“Maybe we put program on computer before return it to catch keystrokes. May find how to sign onto Hushmail and what is on e-mails.”
“You can do that?”
“Old program. Been round many years. Easy to do. Hard to find.”
“If we get the owner’s permission, would it be legal?”
“Maybe legal to see what sites people use. Not legal, I think, to read people’s e-mails. You should check.”
Kubu thought for a moment. “Put it on. I’ll get permission from the manager. He doesn’t want murderers hanging out there.”
“Okay. Bye.” Helenka hung up before Kubu could thank her.
It’s a long shot, Kubu thought. Only twice in the last five months. And he’s likely to be much more careful now.
He shook his head. With computer programs like the one Helenka had described, it was impossible to have privacy online. For the police maybe that was good. For law-abiding people, maybe not.
Just as he started to work his tedious way through all the paperwork he’d been ignoring, the phone rang.
“Bengu.”
“Dumela, rra. It’s Big Mama here. Big Mama from the shebeen.”
Kubu was immediately interested. Did the bar owner have more information about Maleng and the Marumo killing? “Dumela, mma. How can I help you this morning? Did you remember something else?”
“No, I want to talk to you about another matter. It’s about Mabulo Owido. He’s disappeared.”
Kubu sighed. He hoped that Big Mama wasn’t the sort of busybody who would be calling him with all her hunches and everyone’s domestic problems. Still, he needed to hear her out. “Go on.”
“He was here Saturday a week ago. And we chatted a bit. He was alone, you know. Didn’t know anyone. He’s not from these parts. So I said I’d find him a nice girl. He was pleased about that, so I arranged for Lemme to come on Saturday and dress up nicely. She’s a sweet girl, not pretty but nice, and not too fussy.” So perhaps Owido wasn’t very attractive, Kubu thought. Odd name, too. Sounded foreign.
“He said he would come, but he didn’t. Lemme was very upset.”
“Maybe he went somewhere else.” Some men would run a mile to avoid Big Mama’s matchmaking, Kubu thought.
Big Mama swept this aside. “He also told me where he worked. I phoned them this morning. He hasn’t been there all week. I’m worried. He’s a foreigner. And a leswafe.”
Suddenly Kubu was interested again. “An albino?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m so worried. I think he came here from Tanzania to escape the witch doctors there. You know how they want albinos for muti. They’ll pay a fortune. I read about the trouble for those poor people in the newspapers. It’s terrible.”
“And you think that may be what’s happened here?”
“Yes. Maybe. It’s so sad. He seemed a nice man. Will you look for him?”
Kubu promised to do that, noted the man’s details and work number, thanked her, and hung up. It would probably lead nowhere, but he knew witch doctors sought albinos for making their most powerful potions. He couldn’t afford to ignore this.
IT TOOK KUBU ONLY a few minutes to get through to the owner of the small furniture factory where Owido worked. At first the owner pretended he’d never heard of Owido, but when Kubu pushed him and pointed out that Big Mama had spoken to him, he became more helpful.
“Look, superintendent, the man was hungry and wanted to work. I said he could clean up in the packing room. Maybe he helped with the packaging. He wasn’t really an employee, more like casual help.”
Kubu knew what this was all about. Owido was a foreigner, not entitled to work in Botswana, maybe living illegally in Botswana, and the factory owner could get into trouble for giving him any sort of job. No doubt Owido was paid half the going rate and glad to get it.
“I’m not interested in whether he was legal or not,” Kubu said. “I just want to get in touch with him. When did you last see him?”
“He didn’t come in at all last week. I guess he decided to move on. Maybe he went back to wherever he came from.”
“He had a week’s wages coming. Did you pay him?”
The man hesitated. “No, as a matter of fact we pay at the end of the month.”
“So he walked away from the money?”
“Well, I wasn’t really surprised. There’d been some trouble. Some of the other workers didn’t like having him around. Being an albino, you know? And a foreigner. A couple of them pushed him around. I shouldn’t have been so kindhearted and given him a chance.”
At half wages, Kubu thought. “Do you have an address for him? Cell number?” He wrote down the information and thanked the man curtly.
He tried Owido’s cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail, so it was probably off. Next he contacted the number Owido had given the factory for where he lived. The phone was answered by a woman who explained that he’d called a boardinghouse near Broadhurst Mall, and that she was the landlady. Kubu asked her about Mabulo Owido.
“Owido? Haven’t seen him for a week. Luckily I get the rent in advance. I did him a favor renting him a room at all. He upsets the other tenants, but he made a good offer so I let him stay.”
Yes, Kubu thought. Half wages and double rent. This town’s generous to albinos.
“Do you remember exactly when you last saw him?”
“Saturday afternoon a week ago. He said he was going out in the evening, but he didn’t come back.”
“How do you know?”
“I lock up at night. I don’t think he was in. And this is a bed-and-breakfast,” the woman added with pride. “They all get pap in the morning. He wasn’t there for breakfast on Sunday.”
Kubu thought about it. “If I come over, can you let me into his room?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Just to look around. Maybe he’s moved out.”
