Facets of Death

by Michael Stanley

  * * *

  As Kubu drove to the Princess Marina Hospital, he was a little apprehensive. He’d never been to the morgue before and had a feeling that attending an autopsy was likely to be more gruelling than looking at the overhead slides that had been used to illustrate one in lectures.

  He needn’t have worried. By the time he’d reached the morgue behind the hospital, the pathologist had finished and was removing his gloves and lab coat.

  He greeted Kubu with a smile. “Good day to you,” he said with a broad Scottish burr. “I’m Dr. Ian MacGregor. I just started here this month. And you are?”

  Kubu smiled back. “I’m Detective Sergeant David Bengu, but everyone calls me Kubu. And I’m also new.”

  MacGregor washed his hands and arms, dropped the towel in a laundry basket, and then shook Kubu’s hand.

  “Kubu? Does that name mean something?”

  Kubu laughed. “Hippopotamus.”

  MacGregor’s eyebrows raised. “I can see the similarity, but don’t you mind? I mean…”

  Kubu shook his head. “I’m used to it.”

  “Well, apart from their size, hippos have some other characteristics that are pretty impressive. So Kubu it is. Call me Ian. Now how can I help you?”

  “Assistant Superintendent Mabaku wanted me to be here for the Tau autopsy and to get your report.”

  “Well, I just finished the autopsy, but I can show you the cadaver if you like. Or shall I just explain my findings?”

  Kubu was relieved to settle for the latter. “What the assistant superintendent really wants to know is whether it was murder or suicide.”

  “I believe it was murder, but I can’t be sure. Sit down and I’ll explain.” He pulled out a sheet of paper and drew a sketch of a skull from the front. Then he spent the next few minutes describing the trajectory of the bullet through the brain and the damage it’d done. Tau had died instantly.

  “There may be some doubt about who pulled the trigger, but no debate about the cause of death,” Ian concluded. “There was powder burn and stippling around the wound, so I’d say that the gun was two or three centimetres from the head. That’s unusual for suicides. They tend to put the gun against the skull. Stops it shaking.”

  Kubu was impressed by how much could be deduced from analysis of the injury. He took another look at MacGregor’s diagram, and said, “Isn’t it surprising that he shot himself in the right side of the head? The assistant superintendent found out that he was left-handed.”

  “Ah! Well, in that case, I’m confident it was murder. He couldn’t have used his left hand to hold the gun to inflict that wound. It’s physiologically impossible with that wound angle. And if he used his right hand, why didn’t he support the gun on his head? Makes no sense. And another thing is that he was verra drunk. That actually supports suicide—alcohol is a depressant, ye ken. But shooting himself that way when he was that drunk?” He shook his head. “I don’t believe he could do it.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Will that keep your boss happy till I get the full report to him? I need to do another autopsy now. This one had his throat cut. It’s been quite a busy weekend already.”

  Kubu thanked him and took his leave.

  “Nice to meet you, Kubu,” MacGregor responded. “When the dust settles, maybe we can compare our impressions of our first weeks on the job. Maybe have a dram together?”

  Kubu wasn’t too sure what a dram was but agreed without hesitation. Not only would it be useful to be on good terms with the pathologist, but he had taken an immediate liking to the wiry Scotsman.

  As he walked out of the morgue, he made a mental note to look up the other impressive characteristics of hippos.

  Chapter 82

  When he returned to the CID, Mabaku picked up Kubu’s note, talked to Neo, and then headed for the director’s office. When he arrived, Gobey was talking to the deputy national commissioner of police in Johannesburg. He motioned Mabaku to a seat, and then finished his conversation.

  As he hung up the receiver, he sighed. “Well, it’s all set up. The South African police will be at Zoo Lake in full force on Tuesday afternoon. I hope it’s not a bloodbath. Apparently, there’ll be a lot of people there—jogging and picnicking and just enjoying the park at this time of year.”

  “It’s really our best chance to catch him,” Mabaku responded. “It’s Tuelo all right. Not only did the fingerprints from the Otse house match his, but one of the staff at the Sun recognised his picture.

  “What puzzles me is the call to him from Tau’s house. I’m convinced it was Chamberlain, but he denied it, of course. The voice recognition people will take a look at it, but they’re doubtful. The whole conversation was less than a dozen words.”

  “Is it possible Chamberlain shot Tau?”

  Mabaku shook his head. “I don’t think so. Both his wife and his daughter were with him that night after he came home from Tau’s. I don’t think they’re lying. The wife’s a bit of a battle-axe. I doubt she’d lie for him anyway. And she was at pains to tell me how well she was connected with the Oppenheimers at De Beers. No doubt the commissioner will get a call about it.”

  “So why would he get involved in something like this anyway? It sounds as though he has it made.”

  Mabaku shrugged. “I have no idea what his motive could be. I just can’t see how anyone else with an English accent would be phoning from Tau’s house that night. It’s just too much of a coincidence.”

  “Well, I trust your instincts, Jacob. Maybe everything will be clearer if the police in Johannesburg nab Tuelo. Let’s go home and see what happens tomorrow.”

