Deadly Harvest (13 page)

TWENTY

K
UBU LOOKED AROUND THE
table at the assembled CID staff. Mabaku looked worried. Not much had changed in the last thirty-­six hours to give him comfort. If anything, the issue of the gourd that Kubu had discovered made things worse. It seemed likely that Marumo had been involved in something very unpleasant. That would open a gamut of new potential motives and possibilities.

Samantha looked disturbed and unhappy. Her hopes of Marumo as a hero had been dashed by his murder. And by his use of
muti
.

Mabaku turned to Zanele first. “What have you got, Zanele?”

She shrugged. “Not much more, Director. But we have two pieces of hair that don't come from Marumo or Jubjub. Black African, I'd say.”

Mabaku perked up. “That's good. If we catch a suspect and can DNA-­match the hair, we're home.”

Zanele nodded. “Doesn't help us find the murderer, though.”

Mabaku already knew that. “What about Kubu's gourd?”

For a moment Zanele said nothing. “It's not good. It's a mixture of all sorts of stuff. Some common herbs and so on. But we've looked at it under a microscope, and I'm sure that it contains animal remains. There's a reasonable chance they're human.”

Kubu looked around the table again, assessing how the team was taking this news. Samantha clasped her hands tightly in front of her and avoided his glance. Ian MacGregor looked as relaxed as usual. Mabaku frowned, obviously concerned about the new complications. The others looked uncomfortable or plainly scared.

“We have to find out what it is and where it came from,” Kubu said. “We already have the dog's head issue. Now we're talking
muti
. There was always something about Marumo—­I admit I didn't like him—­but there was a confidence that was unnatural. Definitely unnatural.”

“You think it could link to motive?” Mabaku growled.

Kubu shook his head. “Once you're mixed up in this sort of stuff, it could be anything.”

“You're not suggesting a demon or a
tokoloshe
?” It was the beefy Detective Thibelo who asked this in a tentative voice.

Kubu looked at him sharply. “No, of course not, we all know that's nonsense.” He stopped and glanced at each of the other CID detectives in turn. He got several nods in response, but they didn't meet his eyes. “But there could be witch doctors who need to be paid, maybe relatives seeking revenge, perhaps someone wanted to steal the so-­called magic. I don't know. There are lots of possibilities now.”

Mabaku looked unhappy. “We keep this quiet. You all understand? We don't want to alert the culprit if there is a connection, and we certainly don't want a media field day. Marumo supporters will say it's a smear and link us to the government. This doesn't go outside this room.”

Kubu nodded firmly, but he wondered about it. ­People had seen him bring in the gourd; ­people had seen Zanele working with it. He was pretty sure it was already an open secret.

“It may be the best lead we've got. Ian, can you get your friends in South Africa to help us get the DNA information quickly?”

Ian nodded. “I'll see what I can do.” He paused. “As for the autopsy, nothing unexpected there. One of the stab wounds went into the heart, as I thought. He would've died very soon after that.”

“What have the rest of you got for two days' work?” Mabaku's tone suggested that it had better be something.

Thibelo stuck up his hand. He's regained some courage, Kubu thought.

“We've done door-­to-­door.” He looked at his notes. “Not much to report, but one man noticed a beaten-­up blue Volks­wagen parked outside the Falcon Crest Suites. There's a place there where you can pull off the road. It's a short walk from Marumo's house. He noticed it because it looked out of place. He thought perhaps it had broken down. He'd taken his dog for a walk, and when they came back the car was still there.”

“What time was that?” Kubu asked.

“He thinks it was about seven when they came back.”

“Any chance he remembered all or part of the registration number?”

Thibelo shook his head. “He was sure it was a local number. But that's all.”

Kubu sighed. An old blue Volkswagen that might possibly be involved didn't offer much to go on. Mabaku started to say the same thing, but Samantha interrupted.

“I'm sorry, Director. It's just . . . Well, it's a really long shot, but . . .”

“What?” asked Mabaku, irritated.

Samantha hesitated. “I interviewed a man called Witness Maleng this morning. It was about the disappearance of his daughter. When I first arrived he seemed very nervous. I even had the feeling he might not talk to me. He calmed down a bit, but he was very bitter about his daughter. He felt the police hadn't done enough soon enough to find her. I think he believes she's been abducted for
muti
.”

