Deadly Harvest (14 page)

TWENTY-THREE

W
HEN
Z
ANELE A
RRIVED AT
Witness's house, Kubu was already there. She spotted his Land Rover first, and then saw him standing at the front door. He was talking to two policemen who had just come out of the house. Obviously the assistant superintendent had obtained the needed search warrant, and they had broken into the house already. She sighed as she pulled in next to the Land Rover. She doubted that they'd been careful not to disturb things inside, but she accepted that the house had to be secured before she and her team entered.

She jumped out of her car and directed the driver to park the forensics van next to the house. Then she walked quickly to the others.

“Hi, Kubu. All clear? No one inside?”

Kubu nodded. “According to these two.” He nodded toward the two constables. “I'll come in with you.”

Zanele nodded. Not much harm could be done now. She liked pristine crime scenes—­ready to test her skills and insights like science experiments. This house didn't look as though it would be that way. She waited while her team unpacked equipment and everyone put on latex gloves and plastic bags over their boots, and then they all entered the house.

The front door opened onto a living area that included a couch and two lounge chairs, a scarred wooden dining table with four mismatched chairs, and a small kitchenette. The room testified to a departed owner. Cupboard doors stood ajar, revealing empty shelves. Zanele pulled out a drawer and found nothing inside. Kubu carefully opened the fridge and found it empty also, and the interior light didn't come on. It had been turned off at the wall. The kitchen was stripped.

They moved on to the next room, a small bedroom off the living area. It contained a double bed with a worn mattress and a cheap two-­drawer bedside table made from a wire frame and woven reeds. No bedding. There was a rickety clothes cupboard, and it too was empty. Kubu shook his head and muttered something Zanele didn't catch.

There was another bedroom, which was even smaller, hardly more than an annex off the living room. Judging by the magazine pictures stuck to the wall, it had been the daughter's room.

“He's on the run,” Kubu said, looking angry. “Damn! I should've sent out an APB as soon as we'd talked to Big Mama.”

Zanele wondered what he was talking about, but she wasn't really interested. She was focused on the task at hand. She was now in the small bathroom, just a washbasin, shower in one corner, and toilet. The cistern was cracked and sweated a little, but the room was clean. Their suspect was a good housekeeper, or maybe he'd cleaned the room recently. She felt a twinge of excitement. She liked bathrooms. They always revealed secrets no matter how carefully scrubbed. She called over one of her men.

“Jonas, have you got the fluorescein and the ultraviolet light? Bring it in here.”

Using a swab, she collected a sample of brownish stain from around the plug hole. Then she sprayed the basin with the fluorescein mixture, and shone the lamp into the basin, carefully positioning it to pick out a hairline crack in the porcelain. It fluoresced. So did the ring where the plug hole met the sink.

“Kubu, there's blood here. Doesn't prove anything, of course. Not yet. We'll have to test the sample. Doesn't have to be human at all, or he could have cut himself shaving. Let's look around some more.”

They walked back to the living room, and Zanele found more blood traces in the kitchen sink. Kubu said nothing, but his eyes roved around the room taking in the signs of the hasty departure. Jonas called out from the larger bedroom that there was a blood smear on one leg of the bed also.

“It's him,” Kubu said suddenly. “There's the blue Volkswagen and what Big Mama told us, now the bloodstains, and why did he suddenly take off after talking to Samantha? He killed Marumo all right. We just have to find out why. And I'd bet that his missing daughter and that
muti
we found at Marumo's house are involved somehow.” Zanele looked up, puzzled at the mention of Big Mama, but Kubu hadn't finished. “Damn! I've let him have a head start. I've got to get hold of Mabaku right away to send out an APB. Then I can finally eat my dried-­out dinner if Joy hasn't given it to Ilia!”

After he'd gone, Zanele was left in peace with her team and her crime scene, checking for fingerprints, scraping up blood samples, packeting hairs, collecting soil particles and even a leaf that might be traced to the murder scene. They worked quietly, efficiently, knowing what to do, starting to build the case against Witness Maleng piece by tiny piece.

TWENTY-FOUR

I
T WAS ALREADY 9
a.m. when Kubu walked into his office. His late dinner and his inability to shut down his mind had caused a poor night's sleep. He fetched a strong cup of tea, then sat down to a stack of notes. On top was one from Samantha—­
0800: Please call me when you get in, S Khama
.

The note felt formal, which made Kubu realize that he was already thinking of “S. Khama” as Samantha. He reflected for a moment. That's a good sign, he thought. If that's how I'm thinking of her, she must be doing a good job.

He phoned her and asked that she come to his office in fifteen minutes. He still needed to attend to the other notes.

“
I
'VE TWO THINGS
TO
report,” Samantha said as she settled in one of the chairs in Kubu's office. “Last night I went to see Marumo's girlfriend. She says that he always had the briefcase with him. He never even left it in the car if he went into a restaurant or meeting. She swears he would've had it when he arrived home.”

