Man of Many Talents

  Chapter 4

  On Sunday evening Henk returned to inspect the geyser.

  "I tried it out this morning. The water was hot and I had a lovely bath." Before Lana could stop him he was in the bathroom, opening the hot water tap. "What do I owe you for the element?"

  "One beer will do," he replied and walked out on the patio, where he noticed her new table and four chairs. "Pretty."

  "I am glad you like it. I bought it in Malelane this morning. Can I fetch you the beer now?"

  "Yes please. I don't like spending Sunday evenings on my own. My family has left and my son, who is still living with me, will be in Maputo until Tuesday. So instead of taking a sleeping tablet, I am having that beer now."

  "How many children do you have?" Lana placed two beers on the table. "Please open mine, as well."

  "Three. Two sons and a daughter. The eldest son is married and lives on his wife's family farm close by. It was his little one who went to buy the ice creams yesterday." He grinned and continued: "My daughter is the youngest and she and my sister own the Home Industry in the centre."

  "Is that so? I bought some rusks from them yesterday and decided that they are going to see me quite regularly in the future!" She lifted her beer in a toast." Cheers!"

  "Cheers." He sipped at his beer. "By the way, I see you have bought the poles for the carport. Is that your latest project?"

  "Yes, it is. I am planning to complete one new improvement project every week."

  "And did you complete your article about accommodation south of the Kruger?"

  "Yes, including photos. Now the computer's memory is full again. I am deleting most of my ex's files after storing it on CD's. I don't think he will ever need it again, but I am keeping it for him, anyway. It feels too awkward to destroy something somebody had worked on."

  At that moment her cell phone lying on the table beeped. She read the short message, shook her head and put the phone down again. "That is very strange. I cannot make out what the person is trying to say."

  "May I have a look?" He picked up the phone and read "Pity about old Wynand, but now that he is no longer with us, you are our only link. Can we meet somewhere to solve the problem?" He turned to her and asked, "Who is the late Wynand? Do you know the man?"

  "No, not the late Wynand. He is my ex. As far as I know he is alive and healthy and living in Europe." She looked at Henk. "At least, that was the last news I had about him. … No, as far as I know he is okay."

  "Not according to the SMS." Henk looked at her before replacing the phone. He cleared his throat and enquired, "Let us assume that he is 'no longer with us,' according to the SMS. Will you be very upset to find out that he is no longer in Europe, either?"

  "Yes of course. We were together for the best part of fifteen years."

  "Did you have any children with him?"

  "No, he did not want any more children. It was his second marriage as well, and he wanted to enjoy life without any limitations. I have two children from my first marriage."

  "Limitations? My three limitations bring me the most joy."

  "And you are so fortunate to have your children so close by. Mine are in Pretoria and I really miss them," Lana answered as her phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen. "It is my ex-sister-in-law. She lives in Pretoria as well. Perhaps she knows what is going on."

  It was bad news indeed.

  "Lana! Wynand died early this morning in Prague from a heart attack. His fiancé phoned me about an hour ago," the woman cried hysterically. So then it was true.

  "I am so sorry to hear that." Lana could not think of anything else to say. How could one console someone who had just lost the last remaining member of her family? Wynand's sister never got married. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  "No, I just wanted to phone and tell you the bad news. There won't even be a funeral. His body will be cremated. I was planning to visit them in April. I still cannot believe it." The woman was obviously still in shock. Then she remembered something. "Where are you? A strange man phoned and asked me for your cell number. According to him you are using Wynand's laptop and he needs some information on it to wind down the estate."

  "I suppose you gave him my number?" An unnecessary question, as she had already received an SMS from the stranger.

  "I had to," she confirmed Lana's suspicions. "He went to your duet home in Faerie Glen, but apparently you had moved out and only your sons are living there now."

  "I … err.. Something is rather strange. Don’t you think the executors are a bit quick, considering that Wynand only died this morning?" She wondered why the hairs in her neck were suddenly standing up. "Especially considering the fact that he worked alone most of the time."

  "Jamima helped him over the last few months. She was the one who told me … that he had died." She started crying again.

