the house.
‘Sh-sh-sh,’ said Jessie.
I held my breath. What was that sound? Footsteps. Heading this way.
My shoe got caught on a root, and I stumbled, cracking a twig.
The footsteps paused.
‘Hey!’ a man called.
His steps were getting closer. I hugged the trunk of the tree. It was big and wrinkled. Lightning flashed. There was a rustling in the bushes and the jackal darted across the veld.
‘Hah!’ said the man’s voice. He stood on the other side of the tree, and we heard the sound of a match striking and the inhalation of a cigarette. Jessie and I looked at each other, our eyes wide.
Thunder rumbled. The man strolled off. We heard him cough and spit as he walked around the house, then his footsteps getting further away.
When all was quiet, we peeked out. We could see the red glowing speck of a cigarette heading towards the distant cottage. By the soft light of his front doorway we saw the shape of his body, his stooped shoulders.
‘Sjoe,’ said Jessie, ‘let’s hope he stays there.’
She opened her backpack and took out a pair of surgical gloves for each of us.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘to get inside.’
We kept away from the stoep light, and tried the doors and windows at the back of the house.
‘Nope,’ said Jessie, testing the back door. A strip of that yellow-and-blue tape was stuck across it. She took out a card and tried to slide it down the side of the door, like they do in the movies. ‘No good. It’s bolted on the inside.’
‘Here,’ I said, ‘this sash window isn’t locked.’
Jessie helped me slide it open. Then she sat on the sill, took off her black boots and passed them to me before she climbed through.
‘Better not to leave prints,’ she said.
I took off my veldskoene and put both pairs of shoes next to a big flower pot. Jessie opened up the back door. She lifted up the crime-scene tape for me and I ducked under. We stood there in our socks, looking at each other. In the darkness I could see the white of Jessie’s teeth as she smiled.
‘We did it, Tannie M,’ she said. ‘We’re in.’
A jackal called. A crazy, wild sound. In the dark shadows, I smiled back at Jessie; I was not afraid.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
‘Careful,’ Jessie said. ‘Looks like broken glass. Let’s close up, then we can turn on our torches.’
‘I didn’t bring a torch,’ I said.
Jessie closed the curtains while I did the shutters. Now it was really dark.
‘Here,’ she said, turning on a torch, and handing me another. ‘It’s a headtorch. Fit the strap over like this. And press this button, to make the light dimmer or brighter.’
She helped me fit it on and I looked around the big room. It was an old farmhouse, bigger than mine, but a similar style. Like in my house, the wall had been removed between the sitting room and kitchen. There was a wooden table and a small pantry in the kitchen part, and a fireplace against the wall in the sitting room.
‘Ouch,’ said Jessie.
I thought she’d cut herself, but it was what she’d seen on the floor that hurt. It was a photograph of Martine, all young and glowing in her wedding dress, and Dirk, not quite as young as her, but looking like not such a bad guy after all. There were spears of glass around them, as they smiled up at us.
‘That’s the photograph Anna told me about,’ I said.
I shone onto another picture amongst the broken glass: two men in uniform.
‘It’s Dirk,’ I said. Young and without sideburns. ‘And his father, maybe.’
They were wearing the old South African army uniform. Dirk was grinning but the older guy had thin straight lips.
‘His pa looks like a mean bastard,’ said Jessie.
My husband did his two years in that army. They didn’t train them to be good men.
‘Look,’ said Jessie, shining onto a dark brown smudge on the couch. ‘Blood.’
I nodded, trying not to feel the sadness, trying to think like an investigator. The couch was not far from the fireplace.
‘Yes,’ I said. I shone on the
‘Sh-sh-sh,’ said Jessie.
I held my breath. What was that sound? Footsteps. Heading this way.
My shoe got caught on a root, and I stumbled, cracking a twig.
The footsteps paused.
‘Hey!’ a man called.
His steps were getting closer. I hugged the trunk of the tree. It was big and wrinkled. Lightning flashed. There was a rustling in the bushes and the jackal darted across the veld.
‘Hah!’ said the man’s voice. He stood on the other side of the tree, and we heard the sound of a match striking and the inhalation of a cigarette. Jessie and I looked at each other, our eyes wide.
Thunder rumbled. The man strolled off. We heard him cough and spit as he walked around the house, then his footsteps getting further away.
When all was quiet, we peeked out. We could see the red glowing speck of a cigarette heading towards the distant cottage. By the soft light of his front doorway we saw the shape of his body, his stooped shoulders.
‘Sjoe,’ said Jessie, ‘let’s hope he stays there.’
She opened her backpack and took out a pair of surgical gloves for each of us.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘to get inside.’
We kept away from the stoep light, and tried the doors and windows at the back of the house.
‘Nope,’ said Jessie, testing the back door. A strip of that yellow-and-blue tape was stuck across it. She took out a card and tried to slide it down the side of the door, like they do in the movies. ‘No good. It’s bolted on the inside.’
‘Here,’ I said, ‘this sash window isn’t locked.’
Jessie helped me slide it open. Then she sat on the sill, took off her black boots and passed them to me before she climbed through.
‘Better not to leave prints,’ she said.
I took off my veldskoene and put both pairs of shoes next to a big flower pot. Jessie opened up the back door. She lifted up the crime-scene tape for me and I ducked under. We stood there in our socks, looking at each other. In the darkness I could see the white of Jessie’s teeth as she smiled.
‘We did it, Tannie M,’ she said. ‘We’re in.’
A jackal called. A crazy, wild sound. In the dark shadows, I smiled back at Jessie; I was not afraid.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
‘Careful,’ Jessie said. ‘Looks like broken glass. Let’s close up, then we can turn on our torches.’
‘I didn’t bring a torch,’ I said.
Jessie closed the curtains while I did the shutters. Now it was really dark.
‘Here,’ she said, turning on a torch, and handing me another. ‘It’s a headtorch. Fit the strap over like this. And press this button, to make the light dimmer or brighter.’
She helped me fit it on and I looked around the big room. It was an old farmhouse, bigger than mine, but a similar style. Like in my house, the wall had been removed between the sitting room and kitchen. There was a wooden table and a small pantry in the kitchen part, and a fireplace against the wall in the sitting room.
‘Ouch,’ said Jessie.
I thought she’d cut herself, but it was what she’d seen on the floor that hurt. It was a photograph of Martine, all young and glowing in her wedding dress, and Dirk, not quite as young as her, but looking like not such a bad guy after all. There were spears of glass around them, as they smiled up at us.
‘That’s the photograph Anna told me about,’ I said.
I shone onto another picture amongst the broken glass: two men in uniform.
‘It’s Dirk,’ I said. Young and without sideburns. ‘And his father, maybe.’
They were wearing the old South African army uniform. Dirk was grinning but the older guy had thin straight lips.
‘His pa looks like a mean bastard,’ said Jessie.
My husband did his two years in that army. They didn’t train them to be good men.
‘Look,’ said Jessie, shining onto a dark brown smudge on the couch. ‘Blood.’
I nodded, trying not to feel the sadness, trying to think like an investigator. The couch was not far from the fireplace.
‘Yes,’ I said. I shone on the
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