“Ms. Hofmeyr, this is no joke. There’s a positive match between a DNA sample from that corpse and a DNA sample supplied by the South African police from the arm you identified as being from Angus.” Kubu prayed fervently that this would turn out to be true.
“But Angus was with me that night! He went for a swim early the next morning!”
“Ms. Hofmeyr, that is simply not possible.”
Dianna appeared at last to understand the implications of what the detective was saying. “Are you suggesting, Superintendent, that Angus was not with me that night? That I’m lying about this?”
“Is there another explanation?”
“I don’t think this is funny, Superintendent, and I don’t know what you are trying to do or why. You say the body was discovered a month ago? During that month Angus was hunting in Botswana, traveling in South Africa, and with me in Plettenberg Bay. He must’ve been seen by dozens of people. He spoke to even more on the phone. He even told me he had a call from you! You know perfectly well he was alive during all that time.”
“No, Ms. Hofmeyr, I think someone impersonated him during that period. Someone who did a very good job, and had a lot of help from a person who knew Angus very well indeed. That person would have to be a family member. Of course, an impostor would never have been able to fool you. As you say, you have known your brother for thirty years.”
“I want to call my solicitor.”
“You have that right. I think it would be best to cooperate, though. Murder is a capital offense in Botswana.”
“I have nothing more to say until my solicitor arrives. I won’t help you with this ridiculous vendetta.”
And true to her word, she said nothing more until her attorney arrived half an hour later, a tall, thin man wearing a pin-striped suit—almost a caricature of the corporate lawyer. He introduced himself as Donald Price. Another man accompanied him, shorter and fatter, with bright, piercing eyes. Kubu recognized him at once. Jeffrey Davidson was Gaborone’s best criminal defense lawyer.
Kubu explained the situation to the two lawyers. They listened carefully and then requested some time alone with their client. Kubu fumed, but couldn’t refuse. He used the time to try to reach Mabaku again. It turned out the director was still busy in Lobatse. Then he phoned Ian MacGregor.
“Ian! How are you?”
“Kubu! I have news for you. What you wanted to know.”
“The samples matched.”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I finally used my head and worked it out.”
When Edison called him back to the interview room, it was obvious that the lawyers had no intention of allowing the interrogation to continue. Price started.
“Are we to understand that Ms. Hofmeyr is a suspect in this murder investigation, Superintendent? If so, how come the South African police seem to have no interest in the matter?”
“I haven’t said she is a suspect. I believe she is lying about seeing her brother before the alleged drowning. That may make her an accessory. The South African police don’t have access to the evidence we have recently obtained.”
Davidson came in next. “And all the other people Angus spoke to, or saw, during the month after he supposedly shuffled off the mortal coil? Are they also suspects and accessories? Including yourself?”
“Of course not. Someone posed as an impostor during that period, including a week’s stay at the Fairwaters clinic. We know who that person is, and we expect to arrest him very soon.”
“Superintendent, Miss Hofmeyr says you are an old school friend of Angus,” Price commented. “Let’s leave aside the fact that, as a result, you may not be as objective about this as you should be. Did you have a formal interview with Angus, or did you just chat a bit?”
“We chatted on the phone. He knew a lot of personal stuff, but made some key mistakes.” Kubu realized that he was getting defensive. He tried to recover the initiative. “In any case, Ms. Hofmeyr is supposed to be answering the questions. I’d like to get back to where we left off.”
Davidson changed the subject again. “Do you have a shred of evidence to suggest that our client was involved in murdering her brother or anyone else, Superintendent? Do you have a motive?”
“It’s possible she was covering up for someone else. Someone she cared for a great deal. Yes, I think we have a motive.”
Davidson let that be. “The only thing that makes this connection between Angus’s remains at the beach and your body in the desert is a DNA test you claim to have had done. I presume you’ve done several tests from different sources?”
“So far we’ve done one test.”
