‘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.
‘You hit her,’ I said.
‘Who do you think you are?’
His cheeks were swelling up now, like a balloon. I just stood there and looked at him.
He sighed and some of the air went out of that red balloon.
‘You are right, Tannie,’ he said. ‘I was a rubbish husband. Now it’s too late . . . ’
‘Anna was a good friend to her. If you care about your wife, you’ll treat Anna with respect.’
‘I know people think it was me who killed her. I go crazy sometimes.’ He sat up, and leaned towards me. ‘But it wasn’t me. I didn’t kill her. You’ve got to believe me.’
‘I don’t think it was you. And I don’t think it was Anna either.’
‘Are you with the police?’
‘No, I’m investigating for the Klein Karoo Gazette. We got involved when Martine wrote to us, before she died.’
‘Who was it, Tannie? What bastard killed her?’
‘We don’t know yet. But if you stop fighting Anna, maybe you can help us work it out.’
‘I dunno who’d do such a thing to Martine. It makes me blerrie crazy.’
He waved his bandaged paw about. I pulled up a plastic chair and sat down next to him. He was ready to answer questions; I just hoped I could remember them all.
‘Lawrence said he was sorry – he didn’t mean to get you into trouble,’ I said. ‘What did he mean by that?’
‘Trouble? Oh, ja, Lawrence told the police I was there on the morning Martine was killed. But that was rubbish. I was at work right up till lunch time. Everyone at work saw me there. I don’t know why he said that.’
‘Maybe he saw someone who drove a car like yours?’
‘Ja, could be . . . He wasn’t one to sommer talk nonsense, Lawrence.’
‘The murderer might have thought Lawrence had seen him.’
‘You think that’s why he got shot?’
‘Could also be because Lawrence walked in on him when he was at your house that night.’
‘What was the bastard doing at my house?’ he said.
‘Going through papers in Martine’s study.’
Dirk rubbed his scratchy chin with his hand.
I asked: ‘That Mr Marius, what was he doing here?’
‘He’s got someone wants to buy our land.’ He swallowed. ‘My land.’
‘And are you selling?’
‘Ag, I dunno. Now he’s offering twice what it’s worth, so I’d be blerrie stupid to say no. But Martine didn’t want to sell. She said Marius was up to no good. With her gone, I dunno . . . Marius wants me to sign an agreement. But it’s too soon. I haven’t spent any time at home since . . . ’
He looked around as if he had lost something. His gaze fell on the water jug beside his bed.
‘Can I pour you some water?’ I said.
He shook his head, but kept looking at the water jug, as if it made him sad.
‘Who’s the buyer?’ I asked.
His face was confused, like he’d forgotten what we were talking about.
‘The one who wants to buy your land,’ I said.
‘Dunno. Marius wants to keep it quiet . . . ’
‘Was Martine religious?’
‘She was a good woman. Righteous.’
‘Did she have anything to do with the Seventh-day Adventists?’
‘The what? Oh, those people. The end of the world and that. Jinne, I don’t know. She did once say . . . I didn’t always listen. I wasn’t a good husband.’
‘Did you know Martine’s friend, John Visser?’
‘That useless rubbish. What do you mean, her friend?’ His face did that red balloon thing again. ‘Did you see them together? Where?’
‘No, no, I’m just asking. I hear they were together long ago.’
‘She threw him away. Long ago. And you know what? He’s got a white bakkie! I’ve seen it. It looks a lot like mine. It was him . . . I’ll kill him!’