She came back off the verandah and stooped to pull out a weed. The roots came free of the reddish soil and she thought it looked fertile here.
She went over to the steps. She reached for the sign to the right of them, the one that said
She pulled. It had been hammered in deep and had been there a long time. She had to wiggle it back and forth before it slowly began to shift and eventually came out.
She carried it up, put it down on the verandah. Then she took her keys out and quietly unlocked the door. On the new couch the large black babysitter was reclining. She was fast asleep.
Christine went down the passage to the master bedroom. Sonia lay there in a fetal position, her whole body curled around the toy dog. She lay down gently beside her daughter. Later, when they had finished breakfast, she would ask Sonia if she would like to exchange the stuffed animal for a real one.
Griessel thought about Senior Superintendent Beukes as he drove back to the guesthouse. Three weeks ago, they confronted him.
They would not allow him to be present at the interrogation?Joubert had put his foot down. He had to sit with the disillusioned American, Lombardi. Tried to explain to him that not
the police in Africa were corrupt. But afterwards Joubert came to tell him. Beukes would admit nothing. Right till the end when they got his bank statements through a court order and spread them out in front of him. And Beukes had said, ?Why don?t you try and find the whore? She?s the one who stole money. And lied about her daughter.?
He didn?t know whether it was true or not. But now, after Losper?s story, he hoped it was. Because he recalled the words of the forensic psychologist.
He only hoped she used the money well. For herself and her daughter.
His cell phone rang while he was driving up the avenue of pine trees. He pulled over.
?Griessel.?
?This is Inspector Johnson Mtetwa. I am phoning from Alice. I wonder if you could help me??
?Yes, Inspector.?
?It?s about the death of Thobela Mpayipheli . . .?
?Yes??
?The trouble is, I had some people here. The missionary priest from the Knott Memorial between us and Peddie.?
?Yes??
?He told me the strangest thing, Inspector Griessel. He said he saw Mpayipheli, yesterday morning.?
?How strange.?
?He said he saw a man walking, from the Kat River hills to near the manse. He went out to see who it might be. When he came close, the man turned away. But he could swear it was Mpayipheli, because he knew him. In the old days. You see, Mpayipheli?s father was also a missionary.?
?I see.?
?I went out with the people from Cathcart station to Mpayipheli?s farm. They have to deal with things there. And now they tell me there is a motorbike missing. A . . . Hang on. . . . A BMW R eleven-fifty GS.?
?Oh??
?But the people in the Cape say you were a witness to his death.?
?You must request the file, Inspector. They did search the river for his body . . .?
?Strange,? said Mtetwa, ?that someone would steal only the motorbike.?
?That?s life,? said Griessel. ?Strange.?
?That?s true. Thank you, Inspector. And good luck there in the Cape.?
?Thank you.?
?Thank
?
Benny Griessel put the cell phone back in his breast pocket. He put his hand out to the ignition key but, before starting the car, he saw something that made him wait.
Between the trees, there in the horse paddock, Carla stood by a large gray. She was leaning against the magnificent beast, her face in the horse?s mane, her hand gently stroking the long muzzle.
He got out of the car and went over to the fence rail. He had eyes only for her, and a tenderness that might just overwhelm him.
His child.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
More than any of my previous books,
is to a great extent the product of the astounding goodwill, unselfishness, readiness to share knowledge?and unconditional support of a large number of people.