“Superintendent, at the risk of being insulting, mistakes can be made. Similarities can be misinterpreted. A single test is anything but conclusive. If this was the final nail in the coffin, perhaps it would justify us being here now. But your coffin has no wood at all. You have nothing but this one nail to support this incredibly farfetched story. You are the detective, but may I suggest you obtain a sample you know comes from Angus Hofmeyr? From his home, perhaps? A sample we can be sure is his DNA?”
“We’ll be doing all that. And we’ll be matching the sample against samples taken from Ms. Hofmeyr and her mother. Meanwhile I want to hear Ms. Hofmeyr’s side of the story rather than continue this courtroom drama.” Kubu was getting testy.
“No, I’m afraid not, Superintendent,” said Price. “You have not a shred of evidence for this unbelievable theory. You are simply harassing Ms. Hofmeyr. We will be taking her back to the hotel now. Please do not interfere with her again unless you have some real evidence, and at least one of us is present.”
“Now, wait a minute. Ms. Hofmeyr isn’t going anywhere until I find out what I want to know!”
“Are you arresting her, then?” Davidson asked quietly. “Exactly what is the charge?”
Kubu was tempted, but he thought it through. He glanced at Edison’s impassive face. No help there. What do I actually have? Conspiracy to commit murder? It hinges on Angus being dead when she said he was with her. He wasn’t at Fairwaters, but then she hasn’t said he was. The case hangs on the one DNA test, and even that’s informal. I certainly don’t want these two rottweilers attacking Ian.
Kubu cursed himself for being an overconfident fool. With Jason or the red-bearded creature from Angola in custody, he would have an unassailable case. As it was, he just didn’t have enough to hold her.
“Ms. Hofmeyr, you are free to go. For the moment. I shall require your passport in the interim, however.” He held out his hand, knowing that she must have it with her, as they had come straight from the airport. Dianna looked at her legal eagles, but they could see no grounds for objecting. She dug into her laptop case and handed Kubu the passport. He had his one small triumph.
The three rose to go. “Superintendent,” said Dianna. “You may wish to consider something else. If the DNA really does match between the arm at Plettenberg Bay and your body in the desert, then perhaps it isn’t Angus’s arm. I didn’t see the arm. The South African police didn’t show it to me. I only saw his rings. It may be that someone was trying to fake Angus’s death. Did you ever consider that?”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“I’ve no idea. But at least it is less unlikely than your scenario of mass hallucination.”
Davidson indicated to Dianna that they should leave. He wanted the police to move on at their own pace without any helpful suggestions. But Price couldn’t resist a last jab. “Next time you go on a fishing expedition, Superintendent, I can suggest some excellent spots for tiger fish on the Chobe River. Have a good afternoon.” Kubu ignored him and directed his own parting shot at Dianna.
“I hope you will reconsider your position, Ms. Hofmeyr. We will be meeting again very soon.” But Kubu was quite wrong about that.
Chapter 65
Red Beard hung up and put his mobile phone on the copy of the newspaper that lay open on the table. He had circled three items in the secondhand-
vehicles-for-sale column. The first would suit him best, but any one would be acceptable. He grunted, picked up a worn briefcase, and added the newspaper and his mobile phone to the contents—some papers, a stuffed envelope, and a pistol.
He put on a worn leather jacket and walked the short distance to catch a minibus taxi to the Gaborone bus station. He was staying in a downmarket hotel in Lobatse and didn’t stand out in the eclectic mixture of impecunious guests. It was inconvenient staying over forty miles from Gaborone, but the inconvenience bought safety.
It was nearly noon before he reached Gaborone and found a minibus to the right part of town. The other passengers objected when he asked to be dropped off at a specific address rather than somewhere nearby, as was the custom. However, an extra ten pula to the driver settled the matter.
A shabbily dressed man answered the door. He was clearly pleased to have a white potential buyer for his bakkie and would increase the price accordingly. Red Beard disliked him immediately. Without any pleasantries they went to look at the aging white Toyota four-by-four. Many dents and scratches testified to a hard life. The upholstery was faded and torn in places, and chicken feathers covered the passenger seat. Still, the engine looked well maintained.
