The Satanic Mechanic (20 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

I left a note for Hattie saying I'd be working from home. Jessie came to my house, and I gave her a Tupperware of bobotie ostrich burgers and roosterkoek to take with her.

I worked through my pile of letters. Young people and old people, wanting help and ideas. I looked up some recipes in my mother's book,
Kook en Geniet
. That book has remedies for most things, I tell you.

Then I ate a salad, and a small piece of malva pudding with cream, for lunch. When the shadows got long, I worked in the garden. My straw hat kept the late sun out of my eyes as I picked snails off the pumpkin leaves and threw them on the grass. The chickens ignored them, but a hadeda came down from the eucalyptus tree and gobbled them up.

The phone rang and kept ringing, so I went inside and answered it with sandy hands. It was Henk.

‘Maria,' he said. His voice was warm like a lullaby.

‘Henk.' The shape of his name made my mouth smile.

‘I thought you were out.'

‘I was in the garden with the pumpkins.'

‘I can't come tonight. I must work late.'

‘I went to the police station this morning.'

‘Ja. You did the right thing.'

‘Sounds like Ricus will need to be the one to lay a charge.'

‘We can't make him. But now at least we have the incident on record.'

‘Okay,' I said.

‘I'll see you tomorrow night?'

‘I'll be back late, but come for pudding. I think I'll make pumpkin fritters.'

‘You going out?'

‘To my therapy group.'

‘You're not serious? After what happened on Tuesday night? It's not safe.'

I was going to tell him about how most of our group had guns, but then thought that might not be the kind of news to stop him worrying.

‘Henk, the meetings have really been helping me. You know that.'

‘Yes, but that was before this nonsense. These guys could be dangerous.'

‘They won't be coming back.'

‘How can you be sure of that?'

I didn't answer. One of my chickens had hopped up onto the stoep and was making soft noises with questions marks at the end. Henk's voice was quite different. ‘Maria, you are not to go to that meeting.'

‘Henk, you can't tell me what to do.'

He put down the phone.

I went outside and threw a handful of mielies onto the lawn for the chickens. I made myself an early dinner of Welsh rarebit, which I ate on the stoep, as I watched the sun change the colours of the clouds and hills and veld. The ground looked hard and stony between the bushes and trees. Welsh rarebit reminds me of my father, because it was one of his favourite dishes. That is half the reason I make it. The other half is to do with the creamy mustard sauce. I heard the jackal calling. It got no response from its mate.

I shut the chickens into their hok, and when I got back into the house, the phone rang. I felt the ringing inside my heart. A small part of me didn't want to answer the phone, but most of me did.

But it wasn't Henk; it was Jessie.

‘Tannie Maria,' she said. ‘I wanted you to know the results of your awesome burgers and roosterkoek.'

‘Ja?'

‘The old woman's name is Geraldine Klappers. She's a medicine woman. Ystervark says he doesn't know where she is, but I'm not sure I believe him. He seems sure that she is safe.'

‘Did she have any disagreement with Slimkat?'

‘Slimkat's uncle said that she and Slimkat worked together closely. He held up two fingers next to each other, “like this”, he said.'

‘On the court case?'

‘Ja. But she was also his teacher; he was training to be a shaman.'

‘Jess . . . have you heard stories about Bushmen . . . turning into animals?'

‘Ja, when they go into a trance, or they do the dance of a certain animal.'

‘So a shaman can turn into a kudu or something?'

‘Not literally, no. They get possessed by the spirit of an animal.'

‘Henk wonders if it was maybe a muti-related killing.'

‘He thinks Geraldine's a bad witch who used poison herbs?'

‘Not necessarily, but he says that kind of thing does happen.'

‘Why would she kill someone she worked closely with? Ask Detective Henk that.'

I didn't tell Jess that, right now, Henk and I weren't talking to each other.

I ate some hot malva pudding at the kitchen table while I listened to the phone not ringing. I heard that lonely jackal calling again. Thick cream melted onto the warm sticky pudding and filled my mouth and mind and belly. When I had finished, the phone did ring.

‘I am sorry,' he said.

I didn't know what to say, but a part of my chest went softer, which made me realise it had been tight.

‘You are right,' he said. ‘I can't tell you what to do.'

‘No,' I agreed.

‘I know the group's been helping you. But I worry.'