“And you checked with the woman down the road, who saw the man running?”

“Yes. She thought he might've been carrying something, but she wasn't sure. I don't think we learned anything from her.”

“And the police who responded to the call?”

“I spoke to them, too. None of them remember seeing it.”

“I didn't see it, either,” Kubu said, “but I arrived a bit later. What about the doctor?”

“He says the same thing. He didn't see it. He says whoever murdered Marumo must have taken it.”

“Did you check with the Freedom Party?”

“Yes, I went there last night. There were still ­people working. They confirmed that he always had the briefcase and wouldn't have left without it. They gave me several photos with him holding it. It's nothing special and didn't have any distinctive markings. I circulated one of the photos to all the police stations and rubbish disposal ­people.”

“Did the Freedom Party ­people say what was in the briefcase?”

“They said the most important was the party's plan for the next election. If someone in another party got hold of it, it could really hurt their efforts. They claimed that the murder and theft of the briefcase were both politically motivated, probably by the BDP.”

“Why would the BDP do such a thing?”

“They say the BDP is running scared after the by-­election and will do anything to stop the Freedom Party.”

Kubu felt depressed. “And I suppose Zanele and her crew found nothing, either?”

“Well, they didn't find the briefcase,” Samantha said, glancing at Kubu, who leaned back in his chair. “It's starting to sound like a politically motivated murder.”

“That's the last thing we need,” Kubu groaned, shaking his head.

“I also checked that the APB went out last night,” Samantha continued. “The
Daily News
will have a short article in today's paper, but there won't be a photo. And some of the TV stations will broadcast a request this morning for the public to keep their eyes open for a Witness Maleng. I sent them all a copy of the picture on his driver's license. Not very good, but better than nothing.”

“Excellent,” Kubu responded. “We'll go and see if we can find the witch doctor he consulted, but I've no idea whether she'll be there. We'll just have to take our chances.”

“I wouldn't know how to contact a witch doctor.” Samantha frowned. “Would you?”

“No. But I'm sure if you wanted one, all you'd have to do is put out the word and you'd get several phone calls.”

“It's weird, isn't it? They're all phonies, yet they're such a big part of our culture. ­People actually believe in them. In this day and age.” She shook her head. “I would've thought we knew better today.”

“As long as ­people believe in them, they'll be around—­whether we think of them as charlatans or not.” Kubu stood up. “Let's go and meet one.”

F
OLLOWING
B
IG
M
AMA'S SCRIBBLED
directions, Kubu negotiated his Land Rover through the dusty streets until they found the witch doctor's house.

“She can't be doing very well,” Kubu said wryly, as he looked at the nondescript structure. “I wonder if that's her receptionist.” He pointed at an old man who was sitting outside the house on a milk crate.

“
Dumela
, rra,” Kubu said. “We are looking for Mma Gondo.”

The old man slowly stood up. Kubu thought he could hear the man's knees creaking.

“She is not available now. Only by appointment. Who wants to consult her? And for what purpose?”

Kubu pulled out his police badge. “If she's here, I need to see her now.”

The old man squinted at the badge.

“She is very busy, but I will see what I can do.”

A few minutes later, the old man gestured that Kubu and Samantha could enter the house. Once they were in, he pointed to the side room. “There.”

As their eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, they saw an old woman wrapped in a blanket. She had white hair and a heavily wrinkled face.

“Sit over there.” She pointed to two low wooden stools.

Kubu and Samantha sat down and waited.

The old woman stared at them. Eventually she spoke in a husky voice.

“You want to know about Witness Maleng.” It was a statement, not a question.

Samantha gasped. “How did you know that?”

The old woman ignored her.

Kubu nodded. “Yes, mma. We
are
here about Witness Maleng.”

After a short silence, she spoke. “He came to see me after his daughter disappeared.” She paused again. Kubu and Samantha said nothing.

“His spirit was disturbed and angry. He said he had lost all he had. He wanted to know what had happened to his daughter and whether someone had put a spell on him.” Another pause.

“I told him to look for someone who had recently been nothing and was now something.”

“Why did you say that?” Samantha asked eagerly.

Mma Gondo turned her head slowly and stared at Samantha. “
Muti
from a young girl is very powerful. It is used to bring success and power.”

“And you believe that nonsense?” Samantha's voice was tinged with anger.

“Samantha. Please listen to Mma Gondo.”

“Your friend does not believe in the spirits.” Mma Gondo nodded. “But she will learn.”

“Mma Gondo,” Kubu said quietly. “Did you suggest that Rra Marumo was responsible for Witness's daughter's disappearance?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Big Mama told me that he came to her
shebeen
thinking that Marumo was going to win the election even though no one thought he could.”

“You think he killed Rra Marumo?” The old woman looked into Kubu's eyes.

“Yes, mma. He is a suspect, but we don't have final proof yet.”

