It is likely that Silas Mthimkhulu did not hear what Spokes had asked because he said, ‘Let us go outside, I think. It will be somewhat quieter there.’ He made his way out, and Spokes and the detectives followed him.

It was indeed quieter outside, but only barely so. A group of men was playing a heated and constantly challenged game of draughts while sharing scuds of opaque beer. Spokes realised that for most of these people, it was as if Christmas and New Year’s had come and never left. Their extended season of merrymaking was thanks to Silas Mthimkhulu, and their gratitude towards him showed in the appreciative nods they kept sending his way.

As though reading Spokes’s thoughts, Silas Mthimkhulu said, ‘Unabashedly currying favour, I’m afraid. I find, at this rather late stage in my life, that I am something of a political animal.’ As he spoke, there was an unapologetic look on his face.

All the garden chairs in the backyard were occupied by the men playing the game of draughts, and so Silas Mthimkhulu, not wanting to upset his future constituents, collected four empty crates from around his small backyard and arranged them under a large mango tree heavy with overripe fruit. Spokes and the detectives sat on the overturned crates and Silas Mthimkhulu remained standing.

‘Before you make yourselves too comfortable, gentlemen, may I offer you some refreshments?’ Silas Mthimkhulu said. ‘I am more than happy to provide you with anything that your hearts desire. Apart from what you’ve already seen, there are lots of lagers and spirits locked in the pantry.’

‘Thank you, but not while we are on duty,’ Spokes said.

‘I see,’ Silas Mthimkhulu said, sitting himself down on the remaining crate.

In order to sit, Silas Mthimkhulu had to pull up his maroon trousers at the thighs as the polyester material there was stretched too tight. His white shirt with wide lapels was also slightly too tight. Silas Mthimkhulu’s clothes fit him too snugly not because he was a man who had grown too hefty for his clothes, but because he wanted his clothes to fit him that way – tight-fitting clothes were, after all, the fashion of the day. His fashion sense also explained the wide, bell-shaped bottoms of his trouser legs, and the fact that he had not fastened the first three buttons of his shirt, leaving it open in a large V-shape that showed off a thin gold chain. The thin gold chain was meant to complement his thin-trimmed moustache and his hair, which was just an inch shy of being a full-blown afro. Spokes was certain there were only a few years between them, and so he could not help but wonder what business Silas Mthimkhulu had dressing the way he did. Besides, it did not seem the kind of look that would make for a very reliable politician.