A Carrion Death & The 2nd Death of Goodluck Tinubu

by Michael Stanley

  “That’s fine. I just hope it doesn’t take too long. I promised to take Maki to the early showing of Blood Diamond that evening.”

  “You should be back in plenty of time. One other thing, please could you call Forensics tomorrow morning and arrange for someone to go down to Maboane on Monday and do a thorough scan of Frankental’s room? Hopefully we can make a DNA match with the body.”

  Kubu hung up and went out to join Joy on the veranda.

  Chapter 33

  Of course, Kubu could not leave well alone. He might have done so but for a short article in the Daily News describing the break-in at BCMC headquarters. Surely Cecil Hofmeyr had the pull to keep that out of the government press if he wanted to? But it was the content that really intrigued him. It specifically mentioned money and personal papers. Where on earth had that information come from? Cecil had been adamant that nothing had been stolen but the money and had insisted that Mabaku close the case. Very strange! He simply could not resist paying Kobedi another visit.

  He decided to test Kobedi’s mood at home this time. He wasn’t sure he’d find him in, but if not, Kobedi’s staff might provide other leads. He drove to Kobedi’s house in the upmarket suburb of Phakalane, north of the city. The house was hidden by a high wall and heavy metal gates. Kubu’s heart sank. He wasn’t going to be able to work his way in easily. He almost gave up and drove on, but he decided to try his luck and parked just out of sight of the gate. He walked up to the gates and was about to press the bell when he realized that, in fact, they were not locked. They were slightly ajar, and swung open easily when pushed.

  He walked up the driveway, surprised by the open gates, and approached the front door. It, too, was slightly ajar. Even more surprised, he knocked. But he made no special effort to be heard, and when there was no response, he pushed the door open gently and went into the hallway. Feeling somewhat guilty, and without raising his voice, he called out, “Mr. Kobedi?” But he surprised himself with how softly he said it. His instincts told him there was something badly wrong in this silent and open house.

  He walked through the lounge, noting the ornate but quite tasteful furnishings, and then farther to the main bedroom. The door was open here too. The bedroom was extraordinary. The walls were mirrors, perhaps concealing cupboards or a dressing room or even a bathroom. In the center of the room was a king-size bed, directly under another mirror on the ceiling. Shaggy off-white carpet covered the floor. Kubu took all this in almost incidentally, because he was staring at the floor at the foot of the bed.

  Kobedi lay there with blood dripping down his face. One forearm was at a funny angle. Kubu bent over him. Blood was still flowing from some of the wounds, so he wasn’t dead. Since the blood had not dried, the attack must have taken place a short time before. Then he noticed a torn piece of paper partly obscured by Kobedi’s body. He bent down, meaning to examine Kobedi, but a slight noise made him jerk upright and swing around. He found himself facing a huge black man holding what looked like a .45-caliber pistol by the muzzle, and the next instant the butt crashed down on Kubu’s temple. There was an explosion of pain and light, and for a moment, he thought he heard Mozart. Then everything was absorbed by darkness, and he sank to his knees and collapsed over Kobedi’s body.

  Part Six

  UGLY DEATH

  What sights of ugly death within my eyes!

  —SHAKESPEARE, KING RICHARD THE THIRD, ACT 1, SCENE 3

  March

  Chapter 34

  Kubu opened his eyes. In the background, ghostly white blurred figures were watching him, and in the foreground was an ominous black blob. I’m in hell, he thought. But of which religion? He forced his eyes to focus, and the black blob resolved itself into Director Mabaku’s face. I’m definitely in hell, he decided, before he realized that the white figures had become a doctor and a nurse. All were looking at him with concern. He considered closing his eyes again in the hope all of them would go away. But the doctor bent over his bed and held up three fingers.

  “How many fingers do you see, Superintendent Bengu?” he asked in a voice not to be denied.

  “Three,” said Kubu weakly.

  “And are they clear or blurred?”

  “Quite clear.”

  The doctor nodded, apparently satisfied, and walked back to the end of the bed. He glared at Mabaku. “You can talk to him now, but briefly. He’s had a severe blow, and we’re lucky he’s not seriously concussed. You must be careful not to upset him.” This remark made Kubu smile. How could Mabaku avoid upsetting him?

