Recipes for Love and Murder (30 page)

What the new will said was that all of Martine's share of her father's trust was to go to the care of her son. Anything left over would go to the institution that looked after him. The money was watched over by a board of trustees which included staff from that home as well as Candice. She could not use the money for herself. There was also a paragraph that said that if the old man died in any ‘unnatural' way, then his son David Brown would get nothing from the will.

When Kannemeyer had finished reading he looked up at Jessie and me, and then at Candy.

She avoided his gaze, and straightened the sheets on her uncle's bed as she said: ‘Now you can get on with finding Martine's murderer without wasting any more of your precious time on us.'

Then the doctor came in. He was a very black man in a white jacket. From Zimbabwe, maybe, with that black skin. His eyes and his teeth were white like his clothes, and they shone when he smiled.

‘Having a party here, are we?' he said. ‘I hope there's no ice cream. We got your test results, Mr Brown. The good news is your stomach cancer is still in remission. The bad news is you're allergic to milk. And you've got a stomach ulcer probably caused by the allergy.'

‘Yes, yes, I know about the cancer . . . ' said the old man.

‘You didn't tell me,' said David. ‘You said you were dying.'

‘But milk,' the old man continued, ignoring David, ‘I've always drunk milk. It's good for you.'

‘I'm afraid not,' said the doctor. ‘Although most doctors would agree with you, so they don't even bother to test for lactose allergy. The truth is many people can't digest lactose properly and in some this develops into a severe allergy. It may worsen with age, and certainly under stress. The chemo you had would probably have exacerbated the allergy. If you can get rid of that ulcer by cutting out lactose, your stomach cancer has a much better chance of staying in remission.'

‘So, he wasn't poisoned then,' said David, this time addressing the doctor.

‘No. Unless a milk tart can be considered poison.'

‘You see?' said David. ‘You see? All these years, and this, this is the thanks I get.'

‘Now, David,' said Candy, ‘nobody said you actually— '

‘Rubbish!' said David. ‘He's said it. The will says it, for Christ's sake. It's insulting.' Little bits of spit were coming out with his words. ‘After everything I've done.'

He marched out and Kannemeyer turned as if to follow him, but then rubbed his hand on his forehead and stayed with us.

‘He did give me that milk tart,' said the old man.

I couldn't stand by while an innocent was accused.

I wasn't going to let anyone speak badly of Tannie Kuruman's melktert.

‘They were very good melkterte,' I said, ‘and a milk tart must have milk in it. There's no getting around that.'

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Kannemeyer and I stood on either side of the old man. Everyone else had gone.

‘So I find you again, in the middle of the trouble,' said Kannemeyer, giving me that frown of his.

But he didn't look all that cross. Oupa was eating the grapes that the policeman had given back to him.

‘How come you're following me?' I said.

Kannemeyer smiled and shook his head. That smile of his.

‘So are you going to say sorry to Candice?' I said.

‘For what?' he said.

‘For suspecting her.'

The old man popped another grape into his mouth and looked back and forth between us like he was watching a tennis match.

‘It's my job to suspect people,' Kannemeyer said. ‘And she might have done all this because she knows I suspect her. The motive could still have been there at the time of the murder.'

‘Ag, you don't really think she did it?' I said.

He didn't reply.

‘She's a good girl, Candy,' said the old man. ‘A good girl.'

‘I think her feelings are hurt,' I said.

‘She's used to getting her own way,' said Kannemeyer.

‘Did you get in her way?' said the old man, offering Kannemeyer some grapes.

Kannemeyer shook his head, and gave his answer to me: ‘Not in the way she wanted me to.'

‘They are very sweet grapes,' I said.

The old man nodded his agreement.

‘I've had a good breakfast,' Kannemeyer said, still looking at me.

His phone rang, and he stepped back to answer it.

‘Van Wyk,' he said. ‘Ja? . . . Mmm. Mmm. Okay. Ek is op pad.'

‘Was that Van Wyk from the Spar?' I said.

He was marching towards the door.

