Even if you donât review all the shows on your original list.â She drank the last of her tea. âSo, Tannie Maria, weâll head back this morning. After your doctorâs appointment.â
I remembered Slimkatâs eyes on me, and I said, âIâd like to stay and help Jessie investigate.â
Jessie smiled at me. We made a good team. Though we hadnât worked together since the murders of Martine and Lawrence, last year.
âItâs not really your brief,â said Hattie.
âBut it is all about food,â I said.
âYou canât drive all the way back on Jessieâs scooter,â she said.
âI donât have a spare helmet,â said Jessie.
âIâll make another plan,â I said. âMaybe Iâll go back with Kannemeyer.â
âWell . . . I assume youâre up to date with your letters?â said Hattie.
I thought of the letter from the teenager about sex. I hadnât given her a reply.
âYou have my letters for tomorrowâs edition,â I said. âAnd Iâll be back in time for next week.â
âWell, all right then, itâs up to you. Ah, speak of the devil. The big one with the fiery moustache.â
Kannemeyer was pulling up in a police car, a cream Volkswagen sedan. He was alone â 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.
âGood morning, ladies,â he said as he reached us. âI have bad news about Slimkat. He passed away last night.â
âYes,â said Jessie. âWe heard. What happened?â
âYou must wait for the official police report,â he said.
âSo it is a police matter, then?â said Jessie.
Kannemeyer didnât answer.
âSit down,â I said, pulling up a chair. âIâll make some coffee.â
âNo, thank you,â he said. âBut I was hoping to have a word with you, Maria. Alone.â
Jessie and Hattie looked at each other but did not move.
âCan you come with me?â he said.
âOkay,â I said, putting on my jacket. âLet me just fetch my bag.â
âYou gave full statements last night, didnât you?â 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 couldnât hear, but as I got closer I caught his reply: âI am not the investigating officer. The case belongs to the Oudtshoorn police. I canât give you any information.â
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.
âThereâs something I wanted to tell you,â I said to Henk, âabout the sauce.â
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
âShall we talk over breakfast?â he said, as we drove off.
âAll right,â I said. âHow about scrambled eggs and roosterkoek?â He slowed down and stared at me. Then he shook his head and drove us to Langenhoven Street, which was close to the festival area. We walked a block or so together. We didnât hold hands.
Most of the shops were still closed and some stalls were just setting up, but there was a queue in front of the roosterkoek stall. A red-faced young couple were taking orders and serving. Beside them was a man in a T-shirt and a blue cap, turning the flat bread with braai tongs. Coals glowed in two metal half-barrels with big grids on top of them. There were dark toasted lines on the bread, like the stripes on field mice. The smell was delicious. Two short coloured tannies worked at a trestle table nearby, kneading the dough, then making balls and squashing them with the heels of their hands to make the round flat breads.
The queue moved quickly, and we were soon sitting at a plastic table with our breakfast.
Clara Benson
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