  “How are you feeling, Kubu? You gave us a real scare there.”

  Kubu digested the fact that Mabaku had addressed him by his nickname and tried to get feedback from his body in order to answer the question. His head hurt badly, and his right elbow felt as though someone had attacked it with a hammer. His left arm hosted a drip. It all felt unreal. It’s the painkiller they’ve given me, he decided vaguely.

  “Not too bad, actually,” he replied finally. “My head hurts like hell, though, and my elbow is sore.”

  “You fell on it when you collapsed. You were hit really hard. You’ve been out and sedated for hours. The doctors first thought your skull had been fractured, then that you had a bad concussion.” He looked down at the mound in the bed. Recovering some of his usual acid, Mabaku added, “But I told them your head was solid bone, so they shouldn’t worry too much.” Kubu managed a weak laugh.

  “Where is Joy?” he asked.

  “She went out for a few minutes. She’s been here since they brought you in several hours ago. She was beside herself. What on earth possessed you to go to Kobedi’s house alone, especially after I had told you to drop that line of investigation?”

  Kubu didn’t want to answer that, and quickly changed the subject. “When did they find me? For that matter, who found me?”

  “The neighbors heard a shot. They had already called the police, and a car was on the way. Otherwise you might have ended up like Kobedi. The police constable called an ambulance right away. How did you get into the house? You didn’t have a search warrant.”

  “The door was open, and I suspected foul play,” Kubu improvised. “I was right, too. Was Kobedi dead?”

  “Not when the police arrived, but he died on the way to the hospital. He was beaten and then shot.”

  Kubu digested this. “I was bending down to look at him. There was something under him. A piece of paper, I think. Then I heard a noise behind me. I turned around, and that’s when he hit me. It was a very large black man, but I saw him only for a split second. I think he was wearing army clothing of some kind. I really didn’t see him properly. I felt the gun butt well enough, though.”

  “Could you describe him?”

  “Perhaps I could try an identikit.”

  This was too much for the doctor. He said that there would be nothing like that for the time being and told Mabaku that he should leave. Kubu decided that it would be handy to have this doctor with him for all his interviews with his boss.

  “Doctor, you must understand that a man has been violently murdered, and Assistant Superintendent Bengu is a key witness. What he tells me may help to apprehend the murderer. I won’t be longer than necessary.” The doctor harrumphed and looked inclined to argue, but at that moment Joy arrived. Realizing Kubu was awake, she rushed to the bedside to kiss him. This caused a flurry from the nurse, and Mabaku decided to give up.

  “I’ll come back later when you are stronger, David. Possibly first thing in the morning.” With a sour look at the doctor, he turned and left. Kubu was too busy enjoying Joy’s attention to respond to his boss’s departure.

  Chapter 35

  Kubu tossed and turned all night, partly because of his aching head, partly because of the discomfort of having a drip in his arm, but mostly because his mind could not stop trying to make sense of all the confusing facts. There is a break-in at Cecil Hofmeyr’s BCMC office. An important letter about a BCMC diamond mine has been stolen. However, Cecil cla
ims only a small amount of money has been taken. Cecil’s assistant admits being paid by Thembu Kobedi to steal the letter from Cecil. Cecil wants the whole thing swept under the carpet, but a newspaper prints that personal papers were taken as well as money. Shortly thereafter, Kobedi is murdered, and Kubu attacked. A geologist from the diamond mine is now missing, and the body of a white man is found mutilated to avoid identification, apparently dumped in the desert from a BCMC Land Rover. Could this all be unconnected?

  By the time the nurse brought tea at 5:30 a.m., Kubu’s headache had returned, and he was pleased to take his medication. The doctor had insisted Kubu remain in the hospital for observation until the following morning, but Kubu wasn’t sure how he was going to get through a whole day wasted in bed. There was so much to do!

