A Motley Crew

by Wolf Scherman

  "There, we're all set, if you three can start serving up for us, or if you all want to help yourselves so long, I'll get the kettle going for some tea. Sugar and milk for everyone?" And that, was dear old lonely Anne's surprise party.

  To a part of the world, at 68, this was what she had to show. The result of a lifetime of toiling long and lonely hours - a surprise birthday party, arranged by five young and caring students, and the cleaner, with whom to share the celebration of her special day. They were three art students - Simon, Jenny and Gertrude, one final year architecture student - Miranda, and a student of music - Mary. And last but not the least, the good-hearted old cleaner - forty-year old Jonathan, who; at the age of 22, still not having finished 'normal' school, had to make peace with his terrible reality that he wasn't destined for his long-time dream career like his father - as neatly overhauled ambulance-driver, commanding every possible button for every siren and flashing light that there was. Tremendous learning disabilities, in addition to his stutter and severe limp - as if nature was apparently not yet finished with him, when cursing him with a total height - standing on his toes - of four-foot-two-inches. It all saw to it that driving ambulances would be excluded from his dreams. Anne met him at the local supermarket all those years before. One day, an awkwardly dresses young man - given the thirty-three degree Celsius weather - sitting flat on the dusty pavement, and glued to hopelessness, he had been crying his eyes out. Clad in tight white suit, Anne guessed a number too small. Like he got hold of one of those end-of-schoolcareer-dances when seeming oddness was fashionable, then hidden in the back of a cupboard for a generation... or even two. The immaculate velvet red shoes did absolutely nothing to pull the tight white suit, up and onto a stage of applauding acceptance of the modern world. Anne noticed as she walked up, the crimson shoes were tied up with far too long non-matching lily-white laces - which have in all likelihood in a rush, migrated from a pair of unacceptably stained tennis shoes. When asked what the matter was, he looked up from a cold-drink bottle cap that someone had discarded, and that he was circling in the powdery dust with a straw...

  "Th...th... they sa... sa... they say I'm... I'm t... t... too short to pack shelves in the grocery store, and t... t... too stu... stup... stupi..." And that was where Anne stopped him. She figured that she understood where he was going with it. Having met his sickly mom who was a cashier at the petrol filling station - forever, Anne learnt about the loss of the woman's husband due to a tragic vehicle collision while at work. Anne had seen on occasion, how the sick old mother had to slow down for her limping son to catch up, as he tried his best to walk his mother to work at "Essop's Petrol Gas & Tools". The last thing Anne was going to do, was to ask how finances were at home... She decided right on the spot, to end the sadistic cards life had been dealing the family, and knew she could make something out of the young man. In a what she believed a convincing attempt, she thought the university to take Jonathan on as cleaner... at least. When they refused, she added a lie that he was a distant cousin, but that too still made no difference in swaying their too-judgmental-for-her-liking decision. They were however happy that she would pay him, from her own pocket, for cleaning and odd-jobs around the library. Eighteen years later, of course having replaced his white suit with a denim overhaul, and firmly believing that those crimson shoes were what brought him luck, he now proudly boasted five identical red pairs - one for each day of the working week - every day he still proved a hard and always happy worker, to the point that the science department took him on every other day of the week that Anne didn't need him - to mop the laboratory floor and wash the windows, in addition to a few other 'side-shows" Anne had arranged to keep him in good spirit and feel needed.

  She was 68 and yesterday was her birthday. It was an uneventful birthday by other standards maybe, in the quiet-absence of traditionally RSVP'd family and long-time colleagues, arriving to spoil with an assortment of glittery wrapped presents and multiple neat rows of flickering candles - balanced on a large and rich towering and layered black forest chocolate cake, to share during lengthy discussions of how time flew since the last gathering. But for Anne, it was a perfect and meaningful day with people she cared for sincerely. The other highlight, was a single caringly and beautifully golden-paper wrapped gift, that an old philosophy professor had left her with a note.

  "For loyal service, to 'my' Anne. Open it at home - and open it once more. The bookworms owe you this much." He smiled through his neatly trimmed beard while politely tipping his hat and followed up with a sincere long hug, then, unceremoniously, without a word, or waiting for Anne to respond... left. Although he had little to say, the gift was as life-changing as the ones which had preceded it. She loved riddles dearly and loved the old professor just as much. Then again, it wasn't the first time she received a pen from him, and although the riddle was solved already years before, he kept presenting her with a pen and a note - and she - kept on solving the same riddle, again and again. Anne thought of at least three occasions where she'd received these at times far too soon, or weeks too late for her special day. Her mind was still as razor-sharp as ever, and not a pen, note, book, magazine or anything ever, were permitted out of place in her time proven system. It had been like that for the better part of forty years as she recalled. She was respected by her staff, loved by her visitors and admired by her employer. Maybe secretly 'feared' even, one could say. It was strange though, if one hadn't known her more intimately, that one would mention 'fear' and employer in a library atmosphere...