She paused, and Mabaku interjected, “You think he could be connected to Marumo because of the gourd?”

Samantha nodded. “I was thinking about what Kubu said about relatives. And his car was a battered blue Volkswagen Golf.”

Suddenly there was complete silence around the table. All were focused on the first distant scent of prey.

Kubu shrugged. “Maybe he was nervous that you had bad news about his daughter. We don't even know if the Volkswagen Golf was connected to the murder, and there must be dozens of them around.” Samantha started to protest, but Kubu held up his hand. “Having said that, it's definitely worth following up. I'd like to do that right away.”

Mabaku nodded. “I agree. As soon as we've finished.” He recalled the
Daily News
report that had run in the morning and turned to the detective who had been manning the phones. “Anything from the public on the hotline?”

“Half the callers were sure the government was behind it,” the man replied. “Some just phoned to have their say. Then there were a few cranks. One confessed, but he didn't even know where Marumo lived. We'll follow up what we can.”

So this is what we have, Kubu thought, a gourd of
muti
, a blue Volkswagen Golf near the scene, and a bereaved man. It was tenuous, but he had a hunch there was a connection.

TWENTY-ONE

I
T TOOK
W
I
TNESS LESS
than two hours to drive to Jwaneng. He turned off the Trans-­Kalahari Highway and followed a sign to the Circle Filling Station. He was pleased to see that it had a Chicken Licken fast-­food restaurant next to it.

He put two hundred pula of gas into the car—­leaving him with less than a thousand. He asked the cashier to let him look up the number of the Jwaneng Mine in their phone directory. Then he called the mine, and the switchboard put him through to Human Resources. They said there were vacancies, and he arranged an interview for that afternoon at four o'clock. He felt his luck was about to change.

It was not yet noon, so he decided to find a cool spot and try to sleep.

W
ITNESS
DOZED ON AND
off until about an hour before his appointment. He returned to the gas station and used its toilet facilities to wash and tidy up as much as possible.

Half an hour later he presented himself to the receptionist at Human Resources, filled out the usual paperwork, and waited for the interview. It was brief, and he was finished by 5 p.m. They would contact him in the next two days, he was told.

Witness was in a quandary about what to do. Should he wait in Jwaneng until he heard whether he had the job—­working in the pit—­or should he drive to Orapa and apply there? The problem was that Orapa was about an eight-­hour drive, which would cost him a large portion of his remaining money.

He decided to wait in Jwaneng, particularly since the man who had interviewed him seemed positive. He found a liquor store and bought two cartons of Shake Shake beer. Then he went to the Chicken Licken and walked out with a large order of LekkerBig chips and a packet of Soul Fire sauce. He drove around until he found a place, a little out of the way, where he could park for the night and sleep in his car.

He hoped he would sleep better—­another night of Marumo's terrified face popping into his mind would not be good.

Still, he felt his luck had turned. He'd get the job at the mine and would disappear from sight.

TWENTY-TWO

K
UBU AND
S
AMANTHA WAITED
until about five before they left for Witness's house; they decided to drive separately since Samantha lived close by. As Kubu followed Samantha's old Toyota, he wondered what to expect from this man who had just lost a daughter. Could Witness Maleng have turned his grief into rage and then murder? And, if so, why Marumo? Or did he somehow know that Marumo had
muti
in his desk? Did he think some witch doctor had killed his daughter for Marumo? As for the blue Volkswagen, there were many on Gaborone's streets. Was it just a coincidence that a car that looked like Witness's was parked near Marumo's house on the night of the murder? The man who reported the car hadn't seen it in the neighborhood before.

Kubu thought it unlikely that Witness was responsible for Marumo's death, but they needed to check it out. After all, Mabaku was on a mission. If they left a single stone unturned, there'd be trouble.

Kubu pulled in behind Samantha, climbed out of his Land Rover and joined her in front of the small house. The curtains were drawn, and there was no Volkswagen in the drive.

They banged on Witness's front door, but there was no response. They circled the house but the windows were closed.

“Let's check with the neighbors. You take that one. I'll take this.” Kubu walked to one of the houses and knocked on the door, but there was no reply. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly half past five. Maybe they haven't got back from work, he thought.