  At the top of his list, he needed to interview Cecil Hofmeyr. He was sure Cecil was a key piece of the puzzle. Kubu sighed, realizing that Mabaku would probably insist on doing the interview himself. He hoped he could persuade Mabaku to see Cecil immediately and not wait for Monday.

  His wish was granted. Mabaku walked into the room at 7:30 a.m. After Kubu explained the importance of finding out what was in the stolen letter, Mabaku reluctantly agreed to see Cecil as soon as he could. “The letter is mysterious,” Mabaku said. “But you can’t imagine that Cecil is involved with these murders. He’s just not the sort. He is the head of a highly regarded company. He isn’t going to run around murdering people!”

  “Director,” Kubu responded. “I am not suggesting Cecil is a murderer, but the letter is clearly important. It was stolen. The person who stole it was murdered, and I was assaulted. We have to find out what was in the letter. As soon as possible!”

  At that Mabaku pulled out a piece of paper from his briefcase and handed it to Kubu. It seemed to be roughly a quarter of an eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheet that had been torn in half vertically and horizontally. It contained printed text—from a dot-matrix printer, by the look of it—and ended with a scrawled signature in blue ballpoint. Under that appeared,

  A. K. FRANKENTAL, BSc

  SENIOR MINE GEOLOGIST

  Below that the paper was blank.

  “Is this what you were looking at under Kobedi?” Mabaku asked.

  Kubu nodded. “It could be. But it was hidden under his body.”

  “When you fell, you covered it completely. There were no other pieces of it anywhere else. We think your attacker missed it because you were covering it.” Mabaku suppressed a comment about this being understandable in view of Kubu’s bulk. “What do you make of it?”

  Kubu read it again and then shook his head. That was a mistake, and he grimaced.

  Mabaku bit his lip. “I’ll leave you the piece of the letter to think about. Don’t lose it; it’s the original. It’s been tested for fingerprints already; a good one of Kobedi’s. Nothing else. Now look after yourself.” He added that he would let Kubu know as soon as he had some information from Cecil. He would try to see Cecil that day, but wouldn’t promise anything. Kubu thanked him, and Mabaku nodded and left.

  Kubu took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Could this be linked to Frankental’s disappearance? And why weren’t Frankental’s and Cecil’s prints on the letter? Moments later Kubu was asleep.

  It was just after morning tea, and Kubu was desperate to be out of the cloying regimen of the hospital. Joy had already stopped in, but had left to run some errands. Alone, he found his boredom magnified, and time dragged. Joy returned about an hour later, kissed Kubu, and gave him a white paper packet.

  “A little something to take your mind off your head,” she said. He looked in the packet and extracted a large slice of chocolate cake.

  “Ah! Thank you, my dear,” Kubu said, a touch of enthusiasm returning to his voice. “I may survive after all.”

  Joy sat on the edge of the bed, her hand on his shoulder.

  “Kubu,” she said. “I’ve been thinking.”

  Kubu grunted, his mouth full of cake.

  “This is the first time I’ve been really scared.” She paused. “You know, about what could happen to you.” Kubu grunted again as he tried to eat the cake but not the icing, which he liked to leave for last.

  “Kubu, listen to me,” Joy said so sharply that Kubu had to divert his attention from the cake. “You’ve no idea how scared I’ve been since you got here.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve made a decision. It never really occurred to me that you could be in such danger. And if you are in danger, so am I. I am going to take some self-defense lessons, and I’ve asked the director to authorize me to learn how to shoot. He’s agreed to let me go and shoot for a couple of hours at the range, but made me promise that I wouldn’t get a handgun. He reminded me in no uncertain terms that handguns are illegal and that being a policeman’s wife wouldn’t protect me if I’m found with one.”

  Kubu almost choked as he swallowed. “You’re going to do nothing of the sort!” Kubu struggled to sit more upright. “It’s my responsibility to protect you. And anyway, nobody would dare to harm you. They’d know I’d never rest until I caught them.”

  “Kubu. You’ve no idea how vulnerable I suddenly feel. I’m scared for you, and I’m scared for me.”

  “Joy, it’s me who has to protect you. Not the other way round. I won’t allow it.”

  “Kubu,” Joy said, anger creeping into her voice.

