The Satanic Mechanic (6 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘Slimkat!' I shouted.

Hattie clapped her hand to her mouth, and Jessie and I hurried back towards Slimkat. Piet was beside him, holding his shoulders. Slimkat sat up for a moment, and I could see no wound on his front. He doubled up again and vomited onto the grass. Then he fell to the ground; Piet helped him land gently.

Ystervark grabbed a beer bottle, smashed it at the neck and threw himself – with his handful of glass – at the big man in khaki. The man jumped out of the way like a ballet dancer and together with a large woman with a downy moustache managed to disarm the angry porcupine. They wrestled his hands to his sides, and he dropped the bottleneck. I wondered if he'd try to attack them with Jessie's knife. But he seemed to give up and let the woman hold him in her grip as he watched his cousin, Slimkat, trembling and twitching on the ground.

The man in khaki kept Jessie and me away with an outstretched arm. He was a policeman, not a cattle farmer. Henk was shouting into a cell phone, calling for an ambulance. The khaki man gave instructions to Reghardt and another man who was probably also a plainclothes cop.

Slimkat lay on his back on the grass and stared up at us. He tried to speak, but his lips wouldn't move properly. He looked at Jessie, then at me. His eyes were big, black and calm, like a kudu's.

This time I did not look away.

In those moments, with the windows without curtains, so many things happened. I allowed him to see me, and he saw everything. Even the things I have kept most secret. His body trembled, but he was not
afraid. I could see the courage in his eyes. And he was looking for the courage in mine. He was trying to tell me something, but I could not understand what.

Kurt was singing: ‘Hier sit ek nou alleen, soos die man op die maan. Daar is 'n wind wat waai – hy ken my naam. Daar is 'n wind wat waai – hy vat my saam.' Here I sit alone, like the man on the moon. There's a wind that blows – it knows my name. There's a wind that blows – it takes me along.

By the time the paramedics arrived, Slimkat's body was stiff, like it was paralysed. But his eyes were alive, looking again at Jessie, then at me. What was he saying to us? I looked into those dark eyes and listened with all my heart. It
does
matter, he said. It does matter if I die. His eyes darted up towards the table and back to me. You can help, he said. But I could not understand how. As they lifted him onto a stretcher, he still held me with his gaze. And then, even when he was out of sight, the whoop of the siren racing away, the look in his eyes stayed with me.

Kurt was still singing, and even the old tannies were up and dancing. ‘Nou loop ek maar die paadjie alleen – leen – leen. Stap ek deur die storm; dit reën reën reën.' Now I just walk the path, alone – lone – lone. I walk through the storm; it rains, rains, rains.

I sat down on the bench where Slimkat had sat. Jessie was talking to Reghardt, and the police were buzzing all around. Uniformed officers worked together with plainclothes police and closed off an area using yellow-and-blue tape. They were getting photographs and names of everyone in that area. Henk and a man with a bottlebrush moustache, and that police tannie with the lip fluff were interviewing people at a table just outside the tent. Piet was moving around like an agama lizard, lifting his head up and down, looking over and under tables. He studied the grass here and a tabletop there.

‘Buite waai die windjie; die honde huil,' sang Kurt. Outside a wind blows; the dogs howl.

The police hadn't stopped the music. Perhaps they didn't want to cause panic. After all, the crowds might think Slimkat had just drunk too much. I hadn't smelt beer on his breath when we'd leant in close
to talk. I had smelt garlic. I looked down at the sticks on the table. Those kudu sticks had been his last meal. Just as I was reaching out to his Styrofoam container, Piet's hand gently stopped me. He picked up the container in gloved hands and sniffed it. I leant forward and sniffed it too. There was a smell coming from the napkin.

‘Garlic,' I said into Piet's ear.

He nodded, slipped the napkin and Styrofoam into a plastic Ziploc bag and sealed it.

‘But there's no garlic in those kudu sosatie sauces,' I said.

He looked down at the bag and back at me again. Then he put the package into my hands.

Piet said something I couldn't hear above Kurt's singing. Then he pointed at the packet and at Detective Kannemeyer, and I nodded in understanding. Then Piet ran, like there was a leopard on his tail, to the Kudu Stall.

