A Death in the Family (4 page)

Samantha nodded.

Mabaku looked around the table. “Anything else?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“I have something else to say,” Mabaku continued. “First, this case has top priority. Until I have reason to believe otherwise, I regard Rra Bengu's murder as a strike against the CID because he's Kubu's father. We have to find out whether the murder is connected with any of Kubu's current cases. I'll do that after this meeting. I'm meeting with Kubu at his home. Second, Kubu is to have nothing to do with this case. NOTHING!” He banged the table with his fist, startling everyone. “If he tries to get involved in the investigation in any way, you let me know immediately! If you hear that he's doing stuff on his own, you let me know immediately! Understood?”

Everyone nodded.

“He's going to want to be involved, to help. That's understandable. But any involvement is through me only. No one else! Understood?”

Again, everyone nodded.

“God help you if I find anyone disobeying me on this. Even if I don't fire you, you'll be investigating petty crimes in the most remote village I can find. If Kubu gets involved, it'll prejudice any case we've got.”

Mabaku took a long drink of water from the glass in front of him.

“The press is going to be all over this story. I'll hold a conference this afternoon after I've seen Kubu. No one else should talk to them. Refer all questions to me. Understood?” He looked around the room of nodding heads. “Okay. Enough of that. What else is going on?”

Each person at the table updated the group on the cases they were working. For the most part, they were relatively minor incidents: bar brawls, a few tourists pickpocketed, three stolen vehicles, some shoplifting, and two burglaries with minor losses. When it was Edison's turn, he said that he'd heard from a friend at the Shoshong police station that there was the potential for trouble there as the nearby mine was planning to expand into an area of small holdings where a lot of people lived.

Samantha reported five incidents of domestic violence. “We need to start locking up men who beat up their wives or girlfriends,” she said angrily. “You should see the state some women are in when they arrive at the women's shelter. It's disgusting that it happens in this day and age, and even worse that nothing happens to the men. If women retaliated and hit the men with a heavy stick, the police would arrest them and charge them with assault.”

She glared at one of the detectives across the table. There were rumors that his wife had been trying to hide bruises on her face. He looked away.

The exchange wasn't lost on Mabaku, but he let it go.

“All right,” he said. “We've got work to do. Let's catch that murderer.”

 

CHAPTER 6

Samantha and Zanele drove to Mochudi in separate cars, which was a good thing as Zanele was still fuming over Samantha's oversight the previous night. They met at the home of Mma Pooe, Samantha to question her further, and Zanele to ask the woman to point out exactly where she'd seen the shadowy figure the night before.

“I was just minding my own business, walking Phiri before going to bed, when this man came running down the road. I think Phiri thought I was being attacked. He jumped at the man and nearly pulled me off my feet. I thought my arm was going to come off. Lucky for the man, I was able to hold on; otherwise, he would have been mincemeat. Phiri has jaws like a hyena.”

“It's too bad you didn't let go,” Samantha said. “We may have solved the case already.”

They walked the short distance to Litabi Street, which Zanele was pleased to see had been cordoned off. A constable checked their credentials before letting them through.

“I was over there,” Mma Pooe said, pointing to a spot about fifty yards away. “I saw him at the end of the block. It was dark, you know. Most of the lights aren't working around here. He was running straight at me. Then he saw me and swerved to get past. That's when Phiri went after him. By the time I'd controlled Phiri, he'd gone. He must've run around the corner down there, but which way I don't know.”

“Mma Letita, if he had a hood, how do you know it was a man?”

“By the way he ran. Women don't run like that.”

“Mma Letita, please show me exactly where he ran.” Zanele was eager to search for footprints.

The three walked up the road.

“He ran close to that hedge.” Mma Letita pointed to the other side of the road. “I'm sure you'll see Phiri's prints as well. He was very quiet next to me until he went after the man.”

Zanele opened her forensics bag and took out a camera. She walked over to the other side of the sandy street, carefully picking her way. Just after the middle, she pointed to the ground.

