Recipes for Love and Murder (28 page)

The light was coming into the church from windows that were very high up, and it felt like we were underwater. When the pews were almost full, music started playing, and the pall-bearers came in with the coffin. Reghardt, Piet and Jessie carried one side of the coffin; Kannemeyer, David and Didi the other. I guessed Didi must have forgiven John. Maybe she wasn't the jealous type. She probably didn't know about the ripe pomegranate. Jessie and Henk sat next to Candy in the front. Grace was near the front too. She wore a blue shweshwe headdress and sat up very straight. Hattie came late and stayed at the back with the Seventh-day Adventists. There was an empty space next to me, and the ghost of my husband, Fanie, came and sat down. I tried to shoo him away, but his heavy presence stayed.

Georgie did a good job of the sermon. She spoke about how our lives all come to an end, and gave us a bit of God and heaven talk. She threw in some stuff about the end of the world too, but didn't invite us to join them in the mountains for the big day. Then she invited family members to speak. Dirk got up, but when he was in front of everyone, the words stuck in his throat so he sat down again. Candy stood up and said some sweet words about her cousin and the kind people of Ladismith.

The bad-tempered ghost of Fanie still sat beside me. No mention was made of the husband hitting Martine or the person who murdered her. Funerals are always scrubbed clean of dirt. We sang ‘All Things Bright And Beautiful'.

And then we sang ‘The Lord Is My Shepherd' and the pall-bearers carried the coffin back down the aisle. Kannemeyer looked sad, his moustache drooping. My tummy felt strange, like it was being kneaded, as he walked right past me. I stood up to join the procession and left Fanie's angry ghost there on the church pew.

The family and all their wheelchairs were behind the coffin: Candice pushing Oupa, the nurse pushing Jamie, Anna wheeling herself, and Dirk walking slowly behind them all. The coffin then the wheelchairs were carried down the steps.

Then we all rolled, hobbled and walked to the cemetery behind the church. Someone had dug a very deep hole. The wheelchairs parked in the front row on the flatter side of the grave: Anna, Oupa, Jamie. Rows of people stood behind them: Dirk and the nurse; David, Candice and Kannemeyer; John and Didi; Jessie, Reghardt and Piet. Even Hattie was on that side, with them all.

I stood on the other side of the grave with the Seventh-day Adventists and some workers from the Spar. Just when I thought we had all settled down, and Georgina was giving Martine some final words of farewell, I saw Jamie's wheelchair rolling forward. The nurse grabbed for it but missed and it hung out over the edge of the grave. Piet dived forward and managed to catch it before it fell. He pulled it back onto safe ground. David took a couple of steps backwards.

‘Oooh wooo,' cried Georgina.

‘The brakes were on,' said the nurse, gripping the back of the chair. ‘I don't know what happened.'

Grandpa reached out for Jamie and patted him on the knee. Candice crouched down beside him, but the boy seemed okay, humming to himself, making grabs for his granddad's hand.

Priestess Georgie said quietly that we all came from dust and to dust we all return. Men in workers' overalls used ropes to lower the coffin into the grave. Then they began to cover it with spadefuls of earth. There was a big mound of soil. The service was scrubbed clean of dirt, but there was no getting away from it here.

It made a soft heavy sound as it hit the lid of the coffin.

Martine was never coming back.

I picked up a handful of soil and threw it in.

I'll do my best, Martine,
I told her.
I'll do my best to find who did this to you.

CHAPTER SIXTY

At the wake, I sat with Hattie by the food. A small circle of men, including Henk, stood around Candy like they were warming themselves at her fire. Her smooth dress fitted her curves perfectly. My own brown dress was creased after the long morning.

‘So that's Grace that Jessie is talking to? said Hattie, brushing a tiny flake of chicken pie off her lap.

I nodded. Grace was wearing a dark blue dress that matched her shweshwe headdress. ‘She looks like a princess,' said Hattie. ‘Maria, are you not eating anything?'

I shook my head. Henk put his hand on Candy's bare arm and leaned in close and said something in her ear. Then he left. He didn't say hello or goodbye to me.

David collected a cup of tea and a milk tart for his father, who was parked next to Jamie's wheelchair, not far from Candy. The old man's hands shook as he lifted his tea cup to his mouth. His face was soft and sad. His grandson looked happy as the nurse fed him a vegan spinach pie. He must be a very dedicated nurse to have got a vegan pie because the Seventh-day Adventists had rushed in to gobble them.

