The Satanic Mechanic. Sally Andrew

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the Oudtshoorn police will carry on the investigation, won’t they?’

      ‘Ja, I’m sure. But this man died on my watch. I want to catch who did it.’

      ‘He was a good man,’ I said.

      Henk wiped his mouth and chestnut moustache with his napkin. ‘Do you reckon that the garlic sauce was meant to be an imitation of a Kudu Stall sauce?’

      ‘Definitely,’ I said. I pushed my half-eaten breakfast over to him, and he started in on it but kept his gaze on me as I spoke. ‘I could smell honey and mustard in it too. But it was a different kind of mustard. It might have been Colman’s. I think the Kudu Stall used Dijon mustard. But what I wanted to tell you was that earlier in the day, I went to ask at the Kudu Stall if they would give me the recipe. The girl there said that another woman had also asked for the recipe. And I wondered if the murderer tried to get it, so they could make their own sauce – but with poison.’

      ‘Seems like quite a risk for that woman to take; someone could recognise her,’ said Henk.

      ‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘but there’s so much going on at the festival, and maybe lots of tannies asking for recipes. It would also be risky if Slimkat started eating the kudu and then stopped because the sauce was no good.’

      ‘I wonder why he didn’t stop eating, if he could taste it was different?’

      ‘Maybe it wasn’t very different, and it probably still tasted nice. It smelt nice enough. Not as good as the original, but nice. I also think Slimkat’s big love was for the kudu. The sauce was not as important to him.’

      ‘Thank you, Maria. You have been very helpful.’ He reached under the table and held my hand. ‘I’m sorry you got mixed up in this, but I’m glad you are safe.’ His hands were big and warm. ‘You know I find it hard when you’re in danger.’

      ‘Ja,’ I said. ‘But I’m fine.’

      ‘How have you been?’

      He was stroking the palm of my hand now, and it made warm lines rush down my arms and legs.

      ‘Okay,’ I said, giving his fingers a squeeze. ‘Hattie wants me to see a doctor here in Oudtshoorn. To help with the sleeping. The not sleeping.’

      ‘That’s not a bad idea . . . Maria, I hope you are heading back to Ladismith now that this . . . death has happened.’

      ‘Well, actually the Gazette is doing a story on it, and I was going to stick around and help Jessie—’

      ‘No,’ he said loudly. Too loudly, his hand holding mine too tightly. ‘You must go back.’

      I pulled my hand away.

      ‘I don’t like to be bullied,’ I said, and looked away from him, so he couldn’t see the memory of Fanie in my eyes.

      ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean . . . But you promised me that you’d stick to recipes. You’d stay out of murder cases. It’s not your case to investigate. It’s not even my case. I am only helping out.’

      ‘I’m helping out too,’ I said, thinking of Slimkat’s eyes and still not looking at Henk.

      ‘Yes, and you’ve been a help. A big help. What you’ve told me. But there’s a murderer around, and sticking your nose in puts you at risk.’

      I didn’t reply. It was my nose that had been most helpful so far.

      He reached for my hands, which were pulled up against me, hiding on my lap, but his arms were long and he found my hands and held them both in his, and tugged on them till I looked at him. His eyes were big and grey-blue and full of an expression that was nothing like what I’d ever seen in Fanie’s eyes.

      ‘I love you, Maria,’ Henk said.

      I coughed and choked like I had just swallowed a big bug. Henk got up and came and patted my back.

      ‘Are you all right?’

      I nodded, but I couldn’t speak.

      ‘Please, Maria, for our sake,’ he said, squatting down beside me, holding my shoulders in his hands and looking into my eyes with that same expression of his. ‘Forget about this case. Go home.’

      ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Okay.’

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      I had both Henk and Hattie telling me what to do. I don’t like to be pushed around, but I was tired and lost, and they seemed to know the way. Before I left Oudtshoorn, I went to the doctor.

      Doctor Walters had short white hair and kind blue eyes. His office was small and cosy, and he sat behind a leather-topped wooden desk. Against the wall were bookshelves, packed with fat books.

      ‘How can I help you, Mrs van Harten?’

      ‘My boyfriend thinks I need help after I was kidnapped by a murderer last year. My friend thinks I need sleeping tablets. The FAMSA counsellor says I am obsessed with food and must go on a diet.’

      ‘And what do you think?’

      ‘My problems are bigger than that . . .’

      He waited for me to explain.

      I said, ‘I have nightmares, and I wake up shaking. And I remember things . . . Well, it’s more like they are happening right now.’

      ‘Things about the kidnapping?’

      ‘No . . . Bad things that happened with my husband. He is dead now.’

      ‘When did he die?’

      I swallowed. ‘A few years ago. But the problem is getting worse lately. Since . . . since I’ve had a boyfriend. It’s made it worse somehow.’

      ‘Hmm,’ said the doctor. ‘Did you have a traumatic experience in the past?’

      I looked at the paperweight on his desk. It was a glass cat with wide staring eyes that could see right though me, like I could see through it.

      ‘Were you abused by your husband, Mrs van Harten?’

      I nodded. Should I tell this man what really happened?

      ‘Do you experience any feelings of dissociation?’ he asked.

      He was changing the subject now. I wouldn’t have to tell him my secret.

      I frowned and asked, ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Do you sometimes feel disconnected and far away from others, or even from yourself? Do parts of your body feel as if they are operating in a discordant fashion?’

      I nodded. ‘Sometimes my hands do something different from what my head wants them to,’ I said. I remembered how I’d struggled to heat up that orange pudding when I was upset. And how that time with Henk, my mouth had called out something without asking me first.

      He СКАЧАТЬ