Free Recipes for Love and Murder by Sally Andrew Page A

sun. And he was shining love down on her.
    ‘ Okay . Ja . . . Ja nee . Bye,’ he said.
    He put down the phone and cleared his throat.
    ‘Mrs van Harten,’ he said.
    ‘I brought you some cake,’ I said. ‘And a slice for Anna.’
    I pushed the Tupperware across the table and opened it so he could see the two big pieces wrapped in wax paper. He did that slow smile of his that showed off his white teeth and lifted his chestnut moustache at the corners.
    ‘Thank you,’ he said.
    ‘So, what’s happening with Anna?’
    ‘There is quite a case against her.’ He ran his fingers across his moustache. ‘Her prints were on a fire poker that was used to hit Martine van Schalkwyk. Fresh tyre tracks from her bakkie were in the dirt driveway.’
    ‘What does she say?’ I said.
    ‘She won’t talk to us. She won’t call a lawyer.’
    ‘Anna wouldn’t kill her friend. She had no reason to.’
    ‘Could be a crime of passion. Photographs were smashed. Including Martine and Dirk’s wedding photo,’ Kannemeyer said, glancing at his own photograph. ‘Van Schalkwyk says the woman was in love with his wife. Your letters support that. Did you bring them?’
    I put my letters on his desk, but I didn’t want them used like that. He was laying out the evidence against Anna. Neatly, like he was laying a table. I didn’t want to eat at that table.
    ‘The letters show that Martine’s husband was threatening to kill her,’ I said. ‘He broke her arm. It’s him you must arrest.’
    ‘There’s no evidence that he did kill her.’
    ‘Were his fingerprints on the poker?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Isn’t that a bit funny?’ I said. ‘Wouldn’t he use the fire poker in his own house?’
    I took his piece of cake from the Tupperware and put it on the table. The corner of the wax paper fell open, showing a small dark corner of glistening icing. He looked at the chocolate cake and then at me, as if he had just seen me properly for the first time.
    ‘Ja, we found it strange,’ he said. ‘Only Anna’s prints were on the handle.’
    ‘Sounds like someone used it and then wiped the prints.’
    Kannemeyer moved in his chair and looked out of the window. There were a few big clouds in the sky. Fat with rain that would probably never fall.
    ‘It wasn’t the poker alone that killed her,’ he said at last. ‘She had taken – or been given – a strong sedative. Then she was hit on the head with the poker. Afterwards she was suffocated. Probably with a pillow. There were bits of the cushion fibre in her mouth.’
    ‘What?’ I said.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
    Suicide was like killing her twice. Heart and body. But this way she was murdered three times over. I could not believe Anna would do that.
    ‘It doesn’t sound like a crime of passion to me,’ I said. ‘It must have been planned.’
    ‘You know, Tannie Maria,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking the same thing myself.’
    ‘So why arrest Anna?’
    ‘We need to go on the evidence we’ve got. She’s arrested, not convicted. She can apply for bail. I’m hoping you can talk some sense into her. You are the only one she’s asked for. Convince her to get legal help. And to press charges against Van Schalkwyk.’
    ‘What does Dirk van Schalkwyk say? Did you question him?’
    ‘Of course we’ve questioned him. What he said is police business. I am only sharing Anna’s story with you because she needs your help.’
    ‘Let me see her then. Can you organise us some coffee, please?’ I said, picking up the Tupperware from his desk and closing it. ‘To go with her cake.’
    ‘I’ll take you to her.’
    Kannemeyer led me down a darkened corridor to a back room with a small window and an enamel-topped table and two plastic chairs. The walls were yellow-white and cracked, like a smoker’s teeth.
    A policewoman led Anna in. Anna wore jeans and a khaki shirt that hadn’t been ironed. Her short dark hair needed a brush. She scowled at Kannemeyer and the woman.
    I opened the