Chapter 2

At iSigodi Resort, Lake St Lucia, Northern KwaZulu Natal, South Africa.

I felt for a pulse on Jerry’s carotid artery, just below the angle of his jaw but there was none. Missus Jerry was sobbing hysterically. Three of the staff led her a little away from the scene at the door, then into the restaurant and sat her at a table where they fussed around her.

Some of the resort staff, being lifesavers at the pool and trained paramedics, attempted to revive Jerry. His stunned and grief-stricken wife still clung to hope that Jerry would survive and open his eyes.

The resort, once a haven of joy to the guests, was now transformed into an unexpected theatre of loss. The news rippled through the staff and cast a solemn shadow over the once-vibrant setting.

I counted about seventeen of the guests standing there with expressions of horror. Such an event with someone just keeling over and dying is shocking in the extreme, and a sombre hush enveloped them where moments before they had been participating in lively banter and excitement at being at the resort. Some, including their teenage children, wore their swimwear and had towels wrapped around them. They grouped together in their shock at Jerry’s sudden death for a minute or five, then started to rally together to assist where they could.

Whispers of speculation danced through the air. Some spoke of a heart attack, while others shared theories of underlying health issues. Whatever the cause, Jerry’s untimely departure marked a poignant moment, forever etched into the memory of those who witnessed the unexpected tragedy outside the resort restaurant entrance.

Miss Ková appeared and kneeled next to me.

“I’ve already checked. He’s gone...” I whispered.

“How?” she asked, her face drawn and pale with panic in her eyes.

“Someone poisoned him.”

“Poisoned? Do you think it’s his wife? Unbelievable! Those two were inseparable!”

“I’m not speculating, but we need the cops here without delay. Look at his skin colour. It’s turning brown from a cherry red hue. And what do you smell?”

She stared at me for a moment, her eyes darting around my face. Then she came to a decision, bent forward and placed her nose near Jerry’s face. She straightened up and looked back at me with disbelief on her face.

“A trace of fruitiness, because of his diabetes, and the smell of almonds?”

“Almonds, reddish skin turning brown ... likely cyanide poisoning...” I ventured.

She stared blankly at me. Her facial expression and darting eyes spoke of confusion, wondering how I could have determined the probable cause of death.

“If it was potassium cyanide it would act instantly. I agree with you, it is possible cyanide poisoning. I’ll ... I’ll go call the police.”

“In the meantime, I’ll get everyone here relaxed and settled.”

“Thanks. But you don’t have to do it. The staff can handle the guests.”

“I’ll help where I can.”

“Just ... Never mind.” She said, looked away and then called Tobias, the head waiter. “Tobias, see that everyone is taken care of. Let Sam give them free drinks. In the meantime, I’ll go call the police.”

“Yes, Miss Ková!” Tobias replied and then rallied the other three waiters to help him get the guests inside the restaurant.

“I’ll go call the police now. And a medical doctor,” and she got up to go to her office to make the call.

“Yeah, Doctor Ková, a medical person is called for...” For a long moment, she just looked at me, then turned as if to walk off. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. Her shoulder-length brown hair shone almost auburn in the pale yellow light of the patio lights outside the restaurant.

“How did you know ... I’m a doctor?”

“Sam told me why you were late to fetch me from the airport.”

“Oh...”

“How’s the doggie?”

“He’ll survive. It was a dry bite. There was no venom injected. Mostly just a twin puncture wound and a bit of infection from the dirty fangs.”

“Lucky dog! And a good doctor.” I said, smiling.

“Veterinarian. I’m not a doctor...”

“But everyone calls you, ‘Doctor’...” I replied.

A soft smile played on her lips. ”Yeah, if you wear a stethoscope around your neck and a lab coat, everyone calls you, doctor.”

“Go now, go call the cops. I’ll stay here and make sure nobody disturbs the body.”

“Thank you. I’ll get a security guy to come help you ... And Mister Van Aswegen, sorry I was late.”

“Apology accepted. The life of the doggie comes first.”

Without a word, she started to walk off, looked back at me once, and then continued on her way to her office.

“Can I get you something, Sir?” Sam spoke at my side.

“No, Sam. But one thing. Can you close the doors to the restaurant and maybe let the guests use the side entrance?”

“It’s already taken care of, Sir.”

“Thanks, Sam. You’re a star.”

“Thank you, Sir! I like to please. Now let me go tend to my guests.”

“Okay, Sam.”

He left me alone on the patio and entered the restaurant. I moved over to a table a slight distance from the form on the ground, now covered with a tablecloth. I sat down and took out my pipe. It was time for a smoke and some thoughts.

I got my pipe going, then took out my cell phone and dialled a number. The response came after just three rings.

“Are you enjoying your vacation?”

“Yeah, not too bad.”

“So, the resort is still going downhill?”

“Sort of. It needs a lot of maintenance.”

“More money down the drain. Just pouring money into a bottomless pit.”

“Don’t be so cynical. With the right management, this place would be a gold mine.”

“Say you! And you’re there for only half a day.”

“A few hours. My transport from Richards Bay was four and a half hours late.”

“See! I told you that bitch is driving that place under.”