  Mabaku nodded. It had been a long two days. “Thank you, sir. I think I could use a good night’s sleep.”

  MONDAY

  Chapter 83

  There was a spring in his step as Kubu walked to work on Monday morning. He was happy that he’d made a significant contribution to the investigation of the diamond robbery. Now he wondered how it was going to be wrapped up.

  He was pleased to see that Neo was in his office, so he walked in and sat down.

  “Good morning, Neo. How was your weekend?”

  “What weekend?”

  Kubu shrugged. “I didn’t have one either. Any news about the suitcases? What did the airlines say?”

  “I have to give it to you, Kubu. Those questions you asked me to follow up on? I had no idea what you were thinking…”

  “The tags didn’t match the bags, right?”

  Neo nodded. “Of the bags that the airlines thought didn’t make it onto their final flights, seven still had the tags—three in England and four in France. All of those tags were for the stolen ones.”

  Kubu grinned with satisfaction. “It took me some time to see what was right in front of us. We assumed that the tags were on their respective suitcases when they were scanned. But then I realised that if they took the tags off the bags they wanted to steal, scanned them, and then switched them with tags that had already been scanned, it would look as though all the bags left Gabs. It was a clever idea.”

  “I’m still confused as to how they were able to take them off the airport.”

  “I’m not sure either, but it’s sure to be simple. Let’s check with the assistant superintendent that we can bring the two baggage handlers in the CCTV back here for questioning.”

  Chapter 84

  Mabaku hadn’t had the good night he was hoping for. He’d tossed and turned, trying to put the pieces of the case into order. It could all make sense: Tuelo planned the robbery and used the witch doctor to co-opt Tau, who was the insider supplying information about the backup plan and presumably arranging the fence. But was Tau so naïve that he told Tuelo who that was, making himself disposable? That was possible, but one piece wouldn’t fit no matter how he tried it—the phone call from Tau’s house to Tuelo at the Gaborone Sun. There was only one
arrangement of the pieces that made that fit.

  Still tired from the restless night, he went into the CID early to catch the director in his office. After their discussion, Gobey phoned the deputy commissioner.

  “Deputy Commissioner, could we have a private meeting with you?” Gobey said. “There are a couple of issues we need to bring to your attention urgently.”

  The deputy commissioner agreed, and they headed across to his office.

  Mabaku kicked off. “Deputy Commissioner, there is one aspect of our investigation that doesn’t fit with Chamberlain’s information. We learnt from our tap that there was a call from Tau’s house to Tuelo at the Gaborone Sun hotel around eight fifteen p.m. on the night he was murdered. Although I can’t be certain, I believe it was Chamberlain. It certainly sounded like him.”

  “Go on.”

  “Chamberlain admits he was there that evening. He gave us all the information about the meeting with the fence that Tau supposedly told him. But it could just as easily have been information that he knew himself, because he was behind the whole crime and in touch with Tuelo.”

  The deputy commissioner frowned. “But it makes no sense! In your scenario, Chamberlain sets up the crime, including the fence, then tells Tuelo to kill Tau, and when it all works out according to plan, he throws it all away by telling you all the details. It doesn’t add up.”

  “That is a big question. My guess is that Chamberlain didn’t tell Tuelo to kill Tau or the witch doctor, for that matter. Quite likely he doesn’t even know about the witch doctor’s murder. I think he was alerting him to a problem. Tuelo decided to solve it his own way, just as he did by tipping off the SA police about the robbers crossing the border. After that, Chamberlain could see he was next. As soon as the meeting with the fence had taken place and they had the money, Tuelo would kill him too, and not only keep all the money but also get rid of the last connection to himself.”

  “But surely Tuelo and the fence will turn against him when they’re captured? Their joint evidence will sink Chamberlain too.”

  Mabaku nodded. “That’s true, but I think he’ll have tipped off the fence not to be at Zoo Lake. He probably decided that he’d walk away free if it comes down to his word against that of a known felon like Tuelo.”

  “This is all based on that one phone call,” the deputy commissioner objected. “That’s pretty slender evidence and certainly nothing that Chamberlain wouldn’t be able to beat in court.” He turned to Gobey. “Director, what do you think? At the moment, we have Tau identified by his own admission as the insider at the mine, and if all goes well in Johannesburg, Tuelo will be caught and Debswana will have their diamonds back. Also, Mrs. Chamberlain is closely connected to the De Beers’ Oppenheimers. Is it a good idea to go on what could be a wild goose chase that just raises difficult questions and embarrasses influential people?”

  Gobey took his time before answering. “Deputy Commissioner, what about the families of those security guards? Would they be happy if Chamberlain was responsible for their loved ones’ deaths and we let him go free?”

  The deputy commissioner sighed and stood up. “Look into it. Try not to let it drag on, though. You need to have something concrete by the time the South African police spring their trap in Johannesburg.”

  It was clear that the meeting was over. The two detectives left him and headed back to the CID.

  Chapter 85

  When Gobey and Mabaku returned to the CID, they pulled Kubu from Neo’s office and started brainstorming. Everything the deputy commissioner had said was true. They couldn’t afford to accuse the major and have him laugh in their faces and walk away.