‘I wonder if he understands his mother's gone,' I said.

Candy leaned down and stroked the boy's hair. Jessie joined Hattie and me, her plate piled with koeksisters.

‘Grace says Dirk gave her some money,' she said.

‘Super. Maybe he's not such a pig after all,' said Hattie.

‘Hmph,' said Jessie. ‘A pig is a pig. He can't buy his way out of that. Anyway, along with Lawrence's life insurance she now has enough to set up in Cape Town.'

‘Hmm. So, she was the beneficiary of his life insurance?' Hattie said.

‘Oh, stop it, Hattie, she didn't kill anyone.'

‘It's often the nearest and dearest,' said Hattie.

‘Did she get anything from Marius?' I asked.

‘Not a cent,' said Jessie. ‘Grace tells me he offered her money if she'd “do something” for him.'

‘Marius really is a pig,' said Hattie. ‘I visited Mrs van der Spuy this morning. She tells me Marius is campaigning hard against us. If we lose the support of the Chamber, the
Gazette
won't have enough funding to continue.'

‘Oh, Hats,' I said.

‘I am attending their meeting tonight. Hold thumbs. Where is that Mr Marius now? I saw him earlier . . . '

‘Hah,' said Jessie. ‘Just now, outside, Dirk, Anna and John were chasing him. Look at them.' She nodded towards where the threesome sat together, with Didi taking care of them. ‘In bandages and wheelchairs, but they attacked him. Reghardt and Kannemeyer intervened and Marius got away.'

I explained to Hattie and Jess what had happened at John's farm, and why Dirk and Anna had stopped torturing John to gang up on Marius.

‘Jinne,' said Jessie. ‘A fracker. After Martine's land.'

‘Goodness gracious,' said Hattie. ‘If Marius works for Shaft that would explain why he had such a hissy fit about your article, Jess. Well, he'd better watch out for the terrible trio.'

‘You mean them,' said Jessie, pointing to John, Dirk and Anna with her koeksister, ‘or us?'

‘What I also wanted to tell you,' I said, ‘is that pomegranates are not in season, but we found a ripe one on John's farm. He has a greenhouse.'

‘So you think maybe he . . . ?' said Hattie.

‘He used to be in love with Martine,' I said, ‘and she was crazy about pomegranate juice.'

‘Does his girlfriend know?' asked Jessie, looking at Didi, who was feeding John a chicken pie.

I nodded.

Hattie raised her eyebrows, and said, ‘Hell hath no fury . . . '

‘I wonder if the Spar has got anywhere with the pomegranate juice?' I said.

‘I'll ask my cousin Boetie,' said Jessie. ‘He works there.'

Hattie looked around the hall. She was taller than us and had a good view of all the people from Ladismith and far away: Martine's family and friends, work colleagues, Seventh-day Adventists.

Then she looked at us, and said, ‘Any one of the people in this room . . . '

Jessie completed her sentence: ‘ . . . could be the murderer.'

Beneath the chatter of the people, we heard a long low moan.

‘What was that?' asked Jessie.

‘It's the grandpops,' Hattie said.

Grandpa was bent over, clutching his stomach. His cup and plate with the half-eaten milk tart were slipping off his lap, onto the floor.

Candice rushed to his side and we followed, pushing our way through the crowd that was gathering around him.

‘Help,' said Oupa, his face green. ‘I've been poisoned.'

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

We three
Gazette
girls moved in like a team. Jessie stood in front of Oupa's wheelchair, looking like a bodyguard in a movie. Hattie stood behind the chair, like a strong, sharp thorn tree, giving protection and shade. I got there too late to save Tannie Kuruman's milk tart. It was trampled on the floor, sticking to the bottom of the shoes of the Seventh-day Adventists.

‘Call Kannemeyer,' I said, but Jessie was already on her cell.

‘They're on their way,' she said.

‘We need an ambulance,' said Hattie.

‘My car will be quicker,' said Candice.

Hattie stood aside to let Candy wheel the old man forward.

Jessie stayed close, clearing a path for them

‘Move it. Move it,' she said to the people in the way.

