CHAPTER THIRTY

I woke with the birds on Monday morning. They were all chirpy, but I was tired and had a sore stomach, after a night with bad dreams. Not the usual nightmares, but other stuff, about Henk. Dreams that I did not want to remember, because they were nonsense; Henk and I were fine. But even after my supper of sweet-potato cake with walnut and cream-cheese icing, I couldn’t forget that he’d lied to me, and that I had heard that woman’s voice.

Did I really know Henk? I shook my head to shake these thoughts away.

I warmed up yesterday’s breakfast leftovers and ate them at the kitchen table. I wasn’t in the mood for the pretty sunrise on the veld. I put the remaining sweet-potato cake in the fridge, in case I needed it later. Though I wasn’t sure this cake was the right one for the job. It had helped me last night, but this morning my belly still felt worried. This was a new kind of problem for me, one I hadn’t had before. To do with getting very close to a man, too close maybe . . .

The sun hit the stoep; it was time to go to work. I packed a tin of muesli rusks and set off in my blue bakkie.

I drove through the fresh green veld to town and parked outside the Gazette behind Jessie’s red scooter. I walked down the path between the succulents. One of them had a shiny yellow flower. As I got closer, I could hear Hattie and Jessie arguing in their friendly kind of way.

‘Ag, no, Hattie,’ said Jessie, ‘you’ve cut the meat out of my story.’

‘Fiddlesticks, Jessie,’ said Hattie. ‘There’s plenty of substance here without your unfounded allegations. And the article is too long anyway.’

‘But you said I could do a feature article.’

‘You know jolly well the length of a feature article, and yours was two paragraphs too long.’

‘But if we move the advert to—’

‘Jessie! When will you—’

They saw me at the door. Hattie caught her next words before they hit Jessie, and Jessie grinned at me.

‘Tannie Maria,’ Jessie said.

‘I’ve made some muesli rusks,’ I said.

‘Lekker,’ said Jessie. ‘I was just discussing my article on Slimkat Kabbo with Hattie. Have you seen it? The unedited version?’

‘No, not yet,’ I said.

‘The discussion is over,’ said Hattie.

Jessie shook her head but did not speak.

‘Good morning, Maria,’ Hattie said to me. ‘Although you look like you didn’t have a good night.’

‘Oh, I’m all right,’ I said, turning on the kettle. ‘I had a nice weekend.’

‘Oh, ja, and what did you do?’ said Jessie, winking at me.

My face felt hot, and I looked down at the letters on my desk. Three envelopes and two printed emails.

‘Hey,’ said Jessie. ‘The mechanic. How did that go?’

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I want to hear about what happened in Oudtshoorn.’ I set aside my letters and prepared us tea and coffee.

‘Ja, well, I told you about the hemlock. It was something I wanted to add to the article.’ She looked at Hattie.

‘Hemlock?’ said Hattie. ‘Sounds like a witch’s brew.’

‘It’s a fatal poison, and they found it in Slimkat’s stomach,’ said Jessie.

‘Maria also mentioned a poison. Have the police released an official report?’

‘No. It was the doctor who told Slimkat’s cousin, Ystervark. I went to visit his family in Oudtshoorn.’

‘Your article says his family are from the Kuruman area in the Northern Cape,’ said Hattie.

‘Ja, his parents are, but he’s also got family down here in Oudtshoorn. There’s not enough work up there in Kuruman, and they weren’t allowed to hunt. That’ll change now, after the land victory.’

‘So what did you learn from his family?’ Hattie asked.

‘They’re really awesome people. There’s a lot I didn’t put in that article, Hattie. That I learnt after I sent it to you. A lot of fishy business.’

Hattie sighed and said, ‘Does that mean a whole fishing basket of unsubstantiated allegations that may lead to libel action from big business?’

‘Hattie, don’t be like that. The Bushmen have been through hell. For centuries. And if journalists were scared to speak out against big business, we would have got nowhere by now.’

‘Speaking out using well-researched data is one thing. By all means, we can have an article on the historical abuse of the Bushmen. But to insinuate that a respected mining company or a cattle company is responsible for a murder . . . A murder that isn’t even yet on public record—’

‘Ever since they took up the land-claims case they’ve had death threats. Not just to Slimkat but other Bushman leaders too.’

‘What are the police saying?’

I passed Hattie her tea, and Jessie her coffee, and gave them each a rusk.

‘I met with the investigating officer,’ said Jessie, ‘a woman called Detective Mostert. Same surname as me, but no relation. Or none she’s likely to admit to – she’s a white lady. I told her it might have been the diamond miners or the cattle farmers who murdered Slimkat. Angry when they’d lost the court case. I asked her what she knew, but all she said is, “the case is under investigation” and that I must “wait for official reports, as irresponsible reporting could jeopardise the investigation”.’

‘I hope you paid attention to that, Jessie,’ said Hattie.

‘Ag, the police are full of nonsense,’ said Jessie. ‘Ystervark told me they were asking questions as if someone in the Bushman community might’ve killed Slimkat. They asked if the hemlock was something a Bushman medicine man might use. They were also looking for an old shaman woman as if she might have done it.’

‘Well, for all you know, they may be right,’ said Hattie. ‘Most murders take place between people who know each other, after all. Maybe there was some feud between Slimkat and this old lady, and they’ve been hexing each other.’

Jessie snorted and then dipped her beskuit into her coffee. ‘I am worried the police are barking up the wrong tree. I’d like to spend some more time on the case.’

‘For goodness sake, Jessie, this is not a case – it is an article. And it’s written and edited now. Leave the police work to the Oudtshoorn police.’

Jessie frowned, shook her head and bit into the beskuit.

‘Jirre. These beskuit are awesome,’ she said, the frown disappearing.

Hattie nibbled on hers and said, ‘Gosh, yes, they are nice.’

I took a sip of my coffee and smiled. I was always glad when my food was a peacemaker.

‘Hey, Tannie M,’ said Jessie. ‘I saw your Detective Kannemeyer yesterday. He had that lamb with him.’ She laughed. ‘In the Oudtshoorn police station. I didn’t talk to him. He was meeting with Detective Mostert. Reghardt tells me Kannemeyer’s helping out there. As a volunteer, in his off-time.’

I put down my coffee cup and took in a big breath and let it out again.

‘Tannie M?’ said Jess. ‘You okay?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’