“You don’t have to bother. All his stuff’s still there. I already looked. But please yourself.”
“Was he behind with the rent?”
“No one gets behind with the rent here. In advance, first of the month, or they’re out.”
Kubu believed it. “Thank you, mma. I’ll contact you if I need anything else. In the meanwhile, keep his room locked.”
“All very well, but what about next month? I need to rent that room. I can’t afford to have it empty. His stuff’s not worth much.”
Kubu sighed and promised to be in touch. Then he sat back and thought about it. Wages abandoned, possessions abandoned with the rent paid for the month, a foreigner no one would miss, an albino whose body parts were prized for muti. He started to feel excited. This might be a new lead to the witch doctor they sought, or at least to someone close to him. Then again, there might be a simple explanation. Owido might have been scared off, or even arrested as an illegal immigrant.
Kubu called Samantha and filled her in. “This could be nothing, but it could be important. See what you can find out about this Owido. Did he enter the country legally? See if Immigration knows anything about him. Then get over to BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL and try to find out what you can about that Saturday night. Who was there? When did Owido leave? Did anyone follow him?” Samantha said she’d get onto it right away.
Kubu thought it through. This wasn’t a young girl being offered a lift on the road. This was a grown man who was used to being taunted and used to danger because of his unfortunate lack of skin pigment. If he had been abducted for muti, it would have taken at least two people. The witch doctor would have needed help. And that help wouldn’t be invisible, even if the witch doctor was. This was a potential breakthrough.
Then Kubu’s excitement faded and was replaced by sadness. The albino had come to Botswana, probably in search of a haven, and had found only discrimination and exploitation and, perhaps, a hor
rible death. Disgust overwhelmed him.
And he became very angry.
FORTY
SAMANTHA WAS PLEASED, AND a little surprised, to find a helpful man at the Department of Immigration and Citizenship, who was able to retrieve information on Owido quite quickly. Apparently he’d entered the country legally about five months before, indicating that he was a tourist. He’d given a motel in Gaborone as his address. There was, however, no record of him leaving Botswana, and he was still within the time allowed him at entry. He was, of course, not entitled to work in the country.
Samantha thought it likely that Owido’s plan was to stay in the country illegally, but at the moment there was no reason for him to be on the run from the police or anyone else, as far as she could tell.
She checked her notes and then headed for the factory where Owido had worked. The owner was a little nervous about a follow-up visit after the call from Kubu, but he was polite and tried to answer her questions. However, she learned nothing more than what Kubu had discovered. At her request, he pointed out the people with whom Owido had worked. Most had little time for her—or, it appeared, for Owido—but one man was more helpful. He had a broad, open face and his ready smile made Samantha smile also.
“Mabulo? He was a good guy. Willing to do the jobs other people didn’t want, like cleaning up at the end of the day. I had a beer with him once, and we had a nice chat. But people looked at us strangely. You know?”
Samantha nodded, although she couldn’t see why people didn’t mind their own business.
“When did you last see him?”
“On Friday afternoon a week ago. He wanted to know where he could go for a nice evening that Saturday, and I suggested a place. You won’t believe it, but it’s called BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL. But he said he didn’t know anyone and didn’t want to go alone, so I said I might join him there. He was pleased about that.” He looked down at his feet. “But I got tied up with something else.”
“Was he unhappy here? Any reason for him to leave suddenly?”
He shook his head. “Look, people aren’t always fair, you know? And sometimes if you’re different . . . and a foreigner . . . they’re sometimes unkind. But it was okay, you know? I hope you find him. I hope he’s all right.”
Samantha nodded and thanked him.
She thought through what Kubu had told her and what she had learned subsequently. There was no apparent reason for the albino’s sudden disappearance, and she had a bad feeling about what may have happened to him. She decided that a visit to BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL should be next on the agenda.
SAMANTHA GREETED BIG MAMA and received a big hug in exchange, as though she were an old friend. “Come and sit, my dear, and have some tea.” The large woman led her to a side table. Samantha hardly expected tea at a shebeen, but she’d begun to realize that things were not always as expected at BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL.
The two women sipped their tea and chatted for a few minutes about mutual acquaintances before Samantha got around to her questions.
“Do you remember exactly when Owido left that Saturday night?”
Big Mama thought it was around nine o’clock, but she didn’t actually see him go.
“Can you remember who else was here that night? Were there any strangers? And particularly any who came by car?” If Owido had been abducted, then it must have been in some sort of vehicle.
It was now more than a week later, but Big Mama had a good recollection of most of her customers of that Saturday night. She pointed to each table in turn, visualizing who had sat at it. Samantha noted all the names. Big Mama also remembered that there was a number of customers that she hadn’t seen before. She said her waitress might know them, but she only worked in the evenings.
“As to vehicles, there’s Lome, the butcher. He came in his van. He sat there.” Big Mama pointed to a seat at the bar.
Samantha made a note. A butcher’s delivery van sounded quite promising, although the thought of what might have happened at the butchery made her feel sick. “Do you remember when he left?”
“He kept looking at the door as though he was expecting someone. Eventually another guy turned up, and they left together.”
“What time was that?”