“She’s doing her best. I forgave her for pitching up late.”

“What was her excuse?”

“Medical emergency.”

“Yeah! She is playing vet and not doing her job of managing the resort. If Jerry Sinclare is still interested in buying me out, I’ll sell the pile of shit to him, and try to recover some of my investment.”

“I don’t think Jerry will be interested anymore.”

“Why?”

“He’s dead, keeled over in front of the restaurant and departed this cruel world...”

“What! Heart attack?”

“Poisoned.”

“What!”

“That’s why I called. Besides you, who wants to scrap this nice place? Who else knew about Jerry and his bid on the property?”

“I have no clue ... Wait! Wait, are you suggesting that Jerry was murdered to not ... take over the resort?”

“I have my suspicions. Not anyone in particular, but poisoning someone means there has to be a motive...”

“You think someone else wants to buy the place?”

“Or make it sink into the lake.”

“Shit!”

“So far, from what I’ve seen and experienced, this can be a gold mine in its present form. No enhancements. Destination vacations are in vogue and vacationers spend big bucks for the experience provided here. Just bring it to five-star status and keep going. It will rake in millions.”

“You have ideas?”

“Ideas? Yes. Plenty.”

“Run them by me...”

“Not now. First, I must get to the bottom of this latest development.”

“Leave it to the cops. Don’t blow your cover.”

“It’s not much of a cover. You wanted me to come in here incognito and check it over, see where the money is going. Well, so far, I’ve seen enough. It is bringing in enough cash. I must just find out where it is going.”

“How many guests are there?”

“Not full house, but enough to make it profitable.”

“Hmm ... You think Ková is skimming off the top?”

“If she does, she doesn’t use it. That plane of hers needs urgent attention, and judging by her pilot skills, she’s not one to neglect that bird. But let’s not put the cart before the horse to town.”

“Yeah, the plane must go for a five-hundred-hour maintenance, and she does not have the funds for it. She asked me to extend her loan, but I can’t keep dumping money on that venture and not get something out of it.”

“Either you give her the money to have the plane serviced, and have fewer guests travel on that dirt road, or spend a few million in upgrading that dirt road to the lodge. Then have all the guests travel on that road by bus. That’s if you want any return on your investment.”

“You seem to know about investments?”

“I know my way around the financial markets.”

“And here I thought you were just a private eye.” Chuckle.

“I do own a substantial enterprise...”

“Okay. I trust your judgement.”

“I’ll call you when I have more.”

“Thanks! I appreciate it, but the auditors are getting edgy. I need to get things in order fast, sell, or pull the plug.”

“Wait a little longer.”

“I can’t wait forever...”

“Two weeks. You gave me two weeks. Now wait until my assessment is done, and then make your decision.”

“Okay ... You got two weeks. Not a day longer.”

“Do you build puzzles?”

“No.”

“Better start to explore that avenue. Things that now lay in a thousand pieces, when fit together, make a whole. Giving you the clear bigger picture.”

“Are you sure you’re not a philosopher?”

“No, I’m not, but it makes sense.”

“Yes, it makes sense. I just did not look at it that way before.”

“Let me go. Here comes the Ice Princess.”

“Cheers, Ty. Be careful.”

“I will. Cheers,” and I disconnected from my client.

Miss Ková sat down with a sigh across the table from me, crossed her arms across her chest in a protective way, and sighed again.

“The police are on the way,” she announced and looked away towards the lit pathway leading away from the restaurant through the tropical vegetation lining the path towards the rest of the resort and the lake beyond.

“Still tonight?”

“They are sending some uniformed guys to take over the scene and the detectives will follow. I told them that it might be an unnatural death and it needs investigation.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Coffee, tea, Coca-Cola?”

“Why are you so nice to me all of a sudden, after I treated you like a worm?”

“I’m just me,” I replied. “I don’t need to be a Doofus.”

“Sorry ... I was just...”

“ ... the moer in,” I completed her sentence and smiled.

(Authors note: The Afrikaans expression “the moer in,” which spilled over into the South African English, means the same as “to be pissed off.” It’s an Afrikaans word, used in the SA English and Cape Flats slang that doesn’t sound as harsh as the English equivalent but has the same meaning. In Afrikaans, it is considered as a curse word, but in Dutch, it means, Mother. Like in: “She’s my moer.”)

“Yeah, the moer in for this guy just jumping out in front of me and I had no time to sidestep.”

“I’m sorry too. I did not expect anybody there, and I was also agitated about my transport being late. But now I know why you were late, and that was a priority.”

“I can multitask, but I only have one aircraft.”

“I said it was okay. And by the way, multitasking is just a myth. Humans can only focus attention on one item at a time. Multitasking is the inability to prioritise. You prioritised the emergency first, then attended to getting me from the airport as a second priority. No skin off me. You did well. And I thank you for putting a life before a simple passenger transport. You prioritised correctly.” My only issue was that you did not acknowledge my stress at the delay or apologize.

For a very long while she just looked at me without saying a word, and her silence mirrored the setting of the resort grounds.