  Anne looked up at the young lady who pushed her chair under the desk, just a little 'too loudly' and who made her way to the counter where Anne sat reading.

  "Good evening and travel safe... And yes you may take both books and return them when you're finished. It should free up some private time for you. Just remember these books are for research and technically should not sleep out, yes?" Anne reminded the student. What Anne allowed was totally unusual, but then... the books were too and so was the student. A smiling Anne motioned with her eyebrows towards the door without moving her head, and looked back at the young lady.

  "Aunty Anne, you're the greatest! The student acted out and flew around to the back of the counter and hugged Anne in appreciation, then bolted for the door and almost didn't make the sharp turn out past the newspaper stand. Anne smiled again and just shook her head.

  "Young people..." Anne couldn't help but to smile.

  "Well that was kind of you Aunty Anne. Mind if I do the same then?" A somewhat mocking male voice echoed from the far back of the library - all the way from what was the last isle of skyscraper-like shelves on Mythology. Anne looked to her immediate right to the low shelve that her knee was resting against, and felt if the cold metal object was still exactly where she left it - then squinted down the darker aisle to her left and whispered.

  "It would be against the rules..." When she recognised the silhouette, a wide smile tugged at her wrinkled cheeks as she got up from her favourite chair, and aimed herself over to the darker part of the library where she already switched the lights off earlier.

  "My..., my...? - but you do work late don't you?" The visitor the reward hugged the visitor and didn't let go.

  "You must have been hiding here for hours?" She said as if she wasn't aware that someone sneaked in while she was on the phone. Her hand in her jacket pocket relaxed, having turned as cold as the object.

  "Some tea, or is it too late?" He smiled and insisted rather than asking, as he already headed for the kitchen.

  "Never too late for tea my dear, never too late." She replied as she accepted a file and picked up her pace to keep up with her late visitor then looked at her wrist watch. Starting to read on-the-go, her thin-framed spectacles found themselves a slight bit further back.

  "Parktown Police Case number 07/04/2013 - Oh, the old one..." The case number that had been penned in, on the front cover of the closed-off police inquest docket, was her visitor's handwriting in black.

  "Ri
ght beneath; and circled in thick red ink, you'll find the words "No prosecution", as you know, it may be reviewed at a future date. The date... I left blank..." Anne carefully perused the neatly stapled documents stored inside - with almost Prosecutor-like interested inquisitiveness.

  "Just like the others, thank you. Mind if I take a peek?"

  "But of course Anne. The statement that it had been staff in the employment of..."

  "Yes? We're alone here..."

  "Of André... is omitted"

  "Good...

  A1 - Statement, I Rudolph Johannes Gerber with police force number 0-430677-1, and attached to the Parktown Police Station' Detective branch, state under oath in English, the following: On the night of the 4th of April 2013, at 19:10, I attended a scene where a 1970 model VW Beetle - which faced a northerly direction, fifty meters off the shoulder of the N1 free way, three hundred metres before the Rivonia off-ramp, direction Bloemfontein - was apparently set ablaze. At the time, the sex and age of the occupant; positioned on the front left passenger seat, could not be successfully determined due to the significant extent of burns suffered. The engine number had been destroyed by what would seem either being filed off or ground away, and both the vehicle licence plates were removed. As it was an older model, the technology in the 70's was not yet in use to position secret identification plates between the welded vehicle-panel-joints with engine-, and chassis numbers, original factory colour or other identifying markings. There were no witnesses to be interviewed and no other clues detected. Two Security Guards from Scald-Cor; positioned at the nearby industrial complex, who I interviewed at the time, produced no subsequent relevant information to the incident...

  A2 - Autopsy (Preliminary) report by Warrant Officer Dan Victor (State Mortuary Assistant) pre- being viewed and edited by Pathologist Prof. Doctor Wayne Zaayman.

  Arrival: 20:17, 2013-04-04

  Mortuary Body number: 669/2013

  Identity: Unknown

  Age: Approximately 40 years of age

  Sex: Female

  Weight: 51.33 kilograms

  Height: 1.78m

  Hair colour: Absent

  Chin, cheek, or jaw implants: Jaw

  Skin Piercings: Unknown

  Integumentary System: Extensive burns of the skin over 98% of the body-surface. Frontalis and cranium - third-degree, full thickness burn. Torso and back, shoulders to wrists as well as hands, full surface of legs, buttocks and feet - Fourth-degree, all layers of skin destroyed including muscles, and tendons.

  Tattoos: Unknown

  Teeth: The condition and total amount of vacant cavities - although some have been destroyed by severe heat, and others during extraction, demonstrate that the following teeth would have been present but had been removed while the body was alive, and not post-mortem as we initially thought. Incisors (8) upper and lower jaws. Canines (4). Premolars (8). Molars (8). Wisdom teeth / third molars (4). Overbite - Unknown, Underbite - Unknown. Fillings - Unknown. Braces - Unknown.