‘You stay out of this,' he said, shaking a finger at me. Then his face changed from serious to sad. ‘Please.'

‘It's too late,' I said. ‘I'm already in it.'

But he'd left the room so it was only Oupa and the last grape who heard me. Oupa popped the grape in his mouth.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

As I drove back down Hospital Hill I wondered about the phone call Kannemeyer had got from the Spar. I had some ideas of my own about the Spar thefts. I knew Kannemeyer would say I should leave it alone. But stealing in a small town makes everyone look at each other funny. And the Spar workers were getting a hard time from the manager, which wasn't fair . . .

I was heading to the
Gazette
; I wanted to find out from Hattie how her meeting with the Chamber of Commerce had gone. But before I got to Eland Street, my arms just decided to turn the steering wheel towards the road that led to Dwarsrivier Bed & Breakfast. When I got to the B&B, my feet stepped on the brakes and I stopped in the shade of a big bottlebrush tree. It was red with flowers.

I wiped my lipstick off with a tissue and ran my hands through my hair so that it looked a mess. I took the lipstick I kept in my cubbyhole and I walked in through the Dwarsrivier garden gate.

Georgie was sitting alone on a bench in the front garden, as if she'd been waiting for me. She was wearing a white dress with pale blue stripes which went well with her grey hair and made her look a little less short and round than she really was. I wondered where I could get a dress with those sort of stripes.

‘Tannie Maria,' she said, shifting up so I could sit down beside her.

I patted my hair, tidying it up a little.

‘Thanks for the sermon yesterday, Georgie. You did a good job.'

Georgie smiled and dipped her head.

‘I just wanted to use your bathroom, to freshen up,' I said.

‘Sure,' said Georgie.

‘I'm going to the Spar,' I said. ‘I hear they've put in hidden cameras all over the shop.'

‘Oooh wooo,' said Georgie.

‘They've had some thefts – tins and stuff. So now they've got fancy security.'

Georgie looked at the grass.

‘I don't want them filming me shopping when I'm looking all scruffy,' I said.

Georgie patted her grey curls. I went inside and used the ladies' room. I tidied my hair, washed my face and put on fresh lipstick. When I went out the front again, Georgie had left the garden. I walked past reception to the back, where the rooms looked onto the pool area, and found her talking quietly to some women in a room. They went silent when they saw me at the door.

‘Good morning, ladies,' I said, looking at all their faces turned to me.

‘Hi,' said Emily.

She was back with her flock; her long red hair was coiled around her head like a crown.

I wondered which one of them had written me the letter asking for camping recipes.

‘Thanks. See you,' I said.

I smiled and waved at them.

‘Goodbye, Tannie Maria,' said Georgie.

‘Thanks,' said Emily.

My legs took me back out to the car, and my arms drove me round the block, to the
Gazette
.

‘I went to the Chamber of Commerce meeting last night,' said Hattie, before I even stepped inside. Jessie was at her desk, her face turned away from me. ‘And I made a little speech about the independence of the press and they voted on whether to keep supporting us.'

‘And . . . ?' I said, my hand on the front door.

‘They voted ten against two.'

My face and hand fell.

‘In favour!' said Hattie. ‘Ten in favour of us.'

Jessie turned around and I saw her big grin.

‘And when Marius had a hissy fit, Mandy's Furniture Shop said they could sponsor the website from now on!'

I gave Hattie a hug, but it was hard because she was bouncing up and down on her toes, and I don't believe in bouncing. I made us tea and coffee and there was still some honey-toffee cake in the fridge, which added to the celebration.

‘Marius can go to pot for all I care,' she said, waving a piece of cake in the air.

‘Ja, bugger him,' said Jessie.

‘Now, now,' said Hattie, but she was still smiling.

There was quite a pile of envelopes on my table, and I flipped through them. One had a small brown smudge on it. I wondered if it was another letter from that nice mechanic. But the stain didn't look like grease and my name was typed:
TANNIE MARIA
. No address. Hand-delivered.

‘Did someone come by with this envelope?' I asked Hattie, holding it up for her to see.

