rock in the road. It would not have made him fall down if he’d eaten and slept. The policeman was angry, thinking that he had fallen on purpose. “Get up!” he shouted. “Why do you do this?”
The chief of police had not yet arrived when they reached the station. The young policeman and Isaac sat down to wait. Isaac asked for water, but he did not dare to ask for anything else.
When the chief arrived, his secretary brought him a cup of milk tea, and various subordinates went in and out of his office. Finally, Isaac was taken to see him. The policeman who caught him began his story by saying that Isaac was with the ANC and had been found stealing at the house. By telling it this way, Isaac knew he was trying to make himself important, as though he’d caught a big fish, but anyone with any brains could see that he, Isaac, was nothing like a big fish.
The chief looked at him steadily. His eyes seemed large, a little bulging, and between his eyebrows was a deep line. He had short cropped hair and a long face. He didn’t give anything away with his face. It was not a bad person’s face, but it was closed. He waved the young policeman quiet when he tried to tell the story. “Take off that rope,” he said. “You may go now.”
The young policeman left the room. Isaac felt that he must be disappointed because he had been trying hard to make a good impression. He relaxed a little after the guard left, his wrists free, but when the chief began asking him questions, the same questions that the older guard had asked him back at the house, he became full of fear. He answered him honestly, and his heart beat in the back of his eyes until he could no longer see properly.
After he’d answered all the questions about the money, about why he was living in Naledi, the chief took a new tack. “If you were living in Naledi, why were you not there on the night of the shootings?”
Isaac told him that he was staying in the house in the Old Village while the madam was on a trip.
“Where was her husband?”
“He was not there.” He didn’t want to say they were living separately in case madam wished to keep that information private.
“You were staying in the servant’s quarters?”
“No, rra, I was sleeping in the main house.”
“Why is this, when you are an employee?”
This man was an expert rat catcher, good at sniffing things out. “The servants’ quarter is occupied.”
“Then why was the servant not watching the house instead of you?”
“She was away visiting her mother.”
“Then the servant’s quarters were empty so you could have stayed there.”
His hunger and tiredness pulled him down. He would be found guilty of something, it didn’t matter what. “The servant did not wish me to be there.”
“Because she did not trust you?”
“No, rra, she does not care for men.” The ghost of a smile crossed the chief’s lips. “Or, rather, she cares for men, but …” It was too complicated to explain.
“So you were staying in the main house. I see.” Isaac thought maybe it would be all right then, but the chief was waiting to strike.
He dropped his voice. “Your timing was perfect,” he said.
“I beg your pardon, rra?”
“Who is your mistress? Is she also with the ANC?”
“I am not with the ANC, rra.”
“Who are you working for?”
“Her name is Mrs. A. Mendelssohn.”
“She is South African?”
“No, rra, she is from the United States.”
“Her husband is South African?”
“I do not know, rra.”
“Does he visit South Africa regularly?”
“I do not know this, rra.”
“I thought you said you worked for them.”
“Ee, rra, but I do not know where he goes.”
“So he does go away on a regular basis.” Isaac could see that the chief thought he was getting somewhere. He also saw, with a blur of surprise, that he had only one eye. The other eye was made of glass and roamed around. Sometimes it looked where the good eye looked. Sometimes it went somewhere else. It made Isaac unsteady, as though he might need to vomit.
“He has been away for some time,” Isaac said.
The vertical line between his eyebrows deepened. “In South Africa?”
“I do not know this, rra.”
“Has he taken you on any of his trips?”
“No, rra.”
“Has he spoken with you about his work?”
“No, rra. I do not know him well.”
“But you know the missus well? You know her quite well?”
Isaac