  Markings (Other): Unknown

  Notes Other: The skin on the palms on both hands, somehow was impervious to the immense heat which destroyed the skin on the back of both hands and fingers, particularly the tips and finger prints. Both palms presents an advanced stage of 'dry desquamation' / flaking skin, that is more indicative of radiation-burns than thermal-damage. Sealed Biopsies SKR-223/04/2013 sent to the Forensic Laboratory in Silverton, Pretoria - awaiting analyst's report in this regard.

  A3 - Autopsy Photos - Missing from file. Originals and negative film cannot be obtained as the storeroom was destroyed in a fire during May 2013. As per following A6 statements and report from Brixton Fire Station.

  A4 - Photos Of Scene - Missing from file. Originals and negative film cannot be obtained as the off-site storage facility which housed records between March 2013 and June 2013 was destroyed in a fire. At the time the Police photo-lab was undergoing renovations - that the reason why an off-site facility was considered. As per following A5 statements and report from Brixton Fire Station.

  A7. Biopsy Report - Re: Sealed Biopsies SKR-223/04/2013 received by Sargent Darius Moolman Police Force Number 0-430543-1, attached to the Forensic Laboratory in Silverton, Pretoria. Report on possible Radioactive contamination / Radiodermatitis - Original missing due to a fire caused by insufficient insulation of the adjoined crematorium during June 2013. As per following A8 statements and report from Silverton Fire Station."

  "And?"

  "Perfect, thank you".

  "You want to know how she's doing?" Anne had been praying for nothing else, but news - and that the man would ask. She had been waiting for days for news. Anxiously she put her open hand on his, in which he clutched the old police docket - that she had passed back to him.

  "Of course, home and work, love life, diet and most of all, is she happy?" Anne removed her spectacles and decided to sit down and sponge up every morsel of information attentively during his fifteen minute report-back.

  "Think these things will ever be solved? This continuous improvisation that keeps us awake?"

  "Only the fire will know Anne, only the fire will know..." And with a long smiling hug, the man thanked her for the two sweet cups of tea she so kindly served during the news he came to deliver. After a few paces, about to open his still-damp umbrella on the inside of the library's large door after he greeted, he paused at the door, hesitated briefly, and glanced over his shoulder to where Anne stood.

  "Your peril, not mine..." She smiled over.

  The man continued his descent down the slippery stairs on the outside, and fittingly popped the umbrella open a moment before he disappeared into the heavy downpour.

  No one was as strict as Anne when it came to timing. Time had always been of the essence. According to Anne, time was the one thing they didn't make any more of, and one could never get it back. Therefore, the second week indeed meant the second week, on that day. It didn't mean 'two-weeks-and-a-day', nor two-weeks-and-and a 'I can't believe that I forgot..." Two weeks or less, from the day a book had been taken out, just like her date stamp said... at most. It was a law like gravity, it couldn't be changed.

  Important information was to be shared with large groups of other students - and with some books in limited duplicates, Anne ran a tight ship. Books used for research was altogether another and much stricter department in Anne's domain. Valuable in their contents and since many were donated and were limited editions, these never left the library. When the modern era came knocking at her library, too anxious to replace her old record books of decades before, Anne refused blankly and remained managing her records as if they were part of a cash-register of sorts that warranted her keen protective eye. Staff knew very well that fetching and filing the many volumes in the correct order on their rightful place on the vast shelves up and down the long isles, had been all that was expected of them. That, and speed and of course, quiet. Quietness in her paper vault was revered with the same holiness which a place of worship deserved. Staff all knew that Anne would after hours check personally, that each and every book was in its place and only then punch in the reference numbers of what she had allowed out and what was returned, on the computer. In the meantime, only notes were written down, as she was against the modern bar code scanning method which would save precious time for everyone. But that was Anne... her world and her rules. And so it was done for a very long time.

  Staff habitually carried their gossiped - in her absence - over to the restaurant down the road. They believed she didn't have a family and basically didn't have a life. That for them, seemed the reason for her anti-electronic-age approach, leading to her time-consuming way of running her library that never mattered to Anne - as she basically 'lived' at the library.

  "She never receives phone calls from anyone during business hours, nor does she get friendly visits from anyone that resembled a caring neighbour or close friend, or even family." Mary commented over steamy coffee and a fresh croissant.

  "Well university hours for th
e library were always from 8am to 1pm and 2pm till 6pm, and in between lunch hour, I've never seen her leave?" She continued in between another bite into the buttery snack and washed it down with a sip of her hot cappuccino. Mary filled in a new student, on the inns and outs of Anne's realm - since the newby would also need to frequent research on architecture and wasn't aware of the hours the library kept.