In spite of the tension between us, the ambience was one of serene seclusion, surrounded by the symphony of nature. The night air carried the subtle fragrances of indigenous flora, creating a sensory backdrop, while the distant calls of nocturnal creatures echoed through the stillness, punctuating the quietude.

From somewhere out on the lake shore, the grunting of hippos came to us here on the patio of the restaurant. On hearing the hippos, a thought sprang to mind about them. These animals, the most dangerous of all the African wild animals, were grazing on the land after dark. This was the only time they would leave the sanctuary of the water, where they spend most of the day. At night, they come out to graze on the lush grass on the land, and you don’t want to run into a hippo where he or she grazes.

Many a camper was overrun or trampled by hippos. Hippos have a phobia against fire and are known to storm campfires at night and trample the flames out. Then they are mad, and you don’t need to get in their way.

Still the silence between Miss Ková and me persisted and while idly drawing on my pipe I looked around the setting of the patio and the area around us.

Beyond the table, where we sat, the silhouette of the lake reflected the moon’s gentle radiance, its surface shimmering with a silvery sheen. The moonlight painted a pathway across the water, creating a captivating tableau so in contrast with the covered body of Jerry Sinclare just metres from us. The calming influence of the ambience helped us reduce our stress and move towards meaningful communication.

Minutes later she broke the silence and spoke: “You’re not the spoiled rich brat that thinks the world belongs to you that I had assumed you were. Right?”

“Right. I’m just me.”

“I misjudged you. For that I am sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry and allow me to go get us each some coffee. This is going to be a long night. The cops will take at least three to four hours to get here.”

“Three sugars and only a spot of milk in a big mug. Sam knows how.” She smiled.

“Then don’t go away. I’ll be back,” I said and got up.

“Can you say that in a Schwarzenegger voice?” She teased. The Ice Princess seemed to be melting away.

“What?”

“The, ‘I’ll be back’, part.”

“No.”

She chuckled, then with a wave of her hand, dismissed me to go get the coffee.

“Go now, go get us some coffee. As strong as hell, as dark as the devil and...” But she kept quiet, and I finished her sentence for her with a rhetorical question:

“ ... As sweet as a kiss?”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked at me with a ghost of a smile on her lips, then softly said:

“You are a dangerous man, Mister Ty Van Aswegen. Very dangerous.” She responded and looked away, but I detected a light in her eyes that told me that she was as vulnerable as a schoolgirl. Her bitchiness could just be a front, a wall built around herself, where she could hide away from the world.

Is that why she’s hiding away here at iSigodi?

Dawn, A new day at iSigodi on Lake St Lucia.

Sunrise, the breaking of dawn in Africa. This experience is a sensory feast that engages not only your sight but also your hearing and sense of wonder.

The night sky gradually gives way to the first light of day, and you witness a stunning display of colours. The sky transforms from deep purples and blues to warm hues of orange, pink, and gold. The landscape bathes in the soft, early-morning glow, creating a breathtaking panorama, while in the west the stars dim out in the sweet light of dawn.

The first light of dawn brings a soft and gentle illumination to the land. It bathes everything in a warm and ethereal glow, revealing details that were hidden in the darkness. The landscape takes on a surreal quality, and the world seems to come alive with the promise of a new day.

Against the canvas of the awakening sky, the silhouettes of trees, mountains, and wildlife become more pronounced. The outlines of acacia trees or the distant shapes of mountains take on a surreal quality, adding to the magical atmosphere.

The dawn chorus of birds is one of the most enchanting aspects of this experience. The air is filled with a symphony of melodies as various bird species greet the new day with their songs. It’s a lively and harmonious soundtrack that contributes to the sense of rejuvenation.

In many parts of Africa, dawn is accompanied by a refreshing coolness in the air. The temperature is often more comfortable, providing a pleasant contrast to the heat of the upcoming day. The air carries a crispness that invigorates the senses.

The transition from night to day brings about a shift in the behaviour of animals. Nocturnal creatures, such as hyenas or owls, wind down their activities while diurnal animals, like antelopes and zebras, start becoming more active. Observing these animals in their natural habitats during the breaking of dawn adds a sense of connection to the rhythm of nature.

I find a sense of serenity and stillness in the early morning hours. The world feels untouched and pure, creating a tranquil atmosphere that allows for reflection and appreciation of the beauty surrounding you.

The African dawn holds cultural and symbolic significance in many societies. It may be a time for reflection, prayer, or traditional ceremonies. The dawn often symbolizes hope, renewal, and the cyclical nature of life.

In essence, the African dawn is a multisensory experience that engages sight, sound, and emotion. It is a time of natural spectacle, marking the beginning of a new day in a continent rich with diverse landscapes and vibrant ecosystems.

I light up my pipe to the dawn chorus of birds that give a natural rhythm to my morning. Different species contribute to the symphony, creating a lovely background that adds to the serene environment here on the raised balcony outside my suite at iSigodi. I was sipping my first steaming mug of coffee: my morning fuel, or wake-up juice. There was an increasing sensation of calm with each sip and each passing moment. The mix of nature’s beauty, the soothing warmth of my morning coffee, and the calm of the early morning generated my meditative and reflective attitude.