Kurt sang, ‘Sê net ja, aha aha, kom dans met my. O, bokka, ek wil huis toe gaan.' Just say yes, aha aha, come dance with me. Oh, honey, I want to go home.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hattie drove us to our guesthouse, The Rose, in Baron van Reede Street. Jessie would follow on her scooter.

‘So Piet found sauce bottles under the table at the Kudu Stall?' said Hattie. ‘And he brought them to you to smell?'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘Two yellow bottles. And one smelt a lot like the sauce on Slimkat's napkin.'

‘Quite a nose you've got there. That sauce had garlic in it?'

‘Ja,' I said.

‘Here we are,' she said, as she turned into the driveway of a big Victorian house with a long narrow stoep.

‘Watch out!' I said, as she headed for a karee tree. She bumped into it, but not too hard.

‘Don't worry,' she said. ‘That's what bumpers are for. There's a sweet old auntie and uncle that will ply you with coffee and rusks if they spot you; they'll probably be asleep now.'

But we were greeted by Tannie Rosa and Oom Frik van der Vyver. Tannie Rosa showed us our rooms, which were full of ornate wooden furniture, with everything covered in white and gold ruffles and lace. The pillows, the bedside lamps, the curtains, even the doorknobs – all had pretty covers. It somehow made me feel wrapped up and looked after. I hoped Slimkat was being looked after at the hospital.

‘Dis pragtig. Baie dankie,' I said to the tannie. Lovely, thank you. She smiled at the praise.

‘Koffie en beskuit?' she asked.

‘Tomorrow, thank you,' said Hattie. ‘We really must sleep.'

I was too tired to argue. I took a diet tablet and headed to bed.

That night, I dreamt I was sitting on the branch of that old gwarrie tree. The veld flowers smelt like pineapples, and I heard galloping hooves. As the sound got closer, I saw it was a giant kudu with two men riding on its back. They came to a stop in front of me. The man in front called for me to climb on. It was Slimkat, and in his hand was a bow. He reached for an arrow from the quiver on his back. But it was not an arrow; it was a pen.

The man sitting behind him wore a blue mechanic's overall, and in his hand was a huge spanner. I couldn't see his face. The kudu pawed the ground with a restless hoof; it would not wait for ever. I looked again at the big spanner and wondered if I was the loose nut the man had come to make right. I woke up holding onto my head.

I was surrounded by frills and doilies, and didn't know where I was. Then I remembered. I wondered if the diet tablets were giving me strange dreams. My mind went to Slimkat: had he made it through the night? I struggled to get back to sleep.

In the morning, I washed and dressed. The rubbish bin and the spare toilet rolls also had frilly covers on them. It was cool, so I wore a cotton jacket over my brown dress, and socks with my veldskoene.

I went to the kitchen, and there was Tannie Rosa. She pointed out a tin of rusks.

‘Mosbolletjiebeskuit,' she said.

‘Jirre,' I said. ‘I haven't had those rusks for ages.'

‘I used muscadel must that I got from my brother,' she said. ‘He makes his own wine.'

Mosbolletjie bread is made with ‘must', the fermented leftovers from the winemaking process: grape skins, seeds and stalks. This, together with the aniseed, gives the rusks their special flavour.

I turned on the kettle and spooned some coffee and sugar into a cup and put two rusks onto a plate. Tannie Rosa left and Hattie came into the kitchen, her cream skirt all fresh and ironed as if she wasn't travelling.

‘Good morning, Maria. Gosh, you didn't sleep much, did you?'

‘Morning, Hats. Tea?' I said, putting a third rusk on the plate for her.

‘I am going to make an appointment for you with Doctor Walters,' she said.

We went and sat on the stoep, which was painted an oxblood red, and watched the sun lighting up the Groot Swartberge. Grey cliffs cast purple shadows on slopes of green. This range of mountains linked us all the way to Ladismith and went on beyond Oudtshoorn, towards De Rust.

‘Jessie went to the hospital first thing,' said Hattie. ‘She'll come and report to us.' She looked at her watch. ‘Any time now. They wouldn't give her information last night, but she says a good friend of her mother's is on duty this morning.'

