The Satanic Mechanic

by Sally Andrew

  The smile on Ousies’s lips was small, but her eyes wrinkled into creases as she took the dish from Lemoni. She lifted the corner of the tinfoil, closed her eyes and sniffed. She left Dirk to deal with the sandwiches and poked some wood to one side to warm the silver tray.

  ‘Look at the moon,’ said Jessie.

  It had risen into the blue sky. Silent and pale, like a ghost.

  ‘It’s going to be full soon,’ said Dirk.

  ‘Lemoni,’ I said, ‘I would love that recipe for the moussaka.’

  ‘Sure thing, koukla,’ she said, ‘I’ll give it to you now.’ She fished in her bag and got out a pen and notepad. ‘It’s important you use freshly ground nutmeg in the béchamel sauce. Not the powdered stuff. And I always like to add a bit of garlic, even though there’s none in my grandma’s recipe.’

  The sun was setting, and the toasted sandwiches were ready. Dirk put them onto enamel plates. Jessie went to help him; Ousies didn’t take her eyes off the moussaka dish.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, as Lemoni wrote out the recipe. ‘You know, I’d also love a good fish recipe. We don’t get much fish out here in the Karoo. But every now and then . . . You mentioned a delicious fish dish that got interrupted by those robbers.’

  ‘Sure. The Psari me Spanaki. Fish with spinach.’ Lemoni said. ‘It’s also got béchamel sauce.’

  ‘Um, yes,’ I said, realising something. And something else. And something else. Suddenly all the ingredients were falling together into the bowl of my mind . . .

  Ousies held the oven tray with a cloth and lifted the foil off the moussaka. She had a big wooden spoon in her hand and was pushing it through the cheesy crust, down into the aubergine and mince. I remembered how she had vacuumed up the moussaka last time.

  I got up. I am not a fast mover at the best of times, but everything seemed to happen in extra slow motion.

  ‘Ousies,’ I called, and she looked at me, her spoon full of juicy moussaka.

  Lemoni was standing up behind me, holding on to my shoulder.

  ‘Don’t eat it,’ I said to Ousies.

  ‘Ignore her,’ said Lemoni, ‘she’s just greedy; wants it for herself.’

  I managed to get to Ousies, Lemoni attached to me, and Jessie now attached to Lemoni. I grabbed the moussaka dish. It was hot and burnt my hands, but I did not let go. Then I did something I didn’t believe I could ever do. I tipped the food over, onto the sand. Ousies started to scoop it up.

  ‘Ousies, no,’ I said. ‘It’s got poison in it; Slimkat’s poison.’ The kudu was beside Ousies now, its black eyes shining.

  She looked at the kudu, which nodded at her, just once; then it started to move around the circle of sand. It lifted its chin up, so its long dark horns lay parallel to its back, and it began to run.

  I heard Jessie behind me, talking to Reghardt about hemlock, and Lemoni shouting, ‘You thieves, you thieves.’ She threw herself at Ousies.

  Piet and Henk held her back, and she shouted, ‘You stole my diamonds. You and your Bushmen vermin. My husband worked hard for that land. And you stole it. You stole my jewels.’

  The kudu jumped onto the Defender panel-van bonnet and then onto its roof. The sky was melting from red to purple. The kudu leapt from roof to roof, across the vans, making a clacking sound with its hooves.

  I felt dizzy, and I fell onto the sand. Jessie came to help me up, but I’m quite heavy and the sand was very comfortable, so she squatted down beside me.

  ‘Tannie M,’ she said.

  ‘She was lying about the robbery,’ I said. ‘When she first spoke about it, she gave the name of a fish dish that was on the table when it happened. Psari Plaki. Fish baked with garlic and tomatoes. And now she talks about something else. Psari me Spanaki. Something with spinach and sauce. And the garlic, she uses garlic even when it’s not in the recipe. Like in the poison sauce.’

  ‘And the hemlock,’ said Jessie, ‘she’s not a philosopher, but she is Greek. She would know about Socrates.’

  ‘And her hankie, she threw it in the fire. She used it to hold the spanner when she hit the aerial gun.’

  ‘So that she got no gunpowder residue on her hand,’ said Jessie.

  ‘But Tata, why did she kill Tata?’ I said.