‘Yes.'

‘I want to come with you to your meeting tomorrow.'

‘You can't just do that.'

‘I want to watch that nothing happens, that those criminals don't come back.'

‘We meet outside, in the veld,' I said. ‘I'll check with Ricus. And if he agrees—'

‘Ricus, Ricus. He should be grateful for some police protection.'

‘I'll ask him. But you'd need to stay away from the group. People won't want a policeman listening to their stories.'

Would I ever tell this policeman my own story? I wondered.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Ricus agreed to Henk's idea, and the next afternoon Henk, Kosie, a pot full of warm pumpkin fritters, and I were driving in Henk's Hilux, along Route 62. We passed the turn-off to the Moordenaar's Karoo and came to the rusted tractor chassis that had the number plate saying
Ricus 10810
.

Henk said, ‘One ou ate one ou.' One guy ate one guy. ‘Is that supposed to be funny?'

I did not say anything, but Kosie bleated as we turned the corner. He was standing in the back of Henk's bakkie, with his head sticking through the window that separated the front seats from the canopy. He had made a lot of noise on this trip. Henk said it was because he was used to sitting in the front, but I think Kosie had smelt the pumpkin fritters.

When we got to the cattle grid, Henk looked up at the whale-bone arch with its skulls and horns, and shook his head.

‘He likes nature,' I said.

As we drove under the archway, a black Volkswagen Golf was heading out. We had to slow down to pass each other, and the driver looked right at me. His window was closed and mine was open, but the look he gave me made me want to wind up my window. How could someone I didn't know give me such an angry look? I opened the pot of fritters and took a sniff of that sweet cinnamon smell. Maybe I did know him. Where had I seen him before?

We were there early. Ricus was helping Johannes put a wheel onto the red Mini panel van, and Ousies and Tata Radebe were sitting inside the circle of vans. Ricus came over to our bakkie as we were getting out.

‘Tannie Maria.' He was smiling, and his voice was warm and rich. ‘And you must be Detective Lieutenant Henk Kannemeyer.' He spoke to Henk in Afrikaans. ‘Glad to meet you.'

Henk grunted and shook the hairy hand that Ricus held out.

‘And who is this little guy?' Ricus said, looking into the Toyota bakkie.

‘That's Kosie,' I said.

Kosie climbed through the window onto the front seat, hopped down onto the stony ground and sniffed at a grey bush.

‘Blaaah,' said Kosie.

‘Blaaah,' replied Ricus.

Kosie stayed close to Henk's leg.

Ricus pointed across the veld, to where Mielie was circling some sheep.

‘If Mielie sees him, she might decide that he must join the flock. If that happens, just keep an eye on the Colonel. The ram with the big horns. He sometimes gives the new guys a hard time.'

‘Kosie will stay with me,' said Henk.

‘Johannes, this is Detective Kannemeyer,' said Ricus.

Johannes, who was squatting on the ground beside the red Mini, stood up and nodded politely.

‘Make him a cup of coffee, please,' said Ricus.

Johannes put the spanner in the back pocket of his blue overall and turned towards the house.

‘I'm all right,' said Henk.

Johannes paused and looked at Ricus.

‘Maybe later,' said Ricus.

Johannes got back to work on the Mini van.

‘What I do want,' said Henk, ‘is the names of the people who caused trouble here the other night.'

‘They were all wearing masks.'

‘You know who they are.'

‘They won't come back.'

Henk frowned and shook his head. I gave him three fritters wrapped in wax paper.

‘You can give one to Kosie,' I said. ‘Sorry, I forgot to bring you a napkin.'

‘Ousies will bring you one,' said Ricus.

‘No, it's all right,' said Henk.

Ricus herded me towards the panel-van laager. We went along the stony path, between piles of panel-van parts, into the swept circle of sand and chairs. I greeted Ousies and Tata, and put my pot of fritters next to the fire, beside a black cast-iron pot.

Henk wandered around the outside of the panel vans with Kosie. He was too far away to hear us talking, but I couldn't relax with him walking about. But then, when Dirk, Lemoni and Fatima arrived, I forgot about him. We started our session with that spicy shaah tea and the smell of frankincense.

‘Feel your clothes on your skin and your body on the chair,' said Ricus in his ground-coffee voice. ‘Be aware of yourself and your surroundings.'

