Death By Carbs (17 page)

THE WIDOW

 

 

Friday 9:32am

 

 

Maureen put her well-thumbed copy of
The Real Meal Revolution
on
the table in a visible spot, to help Benjamin recognise her. Then she
held the back of the spoon up to her face and checked the distorted reflection to make sure she didn't have lipstick on her teeth. She'd just had her nails done and her hair set; she'd made her hairdresser open early for her, thrown money at the problem. It was the first time in ages that she'd had her nails done. But now that there was this money pouring in from all the Tim Noakes ENDORSED Meal Plans she
was selling, she figured she could afford to spend it however she wanted. She had earned it herself, after all.

She wasn't sure why she wanted to look good for Benjamin, or why she had butterflies in her tummy at the prospect of meeting him.
Maybe it was because she was scared he'd see right through her, and know she was the fraudulent Lydia the second he laid eyes on her. Or perhaps it was because she was curious to see if his dark good looks online would translate into real life? She had to remind herself that
she wasn't really Lydia (even though she sort of was); she was a sixty-year-old woman. And Benjamin would never, could never, look at
her the way he would look at Lydia.

‘Maureen?'

She looked up, startled at the sound of her own name. The man standing beside her table was in his late fifties, maybe. He was balding, with old-fashioned spectacles and a small paunch. He was neatly dressed in an expensive-looking suit, but he looked exhausted, and he hadn't shaved. Maureen searched her mind: maybe he was an old friend of Gus's from the office.

‘I'm Benjamin,' said the newcomer, his face flushed with shame. ‘It's nice to meet you.'

Maureen gaped, trying to reconcile the stocky little man standing in front of her with the Benjamin she knew online.

‘I can explain,' he said, ‘but I completely understand if you'd rather that I just went away.'

It took Maureen a moment to find her voice. She reminded herself that he was a potential client. ‘No, please, sit, sit.'

‘Thank you,' he said, sitting down gingerly.

‘Forgive me, I don't know where my manners got to.'

‘Please, let me explain. . .'

‘No, really, you don't owe me any explanations.' Maureen stumbled over the words, trying to maintain her composure.

‘But I want to explain, you have to allow me that if nothing else,' he said. Then the words came tumbling out of his mouth. ‘You see I work, I mean I worked for a company that manufactures carbs: breads, croissants, cakes, sugary stuff, you know, contraband products,' he said, smiling to himself, recalling a private joke. Then cleared his throat and continued: ‘Until very recently, I was the managing director of the company. If they'd known I was Banting – and successfully at that – and if they had any inkling that I'd joined a public Banting group on Facebook, the repercussions would have been severe. They would have fired me, and might have instigated legal proceedings. That's why I invented Benjamin. It was all so that I could join the group, and find a support system of wonderful like-minded people, like your friend
Lydia and you, of course.'

‘It's okay, Benjamin,' Maureen said.

‘My real name is Trevor. Benjamin was my online pseudonym,' he said. ‘And it's not okay. I've hurt people. I've been dishonest. I've done some terrible things, illegal things. . .'

Maureen looked at him closely. She could see that he was trying very hard not to cry. His bottom lip was quivering, and he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. The thought struck Maureen that he was very much like her. It also occurred to her that he might actually be rather handsome, if he got a shave and a few good nights' sleep, and maybe dropped a couple of kilos.

Despite his deception, or perhaps due to her own, she felt deep empathy, as well as a desire to protect this poor broken man. She patted her hair with one hand. Then she covered his hand with her own. He looked up at her touch.

‘It's really okay, Trevor,' she said. ‘I think that everything is going to be okay.'

 

THE COP

 

 

Friday 10:15am

 

 

‘According to my autopsy, what we have here is a Caucasian male in his early to mid-sixties. Six foot three, eighty-one kilograms, mild male-pattern balding, almost all of his own teeth. Second stage of rigor was present. The body has extensive post-mortem injuries, which are consistent with an MVA,' the pathologist said.

‘Which means what in English?' Bennie September asked.

‘He seems to have been run over a number of times
after
he died.'

‘So what was the cause of death?'

‘Cause of death was asphyxia.'

