CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

I told Jessie I’d made my report to the police and gave her Henk’s story about the Hotazel car racing along Route 62. The one that used to be owned by Ricus.

‘Bat out of hell,’ she said. ‘Ja, it fits. So Kannemeyer reckons these are the same people who came to scare your group?’

‘Yes. And he thinks they’re dangerous. The one guy’s on parole for kidnapping and is a satanist high priest.’

‘Be careful, Tannie M. Lots of weirdos out there.’

I settled down to my letters, with my coffee and mosbolletjie rusk. I decided to start the day with my friend, the Scottish lady.

Dearest Tannie Maria,

I know you will hardly have had time to read my last letter, but I can’t wait to tell you my news. The laddie gave me a bath! I know that may sound very forward to you, but he was so very gentle, and I confess I have not had hands on this old body for a while. But even more exciting than that (if that is possible), is that I have asked him to move in with me! He has not given an answer yet, but I think he wants to. He has some practicalities to sort out.

I would like to celebrate (when he says yes) with a tot of homemade Van der Hum liqueur. A dear friend once gave me a bottle she had made. It was ambrosial. Even better than (may my ancestors forgive me) Scottish whisky. Alas, however, the bottle is long finished and my friend passed away. There may be many things to celebrate in times to come. Do you perhaps have a fine Van der Hum recipe?

I include my personal address, because things are moving rather fast, and this letter is a tad too private for the Gazette.

Yours,

Excited Lassie

I did have a wonderful recipe to give her (I’d used this Van der Hum liqueur to make that orange pudding: Henk’s Favourite). Brandy with a bit of rum, as well as nutmeg, naartjie peel, cinnamon and cloves. I wrote:

Like many things, this liqueur improves with age. It is most tasty if you can let the spices steep for at least a month. But if there are things you need to celebrate sooner, there is no harm in sneaking an early mouthful.

‘I am going to Oudtshoorn,’ said Jessie. She stood up and packed her camera into one of the pouches on her belt.

‘The Slimkat story?’ I asked.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m doing a feature on free-range meat and visiting some ostrich farms.’

‘Can I tell you something off the record?’

‘Ja.’ Her fingers stroked the tail of the gecko tattoo on her arm.

‘The police are getting a search warrant. They want to find that old woman who disappeared.’

‘A search warrant?! Why don’t they leave those families alone? Catch the diamond miners?’

‘But it is strange she’s disappeared, don’t you think? Isn’t it possible she knows something?’

‘I guess anything is possible.’

‘It would be really stupid of the Hardcore diamond miners to kill Slimkat after the case.’

‘But they are stupid. They were forced into this agreement by the courts. They don’t care a rat’s bum about the Bushmen.’

‘But bad publicity, they do care about that,’ I said.

‘I suppose . . .’

‘The Bushmen you interviewed, did they tell you anything about the old woman?’

‘Not much; we were talking about Slimkat. They just said the police were asking questions about her.’

‘After the police have gone in there with a search warrant, Slimkat’s family may not talk to us again.’

‘Ja, they already feel like they’re being treated like criminals.’

‘So, I was thinking it might be good to chat to them soon.’

‘Well, some of them will have gone back to the nature reserve by the Kuruman River. But there’s still family in Oudtshoorn.’

‘Maybe you can find out something about the old woman.’

‘Shall we go visit them today?’

‘No, no, not me. You’re the investigative journalist. But I have a few ostrich burgers and roosterkoek at home that I could give you.’

‘Mmm. Bushmen love that streepmuis roosterkoek.’ Striped-mouse griddle bread. ‘And ostrich meat.’

‘The burgers might help get them talking.’

Jessie winked at me and said, ‘Of course, yes.’