He looked over to see how Samantha was faring. She was talking to an elderly woman, so he walked over to join them.

“This is Mma Bule. She's been at home all day,” Samantha said, closing her notebook. Kubu nodded as Samantha continued. “She saw me this morning, and says Maleng drove off after loading his car not long after I left. She doesn't know where he was going.”

“
Dumela
, Mma Bule,” Kubu said. “How's Witness been since his daughter disappeared?”

“Eish.” She shook her head. “I think the spirits are in him. Ever since Tombi didn't come home, he's been a different person. He loved her very much, and, after his wife's death, this must be too much for him. Tombi was such a good girl. They were always happy together.”

“How did his wife die?” Kubu asked.

“Of the AIDS! They were very happy together, then she told him that she had it. Witness was very angry that she wouldn't tell him how she got it. She died very quickly—­just over a year.”

“Did he talk to you about who may have taken Tombi?”

“No. Everyone tried to help, and we looked everywhere. It's so sad. Then he started drinking, and many times I saw his friends bring him home late at night.”

“Do you know where he went to drink?”

“Everybody around here goes to BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL. It is a
shebeen
not far from here, on Letsopa Street.”

Kubu glanced inquiringly at Samantha. She nodded. “I know where it is.”

“
A
AII
.
H
E WAS ANGRY.
Sad and angry.” Big Mama wiped her brow with a dishcloth from behind the bar. “Until Tombi disappeared, he didn't come here very often. Never drank very much and was always quiet. I think he preferred being at home.”

Kubu and Samantha didn't say anything.

“But after Tombi couldn't be found, he started coming here a lot. And drank too much. Sometimes he was so drunk that his friends had to take him home.” She looked at Kubu. “I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen. He drank and drank and would sometimes cry into his beer. It was so sad. He loved Tombi so much, especially after his wife died. She was all he had.”

“Did he ever suspect anyone of taking Tombi?” Kubu asked. “Did he ever mention anyone who might have done it?”

Big Mama shook her head.

“No. Eventually he thought someone must have put a curse on him. He said it was the only way to explain why a good man like him could lose everyone he loved.”

“Did he suspect anyone?” Samantha asked.

“No, but I suggested he visit Mma Gondo.”

“Mma Gondo?” Samantha asked quietly. “Who's she?”

Big Mama looked at her curiously. “Everyone knows Mma Gondo. She's a very powerful witch doctor.”

Kubu stiffened, and Samantha inhaled sharply.

“Big Mama,” Kubu said taking out his notebook, “tell me about Mma Gondo. Everything you know.”

Big Mama pointed to a small table in the corner. “Sit there.”

She then went through the door behind the counter.

Kubu and Samantha looked at each other, then walked over to the table and sat down. A few moments later, Big Mama reemerged with a tray on which there were three plastic glasses, a pitcher of water, and a Tupperware container of ice cubes. She filled the three glasses, pushed the Tupperware container into the middle of the table, and sat down.

“Help yourselves to ice.”

She leaned back in the chair.

“About a week after Tombi disappeared, Witness came to me and said he was convinced that someone had put a spell on him. There was no other reason that made sense. He was a good man, then his wife died, and now his daughter had disappeared. It had to be a spell.”

She took a deep drink.

“He wanted me to confirm this.”

“Why you?” Kubu asked.

“He thought I was a witch doctor. But I'm not. I'm a traditional healer. Anyway, I told him about Mma Gondo. Now she
is
a witch doctor—­a powerful one, known far and wide.”

“Does she deal in
muti
?” Samantha interrupted.

Kubu raised his hand, indicating that she should be patient.

“Yes, she does. But not in human body parts, as far as I have heard. Animals, yes. Plants, yes. But not humans.”

“Did Witness see Mma Gondo?”

“Yes. He told me he was very disappointed. He said he had spent nearly all his money, and all she had said was that he must look for a man who was nothing, and is now something. He was very angry, because he didn't know how to find such a man in a big city like Gaborone. He said there must be hundreds of men like that.”

Big Mama shook her head.

“Sometimes men don't listen. I told him when the time was right, he would recognize the man. I didn't convince him, and he stormed out.”