  ‘He jumped forward,’ said Ousies. ‘To save me.’ She was still squatting at the fire. ‘He gave his life for me.’

  ‘Can you see it?’ I said to Jessie, pointing upwards. ‘The kudu going round and round? Ousies can see it.’ But Ousies was looking down at the fire.

  The kudu was now moving so fast that it became blurry. It lifted off from the panel vans and was running in the air. It spiralled up and up, crossing the path of the ghost moon, and then rose higher still. I remembered that mantis, that praying mantis of Tata Radebe’s, which flew up and up.

  I closed my eyes. My last thought before everything went very black and very quiet was that Tata had done the thing he needed to forgive himself, to set his spirit free. He had given up his life to save a good person.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  The darkness stayed, and into it came dark dreams. Fanie and his red face as he lay on top of me. His eyes closed, his face tight as he strained, pushing into me. His eyes popping open as if in surprise. Then the slackness of his skin like dough with too much water, as his whole body collapsed. The weight of him on top of me was too heavy.

  ‘Get him off me, get him off me,’ I said.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said a strange woman’s voice, and I fell back into the darkness.

  I heard the sound of beeping and then a voice I knew, Henk’s: ‘She still hasn’t woken up?’

  And another favourite voice, Jessie’s: ‘They gave her a sedative last night. Here’s the doctor, back again.’

  I tried to speak, but my voice was stuck in the darkness.

  Henk asked, ‘Will she be all right, Doctor?’

  ‘You said she’s been under a lot of strain?’ said a man’s voice, the doctor.

  Henk: ‘She witnessed a murder. Two murders.’

  Jessie: ‘And her boyfriend broke up with her. He decided it would be better to actually lose her than to risk losing her.’

  Henk: ‘Her late husband abused her. She has post-traumatic stress disorder. She joined a PTSD therapy group.’

  ‘You mentioned hallucinations?’ said the doctor.

  Jessie: ‘A kudu, she saw this kudu.’

  Henk: ‘And she’s had nightmares. About her husband, I think.’

  Doctor: ‘Is she on any medication?’

  Henk: ‘Yes. Antidepressants. And diet tablets.’

  Doctor: ‘Both, she was taking both? Do you know what type?’

  Henk: ‘She might have some in her handbag.’

  Doctor: ‘Where is her bag?’

  Jessie: ‘Here it is.’

  Doctor: ‘Hmm. These are old-school MAOI antidepressants . . . They do occasionally cause hallucinations. Especially if combined with tyramine that you find in certain foods, like liver and cheese. Does she eat much cheese? And then, together with these diet tablets – quite a cocktail. These diet tablets should be banned.’

  ‘I killed him.’ That was my voice. It surprised me.

  Henk: ‘Maria!’

  Jessie: ‘Tannie M?’

  I opened my eyes and saw Henk. He was leaning towards me, his eyebrows worried, his cotton shirt open at the neck. It was very bright. There was lots of white: walls, ceiling, metal machines; white sunlight coming in through the windows. I was in the hospital.

  ‘I killed him,’ I said again. ‘I killed my husband, Fanie.’

  As I said Fanie’s name, the whiteness turned to darkness.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  When I opened my eyes again, the air was swimming; something was bobbing on it, like a boat on the waves. It was a man with face and hands as black as a cast-iron pot. His teeth and coat were white.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs van Harten. I am Doctor Tom,’ he said.

  ‘Hello,’ I said. I recognised him.
The nice doctor who’d looked after Jessie.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

  ‘I am glad. Now that I’ve told Henk. Jessie. Where is Jessie?’

  ‘Here I am, Tannie M.’ I felt her hand squeeze mine and saw her round warm face like a golden vetkoek, a deep-fried fat cake, in front of me.

  ‘Jessie, I killed him; I killed my husband.’

  ‘He was a bastard, Tannie M – it would’ve been good if you had killed him. But you didn’t; he died of a heart attack.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the doctor, ‘I went to look up his records when you passed out. It was his heart.’

  ‘Yes, but it was me,’ I said. ‘I poisoned him.’

  ‘There was no evidence of poisoning, Mrs van Harten. He had a history of heart trouble.’

  ‘I know. We came together to the doctor here; it was long ago. A white doctor.’

  ‘Doctor Vlok.’

