Facets of Death

by Michael Stanley

  “And you’re missing something else. Mma Kenosi deduced that the man was a witch doctor, but Kenosi didn’t tell her that. It could have been someone who promised him a lot of money—maybe said they could go into business together. Give him a start up the ladder, in exchange for some inside work at Gaborone Cash in Transit. It sounds as though Kenosi would have jumped at that, and maybe that’s how it started. Maybe by the time it got out of hand, Kenosi was in too deep to get out. Maybe there never was a witch doctor.”

  Kubu thought about it and then nodded. He’d missed that altogether. He realised that he still had a great deal to learn.

  Mabaku glanced at him again. “Well, whoever or whatever he is, it’s going to be your job to find him. So, you’d better start thinking about how you’re going to do that.”

  Mabaku’s tone was gruff, but he was giving the new detective a very important assignment. Kubu knew he’d better not fail.

  Chapter 57

  Kubu was beginning to feel overwhelmed. He’d been given the task of following up on several of the people involved in the case—Nari, the airport manager, and Roberts, the pilot, all the guards on the hijacked armoured van, as well as Tshane, and the personnel who had initially packed the diamonds. Not to mention the case of the missing suitcases! Now Mabaku had added the witch doctor, if indeed he existed.

  He was thankful that Elias had gathered some of the financial stuff. He wouldn’t have known how to go about that or who to speak to. So far nothing suspicious had turned up.

  Kubu doodled in his notebook for a few minutes, trying to decide how to proceed. Eventually, he listed the names of the people he was looking into and tore the page out. He was first going to check whether they had any criminal records. He doubted they would have, but he needed to be thorough. However, he didn’t know where to find the records.

  He stood up and walked down the passage to reception. Elias looked up and scowled.

  Kubu smiled back. “Good afternoon, Elias. How are you doing?”

  “I’m not doing anything else for you. It took me hours to get the information you asked for.”

  “And I thank you for that. It was very useful. Now, I just want to know where to find the records department. I need to check up on some things on my to-do list.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to do them for you?”

  “Quite sure, thank you.”

  “Go out the front door. It’s the second building on the right.”

  Kubu thanked him and headed out into the heat. He decided to keep a steady pace over the fifty or so metres. If he sped up, he would generate more heat internally. Slowing down would give the sun more time to scorch him. He was sure, though, that whatever he did, he’d arrived soaked.

  He found the records department easily enough and tapped on the little bell on the desk inside. A few moments later, a young woman emerged from a back room. Kubu blinked. She was gorgeous.

  “How can I help you?” Her smile was warm.

  “Um. Er.” Kubu was struggling to get his mind back to the task at hand.

  “I’m Joy Serome. Pleased to meet you.” She stuck out her hand.

  Kubu hesitated, then shook hands. “I’m…uh.”

  “Oh, I know who you are.” Joy had a twinkle in her eye. “You are Kubu, the new man.”

  “How did you…”

  “Everyone’s heard of you. New man. Never been on the beat. Mabaku’s hippo. The only person ever to get Elias to do something.”

  Kubu blushed, speechless.

  Joy laughed. Kubu felt his heart constrict.

  “What can I do for you?”

  Kubu took a deep breath, trying to find his composure.

  “Two things, please. Here are some names. Would it be possible to check if they’ve ever been in trouble?” He pulled the piece of paper, now crumpled, from a pocket and handed it to her. “Also, could you check if there’ve been any major diamond robberies in Botswana in the past five years? And also in South Africa.”

  “And I suppose you want it yesterday?”

  “As soon as you can, please. We need all the help we can get.”

  “For the Debswana robbery?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Come back in an hour.”

  “Thank you,” he stammered and left.

  He didn’t notice the heat as he walked back towards the CID building. All he wanted to do was to turn and go back. To see her again. He stopped.

  She was probably just making fun of me. If I go back, she’ll have a story for all her friends. “That Kubu guy is so fat,” she’d say. “And he thought I was interested in him!” And they’d all laugh.

  Kubu continued towards the CID.

  “But there was a connection,” he said out loud. “I didn’t dream that up.”

  He stopped again and glanced back at the records building. It was as though he were attached to a piece of elastic—the farther he moved from records, the stronger the pull back.

  Don’t be a fool. Wait an hour.

  Eventually, he started walking again, and this time he made it back to his office without stopping.

  * * *

  It’s amazing how long an hour can be, Kubu thought as he waited to head back to records. He tried thinking about the case and about the various people on the list he’d given Joy. He didn’t think anything of interest was going to turn up.

  He went and made himself a cup of coffee, but the communal biscuit tin was empty.

  Probably a sign. She’s probably married. Or has a boyfriend.

  He admonished himself for not checking to see whether she wore any rings.

  I’ll check when I go back.

  He looked at the clock for about the twentieth time. Still ten minutes to go. He didn’t want to arrive early, in case she thought he was being too pushy. But he also didn’t want to be late, because she may think he wasn’t interested in her.

