Recipes for Love and Murder (21 page)

Then I couldn't hear what she was saying any more. When she came back she pulled a face.

‘David,' she said. ‘Martine's brother. I hope he gets a decent suit for the funeral. He has absolutely no fashion sense.'

I brushed the pastry flakes off my hands, and stood up. Twice I'd heard her speaking badly about this man, her cousin, but she sounded friendly enough to him on the phone. Maybe that's how family politics goes.

‘Hell, sometimes I wonder about David,' said Candy, as we walked to her car. ‘He's been wanting to get his hands on his old man's money for a long time. My uncle's such a miser, but he's had stomach cancer for the last year, and the doctors say he's too old for an op. David's been circling the old man like a vulture, making himself useful, he says. Taking him on holidays. They're at Sanbona now. You know, that luxury game lodge . . . '

We got into the MG. The seats were hot.

‘Did he visit her last week?' I asked.

‘He says he didn't,' said Candy, starting up the sports car, driving out. ‘They were gonna come and see her. But they hadn't got around to it.'

‘Was he close to her?'

‘The only thing David's really close to is his cheap suits. And his longing for an expensive life. But he was her brother. I can't believe he would, you know . . . '

‘But with Martine dead, he'd get all his father's money,' I said.

‘That's what he thinks,' said Candy.

Then the wind was moving too fast for us to talk any more.

Candy dropped me and my grapes and tomatoes outside the
Gazette
office.

‘Martine's lawyer asked me to come and see him,' she said, looking in the car mirror as she put on orange lipstick. ‘About her will, I reckon. And I'd better stop in and talk to Dirk about the funeral.'

I couldn't see Jessie's bike outside, but I went in to look for her anyway. I put the fruit on my desk.

‘Jessie's not feeling too well,' Hattie said. ‘She says she'll work from home. How did it go with John?'

‘Interesting,' I said. ‘And Tannie Kuruman will do the catering.'

I told her about our discussions with John. Then I called Jessie on her cell, but couldn't get through. I tried her home and no one answered.

‘I'm a bit worried about Jessie,' I told Hattie.

‘Mmm,' she said. ‘She has been acting strange.'

Hattie didn't know the whole story, but I still felt it wasn't for me to tell her about Jessie's private life.

‘How about a cup of tea?' I said.

I sat down at my desk with my tea and a beskuit, so I could have a quiet think. Then the office phone rang.

‘That was Sister Mostert,' Hattie said, as she put down the receiver, ‘Jessie's ma. She wants us at the hospital. Right away.'

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

‘Let's go in my car,' Hattie said when we were outside.

‘No,' I said, quickly getting into my little blue bakkie. ‘Do you think Jessie is okay? Why didn't her ma say what the problem was?'

We drove up the hill towards the hospital.

‘I couldn't really hear her properly. I'm sure Jessie's fine. Does this window not open any wider?'

‘Sorry,' I said, ‘it sticks. Here, I'll turn the fan onto you.'

I wound my window all the way down and a warm breeze moved through my bakkie. I suppose we should've gone in Hattie's car; but I just couldn't face Hattie's driving when I was so worried already.

‘I hate it when a hospital phones you but won't tell you what the problem is,' I said, as we drove up the hill. ‘It happened with my mother. They say it's to make sure you don't have an accident on the way. But that's rubbish, I think. Worrying can be worse than knowing.'

‘There's no shade,' Hattie said, as we pulled in to the hospital car park. ‘Your car is going to get so hot.'

A police van and a cream 4×4 had taken the only shade under the big rhus tree.

The cicadas were screeching. It seemed to get louder and louder as we walked towards the hospital entrance. We passed the 4×4. Firestone tyres.
Klein Karoo Real Estate
written on the side in black letters.

It sounded like the cicadas were in a jakkalsbos in the flower bed at the hospital entrance.

As we were going through the doors a man walked out so fast he bumped into my shoulder.

‘Mr Marius!' said Hattie, and he turned around.

He was not any taller than Hattie, but he glared down his nose at her. His hair was black and slicked into a side parting and he had a slim moustache curled around his lips. His mouth looked like he was eating something bitter. He stared at us both through narrow eyes then pointed a finger at me and then at Hattie.