I dipped one of the rusks into my coffee and took a bite. It was better than any mosbolletjiebeskuit I could remember. Which says something, because food memories often cheat on the side of sweetness. Hattie sipped on her tea and nibbled on the edge of a rusk, and I shook my head; she knows beskuit are meant to be dipped.

We heard a buzzing sound, and Jessie's red scooter came zooming towards the house. Instead of driving up to the parking area behind the house, she pulled her bike to the side of the driveway and jumped off. She wore jeans and a denim jacket, and she took off her helmet and shook out her hair as she walked towards us.

I saw her face and did not need to hear her words to know: ‘He's dead. Slimkat's dead.'

I dropped my mosbolletjie rusk into my coffee.

‘Damnation,' said Hattie.

‘Ag, no,' I said.

‘It's so wrong,' said Jessie. ‘He was such a gentle man.'

‘Have they established the cause of death?' asked Hattie.

‘At first they thought it might be cholera or food poisoning. They pumped him with antibiotics.'

‘But what about the death threats? And the sauce bottle that Piet found under the Kudu Stall table,' Hattie said, ‘thanks to our clever cook here? Surely they needed to treat him for deliberate poisoning?'

‘Yes, but they didn't know what kind of poison. He was paralysed, and it wasn't long till he stopped breathing. Neither the hospital nor the LCRC – the Local Crime Registration Centre – were able to get test results in time.'

‘How did the poisoner know that Slimkat was going to eat that sauce?' said Hattie. ‘How did they even know he'd go to the Kudu Stall?'

‘He just loved that kudu,' said Jessie. ‘It's about all he ate. Though he did have roosterkoek and scrambled ostrich egg for breakfast.'

‘Did Slimkat tell you this last night?' I said.

‘Ja, and I checked with Reghardt, who was following him. He couldn't get enough of that kudu, and he always put on that sauce from the yellow bottle.'

‘So someone else watching him would've learnt the same thing . . .' said Hattie.

‘I don't understand why other people didn't get poisoned by that sauce,' I said.

‘I asked at the hospital,' said Jess, ‘and they had one other person admitted with vomiting. But he didn't have the other symptoms; it looks like he had alcohol poisoning. The sister said he was moederloos gesuip.' Drunk as a skunk.

‘What would you do if you wanted to poison one person but not others?' said Hattie.

‘Maybe the woman who served him put the poison sauce on his sosatie,' said Jessie.

‘No,' I said, ‘the sauces were self-service, to speed things up.'

Hattie answered her own question: ‘I'd get in front of him in the queue, remove the good bottle and give him the poisoned sauce. Then I'd wait till he was finished and take the poisoned bottle away from him.'

‘Maybe the murderer pretended to come back for more sauce,' said Jessie, ‘and then got rid of the poisoned bottle. Threw it under the table.'

‘Ja,' I said. ‘Piet found two yellow bottles under the trestle table. He let me sniff them. One smelt like the normal honey-mustard sauce. The other had that garlic smell, the same as Slimkat's napkin.'

‘Surely the police would've seen this gadding about with sauce bottles?' said Hattie.

‘The queue was busy, and they were watching Slimkat, not the sauces,' I said.

‘And why the garlic in the sauce?' said Hattie.

‘A strong flavour to hide the taste of the poison?' said Jessie.

‘No,' I said. ‘It was because the murderer didn't know the recipe.'

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

‘Yesterday afternoon, I asked at the Kudu Stall for the sauce recipe,' I told Jessie and Hattie. ‘They wouldn't give it to me, and they told me that another woman had asked for it too.'

‘And she could be the murderer?' said Hattie.

‘Or just another tannie asking for the recipe,' said Jessie, looking at the last beskuit on my plate.

‘Let's make coffee,' I said. Mine was lukewarm and ruined by a soggy rusk.

We made fresh coffee, and Jessie carried the whole tin of beskuit out onto the stoep. I took off my jacket and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my arms. The Swartberge were now mostly lit up, with just a few shadows in the kloofs. Those hidden ravines always kept their secrets.

‘I'd agreed not to publish Slimkat's story until the KKNK was over. To avoid panic,' said Jessie. ‘But now that he's dead . . . the other papers will pick up on the story.'

‘Hmm. And you interviewed him just before he died,' said Hattie.

