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The Beacon Builder - Andrew McGregor

The Beacon Builder (eBook)

A Novella

(Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB
2025
104 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-1-0492-1888-5 (ISBN)
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Land surveyor Oscar Murphy is working on a hilltop in Paternoster on South Africa's west coast when he catches a glimpse of imminent danger through a telescope and rushes to the scene to help Ruby, a young, talented woman with a bright future.


When Oscar's friend Luke Watson, a lawyer, travels to Paternoster to help banker Lisa-Marie Pieterse uncover financial fraud and hold the perpetrator, Stephen Banting, to account, a riveting plot unfolds with Banting at the centre of a tale of deceit, retribution, and justice.


Soon, Oscar, Ruby, Luke, and Lisa's lives are entwined in an enthralling South African story that is equal parts thriller and cosy, small-town saga.


Set in the inimitable beauty of the Western and Southern Cape coasts, the harsh mining hinterland, and Namibia, The Beacon Builder is about a killing, the joy of wave surfing, horse racing in the early 1900s, fraud, and the strong bond of friendships, both old and new.

1


Luke drove into Arniston, nearly thirty kilometres north-east of Cape Agulhas, which is the southernmost point of Africa. At the four-way stop, following Oscar’s directions, he turned left, took a right into Lane Street, and drove to the house at the end of the road. The rows of houses here had only a stretch of grass and a dirt parking lot between them and the sea, and all had north-facing views of long sandy beaches bordered in the west by imposing sand dunes.

It was a white house with a steeply pitched thatch roof and a glass-enclosed front porch surrounded by walls made of natural stone. As he approached the gate, a low, ominous growl came from inside the porch. The sound turned into a loud, wolf-like howl, and he hesitated before opening the gate. A surprisingly small dog with whiskers on her chin and a ridge on her back showed herself and was hushed by a voice within. ‘Calm down, Suzi,’ said Oscar as he appeared, ‘it’s just my friend Luke.’

Luke hadn’t seen Oscar for five years and was startled by his appearance. Oscar was in his sixties and ten years older than Luke. It wasn’t surprising that his bright-red hair was greying slightly and the freckles on his face had been turned dark red by the sun, contrasting starkly with his green eyes. He and Oscar had been running partners in their time in Namibia. Luke recalled them being the same height, around 5ft10, and Oscar having a slim, runner’s build. He seemed to have gotten shorter and filled out, not with fat but muscle. He had huge biceps and forearms and bulging calves.

‘You look like Sylvester Stallone in the Rocky movies,’ said Luke.

Oscar laughed. ‘Bring in your bag. Let’s settle you in, and I will tell you the story over a whiskey.’

Soon, they were sitting on the porch, and Luke remarked on the spectacular view beyond the fishing harbour and the distant majestic dunes rolling down to long white beaches interrupted by black limestone outcrops: ‘It is an eclectic coastline; I guess it must have seen some history.’

‘Well, the Arniston wreck for one,’ replied Oscar. ‘That monument you see to your left is dedicated to the wreck.’

They had met in Swakopmund in Namibia ten years before. Luke ran a small legal conveyancing firm, and Oscar, a land surveyor, was mapping the waterholes in the Etosha National Park. ‘Best job in the world!’ Oscar had said, and Luke could not disagree. It was a five-year project, and Oscar had decided to purchase a house in Swakopmund, where he had spent half the month compiling the technical results of the groundwork he had done in the park. Luke had done the conveyancing for his purchase. They had started running together and formed a close friendship.

‘After I finished at Etosha, I got the same job at the Kruger Park. But then I had a fall from a beacon tower and broke my back. It wasn’t a big fall, but I was diagnosed with severe osteoporosis of my neck and spine, so three vertebrae sort of crumbled, and I lost ten centimetres in height. I was working for the state Surveyor General’s office, and they retired me early with a generous disability pension, so I moved to our holiday home in Arniston – here. Molly and I had bought it when Harriet was a toddler. The doctor recommended medication and weight training and sent me to a retired bodybuilder at the gym in Bredasdorp, and I really got into it. My condition is thankfully largely improving.’

‘Does it bother you that you’re shorter?’ asked Luke.

‘Not at all. I identify as a taller man.’

Luke burst out laughing.

‘Harriet also thought that was hilarious,’ said Oscar.

‘How is Harriet?’

‘She’s great. She completed her electrical engineering honours at the University of Cape Town and earlier this year enrolled for her master’s at Heidelberg University in Germany. She just completed her degree and is due home soon. Can’t wait to see her.’ He paused. ‘You’re not in the medical profession, but I have a hypothetical question. If my organs were designed for someone ten centimetres taller, shouldn’t I get more mileage out of them?’

Luke thought for a while before replying, ‘Perhaps if they were new.’

‘That’s a good answer.’ Oscar chuckled.

