The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu (44 page)

“What an excellent afternoon. But the clouds are building up.
What do you think, Dupie? A thunderstorm later on?”

Dupie looked at the blackening horizon and shrugged.

“Bit too obvious, isn’t it?” Kubu said. “Lots of noise but no
rain. Probably won’t be a drop. Funny how we miss the obvious.
There’s a daddy longlegs spider that’s spun a web by the washbasin
in our tent. Quite a character. Catches the mosquitoes. But if you
touch his silk, he starts to oscillate in the web. Faster and
faster ‘til you can’t see him anymore. Gone. You see right through
him because of persistence of vision. No spider. Nothing to see.
Nothing to catch.” Kubu had their attention. Everyone wondered
where this discourse on arachnidean behavior was heading.

“That was our problem with Zondo. He was there all the time, but
we couldn’t see him.” Kubu nodded as though this comparison would
be obvious to everyone and said no more.

Oddly, it was the normally reticent Solomon who ventured the
question. “What do you mean, Superintendent? Where was he, and why
couldn’t we see him?”

“He wasn’t moving quickly,” offered Moremi. “Not quickly. Oh,
no.”

“No, he wasn’t. Moremi’s right,” said Kubu. “We were always a
murder short, you see. We seemed to have enough.” He smiled. “Too
many, even, according to my boss. But we missed out on Zondo.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Salome. “Is he supposed to
be dead?”

“I’m talking about Ishmael Zondo, or Peter Jabulani, if you want
to use his real name. I should say the late Peter Jabulani. He was
the third person murdered that Sunday night. Or maybe the second.”
Kubu turned to look at Salome.

“It started with you, didn’t it, Salome?” Kubu asked, using her
given name for the first time. “It started when you recognized
Goodluck. And you wanted revenge. Understandable enough after what
had happened even though it was a very long time ago.”

Salome blushed. “I wasn’t sure it was him. It could’ve been my
imagination. As you say, it was a very long time ago. Dupie said so
too. He convinced me. I just withdrew. Settled down. It was my
imagination. They all said so.”

“All?” asked Kubu. “Were they all involved?” His hand
encompassed the group.

“No. I mean Dupie. I was shocked. But then I accepted that it
was just my mind playing tricks.”

“But someone agreed to check. Take a look. Moremi, Solomon,
Enoch, Dupie?”

“No, no. I just thought it through. No one checked.”

Kubu ignored that. “The one who stole the keys, right? Didn’t
need keys to the tent. To the suitcase? Yes. But also to the
briefcase. That was a surprise, wasn’t it, Dupie? A briefcase full
of U.S. dollars. You didn’t expect that, but it was just what you
needed with things going downhill here.”

Dupie shook his head. “What the fuck are you talking about,
Superintendent? What are you trying to pull here? Whatever it is,
it’s not going to work.”

“Because you’ll all stick to the same story, right? And Salome?
She’s just a victim. Thought she saw a nightmare from the past. Put
it behind her. Nothing there, is there? Just like the spider. And
you, Dupie? Everyone’s mate. But with a background in the Scouts.
Not the Boy Scouts, eh? You know about efficient killing, don’t
you? And how to turn it to advantage. And Enoch. Your sergeant –
yes, I know that background, too.” He stared at Enoch who looked
around as if for a weapon.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” asked Tatwa. Casually he held
up the Watching Eye he’d taken from Dupie’s office. Enoch crossed
his hands on his chest as if protecting his heart. Then he got
control of himself and forced his hands down. He said nothing.

Kubu pretended to ignore this exchange. “Maybe Moremi? He owes
you, too. No one else would give him a job. He’d help you, wouldn’t
he? And Solomon? Good reliable Solomon. He has a family to
support.”

Kubu looked around the stricken table. “You could really pull
strings with anyone you liked, couldn’t you, Salome? An
embarrassment of riches, you might say.” He nodded. “I think we
could have that coffee now, Moremi.” Moremi rose without a word and
walked off. But he must have whispered something to Kweh, because
raucous clucks and even a ‘go-away’ came from the kitchen. No one
said anything until Salome broke the tension.

“I don’t understand any of this. What happened to Zondo?”

“He never left the island,” said Tatwa.

“Of course he did!” Dupie exclaimed. “I took him across to the
mainland on Monday morning. I left him at the airstrip.”

