Before Spokes could give any sort of answer, Saskia Hargrave put two and two together in her head and came up with Lord-only-knew-what number. She looked both afraid and excited as she asked, ‘Has something happened to Emil?’ Her eyes widened as the reality of what she had just asked began to sink in. That would have been the first thought of anyone who had entered a home with a policeman in it, but that had not been her first thought. Spokes wondered what exactly her first thought had been. ‘Nothing has happened to him, has it? It couldn’t have – I am in the middle of writing his story,’ she said.

That explained everything for Spokes. Because Saskia Hargrave still needed Emil Coetzee, she did not want anything to have happened to him. With this realisation, Spokes had a complete understanding of the kind of person she was. He always found it fascinating how much information about themselves people gave away without really knowing it, information that they were not always aware of themselves. It was this constant discovery of the inner workings of the lives of others that kept Spokes fascinated with his job.

‘Are you a writer? A journalist?’

‘Both. I write for The Chronicle and The Sunday News, but I am also working on Emil’s biography.’

‘I see. Miss Hargrave, I am afraid you cannot be here. You will have to leave now. I am sure you understand.’

‘But I am in the middle of writing Emil’s story.’

‘And I am in the middle of an investigation,’ Spokes said, leading her out without touching her. Even though black people were on the eve of achieving independence, Spokes was sure that a black man could still not touch a white woman without there being serious consequences. There was a nervous energy about Saskia Hargrave that made Spokes wary; she could turn a harmless act into a dangerous one.

Her face crumpled as she stammered, ‘I didn’t want to have to divulge this, but Emil and I are … lovers.’

It was too late; Spokes already had the measure of her. ‘Is that wise?’ he asked her.

‘Is what wise?’

‘To be romantically linked to your subject. Does not good and objective writing require a distance? How will you be able to see him clearly if you are already so connected to him?’

Saskia Hargrave’s mouth fell open and she blinked up at him. She was beginning to see him for the first time, and he was something completely unexpected. He was no longer the object through which she would obtain the information she wanted; he was now the man who stood in the way of what she wanted. He was an intelligent man who could trip her up when she least expected it. A force to be reckoned with. Spokes almost smiled as he watched this realisation sink in.