The noise of the cicadas stopped. I could hear him breathing through his nose.

He opened his mouth and I thought he was going to speak, but instead he spun around, marched across the tar to the 4×4 bakkie, revved the engine and sped away. The cicadas started screeching again.

‘There you are!' said Sister Mostert.

She was a short woman with a round face and nice shape. She reminded me of a vetkoek, wrapped in a clean white napkin – that smart nurse's uniform.

‘Is Jessie okay?' I asked.

‘Jessie?' she said, looking at Hattie, then back at me. ‘No, no, this is not about Jessie. It's Miss Pretorius and Mr van Schalkwyk. Fighting again. We've had to get in police guards now. I was hoping you could talk to them. Get them to stop this nonsense.'

We followed Jessie's mom down the corridor as she spoke.

‘They caught Miss Pretorius trying to pour Dettol into Mr van Schalkwyk's drip while he was sleeping. We uncuffed her to let her go to the toilet, and that's when she sneaked off – in her wheelchair! Then in the middle of the night he somehow wheeled his whole bed to Anna's ward. I don't know how he managed, but it looks like he used the drip stand to push himself along – like he was pulling a boat down a river. The bed got stuck in the door, but there was some kicking and throwing of things before we separated them again.'

‘Honestly,' said Hattie. ‘Like children.'

‘But more dangerous. We can't watch them twenty-four hours a day. So we called the police. Reghardt said maybe you guys could talk some sense into them. Where is Jessie?'

‘She's not feeling well. She went home,' Hattie said.

‘I couldn't get her on her cell,' said Sister Mostert. ‘I hope she's okay.'

‘Nothing serious,' said Hattie, ‘just a bit of an upset stomach. But when you phoned and told us to get up here, we thought that maybe Jessie . . . '

‘Ag, shame, I'm sorry. No, it's just that the detective arrived just as I was calling you so I didn't have time to explain everything.'

‘Kannemeyer?' I asked. ‘He's here?'

‘Ja, he wants to take statements from them, so they can do legal injunctions or something.'

‘Interdicts?' I said, remembering my conversation with Legal Aid.

‘Ja, to keep them so many metres away from each other.'

‘Mr Marius – what was he doing here?' asked Hattie.

‘Visiting Mr van Schalkwyk,' she said.

We were at Anna's ward now and I could see Detective Kannemeyer standing by her bed. My hair must have looked terrible. I hadn't fixed it since riding around in Candy's car. I ran my hand across it, but I really needed a mirror.

‘I'm just going to use the bathroom,' I said to Hattie.

But it was too late – Anna had seen us.

‘Tannie Maria!' she called. ‘Come and explain to the policeman what
no
means.'

I took a big breath and went inside.

‘Nee, no, hayi khona, blerrie hell,' said Anna.

The detective was looking smart in a cream cotton shirt and maroon tie, as if he had been sitting in an air-conditioned office instead of a sports car in the wind and sun. He nodded at us and stood back while Sister Mostert put a pillow under Anna's foot – which was sticking out from the plaster cast – and turned a knob on the drip beside the bed.

Anna's hair was even more ruffled than mine, and her green hospital gown was wrinkled, but her cheeks were rosy. She smiled and patted the side of her bed, calling us closer. The sister winked at me and left.

Detective Kannemeyer cleared his throat. In his hand he had a clipboard with paper and a pen.

‘Miss Pretorius says she won't press charges against Van Schalkwyk,' he said. ‘She won't even give a statement about what happened.'

Anna pressed her lips together.

‘But, Anna,' I said, ‘then Dirk will blame you for everything.'

She shook her head, raised her eyes towards Kannemeyer and did a rolling movement with her hand.

He sighed and said: ‘Van Schalkwyk's also doing nothing.'

‘It was all just an accident,' said Anna.

‘That's what he says too,' Kannemeyer said. He tapped his clipboard with his finger. ‘You will both be booked for disturbing the peace and shooting your firearms. And the hospital will be laying charges with that Dettol nonsense. And you aren't off the hook for your original homicide charge— '

‘Did you maybe bring me some vetkoek?' said Anna to me.

‘Sorry,' I said.