‘Oh, so he was strangled?'

‘No, it was an obstruction in his trachea.'

‘Meaning?' Bennie asked.

‘He choked,' said the doctor. ‘On what appears to be a piece of
Ouma rusk.'

‘
So it wasn't murder?' Bennie couldn't believe what he was hearing
.

‘Nope, by the looks of things he was eating a rusk, and he choked on it.'

‘But what about the cuts, the bruising and abrasions across his face and body?'

‘Well, when he started choking on the bit of rusk, I suspect he panicked, and threw himself over the back of a chair to try and dislodge it. That kind of behaviour is consistent with injuries of this nature. When that didn't work, he may have bounced around the room in a panic, trying to bash the rusk out of his throat in other ways and with any household implements he could find, which would account for the broken nose, the blood, and the kinds of abrasions we see here.'

‘Wait a minute, doctor. You're telling me that Professor Tim Noakes, the founder of the anti-carb movement, died choking on a rusk?'
Bennie asked, incredulous.

‘No, I'm not. It turns out that the deceased is not Professor Tim Noakes.'

‘What?' Bennie said, spinning on his feet to face the doctor. ‘Wait, let me get this straight. You mean this body does not belong to Tim Noakes?'

‘They do share some physical attributes, but I can guarantee you, Detective September, the deceased is most definitely not Professor Tim Noakes.'

‘How can you be so sure?' Bennie asked.

‘Well, for a number of reasons. The first reason I believe this body
does not belong to Professor Tim Noakes is because this man has a pacemaker. The second hint is that he has a tattoo of a very ample-bosomed woman on his left gluteus maximus. The third is that his fingerprints identify him as a fellow wanted for questioning in connect-
ion with a number of professional “hits”. But the most compelling evidence that leads me to conclude that this body does not belong to Professor Tim Noakes,' said the doctor, taking his iPhone out his pocket, and brandishing it at the detective, ‘is the fact that they just announced on News24 that Tim Noakes is alive and well, and has been at an ashram in the Karoo with his wife for the last seventy-two hours, without any contact with the outside world.'

Bennie took the iPhone and scrolled through the news story.

‘The Prof contacted the press as soon as news of his death reached him,' the doctor said.

‘Then where the hell did this guy come from?' Bennie asked, pointing at the body under a sheet on the table.

‘No idea,' said the pathologist. ‘But it appears that this time, he bit off more than he could chew.

THE CO-AUTHORS

 

 

Marco
opened a restaurant called Marco's Kitchen, where he serves fresh, homemade pasta, just like his nonna used to make, and her nonna before her, and her nonna before her. Professor Tim Noakes is a regular at Marco's Kitchen, where he particularly enjoys the Zoodles (noodles made out of zucchini) from the Banting section of the menu. He and Marco are still close, but no longer work together – although Marco did go to the launch of the Prof's new Mediterranean cookbook. He speaks to Shireen regularly, but is no longer in touch with Shaun or Xolisa.

Marco's still not a household name, but he's okay with that. He's also okay with the fact that he's ten kilos overweight. He and Chris have never been more in love, and are looking to adopt a child.
MasterChef South Africa
haven't asked him to be a judge yet, but fingers crossed.

 

Shireen
lives in Johannesburg with her husband, two children, two dogs, three cats, and a hamster. Her Banting dietician practice continues to grow, and she is hard at work on a book called
The Banting Makeover: Hair and beauty tips for the LCHF lifestyle
. She calls Professor Noakes every day, just to make sure that he's okay.

 

After her divorce,
Xolisa
put on thirty-five kilos and started The South African Round and Proud Association, which urges women to love their bodies, no matter what their size. The SARPA website receives in the region of 15 000 hits per day. She is currently single, and not in contact with Prof Noakes or any of her other co-authors.

 

Shaun
is still single and living in Cape Town. He is still a tool. He has no new books coming out.

 

THE WIDOW

 

 

Maureen Ewehout
is now a bestselling author of romance novels. Her latest,
The Shropshire Lass and the Biker: The First of the Sarah Chronicles
, launches in a few weeks' time at The Book Lounge in Cape Town. She has removed herself from the Banting for Life Facebook page and has donated every cent she earned from her ENDORSED meal plans to The Noakes Foundation. She and Trevor live together in Rondebosch, with no cats.