“Need new tires,” said Red Beard, giving one a vicious kick. The owner shrugged. “I take for drive.” The man nodded and settled himself among the chicken feathers without complaint. Red Beard drove the bakkie around the block a few times and tried the low range. The engine and transmission seemed sound. He was satisfied.
When they got back, the seller invited Red Beard into his house and seated him at the kitchen table. Red Beard waved aside the offer of tea.
“How much do you want?” he asked. The man named a figure, higher even than the one listed in the newspaper. Red Beard snorted and named a much lower figure. “Cash, right now,” he added. “You sign papers, I take truck. I do transfer and inspection.”
The man bit his lower lip and thought. Cash was nice. And right now was even nicer. But he wanted to hold out for a better price. He shook his head. Red Beard opened his briefcase, pulled out the newspaper and the envelope, and showed the seller the money. “I need to buy truck today. Start building job tomorrow. You take cash, or I go to next place.”
The seller folded. Red Beard asked for the vehicle’s papers and examined them carefully. In his experience there was a disgusting number of dishonest people about. But everything seemed to be in order. For his part, the seller surreptitiously examined the banknotes. He didn’t mind if they were stolen—which he thought likely—as long as they were neither stained with dye nor forgeries. At last, both parties satisfied, Red Beard took the keys and left. Soon he was heading back to Lobatse in his new purchase.
Back at the hotel, his mobile phone rang. He recognized the stilted English voice.
“Good you call. Owe me lot of money. Good you don’t make me come after it.”
“The whole thing was a complete bloody disaster!” Daniel shouted. “The police know that the man you dumped in the desert was Angus Hofmeyr. They nearly arrested his sister this afternoon. Once they start checking on the people who were supposed to have seen him, they’ll realize what happened. After that, they’ll get the sister, and after that they’ll get you. If I were you, I would be more worried about my skin than the money I didn’t earn.”
“Funny. Not worried,” Red Beard growled. “Like to finish things properly. No loose ends. Money is a loose end.”
“Forget the money. We have to get the Hofmeyr girl out of the country. She’s scared half to death, I shouldn’t wonder. And she has plenty of money. I think she’ll be very grateful.”
Red Beard was pleased to hear the panic in Daniel’s voice. “You owe me money. I want all of it.”
“Where do you think the money comes from, anyway? I told you before that she is the kingpin, didn’t I? We need to get her out of the country. She’ll pay up. Perhaps a nice bonus if this goes as planned, for once.”
Red Beard was enjoying himself. He much preferred the role of cat to that of mouse. “Don’t know. Very difficult. Does she still have passport?”
“No.”
“Very expensive for new one. And credit lousy, not so?”
“I’ll have her bring money with her. I don’t know how long it’ll be before the police arrest her. After that, it’s over for all of us.”
“Tell her be ready tonight. I phone her at hotel with details where to meet. Somewhere out of the way. Midnight. Hundred thousand dollar in cash.”
“Where the hell am I going to get that? It’s already four in the afternoon!”
“You don’t get it. She gets it. Just tell her. More important for her than us, hey, Mr. Daniel? She in Gaborone with no passport. She stay here, she has rope around her neck and nothing under her feet. She get the money. Oh, yes, she get it!”
Red Beard broke the connection. He started to laugh. Deep in the chest at first, it developed into a sound reminiscent of hyenas.
Chapter 66
If leaving for Lobatse, Mabaku had breezed out of the office like a zephyr, he returned to the CID like an electric storm. He did not even summon Kubu, but thundered into the detective’s office.
“Bengu! What the hell has been going on here since I left? I’m away for a couple of hours, and you create an international incident!”
“I suppose Dianna Hofmeyr’s lawyer phoned you?”
“No. Her lawyer did not phone me. The commissioner did not phone me. The minister phoned me!”
“I did try to reach you,” said Kubu weakly.
“The message was that you were interviewing a witness. There was nothing about arresting the new chairman of Botswana’s most important company!”