‘Tannie Maria. Mrs . . . ahm . . . ' Kannemeyer said, looking down at Hattie.

‘Harriet,' she said, ‘Harriet Christie.'

‘Tannie Maria and Mrs Christie, I hope you can talk some sense into this woman. Get her to understand the seriousness of her crimes.'

‘Cake?' Anna asked.

‘Not even a grape,' I said. ‘I'm really sorry.'

Kannemeyer looked down at the paper on his board. It was blank. He patted it against his thigh and walked towards the door. Before he left the ward he remembered his manners, and turned around.

‘Good afternoon, ladies,' he said.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

‘What's going on, Anna?' I said. ‘Why aren't you laying charges?'

Anna snorted.

‘Nothing's going on,' she said. ‘Nothing to do with anyone else. It's between me and Dirk.'

‘But, Anna, we told you,' I said. ‘He probably didn't kill Martine.'

‘Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. But even when she was alive, that man was a stinking pig's arse. And he was always in the way.' She leaned back into her cushions. ‘She should've been with me.'

‘Mr Marius was just here,' I said. ‘Visiting Dirk. Did Martine say anything to you about him?'

‘Who?' said Anna, staring off at a place inside her own head.

‘The real estate agent,' said Hattie.

‘She didn't like him,' said Anna. ‘They had a fight or something.'

‘Was Martine selling or buying property?'

‘I dunno,' said Anna. ‘She didn't say what it was about. She was a private one, Tienie. Kept her stories to herself. But when she laughed with me, she opened up like a veldvygie in the sun.'

‘Did she say anything to you about John Visser?' I asked.

She blinked and looked around the room as if she had just arrived.

‘Her ex-boyfriend?' I said.

‘She had a boyfriend? I'll kill him!'

I looked at Hattie and shook my head.

‘I'm going to see Dirk,' I said. ‘You try talk some sense into her. Keep her out of trouble.'

I don't know if sense is something you can talk in or out of someone. You either have it or you don't.

Warrant Officer Reghardt Snyman was on guard outside Dirk's ward.

He said: ‘Is Jessie here?'

I shook my head.

‘She's not feeling well,' I said.

‘She's not answering my calls. I asked Sister Mostert to call you guys. I thought maybe you could . . . '

He waved his hand towards Dirk cuffed to his bed.

‘We'll do our best,' I said.

‘Tannie Maria?' said Reghardt, his eyes wide like a puppy's.

I waited while he looked around the hospital corridor for what he wanted to say. The floors and the walls were very clean and shiny. Not an easy place to find words.

‘Never mind,' he mumbled.

Sister Mostert was next to Dirk's bed, adjusting the sling on his left arm. Dirk's face looked like a lawn mowed by a drunk man, the scraggly grass growing into his bushy sideburns. But his sling and his bandages were very neat and white.

‘We'll give you a shave and clean you up just now,' Sister Mostert said, as if she could hear what I was thinking.

Dirk frowned at me, like he wasn't sure who I was. I suppose he was under the influence of horse-sedative when we last met.

‘This is Tannie Maria,' said the sister. ‘She's come to talk to you.'

She made a note on his chart and left us alone.

‘Oom van Schalkwyk,' I said. ‘You and Anna must stop this fighting. It's not going to help catch the murderer.'

‘She killed Martine.'

‘No, Dirk. I don't think so. It was probably the man who shot Lawrence.'

He narrowed his eyes at me, and said, ‘You know I had a dream about that. My mother. She gave me vetkoek, and told me about Lawrence and the man who killed them both.' He looked up at the ceiling. ‘My mother died a long time ago. She made the best vetkoek.' He took a tissue from next to his bed and blew his nose. ‘It turns out it was true. About Lawrence.'

‘Yes, it's true. And Anna was here in hospital the night he was shot. She didn't do it.'

‘That blerrie Anna. She was no good for Martine. I could always tell when she'd been visiting. Martine would close me out, like I wasn't there. Lock her door – to me – her own husband! Anna started taking her away from me before she died . . . '

The hand at the end of his bandaged arm bunched into a fist.

‘Maybe she shut you out because you treated her so badly,' I said.

‘What?!'

His face went red.