Kubu shook his head. “You took someone across. Someone dressed
in a felt hat with guineafowl feathers and a canvas bush jacket.
Zondo’s hat and jacket were later discarded on the mainland. And
that person got back to the island in Solomon’s
mokoro
.
Solomon himself, maybe?” He glanced at the waiter, who shook his
head, but did not contradict the detective aloud.

“That was a neat trick, Dupie, but just a hairsbreadth too
clever. There was a problem, wasn’t there? William Boardman was up
before dawn for his bird-watching trip. Had his binoculars as
usual. He wondered why someone else was heading across the lagoon
wearing Zondo’s hat. But he found out soon enough, didn’t he?”

Dupie was shaking his head. “It’s all nonsense, Superintendent.
I took Zondo across to the mainland, and then we drove to the
airport. The reason he was wearing Zondo’s hat was because he was
Zondo, and he was wearing his own hat. Not as intriguing as your
story. But a lot simpler. Occam’s razor!” he concluded
triumphantly. Everyone looked at him blankly.

“Is that what you used to cut Goodluck’s throat?” asked Tatwa,
dryly.

Dupie snarled, “This is all bullshit. I took Zondo to the
airport. It’s not my fault if he dumped his hat and coat there.
Maybe he wanted to be incognito? How should I know?”

“I didn’t say he dumped his hat and coat at the airstrip. Just
that they were left on the mainland.”

Dupie was quiet, but just for a moment. Then he stormed ahead.
“Then Zondo disappeared. You can’t try to pin this on us just
because you can’t find him!”

“Oh, I know where he is,” said Kubu. “It’s like the daddy
long-legs. You can’t see him, but he’s right in front of you.” He
looked out at the lagoon. Everyone followed his eyes. They heard a
motorboat starting up on the mainland.

Moremi approached, carrying a tray with coffees, milk, and
sugar.

Kubu turned to Salome. “But you had to get rid of William,
didn’t you? Madrid’s visit was quite a bonus in a way, wasn’t it?
The perfect cover for a hit. Yet another perfect murder your team
could put together.”

Salome glared at him. “Superintendent, you’re way out of line.
No one here had anything to do with Boardman’s murder. He was a
good friend. We were all here the night he was killed. With guests.
From overseas. They can vouch for us if it comes to that.”

“Not quite,” said Kubu quietly, pointing across the table.
“Enoch wasn’t here.”

“He was stuck in the bush!” Salome snapped. “Dupie had to go out
and fetch the trailer. He was stuck halfway to Kasane, for God’s
sake!”

“So he said,” commented Tatwa mildly. “Anyone want the sugar?”
He helped himself to three heaping teaspoons.

Kubu nodded. “The perfect alibi. Enoch supposedly leaves for
Kasane, dumps the trailer, and goes in the opposite direction down
the cut-line to Maun. Radios Dupie, pretends he’s broken down and
needs help. Dupie heads out, also supposedly toward Kasane, but
actually toward Maun. Picks up the trailer, takes his time, heads
back. Perfect alibi for Enoch, who’s halfway to Maun by then. To
keep the appointment Dupie set up with William Boardman!”

Dupie got to his feet and, a moment later, so did Enoch. “This
is raving nonsense! Enoch got stuck. He radioed me. Salome heard
the conversation for shit’s sake! I went to help him, we fixed the
trailer well enough so I could get it back, and Enoch headed on to
Kasane in the morning. He was there about nine! Dozens of people
saw him. He hadn’t driven to Maun! That’s hundreds of tough miles
through the bush and sand.”

“It can be done,” said Tatwa quietly. “Check the map. We did.
But, of course, you know that already, don’t you?” He was also on
his feet facing Enoch. He let the Eye swing from side to side like
a pendulum, as though he was trying to hypnotize Enoch. Dupie
subsided and sat down. For a few moments no one said anything.

Moremi broke the silence. He turned to Salome. “Mma Salome, what
the policemen say may be true. Or it may not.” He shrugged as
though he was discussing the failings of the local football team.
“But this is true. They cannot prove anything. They suspect all of
us. But they cannot prove any one single thing.”

Kubu felt a wave of frustration and tried to hide it by
swallowing his coffee. He was looking for a crack, a chink. But he
had found nothing. They were calm, unsurprised. He knew some were
involved, others maybe not. Or maybe they were all involved. He had
spelled out how it had been done. But he had no evidence, no proof.
Moremi was absolutely right.

