The Song Dog by James McClure Page A

dismayed by his oversight.
    But the Widow Fourie simply nodded. “Ja, the same as Maaties’ widow,” she said. “Hettie’s been a lot in my thoughts today, poor woman, because losing your man suddenly can be such a terrible shock you don’t think you’ll ever survive it.”
    “You obviously knew Maaties, then?”
    “Hard not to, in a place this size, and besides, he was nearly as kind as Hans after Pik had his accident. I’ve always been meaning to thank him properly some day, but now it’s too late. Isn’t that ever the way?”
    “I suppose so,” said Kramer, having rarely had occasion to feel grateful to anyone. “You know something? Everyone keeps telling me Maaties was ‘one of the best’—maybe he was, but when people say things like that it always worries me.”
    “I have the same problem,” admitted the Widow Fourie, taking his dirty plate over to the sink. “I need to see some sin in a person before I can relax!”
    Kramer smiled. “What sins could you see in Maaties?”
    The Widow Fourie began washing up. “Practically all of them, I suppose!” she said. “He was very human.”
    “What else?”
    She shrugged. “A loner, strong, a man who went his own way in this world. But there was also a little kid inside there who couldn’t stand seeing tears, you know, and would do almost anything to help stop them—making him quite a mix-up!”
    “Could that have led to his death, do you think?” asked Kramer.
    “In what way?” asked the Widow Fourie, looking round.
    “Ach, let’s say somebody told Maaties a sob story. That she alleged, for instance, her man was beating her.”
    “Ja, that would probably make him want to rush to the rescue. You must mean Annika Gillets, I take it?”
    “Why say that?”
    “Ach, rumors,” said the Widow Fourie, “about Lance and what he’s prepared to do to people. He has a terrible temper, you know, and really runs amuck when he’s upset. Even my maid knows that the worst kaffirs won’t go anywhere near where he lives, he’s given it too much of a reputation. Just after they first moved in, he caught a burglar on his front steps, tied him with rope to the back of his Land Rover, and towed him all the way to Moon Acre, where he came from. My maid says that kaffir’s never been seen since.”
    “Hmmm,” said Kramer. “Then perhaps it’s no surprise Annika didn’t seem afraid to stay out there overnight on her own, especially as his Land Rover was still parked there, making it look like he was at home.”
    “She’d have felt safe as houses! But where was he, hey?”
    “He’d been picked up by plane earlier in the day to go catching rhino. What else did these rumors say? That he was knocking Annika about?”
    The Widow Fourie nodded. “Before they were moved toFynn’s Creek, they were up at the main rest camp. We had one of the other rangers’ wives in with amebic dysentery—I work at the hospital—and she let slip there’d been trouble based on Lance suspecting Annika of flirting with guests. She often wore long sleeves on boiling hot days, as though she was hiding marks or something. In fact, the
real
rumor is that they got moved to Fynn’s Creek to keep her out of trouble, and if this didn’t work. Lance was facing the sack from the Parks Board.”
    “Had she kept out of trouble, do you know?” asked Kramer.
    “I don’t see what option she had,” said the Widow Fourie. “There haven’t been any guests yet at Fynn’s—”
    “Ja, but blokes must come fishing along the beach—and what if I told you her body had bruises on the left shoulder?”
    “Interesting,” said the Widow Fourie, sitting down on a stool. “Although, personally, I’m still not a hundred percent convinced she was as bad as some make out. It could all have been just in Lance’s mind, couldn’t it?”
    “That we’ll have to try and find out,” said Kramer. “Okay if I ask a few more questions? This is the first time today I’ve started to get