At 8 am the following morning, they set off on what Oscar described as a seven-kilometre fynbos and beach walk, with Suzi bounding ahead. As they walked south down the tarmac road, a white twin-cab vehicle stopped next to them. A tall man with dirty-blond hair got out and walked over to them. He was dressed in chinos with numerous buttoned pockets and a blue shirt with a security company logo.

‘There are a couple of those no-goods wandering around looking for an opportunity to steal, so just keep your eyes open, Oscar, and call me if you see anything,’ said the man.

‘Will do, Dewald,’ replied Oscar. ‘This is my friend Luke.’

Dewald shook Luke’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

Luke and Oscar continued their walk. Beyond the main swimming beach, the tarmac ended. They took a narrow, sandy track bordered by fynbos that opened out to the right. Soon, they were on top of a large dune which sloped down to the beach. On the shoreline, rockpools nestled, with the wide-open sea beyond.

‘That is extraordinarily beautiful,’ gasped Luke.

They stood admiring the view until Suzi turned to look adoringly at her master and then did a gleeful backward somersault before tearing down the dune, across the beach, and into the rock pools, her little footprints clearly showing her route.

When they reached the pools, Suzi was standing in one, looking intently at the water.

‘She’s fishing,’ said Oscar. ‘Not that she ever catches one. She’s fast, but not that fast.’

They walked north up the beach, the sand firm underfoot at low tide, towards the Rhys Point radio beacon, which warned ships of their distance to the treacherous Saxon Reef stretching east out to sea. As they approached the beacon, they summited a low rise and saw four people grouped about thirty metres ahead. They could immediately tell that something wasn’t right. A mature couple was facing them, wearing bright shirts and shorts. They looked like tourists. Oscar and Luke could see the backs of two figures wearing hoodies, one black and the other red. They appeared to be male youths.

Oscar whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and sent a voice note to Dewald on WhatsApp: ‘I need help at the beacon,’ his voice urgent.

Just then, the male tourist took a camera off his neck and handed it to Black Hoodie. Red Hoodie forced the female tourist onto the ground, grabbing her bag off her shoulder as she fell. Oscar darted forward at surprising speed, with Luke and Suzi behind him. When Oscar was about five metres away, Black Hoodie heard the approaching movement and turned. He had a knife in his right hand.

The man was wearing a Covid mask, but that didn’t protect him from the blast of pepper spray coming from a device Luke hadn’t seen Oscar remove from his pocket. Black Hoodie screamed and dropped the knife, raising his hands to his face. Red Hoodie turned quickly and ran towards Oscar, holding what looked like a screwdriver with a sharpened tip. Oscar took two strides towards him and landed a straight kick into his solar plexus, the breath audibly escaping the man’s lungs. Oscar stepped forward and punched him hard in the mouth. Red Hoodie went down backwards like a dead weight and remained motionless. The fight was over.

Oscar turned to Black Hoodie, ripped his mask off, pulled the hoodie behind his head, and struck him with an open hand across the face. The sound of Oscar’s palm connecting with the man’s cheek was like a rifle shot. Oscar landed several more similar blows. Black Hoodie dropped to his knees, begging Oscar to stop.

‘Take off your belt,’ Oscar instructed.

Black Hoodie complied, and Oscar secured the man’s hands behind his back with the belt.

Suddenly, Dewald’s twin cab came fast around the corner and abruptly stopped. Dewald came running over, concern on his face. As he took in the scene, he broke into a wide grin and said, ‘Hey Oscar, Arniston’s own Equalizer.’

Luke and Oscar guided the couple to a flat rock where they could sit and gather their wits. Neither was injured.

Dewald came over and dropped to his haunches and said gently: ‘I’m very sorry you’ve had this experience. Are you staying at the hotel?’

They nodded.

‘The police will come to the hotel to take your statements, and they’ll offer a counsellor to come and speak with you there. Please accept the offer. I know the counsellor, and she is very good. Every bit helps to recover from an ordeal like this. Oscar, you and Luke take my car and drop these good people at the hotel. I will wait for the police and come and collect it from your house.’

Later, Luke and Oscar were sipping whiskeys on the verandah.

‘Does this happen a lot?’ asked Luke.

‘We live in a mostly functional, caring community. This is driven by drugs. There’s a small group of addicts who break into houses to steal and feed their habit. Dewald knows exactly who they are, but getting convictions is difficult because they wear hoodies and masks, and the courts won’t accept camera footage because they can’t be identified with certainty.’

Suzi made a manically quick movement of her head and then spat out a fly.

‘She catches flies,’ said Luke in astonishment.

Oscar chuckled. ‘She also...

Erscheint lt. Verlag 18.11.2025
Sprache englisch
Themenwelt Literatur Romane / Erzählungen
Schlagworte cozy novella • cozy reads • cozy thrillers • short reads thriller • small town cozy • small town thriller • south african crime thrillers
ISBN-10 1-0492-1888-4 / 1049218884
ISBN-13 978-1-0492-1888-5 / 9781049218885
Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR)
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