The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu (46 page)

“Would you recognize the truth if you heard it? Can you
distinguish innocence from guilt, Superintendent? I don’t think so.
You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?” Salome left her
coffee and got to her feet. “I’m going to my tent. Goodnight,
Dupie.”

Kubu sat impassively, but smarting from her words. Was he
victimizing this woman? Was he biased by her past and by the soft
spot he had developed for a man he would never meet but felt he now
knew? He decided he was tired and was about to call it a day, but
suddenly Dupie became sociable. He poured the three of them a port,
and when Tatwa politely refused, pushed the second glass toward
Kubu.

“Salome’s under a lot of strain, Superintendent. Has been since
all this started. No, from long before that. Maybe thirty years
before. She’s had a hard life. But we’re all grateful to her. All
of us would do anything for her.”

“Are you trying to tell us something, Dupie?” Kubu was instantly
alert.

“I’m asking you to understand her and to understand us.”

Kubu nodded, waiting. There would be more. Tatwa knew this
exchange was between Kubu and Dupie; he sat quietly, withdrawn,
unobtrusive despite his height.

“I’m going to do what you asked. I’m going to tell you some
things I omitted before. But it’s going to hurt me, Superintendent.
I’m not doing this for you. I don’t care about your damn case. I’m
doing this for her. I want you off her back.” He swallowed the port
in one gulp and helped himself to another.

“There’s something else I want you to know. Enoch and I go back
a long way.” He hesitated, and Kubu interjected, “To the Rhodesian
war? Yes I know.”

“Much further back. To when men walked outside their caves at
night in fear of predators. Tigers. Saber-tooth tigers. And you had
to rely on another man to back you up, whatever happened. Whatever
happened. It was like that in the Scouts. Our strength was in
backing each other up. No matter what happened. No matter what was
done to us. No matter what we did. You know what I’m talking
about?”

He shook his head. “You’ve no idea, have you? It’s like the
Watching Eye.” He turned to Tatwa. “You’d better give that back.
It’s mine, and it’s important. You understand?” Neither policeman
reacted, so Dupie shrugged in disgust. He worked on the port for a
while.

“Enoch and I were like that. Did we save each other’s lives?
Sure we did. That wasn’t a big deal. That was a byproduct of what
I’m talking about. The Eyes…” He struggled, trying to explain.
“They’re symbols. You know?”

Kubu did not know at all. But Kubu did not want to hear about
Dupie and Enoch, nor about the Rhodesian war. He wanted to hear
about a Sunday night three weeks before. Dupie finished another
port. Suddenly he was matter-of-fact. The sober, practical man, not
the slightly tipsy philosopher.

“Okay, I’d better tell you some things that happened. That I
didn’t tell you before. Some of the things you said are true, after
all. It’s just your deductions that don’t work. Not quite Sherlock
Holmes after all, perhaps.” Kubu did not react. He took a
contemplative sip of port. He didn’t need to push. He knew Dupie
would say what he had to say. Tatwa was so quiet and still that
Kubu had to check his eyes to see that he was still awake.

“Well, you were right about that day with the trailer. Enoch
asked me to help him set up an alibi. He was going to head out a
way – not far – push the trailer into the bushes at a place we know
and leave it there. When he called, all I had to do was go out
there, hang around for an hour or so, and then head back with the
trailer. And tell the story about the wheel bearing.”

“And what was Enoch doing while this was happening?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say. He just said he had something he
needed to sort out. That he’d be back the next day after he’d done
the shopping in Kasane. I don’t know where he went.”

“You didn’t ask?” It was Tatwa’s incredulous interjection.

Dupie looked at him and shook his head. “No, I didn’t ask. He
said it was important, and he needed my help. It was like in the
war. We didn’t ask. We just did what was necessary. Like the Eyes.
Like that. I didn’t even think about asking.”

Kubu nodded. “What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?”

“When Enoch left you, he drove to Maun and killed William
Boardman. Why?”

“I don’t know that he did that! I know he did something, that’s
all.” He looked at Tatwa as though he might understand.

“Was it a return favor?” asked Kubu. “For your asking Enoch to
pretend to be Zondo on the boat?”

“That was Zondo! I swear it. Everything I’ve told you about
Zondo is true. And we don’t tally favors.”