 

THE EX-CEO

 

 

Trevor
started his own company – a small artisanal bakery, located in the heart of Rondebosch, called Banting Buns. Maureen helped him formulate many of his unique recipes, including his trademarked cauli-bread. Last weekend the
Sunday Times
called Banting Buns a ‘local treasure' and gave it four stars. Trevor is currently putting together a book of recipes.

 

 

 

THE EX-PUBLISHER

 

 

After going through intensive rehab and finding Jesus,
Frank
took up a position at CUM Books, where he discovered that publishing
could
be lucrative after all. On weekends he goes to Pollsmoor Prison, where he teaches inmates to read. He's also actively involved in a local campaign to abolish African Fiction sections from bookstores, promoting the idea that all fiction should be displayed together, in alphabetical order. His tell-all memoir, entitled
Two Nights in a South African Prison
, is due out at the end of this month.

 

 

 

THE HIJACKERS

 

 

Papsak
is training to be a mortuary assistant; he has three more years to go before he is accredited. Last week Thabo bought him an Apple iPhone for his birthday.

 

Thabo
started giving Real Meal Revolution low-carb, high-protein courses in the townships, which have become hugely successful. He has his own LCHF book coming out in all eleven vernaculars soon:
Banting Made Nca!
People call him the Tim Noakes of Khayelitsha.
He is currently single, and drives a blue BMW three-series that he bought from a second-hand dealer (not Lefty).

 

 

 

 

TIM NOAKES

 

 

Professor Noakes
is alive and well, and continues to spread the word about the Banting lifestyle in between court cases and Twitter wars. Frank Collins continues sending him weekly care packages, filled with sugary treats, donuts, Ouma rusks and chocolate brownies, which remain unacknowledged, and may or may not have been responsible for the death of the first hitman.

 

The Prof recently launched his new book, which is already a bestseller. His publishers are very happy.

 

 

 

 

THE END

 

 

BULLETPROOF THANKS

 

This book was made with very few carbs and a great deal of love and support.

To Sarah Lotz, who has taught me more than I'll ever know, encouraged, advised, nurtured and inspired me: you're ace, and I'm beyond grateful.

My forever thanks goes to the early readers for their love and tough love: Sarah Lotz, Helen Moffett, Edyth Bulbring, Rahla Xenopolous, Fourie Botha, Karin Barry-McCormack, Rachel Zadok and Bongani Kona.

Ian Waddell, trainer to the stars (
http://www.personalbest.co.za
) for answering my billion and one questions about exercise.

Ruby Bunn and Ethan Gray, for all the information about the interior of ambulances and rigor mortis.

The wonderful and patient BookStorm team: Louise Grantham, Russell Clarke and Nicola van Rooyen.

The phenomenally talented professional book lovers who worked with such care and passion to make this book: Reneé Naudé and Karin Barry-McCormack. And Megan Clausen and Sophy Kohler, for extraordinary eagle-eyed proofing.

Warren McKnight for your unbreakable support.

Editor and friend extraordinaire, Helen Moffett: with each new project I work on with you, I can't believe my luck and your talent.

And of course, thanks to Professor Tim Noakes for having a great sense of humour and being such a good sport about this whole thing, particularly considering what happens to him on page one.

 

If you'd like to get in touch with me, please

join me on Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/paige.nick.fans

find me on Twitter @ paigen

or email me on
[email protected]
.

 

The incredible Noakes Foundation also deserves a shout-out: here's a bit about what they do.

 

Professor Tim Noakes and the Noakes Foundation are committed to world-class research through a large-scale research programme that addresses the scientific causes of the pandemics of obesity and type 2 diabetes. They are also flagshipping a community intervention programme that aims to help those with limited means learn to eat more healthily, heal themselves with their diets, and to feed their families and future generations in better ways.

 

Visit
www.thenoakesfoundation.org

or contact
[email protected]

 

If Banting has changed your life or the life of someone you know, please consider contacting the foundation to help sponsor someone with limited means to change theirs.