As Spokes stood back up, he deduced the order of things: someone had killed her; then disrobed her; then dissected her chest and abdomen; then hacked at her limbs; then neatly draped the dress she had been wearing over her body. Why make an attempt to cover the nakedness of the person you have so brutally killed? There had been anger, passion and … respect in her death. The respect was so very out of place. Could it be that two different people were involved in the killing – one responsible for the anger and the passion, and the other for the respect?

It was only when Spokes had asked himself what he felt was the most important question that he started taking pictures. This was always how he preferred to begin things – with a particular question in mind.

‘What do you think, Moloi?’ Sergeant Meredith asked as all three of them carefully carried the burlap sack and loaded it onto the back of the BSAP bakkie. ‘Appears to be jealous husband to me.’

Every time a woman was murdered, it appeared to be jealous husband to Sergeant Meredith. ‘I suppose it could be,’ Spokes said with a shrug.

‘What else could it be but jealous husband?’ Sergeant Meredith asked.

‘There is no ring on her finger,’ Spokes said.

‘Africans usually don’t have rings on their fingers.’

‘Ones dressed like she is usually do. Mission-educated. Middle-class.’

‘Dress could have been bought by her lover, given as a present, hence the jealous husband.’

Now that was something. If the dress was at the heart of it, that would explain the anger and the passion – but still, the respect remained. ‘Given as a present,’ was all Spokes said in response.

‘Where to next?’ Sergeant Meredith asked Spokes as they drove off.

‘The mission clinic, and then Chief Mkhize’s village,’ Spokes said.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Sergeant Meredith said.

Spokes found things greatly changed at Chief Mkhize’s village. Raftopoulos, the Greek travelling salesman and his caravan were still situated at the bus-stop, but next to them was a newly built two-roomed store, the Idlazonke General Goods and Bottle Store. Although modest in size, the building looked hulking next to the caravan.

As was his habit whenever he came across another European, Sergeant Meredith struck up a conversation with Raftopoulos, who did not seem to remember Spokes. From the little Spokes could overhear at the respectful distance he stood, it was clear that Raftopoulos was not happy with the location of the Idlazonke General Goods and Bottle Store, or with its proprietor, Silas Mthimkhulu. Silas Mthimkhulu – Raftopoulos mentioned this more than once – was a man who did not know his rightful place.

Having heard enough, Spokes decided to enter the store and see what it had to offer. As he made his way inside, he heard Raftopoulos say, ‘One white … the other black … too dark to make out much, but I made out that.’

‘Don’t be too long, Moloi,’ Sergeant Meredith said as Spokes entered the store. ‘Let’s not lose sight of what we came here for.’