“So you still stick to the story that Zondo was behind all the
murders?”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Ah. No longer think?”

Dupie seemed very uncomfortable and refilled his glass before he
replied. “Shit! I might as well tell you now. Salome did ask me
about Goodluck. I thought it was her ghosts, but I promised I’d
check. But I needed to keep Goodluck chatting after I lifted his
keys. So it was Enoch who searched his luggage. The briefcase too,
I guess.”

“And what did he find?”

“He said he found nothing. Nothing. I told Salome. I don’t think
she believed we’d even looked. She was sure about Goodluck. God
knows how she could be after all these years. But she was right
about him, wasn’t she? I guess there are some faces you never
forget.”

“So Enoch knew about the money, but he didn’t tell you. And the
next morning Goodluck and Langa were dead. But you took Zondo to
the airstrip.”

“Look, it could still’ve been Zondo. He knew about the money and
the drugs. Maybe Enoch knew too, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t
Zondo who was the murderer.”

Tatwa came to life. “Anyway, why would Enoch kill Boardman? What
would be the point?”

Dupie stared into his empty glass. “Well…if Enoch had the money,
he needed to hide it. He and Boardman went out together that
morning by
mokoro
. Maybe William was in on it. Maybe he just
spotted Enoch hiding something. Maybe he wanted a cut, for God’s
sake! The man was a greedy son of a bitch. He ripped me off a dozen
times for artworks. I know he did. Greedy son of a bitch.” He
poured another port.

Kubu had just finished his first. Tatwa’s full glass was still
in front of him, and he took a small sip.

“So this is what you’re deducing,” Kubu said. “Enoch took
Goodluck’s keys – at your request – checked his luggage and found
the money. Salome was convinced Goodluck was one of the gang who
attacked her in the war. That made Goodluck a bad guy with a lot of
money. Enoch bumps him off and hides the money on the
mokoro
trip with William Boardman who – when the bodies are discovered –
deduces what he was hiding. Then he wants a cut, and Enoch obliges
in Maun, with your help for an alibi.”

“I’m not saying all that. I’m just telling you what
happened.”

“Is there anything else you’ve left out? Now would be a really
good time to tell us the full story.”

Dupie shook his head. “I would’ve trusted Enoch with my life.
Hell, I’ve trusted him with my life lots of times.” He paused. “You
know what hurts? Not that he killed this man. I understand that.
Probably deserved what he got. And what he’s getting.” He pointed
downward. “What hurts is that he cut me out. That’s what
hurts.”

He lumbered to his feet. “So now you’ve got what you wanted,
right? The truth. Let’s see if you can recognize it, after all.” He
walked to his tent, his step slightly unsteady.

♦

Kubu and Tatwa looked at each other in silence until they heard
the toilet flush and then Dupie’s tent zip up.

“What do you think?” asked Kubu.

Tatwa shook his head. “I don’t believe it. All that business
about how close they are? But Enoch goes behind Dupie’s back to
murder someone for money. And Dupie lies for him, but then shops
him to the police. More in sorrow than in anger.”

“It’s a lot of money. That much money does things to
people.”

“It was enough money to share. Plenty of money to share.”

“It’s a good story. But like so many of the other stories, it
comes unstuck with Zondo. Just by coincidence he decides to leave
the next morning ahead of schedule. Fortunately he doesn’t trip
over any of the dead bodies on the way to the boat. Then Dupie
drops him at the airstrip where he abandons his favorite hat and
jacket and disappears.
Without the money
. Why on earth would
he do that?”

“What if he found Goodluck’s body and took fright? With the
warning mutilations, I’d be terrified if I were him. I’d leave in a
big hurry.”

Kubu nodded. “It’s not impossible. But remember he arranged to
leave early the next day before the murders took place, according
to Dupie.” Kubu was thoughtful, wondering whether Dupie might tip
off Enoch either casually or on purpose. Enoch knew the area like
the back of his hand.

Constable Tau joined them for a moment to get a soft drink on
his way to take over the watch at the dock. Kubu passed him an
orange soda.

“Keep a careful watch on the
mokoros
, Tau.” He held up
his hand when Tau started to protest. “Yes, I know it’s too
dangerous to use them at night. Tell that to Director Mabaku if
someone slips away in one of them.” Then Kubu had another thought.
“There’s something else I want you to do.” He gave Tau some further
detailed instructions.

