Philander had unexpectedly arrived at Hannibal’s house in the early evening and was now sitting stiffly on the couch. In his civvies and with his greying temples he could have been an ageing salesman were it not for his clipped questions and the hardness in his eyes. Any inclination Hannibal might have had of offering Philander something to drink evaporated in spite of the day’s accumulated heat pushing through the roof and the open windows. Hannibal disliked Coloured cops with blue eyes and wavy hair. For a start they didn’t fit in with the Flats and secondly, they had the kind of hair he could only dream of, like Danny’s. If they were detectives it was another black mark. If they carried the name Philander it was like a stalking hunter to a Cape buffalo. ‘You still haven’t answered the question, Hannibal – are Cupido, Gatiep, and Curly members of the Evangelicals?’ ‘I told you, your detectives have already been here asking the same thing. Didn’t they tell you?’ ‘As a matter of fact they did.