“You asked if I mentioned Marumo's name. No, I didn't mention
anybody's
name. I told him to look for someone whose luck had changed. That is the way of powerful
muti
.”

“Do you make
muti
?” Samantha blurted out.

Again, the old woman stared at Samantha.

“Of course.”

“From children?”

“My child. You know so little. It is not allowed to make
muti
from humans. And it is not proper.”

“But you said you made
muti
!” Samantha's exasperation showed in her voice.

“
Muti
does not have to use human parts. Most witch doctors do not do that. They think it angers the spirits—­harming one person to benefit another. Our
muti
uses herbs and barks and flowers. And sometimes we use parts of an animal if we can get them—­from a cow or a lion. But never human body parts.”

“But some witch doctors do?”

The woman nodded slowly.

“Mma Gondo,” Kubu said quietly. “We need your help. Do you know anyone who would use human body parts to make
muti
?”

“You understand what you are asking?” She looked into his eyes. “If I say anything, a
tokoloshe
may kill me when I sleep. Or I may get very sick. Or my children may disappear. Witch doctors who make
muti
using humans are very powerful. The most powerful.”

Samantha took a deep breath and was about to speak, when Kubu touched her on her shoulder and shook his head. He could sense the anger in her.

“Mma Gondo. You said yourself that killing ­people for
muti
is a bad thing.”

Gondo nodded.

“But you know it happens. And unless we stop it, unless we find the few witch doctors who commit such terrible deeds, it will never stop.”

Mma Gondo nodded slowly.

“I am told,” she started hesitantly, “that there is such a powerful witch doctor here in Gaborone. He is much feared. But he is invisible. No one has seen him. All are scared of his powers, so they don't speak of him or seek him out.”

“So how do ­people get
muti
from him?” Samantha looked puzzled.

“Perhaps he has the power to know when someone wants such
muti
,” Mma Gondo answered.

“This is nonsense!” Samantha was losing patience. ­“People pay for
muti
like this. A lot of money, I believe. How do they pay someone who is invisible? It's nonsense.”

“My child. You are young and keen to stop ­people harming others. That is good. But you do not yet understand the power of witch doctors. But you will learn.”

“Mma Gondo. We need to know who this powerful person is. We need you to tell us.” Kubu too was getting exasperated.

“I do not know who it is, and even if I knew, I would not tell you. It would be known immediately, and I would suffer from many bad spells. But I hope this thing stops. It is bad for all of us.”

“Mma Gondo. You must tell us! This is a murder investigation. I don't want to have to take you in for questioning.”

“You can take me in, Rra Bengu, but I have told you all I know. If I knew who it was and I pointed in his direction, my life would be at an end. I do not want that.”

Kubu saw he was getting nowhere. “Do you know of any other witch doctors who also make such
muti
?”

The old woman shook her head and pointed to the door.

A
S THEY WERE WALKIN
G
back to the car, Kubu's phone rang. He listened to the caller for a few moments, then hung up.

“That was Zanele. Marumo's gourd definitely had human tissue in it. As far as they can tell from a preliminary DNA test they did on hairs they found at his house, it wasn't Witness's daughter's, though. At least that is their initial finding. A more thorough analysis will be available next week.”

“Was it from the girl in Mochudi?”

“They haven't checked that yet. They'll have to get a DNA sample from her sister. It was more important to try and tie it to Witness's daughter.”

“What did you make of Mma Gondo?” Samantha asked as she climbed in the Land Rover.

“I believed her when she said she didn't know who the witch doctor is. But it's useful to learn that there's at least one witch doctor here who uses human body parts. And she did give us one small clue. She said it was a man. I don't think she would have said that by accident.” He turned and looked back at the house.

“All we can hope for is that he will make a mistake some time. They always do. We just have to recognize it.”

Again Kubu's phone rang.

“Mr. Director. You have? Where?”

He listened for a short time.

“Jwaneng. He's applied for a job?”

Again he listened.

“Here's what I suggest. Ask the mine to call him and tell him they want to give him a job. They should ask him to come to the mine in a ­couple of hours to finish the paperwork. Please contact the Jwaneng police and tell them to be at the office at that time. They should be discreet. We don't want him to get wind of what is happening. We should have no difficulty arresting him there. He won't be expecting us.”

Samantha looked at Kubu.

“Ah, yes,” he responded to some comments from Mabaku. “If he sees that, he'll try to get away. We should put road blocks on the A2 on either side of Jwaneng. There are no other roads he's likely to use. Of course, all this assumes he stayed in Jwaneng to hear whether the mine wanted him. But I suspect he did.”

After a few minutes, Kubu hung up.

“As you gathered, Witness Maleng has applied for a job in Jwaneng. Someone in HR read the article in the newspaper and recognized his name. We're lucky someone is awake. We're going to try and arrest him there this afternoon.”

He smiled. “Progress at last!”