  They tossed around some ideas, but none seemed promising. Kubu listened to the discussion without commenting. Then, when there was a pause, he asked, “If Chamberlain was behind the robbery, how did he communicate with Tuelo?”

  The two senior detectives looked at him.

  “Well, Assistant Superintendent Mabaku believes he phoned him at the hotel,” Gobey said.

  Mabaku understood immediately what Kubu was driving at. “But what about when Tuelo was at Otse with the witch doctor? There wasn’t a phone in the house, was there?”

  Kubu shook his head. “I didn’t see one.”

  Gobey nodded. “They must have had an intermediary they communicated through.”

  “That would be another loose end for Tuelo,” Mabaku responded. “He wouldn’t want someone else in the loop.

  “Cell phone?” Gobey suggested.

  Mabaku shook his head. “They’re so new, the network is only available in Gaborone. Not even in Jwaneng, I believe. How about a message service?”

  Kubu nodded. “I checked. There’s only one in Botswana. And it’s here in Gaborone.”

  Again, the senior detectives looked at him. It seemed the young detective sergeant was a few steps ahead of them.

  “Go over there and see what you can find out,” Gobey said.

  “And go right now,” Mabaku added.

  Kubu was already on his feet heading for the door.

  * * *

  When Kubu arrived at In Touch, he expected to see something high-tech looking. In fact, the messaging service was in a small group of ordinary offices near the airport. The receptionist took him to the manager’s office past half a dozen young women answering calls and typing at their computers.

  The manager introduced herself and asked him how she could help. Kubu gave her a little background, making it clear that a major crime was involved, then asked her how the system worked.

  “It’s quite simple. You register an account and a password with us. When you want to leave a message, you give an account name. The operator checks it and sends the message to the appropriate mailbox. Alternatively, you can ask for messages received and be brought up to date with any messages left for you. For that you need to have the account password, of course.”

  “So, if you know the account number and the password, you can leave a message or retrieve messages?”

  “Correct.”

  Kubu felt despondent. It sounded as though it was impossible to trace the person who owned a mailbox. Then he had a thought. “How do you do the billing?”

  “Anyone who opens an account needs to provide identification and make arrangements for payment. That can be by payment in advance to cover a certain period, or by credit card or debit order.”

  That sounded more hopeful. Kubu thought it unlikely that the criminals would open an account in a real name, but he needed to ask. “Do you have an account in the name of David Chamberlain? Or Edward Tau?”

  The manager hesitated, clearly concerned about sharing clients’ information.

  “In strict confidence, this is connected with that diamond robbery from Debswana.”

  She turned to her computer. After a few moments, she shook her head.

  Perhaps Tuelo opened the account, Kubu thought. But he wouldn’t have done it in his own name.

  “What about Bongani Makanya?” he asked, giving the name Tuelo had used to register at the Gaborone Sun.

  Again, she queried her database. “Yes, he is a client. He’s a South African and gave his passport for identification. He also paid three months in advance.”

  “Do you still have the messages?”

  She nodded. “We keep them for three months. This account has been active for about a month, so we still have all of them.”

  “I need a printout of them, please.”

  She hesitated again. “That information is confidential. We have a responsibility to our clients. You need a court order…”

  “Five people have died already. There could be more deaths if we don’t get the information we need immediately.”

  She thought for a few moments before she turned back to her computer. Kubu decided to push his luck. “Do you keep a record of the incoming phone numbers?”


  She nodded. “They’ll be on the printout.”

  A few minutes later, Kubu was given a computer printout with a list of about fifty entries, each with the date and time of the call, the phone number of the caller, and the message, if there was one. Kubu read through them.

  “What does it mean if there’s just a date, time, and number and no message?” he asked.

  “The caller phoned to ask for his latest messages.”

  As Kubu scanned the printout, he saw that almost all the entries were of that type. All the calls seemed to come from just four numbers. Clearly, each party checked regularly to see if there was any communication. Only nine messages had content, and even those just requested a phone call at a certain time.

  “Would any of your staff remember these callers?”

  The manager shook her head. “We have dozens of messages every day. All the operators do is check the account is paid, and then type the message or ask for the password and read out the stored messages. Then on to the next call.”

  Kubu thanked her for her help and left. As he drove back to the CID, his first reaction was one of disappointment. There was nothing in the messages that identified the callers or what they were planning. But there was information there. The telephone numbers could be used to fix the callers at a certain place and time.

  Chapter 86

  Back at the CID, Kubu established that all the numbers were call boxes—two in Otse and one in Jwaneng—except for the number 588-1100, which was the main number of Jwaneng mine.

  He went to see Mabaku, and together they worked through the list of calls. Kubu started.

  “The first message was 18/11/1998–16:34–539 4281. That’s an Otse call box. It reads: ‘Here. All good. Call number B tomorrow three p.m.’ That must have been Tuelo confirming that he was set up at the witch doctor’s house. Only two call boxes were used in Otse, so they must have agreed to call them A and B.”