“I didn’t arrest her.”
“Not for want of trying, from what I heard!” Mabaku shouted. His face flushed.
I’ve never seen a black man with a red face before, Kubu noted. That effect was usually reserved for whites who sat in the Kalahari sun for too long or lost their tempers because the drinks were delayed. At this rate, Mabaku might have a seizure in the middle of my office.
“Director, please sit down and listen to my side of the story. I’m sure you’ll agree with me. Sit down, please.”
Mabaku collapsed into a chair in front of Kubu’s desk and took several deep breaths. He unclenched his jaw and said in a controlled voice, “Bengu, you better hope I do. Because if not, you’ll be busted down to constable, and you won’t give a parking ticket without a superior present.” He smiled in a friendly way to show he meant it.
Kubu told him the whole story, starting with his hunch, persuading Ian to do the DNA test, and concluding with the shocking DNA match. Despite himself Mabaku was absorbed. His color and breathing returned to almost normal. “But why pull in Dianna Hofmeyr?” he asked. If he hadn’t been so upset, it would have been obvious.
“She told the South African police that she spent a day with Angus before the fatal swim. How could that be true if he was in the morgue here at the time? That means she must have been involved in a cover-up at the very least.”
Mabaku digested that for a few seconds. Then he counted on his fingers. “One. Are we absolutely sure about the DNA match? It sounds like a bit of a backdoor job to me. Two. Are we sure that it’s Angus Hofmeyr involved here? Could the beach body parts have been planted for some other purpose? Obviously they would have been taken from the body here and must have been frozen. Have we done the histology check? Three. What do the South African police think about all this?” He waited for Kubu to finesse these questions.
Kubu answered with a confidence he did not really feel. “I don’t think the DNA match is in doubt. Of course we’ll do additional tests to confirm, follow up with the histology on the tissue from the beach, and try to get samples from something that points directly to Angus. It will be easy to prove that Dianna is lying. All we have to do is check the people Angus is supposed to have seen here and in South Africa.”
“C
ouldn’t you have waited to discuss all this with me?”
“Director, there wasn’t any time. I only arrived at the airport a few minutes before the Hofmeyrs did. What choice did I have?”
Mabaku didn’t answer that. “Did you have her followed?”
“Yes, the lawyers drove her straight to the Grand Palm Hotel. I think she’ll hole up there while they decide what to do next.”
Mabaku shook his head. “If you are right, and you’d better be, or we’ll both be giving out parking tickets, she must know that her story is going to fall apart. I think you better keep a close watch on what she’s up to. Discreetly, for a change. Very discreetly.”
“I already have a man at the exit gate checking comings and goings,” Kubu answered. “I’ll send another to the lobby immediately.”
Mabaku stood up. “I’m going to try to smooth things over with our bosses, Kubu. Keep a low profile.” He eyed Kubu’s bulk. “Not that that’s really possible,” he added nastily. Then he headed back to his own office. Kubu winced as the door slammed.
Edison had been keeping out of the way, awaiting the end of this exchange. He had more news for Kubu.
“Interpol has found Ferraz,” he said. “That’s the good news.”
“Where did they find him?” Kubu asked with elation. Then with less enthusiasm, “What’s the bad news?”
“Well, he was in Portugal after all. Near Lisbon. Just as he was supposed to be. He was renting a holiday flat, it seems. The bad news is that he’s dead. His throat was neatly cut.” Edison offered Kubu a fax. Collapsing into his desk chair with a grunt, Kubu asked, “Did they find plane tickets, passport, money?” Edison looked glum. “None of the above. It’s all in that fax. It seems he arrived three days ago and rented the flat for a week, paid cash in advance. The cleaning lady found him yesterday and called the police. They recognized him from the photographs we sent out and called Interpol.”
“So we have another murder and another dead end.” Kubu banged the fax onto his desk. He could read the details later. He had to find the red-bearded Angolan. Just about his last hope of making this case stick.
A Carrion Death & The 2nd Death of Goodluck Tinubu Page 35