“I see dog prints here, going toward the hedge.”

She continued slowly, scanning the ground carefully. Suddenly, she stopped and pointed to the ground. For the next few minutes, she photographed a number of footprints. Then she walked back to where Mma Letita had first seen the man. A paved road crossed Litabi Street there. She walked to the other side and looked carefully, but saw no more prints.

Then she went to the other end of the block, where the man had run around the corner. She took more photographs. Eventually, she came back.

“I'm sure they're the prints,” she said. “Definitely someone running. The heel is much deeper than if he was walking. The problem is that the road has sand that's very granular. The boots don't leave a decent print. But there is one print just before the corner that's left a decent imprint of the sole. The sand is much finer there. It's partially obscured by another print, but I think there's enough to ID the shoe or boot.”

“You can find out who the man was from his footprints?” Mma Letita asked.

Zanele smiled. “No, mma. But we can find out what type of boot or shoe. If we're lucky, we may be able to find out who sells them in Botswana. And if we're luckier still, we may get a list of customers. It's unlikely, but it may be all we have to go on.”

“I'll go back with Mma Letita and go over everything again,” Samantha said. “Then I'll follow up with other people in the neighborhood. I'll see you at the meeting in the morning.”

Zanele nodded. “Okay. I want to make a cast of the footprint, and then I'm going to see if I can follow the tracks anywhere else.”

She turned to leave, then stopped and turned. “Samantha, I'm sorry I snapped at you this morning. I know you want to find the murderer as much as I do.”

“That's okay, Zanele,” Samantha replied. “I should've called you when Mma Letita told me about the prints.” She frowned. “Let's do Kubu proud.”

 

CHAPTER 7

By the time Mabaku arrived at Kubu's home, things had settled down, and Amantle was able to thank him for his kindness the night before. Then Kubu took the CID director into the garden so they would have some privacy. Once they were seated, each with a glass of ice water, Mabaku got straight to the point.

“Kubu, we need to explore every possible motive for your father's murder. Most likely it was an opportunistic attack. Maybe some thug thought he was carrying money.”

“An elderly man in old clothes? It seems unlikely. Father never walked around with much cash. What would he use it for?”

“But a mugger wouldn't know that, would he?” Mabaku paused. “But we need to look at other options too. Think back over your cases, your arrests. Has anyone threatened you? Said they would get even or something like that?”

Kubu thought for several moments. “There was that gang of bank robbers. One of them shouted, ‘I'll get you for this,' but he shouted all sorts of stuff as the guys handcuffed him. I didn't take any notice at the time.”

“Was there any evidence that they were connected to a wider group? A sort of mafia-type thing?”

Kubu shook his head. “Anyway, why my father? If they wanted to hit me, why not do just that? It doesn't make sense, Jacob.”

Mabaku had to agree. Nevertheless, he made Kubu go back over all his recent cases, and some not so recent, noting every possibility for later checking. At last he said, “That seems to be it, Kubu. But I need to talk to your mother again. Maybe she remembers something more. At least she can give me a bit of background. Is she up to it?”

Kubu nodded. “I think she'll be okay. She'll want to help in any way she can.” He hesitated, then asked, “What have you got so far? Anything?”

Mabaku sighed. “Not as much as I'd hoped. I wanted an early breakthrough and a quick arrest for both our sakes. I've got that Interpol conference coming up in New York in a couple of weeks, and I want the satisfaction of seeing the culprit locked up before I go. Last thing I need at the moment is a trip halfway across the world.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Zanele is working through all the forensics stuff. We went house to house last night. A few leads but nothing really helpful.” Kubu had a suspicion that Mabaku might have more information, but clearly he wasn't going to share it.

Mabaku put his hand on Kubu's shoulder. “I know how you're feeling, and I know what you want to do. But remember what I said last night. Keep out of this. Don't even talk to anyone about it.”

Kubu sighed. “Yes, Director. I understand. I'll take you in to Mother now.”

