    “Are they?” Colonel Muller snatched up the other telephone. “What’s the number of the Bradshaw house?”
    Kramer told him, and listened to the brief exchange