  “I’d be the laughingstock of the force,” Kubu continued. “All I’d hear is that Assistant Superintendent Bengu gets his wife to protect him!”

  “You are not listening, Kubu.” There was no give in Joy’s voice. “It’s got nothing to do with you. I’ve made up my mind. You’d better get used to it.”

  “Joy, dear,” Kubu said, patting her arm.

  “Don’t patronize me, Kubu,” Joy snapped. “You’re obviously not listening. I’m not going to discuss this any further.” She stood up, eyes blazing. “I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t dare to raise the subject again.” She turned and stalked out.

  Kubu lay back on the mountain of pillows, icing sticking to his fingers. My God, he thought, this is a new Joy. I hope I like her as much as I did the old.

  While he was wallowing in frustration, there was a polite knock at the door, and to his surprise, Bongani walked in. “Kubu,” he said. “I called you at the office, and they told me what had happened. Terrible. No one is safe from thugs these days, not even the police.”

  “Did you need to see me in a hurry?” Kubu asked, wondering what could be urgent enough to bring Bongani to the hospital.

  “No, not at all. I was wondering how the interview at BCMC had gone, but wanted to check that you were okay. How’s your head? It looks dreadful.”

  Kubu was touched. “Well, it’s sore, but they say nothing is broken. My boss says that my head is too solid to be broken by a mere blow with a blunt object. My immediate project is to get out of here. You can’t imagine how bad the food is. Diabolical!”

  At this point a nurse came in with medication. Kubu swallowed it with bad grace and waved her away when she tried to fiddle with the bed. “They don’t give you a minute’s peace,” he told Bongani. “I used to think that the bit about waking you up to give you your sleeping pill was a joke.” He glared at the poor nurse, who beat a hasty retreat.

  At that moment Joy returned, jaw clenched defiantly, just waiting for Kubu to question her decision.

  Kubu turned his head in Bongani’s direction. “Bongani, let me introduce my wife, Joy. My dear, this is the young man I mentioned to you, Bongani Sibisi. He’s one of the men who found the body.”

  Joy’s demeanor relaxed immediately. As they shook hands, she gave Bongani a quick but thorough appraisal. What wealth of information, unseen by the men, was now stored in her head? Joy excused herself and said she would be back in ten minutes. A call to Pleasant perhaps, Kubu thought with a wry smile.

  Kubu rapidly told Bongani about the visit to BCMC headquarters. He didn’t mention the letter or the subsequent Kobedi meetings, but told
Bongani how they had stumbled on the burglary and about Cecil’s reaction to the BCMC vehicle issue. Bongani nodded. “We really should have thought of that,” he said. “You know, I’ve been noticing just how many of those yellow Land Rovers there are. I was on a field trip yesterday, and you see them all the time, if you are looking out for them. Before, I didn’t pay any attention.” He started to say something else but realized that Kubu wasn’t listening. He was staring at the ceiling with a quizzical look.

  “Say that again.”

  “I said that I keep seeing BCMC vehicles—or at least ones that color.”

  “No, the last bit.”

  “Oh, just that I see them now that I’m looking, but before I didn’t take any notice of them.”

  After a full minute of thought, Kubu said, “Did you ever read a story called ‘The Purloined Letter’?”

  “Wasn’t that the one about the stolen letter that the thief hid in plain sight on a cork board with a lot of other letters so that it would be ignored? But Sherlock Holmes saw through it at once? I think we had it in English literature at school.”

  “Not quite. It was Edgar Allan Poe, actually, not Conan Doyle, and it was set in France in the nineteenth century. And the letter wasn’t hidden by placing it with a lot of other letters—the French police would have seen through that ruse—it was disguised. But it was disguised as itself. The thief disguised it as a letter, but a letter that no one would care about. An old, tatty letter.” He bit his lower lip.

  “I’ve been wondering why they would use such an easily identifiable vehicle. But you’ve just given me the answer. It’s camouflaged. As itself. Just another boring, beat-up BCMC vehicle. We need to check if anyone at the Maboane mine owns a Land Rover. One that might have started out yellow or maybe became yellow later.