*   *   *

AMANTLE HAD SETTLED
on the couch in the lounge and was drinking tea. Joy offered Mabaku a cup, which he accepted. Kubu joined them and went to find the biscuits, which he passed around, keeping a few for himself. But in the end he didn't eat them and left them on his saucer.

“Mma Bengu,” Mabaku began, “do you know why your husband went out last night and where he meant to go? He was found at Litabi Street. That's quite a way off.”

Amantle shook her head. “He said he was going to meet a friend. I said it was late and he might get lost. His mind … it is not so clear anymore. Sometimes he is fine, but other times he gets very confused, even angry. It is because of the illness, because of…”

Kubu rescued her. “My father was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. On bad days he didn't know who he was or where he was.”

Amantle nodded. “I was afraid he would get lost. It was already quite late.”

“He didn't say who he was going to meet?”

“I asked him, but he said it was someone I didn't know. That was strange because I know all his friends. But that's all he would say.”

“And he didn't say where he was going to meet this friend?”

Amantle shook her head.

“Was there anything about your husband's behavior over the last few days that surprised or puzzled you? Or something strange that he said?”

Amantle shrugged. “Since he started to get sick, he was always saying strange things. Sometimes he went out and said he needed to meet people about his herbal medicine. I thought that was odd because he used to bring people to our home, and he would talk to them, and I would make tea. Now it was different. I was afraid he would get confused or lost when he went out. But he always came back when he said he would. Until last night.” She paused and thought for a moment. “But he
was
behaving strangely at dinner. He seemed in a hurry and even left some of his food. He kept looking at his watch.”

“What time was it when he left?”

“About eight o'clock.”

“And when did he say he would be back?”

“He just said he would not be late. But when he had not come back after two hours, I was sure he was lost. So I went next door to Rra Ngombe and woke them up so I could use their phone. I do not have one myself.”

Kubu cursed himself for not thinking of that. They should each have had phones, and he should have persuaded Wilmon to have his with him at all times. How had he missed that? But it was too late now.

“I phoned Constable Tohe at the police station,” Amantle continued. “He knows Wilmon and knows about the trouble with his mind. He grew up with Kubu and is a good friend to us. Anyway, he promised to look for Wilmon. And he found him.” Tears started to run down her face. Joy gave her a tissue, and she dabbed at them ineffectually. “I am all right,” she said, and sipped her tea. “I am all right.”

Mabaku waited for her to finish the cup. “Did you try to call him on his cell phone?”

Amantle shook her head. “He never takes his phone with him, and anyway I do not know the number.”

“Did he have any money with him?” Mabaku asked.

“Why would he take money? What for? It was too late to shop.”

“Didn't he have a wallet? Wouldn't he have taken that with him?”

Amantle shook her head again. “If he took money, he put it in his trouser pocket.”

Mabaku made a note of that, then changed the subject. “Mma Bengu, please think carefully. Did anyone ever threaten your husband? Or did he have any bad enemies? Someone who hated him enough to do this?”

Amantle shook her head in annoyance. “No one. Everyone liked him! He helped so many people with his medicines. You can ask anyone. He would spend hours talking to people and giving them advice. I think you should go and find this wicked man who killed my poor husband. I have nothing more I can tell you.” The tears started to flow again, and Joy put her arm around her.

Mabaku realized that there was no point in continuing to question the poor woman. He stood up and asked her to call him if she thought of anything else, anything at all. Then he thanked them all and headed back to the CID.

As he drove, he breathed deeply. He had to prepare himself for the press conference at five.

 

CHAPTER 8

It was nearly suppertime when Ilia raced out of the house, barking excitedly. Must be Pleasant and the kids, Kubu thought.

He heaved himself out of his deep armchair and went to greet them. By the time he was out of the house, Tumi had already opened one side of the gate and was pushing away a jumping Ilia, who was trying to lick her face. Nono, the Bengus' adopted daughter, was standing quietly next to the other half of the gate, which she'd opened unmolested by the enthusiastic fox terrier.