‘I think he knew what was coming and was giving me his last words. Some beautiful stuff.' Jess opened a black pouch on her belt and took out her notebook. ‘Listen to this: “We are the ropes to God. When our land is beneath us and the open sky around us, we can feel the power of our ropes.” Slimkat was in training as a healer. They dance around the fire and go into a trance. He told me that when he danced, it was as if he died, and then the others brought him back to life. He said that's why he was not afraid of death. He'd been there already.'

‘What are the Oudtshoorn police telling the press?' said Hattie.

‘All they gave me last night was “no comment”. But let's see what they say this morning. They can't deny his death.'

Jessie took off her denim jacket, under which she wore her black vest. The gecko tattoos sunned themselves on her brown arms.

‘I'll tell you what,' said Hattie. ‘Let's have a eulogy-type article now. But we wait until we have a go-ahead from the police before we talk about the death threats and foul play.'

‘But what if
The Sun
gets there first?'

‘Jessie, we're a community gazette, not newshounds competing for scoops. Anyway,
The Sun
doesn't have the inside information that you have. It'll still be big news next week.'

‘But, Hattie . . .' she said.

Hattie just shook her head.

Jessie dipped and bit into her rusk.

‘Jirre, this rusk is good,' she said. It helped her swallow what her editor had told her. ‘Okay,' she said, ‘I'll give you that eulogy today. But I'm going to do a bit more investigating while I'm here. Talk to the people at the Kudu Stall. See who comes to get Slimkat's body. I may even miss some of the shows to do it.' She looked at Hattie. Her chin was raised, and there was a rusk crumb on it.

‘I agree this is a big story,' said Hattie, ‘but so is the KKNK. I still want a full-length report on the festival. Even if you don't review all the shows on your original list.' She drank the last of her tea. ‘So, Tannie Maria, we'll head back this morning. After your doctor's appointment.'

I remembered Slimkat's eyes on me, and I said, ‘I'd like to stay and help Jessie investigate.'

Jessie smiled at me. We made a good team. Though we hadn't worked together since the murders of Martine and Lawrence, last year.

‘It's not really your brief,' said Hattie.

‘But it is all about food,' I said.

‘You can't drive all the way back on Jessie's scooter,' she said.

‘I don't have a spare helmet,' said Jessie.

‘I'll make another plan,' I said. ‘Maybe I'll go back with Kannemeyer.'

‘Well . . . I assume you're up to date with your letters?' said Hattie.

I thought of the letter from the teenager about sex. I hadn't given her a reply.

‘You have my letters for tomorrow's edition,' I said. ‘And I'll be back in time for next week.'

‘Well, all right then, it's up to you. Ah, speak of the devil. The big one with the fiery moustache.'

Kannemeyer was pulling up in a police car, a cream Volkswagen sedan. He was alone – no sign of Piet or Reghardt. My heart did a happy jump at the sight of him. But when he got out of the car he was not smiling.

‘Good morning, ladies,' he said as he reached us. ‘I have bad news about Slimkat. He passed away last night.'

‘Yes,' said Jessie. ‘We heard. What happened?'

‘You must wait for the official police report,' he said.

‘So it is a police matter, then?' said Jessie.

Kannemeyer didn't answer.

‘Sit down,' I said, pulling up a chair. ‘I'll make some coffee.'

‘No, thank you,' he said. ‘But I was hoping to have a word with you, Maria. Alone.'

Jessie and Hattie looked at each other but did not move.

‘Can you come with me?' he said.

‘Okay,' I said, putting on my jacket. ‘Let me just fetch my bag.'

‘You gave full statements last night, didn't you?' he said to Jess and Hats as I stood up. They both nodded.

I splashed my face with water and put on some lipstick, then I headed back out with my handbag.

Jessie was asking Kannemeyer a question that I couldn't hear, but as I got closer I caught his reply: ‘I am not the investigating officer. The case belongs to the Oudtshoorn police. I can't give you any information.'

He was standing with his arms tightly folded, but they relaxed as he led me to the car.

I waved goodbye to Hattie and Jessie, and Jess winked at me.

‘There's something I wanted to tell you,' I said to Henk, ‘about the sauce.'