Recipes for Love and Murder (16 page)

‘Hello, Sisi,' said Jessie. ‘This is Tannie Maria, and I'm Jessie.'

I smiled at her.

‘Nice roses,' I said. ‘Have you got the green fingers?'

She shook her head.

‘Lawrence,' she said.

‘Grace, we work at the
Karoo Gazette
,' said Jessie, stepping forward and handing the woman a card. ‘May we come in?'

The woman took the card but did not look at it. Her gaze darted behind her and then back at us.

‘We were here last night,' said Jessie, ‘when Lawrence was shot. We are so sorry.'

The woman looked down at her feet and a lump moved up and down in her throat, as if she was swallowing her sadness.

‘We've brought some vetkoek,' I said. ‘With mince.'

She looked up.

‘Curry mince?'

‘Let's have a bite to eat,' I said, showing her the four plump vetkoek, wrapped in wax paper.

‘It's messy in here,' she said, but she stepped back to let us in. ‘I'm sorting his things.'

In a tiny kitchen were open boxes packed with all sorts of stuff. I could see plates and enamel cups and a ceramic dog. We followed her into a small lounge. She went to close the bedroom door, and I saw a battered suitcase on the double bed before she closed it.

‘You're packing up?' said Jessie, as she sat in an armchair.

The woman sat down on a wooden chair with her back straight and her legs together, her knees slightly to one side.

‘Shame,' I said. ‘This must be very hard for you, Mrs . . . ?'

I sat on the couch next to a neat pile of clothes and a box with tools sticking out of it – a small garden fork and a sheep-shearing knife.

‘Zihlangu,' she said. ‘My name is Grace Zihlangu. I am not married.'

‘Lawrence was your boyfriend?' asked Jessie.

Grace nodded. She looked around the room at the piles of Lawrence's things. Then she sighed, and her body seemed to fold in on itself. It was time for the vetkoek. I opened the Tupperware and gave one to her, Jessie and myself, each with our own napkin.

‘Thank you, Mama,' Grace said. Xhosa people are like Afrikaners. Everyone is family: Auntie, Mother, Sister . . .

‘Are you leaving, Sisi?' asked Jessie.

Grace didn't answer. Instead she took a bite of her vetkoek. After a few bites, she was sitting up straight again. We didn't talk while we ate, but Grace was studying us as she chewed. The afternoon light streamed in through a sash window. I could see tiny dust particles in the air, but the glass on the window was sparkling clean. There were cracks in the walls of the cottage that had been repaired and whitewashed. The coffee table in front of me and the other surfaces I could see were all very clean. Nothing half-wiped.

‘That's the best vetkoek and mince ever,' said Jessie. ‘Awesome.'

When Grace had finished eating her vetkoek, she wiped her mouth and fingers with the napkin, then she took ours and threw them all in the kitchen bin.

‘I want to leave here,' she said, as she sat down again. Ready to talk. ‘Go to Cape Town.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

‘Do you have family in Cape Town?' asked Jessie.

‘In the Eastern Cape,' said Grace. ‘I am going there for Lawrence's funeral. But I want to go to secretary training college in Cape Town. I have a friend there.'

‘You were working in Martine, Mrs van Schalkwyk's house?' I said.

‘Yes. Twice a week. Wednesdays and Fridays.'

‘So you weren't here on the Tuesday, when she . . . ' I said.

‘No. Monday, Tuesday and Thursday I work for Mr Marius in town.'

‘What did you think of Mrs van Schalkwyk?' Jessie asked.

‘I liked her. It was a very bad thing that happened. She was a good woman. I was happy to work for her. I wish I could work for only her, and not . . . '

Jessie raised an eyebrow, but Grace did not say more.

‘Is the work too hard at Mr Marius?' I asked.

‘I am not afraid of hard work,' Grace said. ‘No. He's just, you know . . . '

She stroked her hands across her skirt.

‘Does he harass you?' said Jessie.

‘He looks at me in a way I do not like. He is not a good man. Mrs van Schalkwyk also does not like him. Did not like him.'

‘How do you know?'