  ‘Yes, him. He gave me two lists. One list was the things that would help Fanie, like fish and olive oil; and the other was the things that he shouldn’t eat, because the doctor said they were poison for someone with a heart problem: red meat, cream, butter, eggs . . . But I turned the lists around; I only fed Fanie from the poison list.’

  ‘Mrs van Harten. The theories around what is good and bad for the heart have changed enormously over the last few years.’

  ‘The food was so good, I couldn’t stop after Fanie died. Now I feed Henk lots of the same stuff. I am going to kill him too.’

  ‘My heart is just fine,’ said Henk, patting his fine heart with his hand. ‘I had a check-up last month.’

  ‘I killed Fanie,’ I said. ‘He was not a good man, so I can forgive myself for that. But what is unforgiveable is that I killed him with food. Food.’

  ‘Mrs van Harten,’ said the doctor. ‘You are not hearing me. There are arguments today that a high-fat diet is in fact very good for the heart. All that cream and butter may have kept him going longer.’

  ‘Oh.’ I said. I wasn’t sure if he could lift my burden so easily. ‘But I still used food, good food, as a weapon to kill. That is not what food is meant for.’

  ‘One of the murders Maria witnessed was a poisoning,’ explained Henk. ‘There was poison in a kudu sauce.’

  ‘Last night Tannie Maria saved the life of a woman who was about to be poisoned by food,’ said Jessie.

  ‘I did?’ I said.

  Jess handed me a glass of water, and I had a sip. She said, ‘You saved Ousies from the moussaka, remember?’

  ‘Yes. I did.’

  I had saved someone from poisoning by food. I had done that. It was a start. Maybe I could still forgive myself for using food in anger, to kill. What I needed to do now, to make the forgiveness thing work, was to use food with love. Only with love.

  ‘I am going to give you some charcoal tablets, Mrs van Harten. They will help clear out the toxins in your system. Would you like something to eat?’

  ‘That would be nice. A toasted cheese and biltong sandwich, and some pineapple upside-down cake.’

  The doctor smiled. ‘I think she’s going to be fine, Detective Kannemeyer.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  The next day, Tuesday, I was back at the Gazette. Jessie had the latest police reports, and we spent part of the morning telling Hattie the whole story. Hattie was wearing a white blouse with gold buttons that matched her hair, and a blue skirt that matched her eyes. With Hattie, everything was always in order. It was good to be with her after my upside-down time. While Jessie was speaking, I sorted the envelopes on my desk and put a new letter from my old friend, the Scottish lady, on top of the pile.

  ‘So, let me get this right,’ said Hattie. ‘Slimkat and Ousies were leaders in the Kuruman struggle for land. Slimkat and his cousin, Ystervark, had taken Ousies where they thought she’d be safe: to her friend, Ricus, and her nephew, Johannes.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jessie. ‘They all knew each other from up north. Johannes denied knowledge of Ystervark and Slimkat because he wanted to keep Ousies safe. He didn’t want people to know who she really was.’

  ‘Now, the Lemony lady, who put hemlock in the moussaka,’ said Hattie. ‘You say she was married to the diamond company CEO. And they matched her prints to those on Slimkat’s poison sauce bottle. But will the Hardcore diamond company be held accountable for the murders?’

  ‘I’d like to see them charged,’ said Jessie. ‘But I don’t think it’s going to happen. The Bushmen reckon the company were responsible for the death threats that took place before the last court case. But I think that once the final ruling was made, the company dropped it, not wanting the bad publicity. This is where Lemoni, whose real name is Stella Cooke, stepped in. She felt her husband failed her. She needed vengeance.’

  ‘Oh my. And what does the husband say?’ asked Hattie.

  ‘He says “no comment” to me, but he told the police that divorce proceedings have been underway for a while. His lawyers back him up.’

  ‘Mm,’ I said. ‘I saw a line on Stella’s finger, where she’d taken off a wedding ring.’

  ‘How did Stella track down Ousies?’ asked Hattie. ‘I understand that Slimkat would be easy to follow, being on the KKNK programme and all, but the old woman was hidden away.’

  ‘Stella followed Slimkat,’ said Jessie. ‘That day Slimkat and Ystervark came to our office, Ousies was in the back. Stella saw where they turned off to Ricus’s place, and then she found Ricus on Facebook and pretended to be a PTSD sufferer.’