  "I will be thinking of you. Call me anytime and please let me know if there is anything I can do."

  Lana replaced the phone and sat down on the far end her new deck. She pulled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees, as she usually did when she had something to think about.

  "So he is dead." Henk sat down next to her and his arm around her shoulders consoled her a little bit. "I am sorry."

  "Thank you." Tears were running down her cheeks. She was really sad. "A heart attack. It is difficult to believe. He used to be so fit and healthy, but I suppose it happened because his work was very stressful, although he did not often talk about it."

  "What did he do for a living?"

  "Stock Exchange. Investments."

  It was quiet for a long time, and then Henk asked, "Do you still love him? Excuse me for asking, but perhaps you still hoped to be reconciled? Some people do that, to keep on hoping … even after a divorce."

  "No, our last parting was final and by then the new woman was in his life already. He followed her to Prague." She looked at him apologetically. "I don't want to sound rude, but I am not good company anymore tonight. I would like to go to sleep now."

  "I am not trying to be pushy, he replied and removed his arm from her shoulder, "but I think I will stay for a while longer, seeing that I haven't finished my beer yet."

  "Thank you." She wondered if he had decided to stay a while longer because she was looking so forlorn and sad. He was probably convinced that his presence would cheer her up.

  Actually, it was true … he did cheer her up.

  Lana turned around to look at the table, as two SMS's followed shortly after one another.

  "Would you like to see?" Henk asked her and passed the phone.

  "Where are you? Can we meet?" the first message read. "It is about Wynand's laptop."

  "No, thank you. Who are you and what do you want with the laptop?" she replied.

  The second message read, "A large amount of money will be yours. Bring me the laptop and you will be a very wealthy woman." This message came from a different number.

  Lana could feel chills running down her spine, in spite of the summer heat. She took a sip from the beer glass.

  "Something does not seem right," she mumbled, more to herself than to the man with her on the patio.

  "Why don't you phone and find out?" Henk asked as she put the phone down next to her on the deck.

  "No, I still have to process the information that Wynand has actually died, and then I will try to find out what is going on here. What bothers me the most is that Wynand usually worked alone. I have been using his laptop for six months, but he did not show the slightest interest in getting it back. Why would strangers be interested in it and claim that it is in connection with the estate?"

  "If he was working with numbers, I assume all his documents and his will was in order," Henk agreed with her. "And that would not be on a laptop that has not been with him for the last six months."

  "I work on the laptop every day and all his files are password protected, anyway, so nobody else will be able to access it." She got up. "I am going to make some tea. Would
you like some?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  He stood close to her while they waited for the kettle to boil.

  "I enjoy being here with you and it is beautiful, but now I want my own bed and my own pillow," he declared after his second cup of tea. "When can I see you again?"

  "I don't know. I suppose that depends on you."

  "In that case I will come around some time during the week. But remember, if you want to talk about anything, if you need anything, or if you are feeling lonely, here is my number." He wrote his cell number on a piece of paper.

  On Monday afternoon Henk stopped in front of her house and his face was serious as he jumped out of the car.

  "What is going on? Why don't you answer your cell phone? I suppose you haven't switched on your phone yet. And I suppose you haven't entered my number either."

  "Oh goodness, I forgot to switch it on after last night's SMS's."

  "Exactly. Bring me that phone. I will type in my own number."

  She walked into the house and switched on the phone. It beeped a few times.

  "You will see, three of those messages are from me," Henk said after typing in his number.

  She found out that people were looking for her from everywhere when she started listening to her voicemails and reading her messages. Henk's messages were there, as well as a message from her eldest son, who found out that his stepfather had died. There was a message from her friend, Jeanne and one from the editor of a magazine.

  Funny enough a voicemail from her sister-in-law sounded unbelievably threatening and impatient.

  "Where is Wynand's laptop? That man says he is going to make trouble. Please let me know where it is, so that he can fetch it. He is threatening to go to the police."

  "How can he go to the police? I did not steal the bloody thing. Wynand gave it to me to use."

  She read the four SMS's aloud: "Number one SMS me immediately and tell me where we can meet. Bring the notebook with you!"