  Then his rational side kicked in. She probably only saw him as another customer. No more. No less. He immediately felt depressed.

  He spent the last few minutes before he went back trying to work out what to say. Everything he thought of sounded either weak or pretentious. Maybe just doing my job is the best thing, he thought. Don’t show any interest, but work out how to go back soon.

  With two minutes to go before the hour was up, Kubu stood up, took a deep breath, and headed out to the records building.

  Chapter 58

  Ting! He tapped the little bell on the desk. There was no response. He waited some more, wrestling with his emotions. Maybe she’d forgotten what he’d asked and had gone home. Or she was probably having a good laugh with her friends. Either way, it meant she wasn’t interested in him.

  He’d never felt this way. His stomach was beginning to ache, and his heart was pounding. And a blanket of despondency was descending over him.

  “I’ll count to ten,” he said to himself. “Then I’ll go back to the office.”

  One! He took a few deep breaths.

  And two. He stretched out the pause.

  Three. He peered through the window into the area where she worked.

  Four. Still nothing.

  Five. He took a long time to say it.

  And six.

  And seven.

  And eight.

  Nine.

  Counting to ten is unrealistic, he thought. I better start over again. Go to twenty this time.

  One.

  Two.

  He was beginning to despair.

  Three.

  Four.

  And five.

  “Hello, Kubu. Sorry I didn’t come when you rang the bell. I was just finishing getting what you wanted.”

  Kubu’s heart nearly stopped.

  “I…uh…um…I thought you’d gone home.”

&
nbsp; She smiled at him. His knees nearly gave in.

  What’s happening to me? I’m behaving like an idiot.

  He took a deep breath.

  “Have you had a chance to look…” he stammered.

  “Oh, yes. I have it here. Very little, actually. Just one of the people is on our records. Interestingly, for an inside job at a jewellery shop. But he was never charged.”

  She handed him a folder.

  “There have also been a few diamond robberies here and in South Africa, but nothing of the size of this one. You’ll have to sign for the folder, then bring it back tomorrow if you’re finished with it. If you still need it, phone me, and I’ll take care of it here.”

  Kubu didn’t know what to say. He just stood there.

  “Are you all right?” Joy asked.

  He nodded.

  “Please sign here,” she said, pointing at a ledger.

  He picked up a pen and scribbled his name.

  “Thank you,” he blurted out and hurried out.

  Damn! I forgot to check if she was wearing a wedding band.

  * * *

  He made it back to his office without stopping. He was too embarrassed. He was also worried that someone would see him gazing back and know why. Then he’d become the laughingstock of the department.

  He shut the door and collapsed in his chair.

  What’s going on? Some sort of demon has crawled inside me. I’m not myself.

  He breathed deeply a few times.

  I’ve got to get to work. Otherwise Mabaku will tear me apart.

  He opened the folder. The only information in it was a report from Bright Star Jewellers that an employee, a Mr. P. Tshane, had stolen a diamond ring, but had then returned it. He’d been fired. No charge had been laid and no action taken.

  His mind wandered.

  I wonder where she lives. I could drive to work tomorrow and offer her a lift home.

  He shook his head, trying to refocus on the case. None of the potential suspects had ever run foul of the police, and from what Elias had been able to find out, there were no indications of unusual money transactions by any of them. It wasn’t looking promising.

  Kubu gazed out of the window.

  She’s so beautiful. She must be married!

  He leant back in his chair. He couldn’t believe how he was behaving. He’d always sworn that he wouldn’t be swayed by how a woman looked. If he was to be attracted to one, it had to be because of who she was, not what she looked like.

  He smiled. He was sure Shakespeare would have something to say about his condition, but he couldn’t think of an appropriate quote.

  At that moment, Mabaku opened the door and marched in. “What are you smiling about? Is it a smile of satisfaction? That you’ve solved the case?”

  Kubu blushed. “N… no, sir. Just some private thoughts.”

  “We don’t pay you for private thoughts. What have you found?”

  “Nothing, sir. Other than a mention of Tshane’s brush with the jeweller, no one has any record, not even parking tickets.”

  “And the witch doctor?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to follow up on that. It’s next on my list.”

  “Take it seriously. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking they’re charlatans.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mabaku turned and marched out.

  If I find the witch doctor, maybe he can give me a little help!

  Kubu immediately admonished himself. He didn’t believe in witch doctors or their stupid spells. It was all traditional rubbish.

  He picked up the phone and called the Jwaneng airport, hoping that Nari had plucked up enough courage to return to his office.

  “Jwaneng Airport,” Kubu heard from the other end.

  “Rra Nari?”

  “Yes. Who’s that?”

  “This is Detective Sergeant Bengu. I’m pleased you’re back in your office.”

  “You’ve no idea how many problems I’ve had. When the bomb squad arrived, a guy in a space suit went in. About five minutes later, he came out holding the parcel in a huge pair of tongs. They took it out towards the runway. Then they put it on the ground and opened it.”

  Kubu could imagine Nari shuddering.