Candice drove the wheelchair like a sports car, but Oupa seemed to handle it. Hattie and I walked in their trail and got left behind. David was following too, but not rushing to catch up.

We watched Candice, Jessie and the old man zoom away in the red MG.

‘You look peaked,' said Hattie, patting my shoulder.

‘I had a bad night,' I said.

‘Why don't you nip home and rest? I'll stay and wrap up.'

‘Thanks, Hats. Funerals make me tired.'

I walked the block from the church to my bakkie. The road was flat, but I felt like I was climbing one of those Karoo koppies.

I drove out of town, between the hills that looked like big animals sleeping under a warm blue sky. I wanted to pull over and join them. But I managed to drive myself home. I even made Vorster a cup of coffee and threw out mielies for the chickens. Then I took off my shoes and lay down on my bed and fell into a black hole of sleep.

I dreamt of nothing.

I woke up and blinked and looked out my window at big grey clouds and realised it was evening. I must have slept for hours.

I heard a clanging sound in my kitchen. I could feel my heart in my chest like a rabbit running. Then I got angry. I did not want to be afraid in my own home. If something was going to happen to me, then let it happen. I was not going to be that rabbit, afraid of its shadow. I looked around for a weapon. All I found was my hair brush so I picked that up.

I walked through towards the kitchen, barefoot and armed. There was Henk Kannemeyer, putting a frying pan on the stove. I stepped back into the corridor and used the brush on my hair.

‘Maria?' he said.

‘Coming,' I said.

I scooted into the bathroom. I got a fright when I saw myself in the mirror. My cheek was creased from sleep and my eyes were puffy. I did what I could and changed into a fresh blue dress and went into the kitchen.

‘Hope you like scrambled eggs,' he said, beating the eggs in a bowl.

He was still wearing the blue shirt from the funeral, but the tie was gone and his sleeves were rolled up.

‘I'm not really hungry.'

Something popped and I jumped. It was just the toast in the toaster. He took it out and put in two more slices of bread, then went back to beating the eggs.

‘It's about all I know how to make,' he said. ‘And when I put the chickens in the hok there were some eggs there, waiting.'

He opened the fridge. How did this man make his way into my chicken hok, my kitchen, my fridge?

‘Have you got yogurt?'

‘No,' I said.

‘Here's some.' He added a spoonful to the egg mix. ‘I couldn't find your cutlery. To lay the table.'

‘I'll do it.'

I dropped a knife and we both bent down to pick it up; our arms touched while we were upside down. I stepped back, holding the knife. I washed it and laid the table.

He put the toast and eggs on our plates and buttered his toast.

‘I need to talk to you,' he said, looking at me with his storm-blue eyes. ‘About Candice.'

I studied my own dry toast.

‘This isn't an easy thing to do,' he said. ‘I know you are friendly with her.' He put his knife down. ‘You probably trust her.'

‘You don't have to do this, Detective,' I said.

‘I worry about you . . . ' he said.

‘You have no— ' What was the word? ‘ —obligation. To me.'

‘Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this . . . '

‘No, you shouldn't. You don't have to explain anything to me. You can do as you like.'

‘Maybe you've already worked it out. About her.'

‘Yes. I'm no fool.'

‘So you are being careful?'

I frowned at him as he put the scrambled egg onto his toast. A breeze rattled the sash window.

‘I worry for your safety,' he said.

‘My safety?'

‘Maria, Candice could be the murderer.'

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

‘What?' I said.

‘I don't want you spending time alone with her.'

‘What?' I said again. ‘You had supper with her.'

‘She has motive, means and opportunity.'

‘I don't understand,' I said. ‘I don't believe it.'

‘She comes into a lot of money. Martine made Candice the trustee for her son.'

I rearranged my knife and fork on the table. Got them parallel to each other.

‘Martine wasn't rich,' I said. ‘Dirk paid for their son's special needs place. She didn't have enough money to leave her husband.'

‘Martine's father had money in trust for her.'

‘Yes, I heard he had lots of money, but that he wouldn't give his children anything. Thought they should be independent or something . . . '

‘I'd rather not tell you the whole story, but it may the only way to get you to believe me.' He ate some of his meal and then explained: ‘Long ago Martine had a miscarriage and was very upset about it. Her father told her she'd only get her money when she had a child. In a funny way he thought this might help, but Martine didn't see it like that.'