# Chapter 2

                                                                                                 “Death is a thief"
                                                                                                 -African proverb

       “How…was he shot?” I asked in stunned disbelief.
       “We’ve just told you he was shot” replied the detective, his colleague still just looking at me.
       “I apologize, I’m just…” my mind struggled to comprehend what I was just told. I’ve known Piet Pretorius for years. Last night around the campfire we were still in deep conversation long after the others went to bed. Piet was one of the few people I felt comfortable with talking about the deeper issues of life. He listened without prejudice. The old gentleman was a tender soul with lots of life experience.
       “Initial findings indicate that he was shot with a high-calibre rifle, such as the one you used to kill the other four men” said the detective “the only other weapons in play was the AK’s and Dirk Van Dyk’s hunting rifle, shooting in self-defence.”
      I looked at the female investigator, ignoring her partner. She just stared back.
       “It was impossible for Mister Van Dyk to hit Mister Pretorius from where he was standing” added the detective “but you had a clear line of fire on the old man.”
      I kept on looking at the lead investigator, ignoring her partner’s allegations.
       “The shot could not have come from any other direction as it would have been obscured by the buildings. You didn’t shoot-up the fire, you shot Piet Pretorius” concluded the stocky detective in a low menacing tone, leaning forward, both hands on the table, his face just two inches from my left ear.
       “What do you think?” I asked his partner. She paused before replying: “the evidence makes sense.”
       “Bullshit” I replied still holding her gaze.
       “You looked at a bonfire through a high-magnification rifle scope and then continued to engage men in the shadows. Your vision was affected by the light…” she responded.
       “The farm attackers were approaching directly underneath the floodlights of the homestead when I engaged them” I replied.
       “So you claim” she snapped back.
       “Talk to the witnesses, the hunters” I replied.
       “We did, nobody could say for sure what happened in the confusion. Most claim the attackers were in the shadows…” she continued.
       “It’s easy to make that assumption if you don’t know where the attack is coming from” I stated.
       “You tell us a wonderful story illustrating your hunting ethics about not shooting females and infants and expensive game. Yet you don’t exhibit any remorse for killing those men” she was angry now.
       “Yet I suffer remorse every time I kill” I was also angry now.
       “You cry when you kill animals?” asked detective Louis from the side.
       “Every damn time” I replied looking the woman dead in the eye.
       “And those men? You believe you did the world a favour by shooting them?” she asked returning my glare.
       “They were going to kill my friends” I was on the edge of my chair.
       “Yet you had no trouble killing your other “friend”, Piet Pretorius” stated the stocky detective with a smirk from the side.
      At that moment there was a knock on the door. The detective went to the door and left the room.
       “So this is standard procedure these days, keeping someone on a trumped-up manslaughter charge, grilling them until the so-called evidence stick?” I asked the female investigator.
      She just stared back at me, yet it seemed that I touched a nerve.
       “Forensics will prove that the bullet did not come from my rifle” I stated and sat back.
      The door opened and the stocky detective returned, with a alarming briskness to his step.
       “Not from the rifle you used to shoot the attackers with, that isn’t even your rifle. You borrowed it from Mister Pretorius. Your companions claim that you came on this hunting expedition without a rifle. How do you go on a planned hunting trip, one that was planned a year in advance without a rifle?” asked Louis. The other investigator looked puzzled.
       “I’ve got my own rifles, I’m still waiting for my licences under the new legislation” I replied dryly.
       “Oh, Mister law-abiding citizen…” replied the detective, walked to the door, opened it and took something wrapped in a blanket from the constable. He placed the covered object in front of me on the table and started unwrapping it.
       “Would this be one of them?” he asked smiling.
      Blood drained from my face and I could hear my heart beating in my ears as I stared in disbelieve at the rifle infront of me: my own .270 Winchester rifle was lying on the table in front of me.
       “This is your rifle, we’ve already checked the serial number. We found it in the veld, just south of the position you claim to be shooting from” the detective was almost dancing as he spoke, grinning “and it was fired recently.”
       “I want my lawyer” I replied.
       “Oh, you’d want a whole team of them!” he snarled.
       “Do you believe this rubbish?” I asked the lead investigator.
       “I believe you need a lawyer Mister Logan” she answered as she got up.
       “What is the motive?” I asked her as she walked to the door. She knocked on the door and turned back.
       “Get a lawyer” she simply repeated and left when the constable opened for her.
       “That usually means she’s got you pinned –better to tap out now. Quick, before you lawyer-up, tell old-Louis here, why you killed the old man? Shows some cooperation and make it easier for yourself” the detective took his colleagues place and sat down across the table, clasping his hands like a priest in prayer.
       “Astounding” I replied and shook my head.
       “What?” he asked puzzled.
       “You are even worse at being the good-cop” I replied. His face turned red and his knuckles became white. He needed a little more provocation.
       “That is probably why she made lead-detective and you didn’t, I mean you need to be good at something, right?” I pressed.
       “Oh it must be quite infuriating that someone younger than yourself got the position, especially after devoting your life to the unit” though he was right on the edge he didn’t go over. Perhaps he didn’t have any resentment towards his colleague. I had to change my attack.
       “Oh, I see, it makes perfect sense now. You couldn’t sleep your way to the top like she did, I mean, with a body like that, those blue eyes and those perky…”
      Incoming! The stocky man’s right fist hit me like a sledgehammer and I tumbled from the chair. He was on me in a flash, straddling my chest, punching me screaming “That’s my sister you sick bastard!”
      The door flew open and Louis sister came running into the room with two constables. They tried to pull him of me but he was a ragging bull and managed to kick me twice more before they finally subdued him.
       “What the hell Louis?!” she screamed at him.
       “He broke my ribs” I lied moaning.
       “Shut-up!” she snarled and then commanded the two constables “get him out of here! Get him medical attention!”
      With a “yes mam” they dragged me from the room. I could still hear her berating her brother as we left the building. I felt sorry for him but I had to provoke him to assist with my next move or at least to buy some time.
      Tonight death stole from me, a dear friend and maybe my freedom as well.