‘Maybe two weeks ago, he said he wanted to see the Van Schalkwyks and he drove me home at the end of the day. He knocked on the door. Mr van Schalkwyk was not home from work yet, and Mrs van Schalkwyk told him to voetsek
.
She closed the door in his face. He was not happy. He drove over the roses next to the road. Lawrence's roses.'

‘What did he want?' Jessie asked.

‘I don't know,' Grace said. ‘I was walking to my house. I could not hear everything.'

‘What kind of a car does he drive?' I said.

‘A big white one, like Mr van Schalkwyk's. There's writing on one side:
Karoo Real Estate
.'

‘An estate agent?' said Jessie.

I nodded. He was one of the advertisers in the
Karoo Gazette
– the one who gave Hattie a headache.

‘Yes. There are pictures at the office in his house. Houses. Veld. And photographs taken from the sky.'

‘Did Martine have other visitors?' Jessie asked.

‘Her friend Anna did visit. They laughed together. It was nice. That husband of hers did not make her laugh.'

‘Did he hit her?'

‘I did not see him, but I saw the bruises.' She shook her head. ‘The broken things in the rubbish.'

‘Any other visitors?' said Jessie.

‘A man came round. Maybe a month ago. When his tea was finished she said he must go. Her husband wouldn't like him there, she said. He came round once more, on a Friday, but she is at work on that day, so he went away.'

‘Do you know who the man is?' said Jessie.

‘John. I have seen him in town some mornings. He sells farm things from a wooden table. Eggs, vegetables, plants.'

‘At the market?' I asked.

Grace nodded.

‘What did Martine speak about with him?' Jessie said.

‘I do not know. I don't listen.'

I looked down at the last vetkoek and asked, ‘Nothing else you heard, by mistake maybe?'

‘I was cleaning the room next door. She said the old days were over. Then he was talking about frucking. He was cross, I think.'

‘Frucking?' said Jessie.

Grace bit her lower lip, and looked down at her fingernails.

I helped her out with a different question:

‘If Mrs van Schalkwyk wiped a table, would she wipe just half of it clean?'

‘Oh, no!' she said. ‘She is not that kind of person. She is like me. She would never do that.'

‘Have the police come to interview you?' I asked.

‘I spoke to them that night, the night Lawrence— But I heard nothing. Just the thunder and the rain. I did not wake up when Lawrence got up. I don't know why I woke up, but when I did, I waited. I waited and he did not come back. I called and then I went to look for him.' She rubbed her hands down the side of her arms. ‘I told the police there is no one who wants to kill Lawrence. He was a good man. He was just doing his job.'

‘I am sorry,' I said. ‘We think maybe the same person killed him and Martine.'

‘I am afraid to stay here. I want to go. But I have not got enough money. I must ask Mr van Schalkwyk and Mr Marius for help.'

‘Did Lawrence work here every day?' Jessie asked.

‘Yes. It used to be a sheep farm here, but they stopped that long ago, before I got here. They sold a lot of land and a lot of workers did lose their jobs. But they kept Lawrence, to look after the place. The garden, the fruit trees. He is good at his job.'

‘The day of Martine's murder, was Lawrence here?'

‘Yes. The police asked him about that day. I was here when they were talking to him.'

‘What did he tell them?'

‘He told them he saw Mr van Schalkwyk come home that morning. He waved to him but the meneer didn't wave back. The police asked if he was sure it was him, and he said yes.'

Jessie leaned forward in her armchair as Grace continued to speak.

‘They asked if he was close by, and he said no, he was down at the bottom by the trees.' Grace waved her hand towards the window. ‘He was clearing the dead branches and chopping wood. Then they said, so how could you be sure? They told him that Mr van Schalkwyk said he did not leave work. The workers at the Agri said he was there all morning. Lawrence said, maybe, he was not sure, but it was Mr van Schalkwyk's car. They said, are you sure it was his car, or could it have been the same kind of car as his? Lawrence said it looked like the meneer's car, but maybe it wasn't.'

Grace rubbed the fingers of one hand over the knuckles of another. I nodded and she carried on talking.

‘When the police had gone I asked him if it really was Mr van Schalkwyk, and he said that he didn't want to be the one to get the meneer in trouble. I said to him, a woman is dead now and he must tell the truth, but he was just quiet and shook his head. He was not a bad man, Lawrence, but he was not strong.'