“Just to be on the safe side,” he said in response to Tatwa’s
quizzical look. Then Kubu smiled, thinking back to Dupie’s tale.
“It doesn’t really matter how much of this story is true, does it,
Tatwa? They’ve started breaking ranks. Tomorrow we can tell Enoch
that Dupie’s trying to shove the whole thing onto him. Then Enoch
will have another story that we can take to Salome, and soon
they’ll be tripping over each other’s lies.” Kubu poured himself a
celebratory final glass of port, and toasted in the air with
it.

“We’ve got them, Tatwa,” he said. “We’ve got them!”

∨
The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu
∧

T
he next morning
again there was a strained atmosphere. The team spirit generated by
the fiction of Madrid as the common enemy had been replaced by
reality. The policemen constituted an occupation to be tolerated,
not reinforcements to be welcomed.

Moremi set out a buffet of cereals, yogurts, and fruit salad,
and then took orders for eggs. Clearly he disliked the new
scenario, but didn’t let his distaste run to a desire to see Kubu
starve. He delivered a heaped plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and
lashings of toast. Tatwa stuck to the buffet. He was restless.

“We haven’t seen Enoch this morning, Kubu. I hope Dupie didn’t
have a change of heart and tip him off.”

Kubu finished a mouthful. “Where would he go? The constables
guarded the boats all night.”

“But he could get out overland. If you’re willing to wade
through the marshes. I’m worried.”

Kubu was not going to upset his breakfast. A proper breakfast
was a prerequisite for a successful day. He just grunted. “Nowhere
to go once he gets to the mainland either. Check if the two
vehicles are still there.”

Tatwa walked to the river’s edge and looked through his
binoculars. The vehicles were still exactly where they’d been the
day before. He told Kubu, who nodded and finished the last piece of
toast. Moremi poured them coffee.

Dupie joined them, carrying his own plate from the kitchen.
“Morning.”

“Where’s Enoch?” asked Tatwa.

“He was around earlier,” said Dupie vaguely. “He’s not a big
eater.” That was the end of the conversation, until Kubu had
finished a second cup of coffee and Dupie had finished his fried
eggs.

“Could you find him for us?” asked Kubu. “After what you told us
yesterday, we need to talk to him.” Dupie nodded and headed back to
the kitchen.

“Let’s go to the office tent,” said Kubu. “I don’t fancy
interviewing Enoch here.”

They settled themselves and waited. Tatwa had brought the Eye
with him; he placed it gazing upward in the middle of the mess of
papers on Dupie’s desk. It’d had an unsettling effect on Enoch once
before.

When Enoch arrived he was carrying a backpack, wearing khaki
shorts and sported a multi-pocketed fishing jacket over his shirt.
Tatwa breathed a sigh of relief, but Kubu was puzzled by the
backpack.

“
Dumela
, Enoch,” he said. “What’s the backpack for?”

Enoch dumped it beside the flap. “Dupie told me you’d take me to
Kasane. So I packed my stuff.” Kubu’s eyebrows rose. So Dupie had
been talking to Enoch.

“Sit down, Enoch,” Kubu said, indicating the chair opposite,
with the Eye between them, and Tatwa to their left. Enoch looked
down at the Eye, shook his head, and remained standing.

Kubu shrugged. “Enoch, we think you’ve been lying to us. About
the Monday before last for a start. The day that you supposedly
broke down in the bush.” Kubu made a show of consulting his
notes.

“You said that the trailer broke a bearing on the way to Kasane,
that Dupie came out to help you and towed it back, and that you
slept in the bush before heading on the next morning. Is that
right?”

Enoch nodded. He stood as if before a court martial. Kubu stared
at his face, then deliberately glanced down to the Eye, taking
Enoch’s gaze with him.

“But, you see, Rra Du Pisanie says it’s not true. Actually, you
arranged with him to abandon the trailer, undamaged. He picked it
up and brought it back. You had long gone. To Maun.” Dupie hadn’t
said this, but Kubu banked on Enoch not knowing that.

“I have a girlfriend in Kachikau. I spent the night with her.
Dupie covered for me. That’s all.”

“Why would he need to cover? You’re not married, are you?”