  ‘She made up a story about an armed robbery,’ I said. ‘She said she was very upset they stole her jewellery, and she shot one of the robbers.’

  ‘That woman’s love for jewels led to two tragic murders,’ said Hattie. She shook her head. ‘Let me make you some more coffee, darling.’ Hattie was still fussing over me, even though she’d said I looked as right as rain.

  ‘I’ve still got some, thanks,’ I said. It was a cup Hattie had made, so it was hard to drink, but it was okay as something to dip my rusk into.

  The phone rang, and it was Ricus, for me.

  ‘Maria. How are you doing?’

  ‘Ja, fine.’

  ‘By the time I got to the hospital you’d already left.’

  ‘I am as right as rain,’ I said, looking at Hattie.

  ‘I reckon we all need a rest and am cancelling tonight’s meeting. But I’m thinking we should have a social this weekend. The group and our friends.’

  ‘I would like to make a feast.’

  ‘We can each bring something.’

  ‘No. I want to make it all,’ I said.

  ‘Ousies is leaving next week. So it will be a kind of farewell.’

  ‘Back to the nature reserve?’

  ‘Yes. Nick’s been staying here with me, and she’s been talking to him about supplying ostrich eggs. To make beads for necklaces. The tourists like them.’

  ‘I’m sure they would like scrambled eggs too. One ostrich egg is the same as twenty-four chicken eggs.’

  ‘They may start a little restaurant. Nick’s been helping her with business plans. It’s been good for him.’

  ‘How about Saturday? For the feast?’

  ‘Good. I’ll get a fire going. Are you sure I can’t provide some food, boerewors or something?’

  ‘Yes. It’s something I need to do, part of forgiving myself.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll contact the people in the group. Tell them to invite others.’

  ‘Just let me know numbers.’

  ‘So we’re having a party?’ said Jessie when I hung up. Her hand stroked the gecko tattoo on her arm.

  ‘Yes. All of us in the group and whoever we want to invite.’

  ‘Will you invite Henk?’ Her fingertips circled the star-shaped scar above the gecko, beneath the strap of her black vest. The place where she’d been shot with an arrow.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘We broke up. I’m inviting Hattie. Will you come, Hats?’

  ‘Super. I can’t wait to meet all the
se people I’ve heard about.’

  ‘I saw the way he looked at you when you were in hospital,’ said Jessie. ‘That man doesn’t want to lose you.’

  ‘I haven’t heard from him.’

  A leopard wandered in the open Gazette door and then out again. I felt troubled. But not because of the leopard; the doctor had told me I might carry on seeing things for a little while. I was worried about what I was going to feed everyone. What would be the right meal for this special feast?

  I set my question aside and opened the envelope with the spidery handwriting.

  Dearest Tannie Maria,

  You have become very dear to me. Thank you so much for the saamgooibredie – the young woman made it and it was simply delicious. And for the Van der Hum recipe, which she has made too. Turns out she is quite a little cook and I have a fine recipe of hers I would like to give you, in a moment.

  But first I want to say thank you. Thank you for all the recipes and for the kind ear. Thank you and goodbye. I am writing this from my bed. The moonlight is shining in through the window. Tomorrow I am going in to the hospice. I will spare you the details, but I won’t be coming back. The doctors wanted me there long ago, but I wasn’t ready to go. My new family have offered to keep me here, to nurse me to the end, but I do not want to leave death behind in this house.

  I also wanted to tell you that I am not an old fool. Any more than anyone who loves, is a fool. I know that the man is employed to take care of me. But no one can pay a man to love. And he gives me love. It is in the tenderness of his hands when he bathes me. And the brightness of his smile. It is in the woman and the child he brought to me, who treat me as their own.

  It was in the last meal she cooked for us. I could eat only a little, but it was the best meal of my life. You must try it. It is a chicken dish from West Africa made with peanut butter of all things! And with lots of love.

  It is because I have loved and been loved that I am now ready to go. It would be a very sad thing to die without having experienced that.

  Your Scottish Lassie

  Fare well

  She included the recipe for chicken mafé. It looked delicious. My heart felt very sad that the old woman was dying. But I was happy that she had found love and taken it in, like a wildflower drinks in sunshine. I was also glad that I now had ideas for what to make for the feast.