It was a lovely, autumn afternoon, not too hot, not too cold. There were a few streaks of clouds in the sky and a pair of rock kestrels swooping above the nearest koppie. The thorns were big and white on the trees, and I thought again that they were like sharp horns, but maybe more like the horns of an insect than an animal.

Fatima wore a purple dress and a brown headscarf and looked down at the ground. Tata Radebe wore a dark suit and a white T-shirt, and watched the fire where Ousies was squatting. Lemoni was in a turquoise low-cut top and tight black jeans and heels. Her eyes were painted with turquoise eye shadow. She was holding onto that bag of hers and wore her little leather bracelet and a necklace with a big evil-eye that lay between her breasts. Dirk was in his khakis, and he'd also noticed this big blue bead.

A praying mantis landed on Lemoni's bag, and she squealed. She shook her bag until the insect flew away. Dirk stood up and then sat down again as Lemoni settled.

‘Camagu,' said Tata Radebe to the mantis.

‘Blessings,' said Ricus.

The mantis landed on Tata Radebe's neatly ironed trousers, and he bowed his head in a show of respect.

‘Be aware of your breathing,' said Ricus, ‘and of your senses.'

The smell of the veld was sweet. I could hear the sheep bleating and see them wandering around the base of a sunny koppie, nibbling on the bushes. I wondered what we'd be having for supper.

‘Today, we will continue with the theme of forgiveness,' said Ricus. ‘Forgiving ourselves.'

Dirk snorted, and Fatima fiddled with the cloth around her head.

Lemoni's knuckles were tight around the handle of her bag. Then she loosened her grip, and I saw her fingers were shaking.

‘They came into my home,' she said. ‘They took everything. Everything. All my precious jewels.' She looked like a lost little girl, with those wide hazel eyes and long lashes. I remembered those robbers who'd ruined a good meal, and I nodded.

‘It was so . . . humiliating,' she said, looking down at her trembling hands, then lifting her head up to face Ricus. ‘You can't know what it feels like.'

‘A real violation,' he said.

‘Yes, a violation. I was violated! Nothing has been the same since then. Nothing.'

Tata made sympathetic clicking noises with his tongue.

‘But why must I be forgiven?' she said. ‘It was them who did the crime.'

‘Ewe, Sisi,' said Tata Radebe. Yes, Sister.

‘Yes, you are right,' said Ricus.

‘My husband had a gun. He could have used it, but he just sat there.' She punched her right fist into her left palm. ‘He just sat there!'

‘You feel angry with him for not protecting you?' said Ricus.

‘He says he didn't want us to get hurt. Says it could have been much worse. That the jewels were not worth risking our lives for. He was a coward, and now those jewels have gone. For ever.'

She looked at me now, and the pupils in her eyes were big and black.

‘I shot one of them,' she said. ‘The kathiki deserved it. I took the gun from my husband's belt. They were running away, with my jewels, and I leant out the window and shot. One of them fell, and the others picked him up and they got away.'

She buried her face in her hands, crying now. Ousies brought her a napkin, and Lemoni sobbed into it, saying, ‘Xriste mou. My Jesus.' Or maybe she said, ‘My Jewels.'

She looked up, at Dirk. Her eyes were red, her eyeliner a little smudged.

‘Forgiveness . . . why must I ask forgiveness from thieves?' She looked around at us, her lower lip trembling. ‘It's not my fault. It's not!'

‘Sh-sh-sh,' said Ricus. ‘We are not blaming you for anything.'

‘You are. I can see it in your eyes. You think I'm a . . . spoilt brat.'

Dirk shook his head in denial. Tata shook his head in another sad kind of way.

‘I hold no judgment of you,' said Ricus. ‘It is for you to make peace with yourself.'

She blew her nose and said, ‘Sorry, I don't mean to get so . . . emotional. It's just the . . . violation. It makes me so . . . upset. It's so . . . unfair.' She took out her handkerchief from her handbag and used it to wipe under her eyes. Ousies gave her a fresh napkin, and Lemoni blew her nose again. Fatima brought her some more tea.

‘Thanks, koukla,' she said. ‘Thanks, doll. You are all very kind. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . make a fuss.'

Tata Radebe ran the flat of his hand over his chest, and the praying mantis that was sitting on his knee flew into the air. Tata followed it with his gaze, high up into the sky.