‘It was on your desk when I brought the other post in,' she said. ‘Thought you'd left it there.'

I opened the envelope. Inside was an A4 piece of paper, with that same kind of stain, but much bigger. It was a bit sticky and I unfolded it carefully.

The smell hit me at the back of my throat as I saw the dark red shape across the white page.

At the top of the paper, four words were typed:

BACK OFF OR DIE

The folded paper had turned the red shape into a butterfly.

A butterfly of blood.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

They give people pictures like that when they go to psychologists. They ask them what they see, and then decide what kind of crazy they are.

I felt lots of different kinds of crazy as I sat looking at the butterfly blotches on the page.

I saw a woman trying to run away from herself. Her legs galloping out and her arms reaching away, but she was getting nowhere. Because she was joined at the hip to the same woman running in the other direction.

I wanted to tell her she was also a butterfly and if she stopped trying to get away from herself, maybe she could fly.

Then I blinked and the women were gone and the picture was of a creature run over in the road, flattened and bleeding. I heard a sound, like an animal in pain.

‘Are you okay, Tannie Maria?' said Hattie.

Jessie and Hattie were on either side of me. The animal sound was coming from me. I held up the paper for them to see. My hands were shaking and the shapes on the paper came to life. It looked like fire. A fire that could destroy everything.

‘Oh, my goodness gracious!' said Hattie.

‘Don't touch it,' said Jessie. ‘Maybe we can get the bastard's fingerprints.'

‘Oh, Maria,' said Hattie.

I had a feeling I was falling, but Jessie and Hattie were standing on either side of me, so I didn't fall because their hips were there holding me up. A woman on each side of me, a butterfly of women.

The picture was still in my hand, still shaking. It looked like a big bird, those ones that rise up from the flames and ashes. Like a dragon. Flying.

Then everything went black.

‘Just have a sip, Tannie Maria,' said Jessie's voice.

I opened my eyes. Hattie was putting my hand around a cup of tea.

I brought it to my mouth. Warm and sweet.

For shock. I'd had a shock. What had happened? I'd been run over. By Fanie. But he's dead, that's all over. I had another sip. I was okay. Alive. I wasn't even in hospital. I was in the office. My desk at the
Klein Karoo Gazette
. The fan was turning slowly on the ceiling.

I saw the paper on my desk, and remembered.

BACK OFF OR DIE

‘Maybe we must shut down for a while,' said Hattie.

‘We can't just let him get away with it,' said Jessie.

‘What is that bird,' I said, ‘that comes back from the dead?'

‘The police can catch him,' said Hattie. ‘I am going to call them right now.'

She put her hand on the phone.

‘But will they?' said Jessie. ‘Fifty per cent of murderers don't get caught. And our murder rate is five times higher than the world average. Tens of thousands of murderers get away with it. He's threatening us because he's nervous. We're getting close to finding him. We can't give up now.'

‘It rises from the flames . . . ' I said.

My brain wasn't working properly; it just couldn't find the right word.

‘He knows you two were there the night of the murder,' said Hattie. ‘Maybe we should all three go away, get out of Ladismith for a while.'

‘Flies up from the ashes . . . like a dragon, but it's not a dragon,' I said.

‘We could stay on my cousin's farm in Oudtshoorn,' said Hattie, looking up a number in her phone book. ‘Do the holiday edition of the
Gazette
from there. It's a phoenix, Maria, a phoenix.'

‘You mean just do as the bastard says? Back off?' said Jessie.

‘This is a murderer we are dealing with, Jessie,' said Hattie, picking up the receiver and punching numbers into the phone. ‘He's already killed two people. And now he's making death threats. It's just not worth it.'

I drank the last of my tea and put my cup down next to the paper. Next to the red phoenix on my desk.

‘I'm not running away,' I said. ‘If the end of the world's coming, let it come. But I'm not going to run.'

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

Piet moved around the
Gazette
office like a sniffer dog. Kannemeyer stood behind me. He picked up the phoenix with gloved hands and put it in a plastic bag.