I stopped. I didn’t breathe. I conspired in the treachery of reflective glass, perfect angles and the half-open door to her room. I looked at the golden body. Her flat stomach, feminine hips, slim legs, and dark, thick bush of pubic hair. Her breasts bobbed with every brisk movement of the towel, nipples tight and pointed. An eternity, yet too short – too soon she finished and turned half away to throw the towel over something. I saw the curve of her creamy buttocks and then she walked as unconsciously and gracefully as a lioness or a steenbok out of the picture and into her bathroom.
I was lying in my bed in the dark when she came in. The rain had stopped, the quiet was deafening. I lay there with my eyes shut, and forced my breathing to be slow and deep.
I heard her soft footsteps stop right beside me. I could feel her closeness, the heat radiating from her body, and I wondered what she was wearing.
All I needed to do was pull the sheet up so she could lie down beside me.
She was standing right next to me. Right there. I couldn’t, I shouldn’t, but I must. When my hand reached out, she’d already turned away and moments later the other bed creaked, linen rustled and she sighed. I will never know what it meant.
19
The day that would end so dreadfully began so well.
We slept late. I was up first and made coffee. We drank it together on the veranda. The morning was bright, new and cool. She said her head was a little sore and she laughed at herself.
Later, she phoned Mogale to check whether we could see Donnie Branca. They couldn’t find him, said he would call back. We went for breakfast. Dick, Senior Game Ranger, spotted us on the way. ‘The game drive will be awesome tonight,’ he said to Emma.
‘We might not be here tonight,’ she said. ‘We might be going home.’
‘You’ll have to stay another day. There’s nothing like the Bushveld after the first real summer rain. The animals go wild. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Totally awesome.’
‘Awesome’ was clearly one of his favourite words. He spoke exclusively to her.
‘We’ll see …’
‘For you, I’ll delay the drive until six. Or seven,’ he flirted.
‘You will?’ She liked it.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Then we will do our best, Lemmer and I.’
‘Awesome,’ but a little deflated since she’d included me. ‘Have a great day.’
‘You too,’ and she smiled at him.
The call came while we were at the breakfast table. She answered her cell phone, listened and said, ‘Mr Branca,’ and, ‘My most sincere sympathies …’
She said she knew that it was a bad time at Mogale, but Frank Wolhuter had left her a message. She told him about it and then listened attentively for a long time. ‘Eleven would be great, thank you.’
She put the phone down. ‘He said he knew that Frank Wolhuter went through Cobie’s things for the first time after we left. Frank said nothing to him, but he knows where he would have put something. He’ll see us at eleven.’ She looked at her watch. ‘We’d better move.’
Susan came to our table and said, ‘Oh, Miss le Roux, someone just left a message for you at the gate.’
‘Who?’ asked Emma.
‘Gate security says it was a little boy.’
‘A child?’
‘Shall I ask someone to get the message for you?’
‘No, no, we’re on our way,
‘O-kay,’ said Susan, and there was a small awkward moment before she turned away from us with a swish of her long blonde hair.
The message was on a piece of paper that was probably from a school exercise book or something like that. It had faint blue lines and a red vertical margin. It wasn’t in an envelope, just folded twice, with Miss Emma le Roux written on it in blue ballpoint.
We stood beside the little building at the gate where the guard, Edwin, Security Official, sat with his wide- brimmed hat and brilliant white smile. Emma unfolded the letter and read it. Then she passed it to me.
Miss Emma
You must better go home now. Here, it is not so safe.
A Friend
‘Who brought this?’ Emma asked Edwin.
‘A boy.’ Cautiously, as if he knew that this meant trouble.
‘Do you know him?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Please, Edwin, I need your help. This is very important.’
‘There are many boys here in the villages. I think he is one of them.’
‘Which village?’
‘I will try to find out.’
‘Wait,’ said Emma, and walked back to the BMW. She returned with a hundred-rand note in her hand. ‘Edwin, all I want to know is who gave the message to the boy. He is not in trouble. I will pay him if he can tell me. And this is for you. If you can find him, I will pay you more.’
‘Thank you, madam,’ he said as the note disappeared into a pocket. ‘Maybe I can find the boy.’
‘Thank you very much.’ She checked her watch. ‘We’re late,’ she said.
She sat with the letter in her hands while we drove. She stared at it for a long time.
‘Miss Emma,’ she said. ‘That’s what the man who phoned me at my house called me.’ She looked at me and then back at the note. ‘It sounded like a black man over the phone, Lemmer, and this reads like English is not the writer’s first language.’
I wasn’t going to respond. Luckily, her phone rang again and she answered and said, ‘Carel!’ He must have asked how it was going, because she said, ‘If you had asked me yesterday, I would have said badly, but I think I’ve got something, Carel. We’re on our way there now. And remember that phone call I received and couldn’t make out what the man was saying? I didn’t imagine it.’
My friend ‘Carel the Rich’ of Hermanus. Apparently, he wanted a full report, because she told him the whole story, all the way to Mogale.
A pretty young Dutch volunteer with a bush hat and long legs in shorts took us to Donnie Branca, who was sitting in Frank Wolhuter’s office. Emma tried to speak Afrikaans to her, but she answered exclusively in English. She said they were still in shock, the reality of Mr Wolhuter’s death hadn’t sunk in properly.
Branca pushed documents around on the desk. He was sombre and spoke in muted tones. Once the Dutch girl had gone he said, ‘It wasn’t an accident. Couldn’t be. The honey badger has gone in there before, but we would dart Simba with a tranquilliser. Frank would have done that. But the dart gun is in the store. He would never have done it alone either. Phatudi says there’s no evidence, but I found something just now. Come and see.’
He walked ahead of us through the interior door of the office. Behind it was Wolhuter’s living quarters. In the bedroom a bookcase stood open like a door. It was hinged to the wall. Behind it in the wall was a gun safe and the steel door was open. Branca stopped in front of the safe.
‘Look at this.’ He pointed.
The safe was two metres high and half a metre wide. It had two levels – below there was room for six weapons. There were only two hunting rifles. From the dust pattern it was clear that someone in the very recent