“Is that all? Did he say what Mma Gondo had told him about
muti
?” Samantha was getting frustrated.

“I haven't finished. Mma Gondo didn't talk about
muti
, only about who may have benefited from it. Anyway, a few minutes later, Witness came back and said he knew who Mma Gondo meant and started talking about Bill Marumo and the Freedom Party. He said that they were going to win the by-­election. I told him that was impossible because the BDP always wins in this area, by a large margin. He told me to wait and see. Then he left.”

She took a deep breath and looked at Kubu.

“And the Freedom Party did win—­against all odds,” he whispered.

Big Mama nodded.

“And Bill Marumo was murdered right after.” Samantha's eyes glistened with excitement.

“Was that the last time you saw Witness?” Kubu asked.

Big Mama nodded, then hesitated. “I went to his house to look for him yesterday. I was worried after that talk about the Freedom Party and then the news about Marumo. I think Witness was in the house because his car was there, but he didn't answer when I called him. So I gave up.”

The three of them sat quietly for a few moments.

“There's one other thing,” Big Mama said. “A few weeks ago, just after his daughter disappeared, Witness went to a rally for the local Freedom Party candidate, Jacob Pitso. Marumo was also there. Witness tried to attack him. Luckily some of Marumo's supporters stopped him before he did any harm.”

“Did he tell you why he went after Marumo?”

“No. But ­people I spoke to said Witness called him the Devil and accused him of being a rapist.”

“A rapist?” Samantha asked. “I haven't heard anyone accuse him of that.”

“It was nonsense,” Big Mama replied. “He was very mixed-­up.”

Kubu struggled to his feet. “Thank you, Big Mama,” he said, a little self-­conscious at using that name. “Thank you very much.”

A
S SOON AS THEY
left the
shebeen
, Kubu phoned Mabaku and told him what Big Mama had said.

“I'm going to get a constable over to Witness's house in case he comes back,” Kubu concluded.

“Good,” Mabaku replied. “And I want you to come to the office now to fill out a search warrant application for his house. I'll phone Judge Lope to alert him we need the warrant signed this evening.” He hung up.

That's Mabaku, Kubu thought, a bit miffed. Not long on positive reinforcement.

“How will the courts regard a revenge killing?” Samantha asked. “Especially if that
muti
you found at Marumo's came from Witness's daughter.”

Kubu shrugged. “Nothing's clear when
muti
is involved. Everyone's scared that a spell will be put on them. I think you're going to see the ball passed along the line like a hot potato.”

“That's why
muti
murders never stop,” Samantha cried. “Nobody has the guts to stand up to the witch doctors. If the president had a daughter, and she disappeared, maybe things would change.”

Before Kubu could answer, his phone rang.

“Assistant Superintendent Bengu,” he answered. He listened for a while.

“Are they sure it's not at his office?” He frowned.

“And you've searched the house and his car?” He listened to the answer.

“And the garden?” He nodded.

“I'll send someone there right away to get the details. Thank you very much for calling me.” He pressed the red button on his cell phone.

“That was Jubjub Oteng, Marumo's girlfriend,” he told Samantha. “The new head of the Freedom Party just phoned her asking for Marumo's briefcase. It has important party documents in it. Apparently they saw Marumo take it with him when he left the office on Saturday evening. Jubjub checked in his car and around the house but can't find it. Please go and speak to her and get a detailed description. Check also whether she knows what he may have had in it. Then do the same at the Freedom Party offices. If it's still missing, let all the local police stations know and also the garbage haulers. They should all keep a sharp lookout for it.”

Samantha nodded. “I'll see if anyone at the Freedom Party headquarters has a photo of him with it. That'll help.”

“Good thinking.” Kubu nodded. “Also, talk to the woman who saw the man running from Marumo's house. Ask her if she can remember whether he was carrying something. Call me when you've finished. I'll probably be at Witness's house if we get the warrant. Maybe the briefcase is there.”

Samantha left and walked to her car. Kubu stood deep in thought. If we don't find the briefcase, maybe it was a politically motivated murder, he thought. The country doesn't need that. He shook his head.

I'd better give Joy a call, he thought. Tell her I'll be late. And to put my dinner in the oven. He grimaced. He detested dried-­out meals.