Read 7 Days for Free Online Page B

related. The exceptions were communications between two girlfriends, and a conversation with a telemarketer that was cut short. In the previous ten months there had been no contact with the last serious man in her life, one Egan Roch. Roch’s statement confirmed that.
It’s been nearly a year since we broke up. We had virtually no contact since
.
    Griessel began to understand why the investigation had come up empty-handed. Everyone questioned sang the same tune: We can’t think of anyone who would want to harm her.
    He had to patch her working life together from the various statements of her colleagues. Hanneke Sloet at the time of her death was involved in the conclusion of a business transaction whereby Ingcebo Resources Limited would acquire a shareholding in Gariep Minerals Limited, a process that had been on the go for thirteen months. Sixother employees of Silberstein Lamarque were part of the legal team, while a transaction consultant, four banks, a management consultation company, and two other law firms were also involved.
    We are the law firm representing the interests of SA Merchant Bank
, Griessel read in the statement of Mr Hannes Pruis, a director of Silberstein Lamarque.
They are one of the structuring advisors and underwriters. It is basically contract law, a lot of drudgery. Administrative. Hanneke was one of six partners on the team
.
    Apparently it was work without risk, without secrets or sensation.
    Her bank statements showed only a woman who made good money and spent it well, but her financial affairs were not out of control, there was nothing that drew his attention.
    By twenty past two he could no longer concentrate. He gathered all the documents together and put them back carefully in the file. He went and listened at Alexa’s bedroom door. She was sleeping.
    He urinated in the second bathroom, washed his hands and face. Walked back to the room, closed the door, undressed. He set the alarm on his cellphone for seven o’clock and climbed into the bed, his weariness a heavy weight. Long day.
    But Griessel’s brain kept working.
    There was something about the case that bothered him. Not an obvious flaw, just a vague impression. Of an investigator who had looked in all the right places, asked all the right questions. Thorough, complete, by the book. And nothing more. No flair. No intuition. He knew how investigations worked, you went through your routine, starting with the people closest to the victim, and, if that yielded nothing, you spread your net wider and wider. Until somewhere you came across something that stuck in the back of your mind, a suspicion, a false note, and then you dug there, you focused, you applied pressure. And nine times out of ten you were right.
    Instinct.
    He hadn’t found that in the Sloet file. The trouble with station detectives was partly the training, the strong emphasis on forensic aids and technology. Intuition didn’t count any more. And the lack of experience, because they were frequently young, often working in unfamiliar surroundings, other cultural and language groups, under a lot of pressure from all sides. They did their best, but …
    It wasn’t robbery. The laptop and the cellphone there on the work table … Even if no one could say whether anything was missing from the apartment, theft was most likely not the motive.
    And she didn’t die
at
the door. Her body lay nearly four metres inside the apartment, and the blood pattern said she was stabbed at least three metres from the door. From the front. She hadn’t tried to turn around or run away – she had confronted her attacker, but not defended herself. Not fought for her life. From habit Griessel recreated the scene in his mind automatically, somewhat reluctantly. She opens the door. She sees who it is. She retreats …
    But she doesn’t defend herself?
    The handle of the front door is wiped clean.
    Hanneke Sloet was working upstairs in her bedroom. The glass of wine was there, the computer, the