  “Apparently, there was nothing dangerous in it, because they picked it up and brought it back to the terminal building. I was just about to ask them what was in it, when the spaceman handed it to me. I looked down and nearly died. There was a dead crow in the box. Without a head. I threw the parcel away as far as I could.”

  “That must have been very frightening. Where’s the parcel now?”

  “It is still on the apron. I’m too scared to pick it up and get rid of it.”

  “Okay. Leave it there. I’ll ask the Jwaneng police to come and take it to check for fingerprints. Make sure no one else touches it.”

  “Nobody is that crazy.”

  “Okay.” Kubu got to the point. “Please tell me again what the witch doctor looked like.”

  “I didn’t see him well, but I think he was quite old—maybe fifty or sixty. About my height. That’s a metre seventy. He stood up straight.”

  What was he wearing?”

  “A dark suit and a dark hat.”

  “What did he do when Roberts drove off?”

  “He walked in the direction of town.”

  Kubu thanked Nari and put down the phone. He hadn’t learnt anything new.

  He leant back in his chair and again his mind wandered.

  I wonder if she likes wine.

  Chapter 59

  When Kubu managed to get his mind off Joy Serome, he thought hard about his assignment to investigate the mysterious witch doctor. The more he thought about how to do that, the more worried he became. His parents were strict Christians, and that was how Kubu had been raised. Anything to do with witchcraft or witch doctors was quite outside his experience. He didn’t know where to begin.

  However, Wilmon, Kubu’s father, was a traditional healer and had come across quite different kinds of healers. Much to his disapproval, many of those men and women went much further than the tools of herbs and prayer. A few even used human body parts in their muti.

  Kubu decided his father would be a good place to start with the investigation. There were other benefits too: it would be nice to spend the evening with his parents, and it would be good to take his Land Rover for a drive. His parents hadn’t seen it yet, and he was keen to show it off to them.

  However, a visit posed a dilemma. Kubu realised he’d have to take something to eat. His parents wouldn’t be expecting him, and there was no way to let them know he was coming since they didn’t have a telephone. Once he was there, Amantle, his mother, would insist that they had plenty of food for dinner and would share it with him. His mother was frugal and would have made exactly the amount she and her husband required. If Kubu shared with them, they’d all go hungry. Yet if he bought a takeaway for himself, his mother would be hurt, imagining that he was rejecting her cooking.

  Eventually he hit on a solution. His parents loved fried fish and chips, which they occasionally enjoyed as a special treat. He would buy two servings and take them with him to share.

  * * *

  For most of the trip from Gaborone to Mochudi, Kubu sang lustily. He loved opera and had memorized a number of Mozart and Verdi arias, although he wasn’t quite sure he was pronouncing the words correctly. Nor was he certain what they all meant.

  As he entered the small town, he stopped singing to concentrate. He’d never driven to his parents’ home before and couldn’t use the usual shortcuts between houses and through the gardens of his friends’ parents that he used when walking from the bus terminus.

  As he negotiated the dirt roads, Kubu reflected on how fortunate he was to have Wilmon and Amantle as parents.
They were the salt of the earth. Christians in an African way, simultaneously believing in the body and blood of Christ and respecting the ancestors. They were honest and hard-working and demanded the same of their only child. Most important, they were loving, both of each other, as well as of him.

  As he pulled up in front of their home, Kubu looked at the small, rectangular house with walls made from a combination of mud and brick, capped with a roof of ubiquitous corrugated iron.

  I grew up here, Kubu thought, in a house that now seems too small to happily accommodate three people, but then was a mansion filled with delights.

  He remembered how proud his parents had been when they were able to install a tap that brought cold water into their kitchen. It was only when he first went to school in Gaborone that he learnt that most people had indoor toilets and electricity.

  As Kubu heaved himself out of the Land Rover, he saw his father walk out the front door with a puzzled look on his face. Kubu walked up to him.

  “Dumela, rra.” He extended his right arm with the left crossed over it as a mark of respect.

  Wilmon responded solemnly, “Dumela, David. How are you, my son?”

  “I’m well, Father. How are you and Mother?”

  “We are also fine, my son.” Wilmon’s voice was strong but quiet. It was the same proud greeting Kubu heard every time he visited.

  Wilmon frowned, and he pointed at the Land Rover. “What’s that?”

  “It’s my new car.”

  “How can you afford such a thing? It costs a fortune to keep and to run. I am told that petrol is very dear.”

  “Father, have you forgotten that I’m now a policeman and earn a salary?”

  “I know that, but it is more important to save money than to spend it on luxuries. And you know that walking is good for you.”

  At that moment, Amantle came out of the house. “David. I thought I heard your voice.”

  “Dumela. How are you?”

  “I am well, thank you. Come inside.”

  Kubu produced the fish and chips and invited his parents to join him for some supper. Amantle eyed the fish, but immediately exclaimed, “Oh, we have plenty of goat stew, do we not, Wilmon? You can share that, David. Keep the fish for your supper tomorrow.”