Big Mama shrugged. “I remember it was getting really busy. Maybe it was around nine.” About the same time as Owido. Samantha put a star next to Lome on her list.
She looked farther down the list for people with vehicles. “What about this Sunday Molefe and his friend?”
“Sun has an old Volkswagen Jetta. I don’t know who the friend was, but I think they came in together. They sat outside. A few tables down from Owido.” Samantha realized it would be a good place to keep an eye on the albino.
“When did they leave?” she asked.
Big Mama thought about it. “When I noticed Owido had gone, they were gone, too.”
“Was anyone else sitting outside?”
Big Mama thought again. “Just two girls I didn’t know.” She took a sip of tea. “They were sharing one beer,” she added with a hint of disapproval.
“Do you know much about Molefe?”
Big Mama shook her head firmly, causing a ripple through her fat. “He calls himself a businessman but never specifies what business that is.” She drained her tea and chuckled. “Not really my ‘cup of tea,’ as they say in English.” Samantha thought it an odd phrase, but she realized Big Mama didn’t care for Molefe. That alone was enough to put a star next to his name.
By the time Big Mama had finished her analysis of each person, Samantha had two starred names to follow up. Then there were the two men Big Mama didn’t know. Samantha decided to start with Sunday Molefe. He and the butcher seemed the most promising.
SAMANTHA DROVE SLOWLY DOWN the street on which Molefe lived, and tried to make out the house numbers. Eventually she spotted a battered Volkswagen Jetta parked at the side of the road, outside the house she sought. It was lunchtime on a Monday, but it looked as though Molefe was home.
She banged on the door and waited. Eventually, it was opened by a youngish man wearing only khaki shorts and sandals. He was well-built and quite good-looking, but his teeth had been neglected.
“Who’re you?”
“Are you Sunday Molefe?” Samantha showed him her police identification.
He studied it carefully, then nodded. “What do you want?”
“I want to ask you a few questions. Can I come in?”
“I suppose so.” He stood aside enough so that she could enter by brushing past him. She got a whiff of bad breath and grimaced. He led her to the main room of the house and sat down at a wooden dining table in front of a half-eaten plate of pap with fatty sausages. He didn’t invite her to sit, but looked her over, starting at her face and working down. His expression made it clear that he’d seen better, and he resumed his lunch.
Samantha ignored his rudeness and helped herself to a chair. “We’re trying to trace a man who’s gone missing.”
“Why are you asking me?”
“We think you may have seen him. Where were you on the evening of Saturday, the fifth of May?”
“Saturday a week ago?” He appeared to think about it. “I went to a shebeen with my friend Wilson. We had a few drinks, and then went to the Gaborone Sun and gambled.”
“Which shebeen was that?”
“It’s called BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL.” He laughed. “Actually she knows nothing, but that’s what it’s called.”
“Did you notice anyone there in particular? Maybe someone who looked out of place?”
Molefe shrugged. “Look, it was more than a week ago. I don’t know. I picked up Wilson; we cruised around a bit and went for a drink.” He used the sausage to shovel up pap. He chewed with his mouth open, exposing the bad teeth.
“When did you get there and when did you leave?”
&
nbsp; “I don’t remember exactly. Okay?” It wasn’t okay, but Samantha had to accept it for the time being.
“When did you get to the casino?”
“That was about nine o’clock. We gambled for a few hours. Lost. We had a couple of drinks and split. Look, what’s this all about anyway?”
Samantha ignored that. “Did you speak to anyone at the Sun?”
“Yes, some girls later on. And the bartender. He’ll remember us. Bastard stole a hundred pula from me.”
“How’s that?”
“I gave him a two-hundred pula note, and he said we’d only given him a one hundred. I even gave him our names so he could check later and call us. But he never did, the bastard.”
How convenient, Samantha thought. I bet you asked for his name, as well as giving him yours. “Did you get his name?”
Molefe took out his wallet from the back pocket of his shorts and scratched around till he found a scrap of paper. He gave it to her, smiling.
Samantha read it, then looked up at him. “What about the albino?” she asked casually.
Molefe frowned, then he deliberately put the rest of the sausage in his mouth and chewed it carefully. After he’d swallowed, he asked, “What albino?”
“The albino who was sitting near you at BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL. You must remember him.”
Molefe shook his head. “You think I remember everyone I see in a bar? Maybe a girl—a good-looking girl. But there’s no shortage of them, either.” He shrugged.
Very relaxed, casual, not worried at all, Samantha thought. He’s very pleased with himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything. She asked him for Wilson’s full name and contact details, which he gave her without hesitation.
With nothing more to ask, she was glad to leave Molefe to his lunch.
THE ALWAYS BEST MEAT butchery was in Broadhurst Mall. Lome worked there with an assistant and a woman who ran the cash register. The shop was busy at lunchtime, and Lome was doing a brisk trade in delicacies like tripe, sweetbreads, and game meat as well as more usual fare. Samantha had a good look around and watched Lome efficiently dealing with the meat. He was a hefty man; she could visualize him overpowering the albino and bringing him here. The screech of bone being sawed set her teeth on edge.
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