“Oh, we’ll prove it all right. Don’t worry about that. In the
meanwhile, everyone stays here,” Kubu said. His eyes moved from the
table to the dock where the other two constables were tying up the
police motorboat. There was no doubt about the purpose of their
presence now. They would ensure that no one left the island.

♦

Kubu and Tatwa sat on their own away from the communal area.
Kubu had deliberately shown his hand, now he was going to need to
play his cards quickly. “It’s the three of them, Tatwa,” he said.
“Dupie, Salome, and Enoch. Dupie and Enoch know how to go about
this sort of killing, and they had to cooperate to murder Boardman.
It would take two people to pull off the camp murders, too. Salome
was the one who recognized Goodluck, got them to search his tent.
She was probably the brains behind it all.”

“What about Solomon and Moremi?”

Kubu shook his head. “Solomon wasn’t even on the island that
night – we checked with the villagers, and he was there with
Beauty. So what was his role in the whole thing? And why bring up
the issue of the borrowed
mokoro?
It was an important piece
of the puzzle for us, and he volunteered it. He’s not smart enough
for a double bluff.” Tatwa nodded, accepting this.

“As for Moremi,” Kubu continued, “well, he’s Moremi. I just
can’t see it. And he found Zondo’s hat. That’s what led us back
here to the camp. They’ve both got reason to be loyal to Salome,
but murderers? No.” Kubu shook his head again.

Tatwa was thoughtful. “There were a lot of odd features about
the camp murders. Why did they do it that way? Zondo murdered and
maybe thrown into the lagoon for the crocs, Goodluck murdered twice
– stabbed and throat cut – and mutilated, and Langa casually bashed
and dumped in a
donga?
”

“I’ve thought about that. I think the plan was to murder
Goodluck with as little fuss and evidence as possible, dump his
body in the lagoon, and pretend he had to get home early and left
by plane for Kasane. Easy enough to get rid of his car at Kasane
later on.”

“What about Langa? He came with Goodluck?”

“No problem. Enoch would just take him back to Ngoma at the end
of his stay. They didn’t know he was a policeman. When people came
to look for Goodluck, they would shrug. Yes, he was here. Yes, he
left early. Said it was an emergency at home in Mochudi. He had
arranged a plane to pick him up in the morning. Yes, he was
carrying a briefcase when he left. No problem.”

“But?”

“But when they killed him, they discovered he didn’t have the
money anymore. So they came up with the plan of pinning Goodluck’s
murder on whoever did have the money. It would be too coincidental
to have both people disappear from the camp on the same day. So
they made a virtue of necessity, if you can call cutting Goodluck’s
throat and hacking off his ears a virtue.”

“How did they know that Zondo had the money?”

Kubu shrugged. “They probably were watching Goodluck. I don’t
know for sure. Anyway, they headed for Zondo’s tent, took the
money, murdered him the same way, probably stripped his body, and
then started for the lagoon with its convenient crocodiles. But
there was a problem. Langa had seen the money change hands, and his
brief was to follow the money, so now he was watching Zondo, and
that turned out to be fatal. And there was no time for anything
fancy. Not with Zondo’s body lying on the path.”

Strangely, but not uncharacteristically, Tatwa was thinking of
the people involved rather than the crimes. “Do you think they were
friends after all, as Moremi said? Zondo and Goodluck? Comrades
from the Zimbabwe war? There were the two glasses in Goodluck’s
tent.”

“I’m not sure. That could’ve been a setup as Zanele suggested.
Just take a glass from Zondo’s tent with his fingerprints on it.
Just the sort of misdirection I would expect from Dupie. Too clever
by half.” He shrugged. “Or maybe they really did have a drink
together and chewed over old times.”

“Two fighters for freedom turned drug smugglers. Awful.”

But this time Kubu firmly shook his head. “I don’t buy it. It
makes no sense. We don’t know much about Zondo, but it’s completely
against Goodluck’s character. Something else was going on. I think
we’ll know what when we find the money.”

Tatwa nodded. “That’s the one piece of evidence they can’t get
rid of. The money, they had to keep. We’ve got to find it, because
otherwise we’ve got nothing. With it, the whole pact of silence
will collapse. Especially with three people involved. Two’s
company, but three’s a crowd.”

“Someone will break ranks,” Kubu agreed. He rubbed his jowls.
But what if we don’t find the cursed money? he wondered. Somehow
we’ll have to get them to break ranks anyway.