‘Did you love him?' I asked.

‘Lawrence?' she said. She looked at the neatly folded pile of men's clothes on the couch and at the closed bedroom door. ‘No.'

I picked up the Tupperware and offered her the last vetkoek.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I sat in my bakkie outside the hospital, watching the sunset as I waited for Jessie.

Tidy flower beds lined the long white hospital building. The plants were nicely looked after. I knew it was the same inside the small hospital: the patients were well cared for – even if the food was no good. Hospital food is terrible. Which is why the vetkoek might work very well with Anna and Dirk.

The hospital was on top of a low hill at the foot of the Klein Swartberge. Small Black Mountains. The brown hills rolled towards the Rooiberg. Red Mountain. And in that light it really was red. It looked like a big animal that had lain down to rest and didn't want to be disturbed. I wondered if it was a good idea to visit Dirk in the hospital now.

The sky was going that light greenish-blue colour, like you see on old copper pipes, and there were strips of pink and orange clouds.

I could hear the sound of Jessie's red scooter. But also some other wild sound, like distant thunder and rattling windows, that was coming from inside the hospital. Jessie buzzed up the hill and parked next to me. We walked to the hospital entrance.

‘What's that noise?' asked Jessie.

We went inside, me with my Tupperware and she with her helmet. The roaring and clattering stopped and started again as we moved towards the sound. The doors of the small wards were open and we could see some of the patients. We passed a yellow-faced man propped up in his bed, a young woman sitting by his side, staring at a vase of flowers. An old woman smiled a wobbly smile at us as if we might be coming to visit her. Then, in a room of her own, we saw Anna.

‘Haai, Tannie!' she called.

She tried to wave at us, but her hands were chained to the sides of her bed. Her left leg was in a plaster cast and her right was bandaged on the calf. There was a wheelchair beside her.

That strange sound was getting closer. It was like an angry animal crashing its way through the bushes.

‘They've locked me up!' Anna said, jangling her chains.

‘Ooh, gats, Anna, you under arrest?' said Jessie from the doorway.

‘Ja, that too,' said Anna. ‘But they chained me to the bed because I found Dirk and pulled out his drips!'

The wild sounds were even louder now. I looked down the corridor just as the creature came round the corner.

‘Ooh, gats!' said Jessie again.

It was Dirk, in a pale green hospital gown, roaring like a wounded beast, and he was dragging with him a number of noisy things. Chained to his ankle was a bar of metal that looked like a piece of a hospital bed, and clinging onto his legs were two men in white uniforms. Dirk's arms were bandaged up, one of them in a sling, and the orderlies were trying to slow him down without hurting him. You see what a good hospital it was.

A nursing sister was running after them, and they were all shouting at once. She had a needle and syringe that looked big enough for a horse, but Dirk wasn't staying still long enough for her to jab him. Dirk kicked off the man who was attached to his right leg. The guy went flying across the corridor, and then jumped up and threw himself back onto Dirk. The staff there were very dedicated.

Jessie and I tried to block the door, but Dirk and his circus pushed right past us. From the back of Dirk's gown you could see his bottom had the same wiry hair as his head and sideburns. Anna sat up, ready to fight, rattling the chains on her wrists, as Dirk clattered towards her bed. Jessie ran forward and squirted Dirk in the face with her pepper spray before he got to Anna. He coughed and spat but still reached Anna's bed. He pulled her drips out with his teeth. It was hard to breath with that burning pepper smell, and my eyes were streaming. Dirk was kicking at Anna's bed, trying to push it over, but now the sister had him trapped and she plunged that big needle into his thigh.

Dirk barked like an angry baboon, but it was too late. His body slumped against Anna's bed. The orderlies managed to get her wheelchair under him before he hit the ground, and his head fell forward onto the bed and rested on Anna's thigh.

He was the only one looking peaceful, sleeping there on Anna's lap while the rest of us cried and coughed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

‘We brought you a vetkoek, Anna,' I said, ‘with curry mince. I hope the pepper spray doesn't make it taste funny.'

The orderlies had carried Dirk off and moved Anna to another ward. It was dark outside now and the room was brightly lit.

‘Ooh, dankie, Tannie,' she said.

They had taken the chains off her arms and she reached out for the vetkoek.