  "Second SMS: We will swop you with a new computer and transfer all your stuff. Where are you living now?"

  "Three: Don't think that we will not find your hiding place. Ignore one more message and your time to set matters right, is busy running out."

  "And last but not least: The computer is a time activated bomb. It can mean the end of you and your loved ones."

  After reading is as well, Henk had a look of total surprise on his face. "Am I stupid, or are these all threats?""That is how I understand them, too." She typed: "WHAT is your PROBLEM?" and sent it.

  "You are my PROBLEM! Where are you?" she received the return message.

  "That is enough!" She dialed the number, feeling very brave and aggressive, but nobody answered the phone. She looked at the phone and then at Henk.

  "Give me the number. I will phone him from my phone." Henk looked upset, too. He dialed, waiting for somebody to answer.

  "Perhaps somebody was trying to make a fool out of me," Lana said hopefully.

  "I don't think so," Henk confirmed her apprehensions. "Nobody has friends who would think this is funny. I can feel the chills running down my spine."

  "Me too," she admitted and fiddled with the phone between her fingers. Then she asked, "If a phone is switched off, does it transmit that unique signal by which the owner can be located?"

  "No, I think the phone should be switched on." Henk shrugged. "I am not sure, but I will find out. However, it isn't as if anybody can just walk into the service provider's shop and demand to know where a person can be found. There has to be a valid reason."

  "Like murder, for instance?"

  "Yes, I suppose that is about the only motivation. Even then the information will only be available to the police. I don't think it was the police who was threatening you."

  "Wynand's sister says one guy threatened to go to the police to make a case of theft. But Wynand gave the laptop to me to use. How will they be able to prove that it was theft if the owner had died?"

  "It wasn't theft. Anyway, I cannot see the police getting involved in a case of a dead man's laptop. My guess is that it was one of Wynand's clients, standing to lose a few bucks if some of the information disappeared." Henk was standing around, looking unsure of himself and then he walked to the carport. "Your car-cage is coming on nicely. I see you are halfway already."

  "I told you I was serious to get things done," she declared proudly.

  "I can see that. How are your hands holding out? This is hard manual work."

  "Hard work is therapeutic. It makes me sleep well at night. Would you like some coffee?"

  "Tea please, but I am in a bit of a hurry. I actually came around to invite you over for tonight. We have an interdenominational cell group, and we meet every Monday evening. Tonight is our first meeting for the year."

  "If you don't mind, I am going to get into bed quite early tonight. Perhaps next week, but thanks for the invitation."

  "Okay." He looked disappointed. After he had finished his tea, he greeted her and walked to the silver BMW. "You are welcome to come if you change your mind, even if it is late."

  "Thank you."

  "And keep your phone switched on."

  "For my enemies to find me?" she teased.

  "No, man" he exclaimed. "So that I can contact you and not have to worry about a woman alone in the bush. You know, the reason I am a police reservist is because I care about people in my community."

  That evening Lana lay in the bath for a while. Her fingers were sore and the skin was broken from working with the wires to tie the poles to the iron framework. She was feeling disturbed about the strange attention the laptop was getting, and on top of that she was feeling lonely and sorry for herself.

  If she weren't feeling so exhausted, she would have joined Henk and his cell group tonight.

  Then she started thinking again. She could not allow herself to become dependent on somebody else for her own happiness here in the bush. As it was, she was already too excited about the possibility of seeing him again.

  Henk was only reaching out a hand of friendship, her common sense reminded her. One could not ignore a hand of friendship, but anything more than friendship would be out of the question.

  She knew from her experiences that a man's presence was only temporary. As soon as one got used to having him around, he was usually on his way again.

  There was Wynand, who promised to bring her the moon, the stars and a red rose every day, if she would marry him. However, as soon as his ring was on her finger, he had the next victim lined up.

  She climbed out of the bath, feeling angry. Wynand was dead, and she did not want to think of any man in terms of a marriage partner. Henk Maritz was not even a prospect, anyway.

  She preferred to spend time alone. That was why she bought this little house in the bush. Henk did not have to sacrifice his evenings to spend time with her because he was feeling sorry for her. She was going to be okay.