Monday morning. I spoke to Oscar, and told him about Saturday night.
“Oh, no! Terrible! Pshaw! Bad bad BAD people are out at night.”
“Gosh Oscar, I don’t know what happened at all. The police said, ‘nothing’, but I dont’ believe it.”
"Madam, you know there is a club down there. A drinking club.”
“A WHAT? Like a shebeen? Down in the woods?”
“Yes, a club, but it’s in a house over there, down across the creek. Over there.” And he pointed to where everything had been happening on Saturday night.
Ohhhhhh. A private drinking club; people tell me it’s quite common here in SA. People own a house, have people in, no liquor license, and the guests drink and party till all hours. So of course the house owners would say everything was fine: “just having a party, officers!”
And the woman? What happened to her? The baby?
I don’t know.
Oscar said I must mind my own business. Just pay attention to what’s inside the garden walls. That’s it.
Oh.
I guess I see.
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