Facets of Death

by Michael Stanley

  What if she’s completely against alcohol? What will she think when she finds out I like wine?

  He took a deep breath, trying to find something to say.

  “Tell me about your family, Kubu. Are you from Gabs? Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  This was a safe topic, so Kubu opened up and talked about his upbringing in Mochudi and how lucky he was to have loving parents who’d sacrificed so much to ensure he’d receive a good education.

  “They even managed to persuade our local priest to approach Maru-a-Pula School to give me a scholarship.”

  “You went to Maru-a-Pula? That must have been difficult—with all those rich kids.”

  “Actually, it was wonderful. The teachers were very good and helped me a lot. And even though it took quite a long time, I did make some friends, mainly through sport.”

  Joy looked at him quizzically. “What sports did you play?”

  “Oh no. I didn’t play, but I was the scorer for the cricket team. I liked that.” He paused, wondering whether he should say what was on his mind. “Actually, it was there that I got my nickname. One of the boys, Angus Hofmeyr, called me a kubu, for obvious reasons.”

  “That wasn’t very nice, calling someone a hippo.”

  “I was hurt at first, but he didn’t say it to hurt, but more as a term of affection, I think.”

  “You should have flattened him.”

  “Anyway, I got used to it. Now I hardly know that my real name is David. Everyone calls me Kubu.”

  * * *

  Kubu was thankful when the food arrived because he had a respite from Joy’s gentle probing. As he chewed on his lamb burger, he realised he’d done almost all of the talking so far, without feeling at all embarrassed.

  She’s so easy to talk to, but I don’t know anything about her.

  They both passed on dessert, and when the coffee arrived, Kubu started asking Joy about herself. He discovered that her childhood had been very different from his. She’d grown up in Francistown and was a middle child with an older brother, Sampson, and sister, Pleasant, who was two years younger. Her mother had been a teacher, and her father had owned a small but successful shop. Joy was fifteen when their mother died from tuberculosis.

  “It was the worst moment of my life. We were very close.” Kubu could see Joy’s eyes tear up.

  “What did your father do?”

  “He was devastated and threw himself into making his shop even more successful. We hardly saw him. Fortunately, both my grandmothers were still alive, and they took care of us.”

  “When did you come to Gabs?”

  “Two years ago. My father had a massive heart attack and died.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you. None of us knew anything about running a shop, so we sold it, probably for less than what it was worth. But we ended up with more money than we’d ever had. Pleasant and I decided to come to Gabs and find work. Sampson stayed in Francistown and works for the government.”

  “What does Pleasant do?”

  “She’s a travel agent.”

  “Why did you join the police? It’s seems an odd place for a woman to work.”

  Kubu could see Joy bristle. “What do you mean by that?”

  Kubu blushed and stammered an apology. “I mean…”

  “I joined the police service so I could find a husband. A strong man who would protect me.”

  Kubu didn’t know what to think. Why had she asked him out then? He hardly fit that image. He sat there desperately trying to find something to say.

  Then she burst out laughing. “I was working for an agency that provided temporary staff. I was assigned a few times to the police records department, and they liked what I did, and I enjoyed the people I was working with. When they offered me a full-time job, I accepted.”

  * * *

  “So, tell me how you like being a detective.”

  Kubu signalled the waitress to bring two more coffees.

  “I love it! Other than the paperwork, of course. I get really bored filling out forms, so I make mistakes. Then I have to do it again. Otherwise, it’s even better than I expected. My first case was really intriguing. Let me tell you about it.”

  Kubu then told her about the suitcases that apparently went to their destinations, only not to arrive there.

  Joy frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s why it was so interesting.” He then went on to explain how the tags were switched. “So, in fact, although their tags reached their destinations, the bags didn’t. They never left the airport here.”

  “But how did they take them from the airport? It would’ve looked suspicious for baggage handlers to walk out of the terminal carrying fifteen bags.”

  “That puzzled us also, but when we grilled them, they eventually told us. Very simple, actually. After taking the tags off, they returned to the terminal with the bags and put them onto the same carousel as the bags they’d just taken off the plane. Since that was what they did the whole time, nobody had a second thought about it. Then an accomplice who worked for a travel agent just took them off the carousel and put them in his tour bus. Nobody was suspicious because that was his job, something he did every day. Quite clever.”

  Joy laughed. “It’s amazing what people will get up to.”

  “It was a very small case, but very intriguing. Very different to the diamond heist.”

  “Tell me how you solved that one.”

  Chapter 95

  The waitress returned and put down the cups of coffee. Kubu took a sip. “First, I didn’t solve it. We did. Everyone played a part. And second, for me, the most important thing I learnt was how little I know. After university, I thought that I knew a lot, but now I realise that the most important learning comes on the job. Assistant Superintendent Mabaku has a reputation as a tough taskmaster, but I have to say, I’ve learnt a lot from him. He is tough, but he’s fair.”

  “Please tell me about the case.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, Kubu described his role in the case, from being a note-taker in meetings to being responsible for locating a witch doctor who seemed to be heavily involved in the robbery.

  “It’s interesting,” he continued. “One of the things I learnt at university is that most criminals are not that bright, that they make mistakes. But this lot was pretty careful. I was lucky to spot a simple mistake the so-called witch doctor had made. He gave a fetish to a white man. I thought anyone who was a real witch doctor would have known that most whites are not worried about fetishes and spells. That it wouldn’t have any impact. That got me thinking that maybe this witch doctor was in fact a person just pretending to be one. That opened our eyes to other possibilities.

  “Then I had a second piece of luck. The day I joined the CID, I browsed through a folder of APBs. One of them was of a safebreaker wanted by the South African police for murder and armed robbery. I remembered the face, which was unusually narrow. So, when a woman described a person at a place we were interested in as looking like a jackal, I thought there may be a connection. It turned out there was.”

  “Was he the brains behind the operation?”

  “We thought so initially, because he systematically got rid of anyone who could identify him. He ordered the armoured-car guards murdered, including the one who hijacked the armoured car with the diamonds. Then he tipped off the police in South Africa to set up a stakeout where all the robbers were killed, and he slit the throat of the man who was pretending to be a witch doctor.

  “Then we picked up another mistake.” Kubu explained how Chamberlain said that the mine’s head of security, Eddie Tau, told him that he was going to confess to his involvement in the crime. Tau was murdered shortly afterwards on the same evening.

  “But it turned out that Chamberlain made a call from Tau’s home to the Gaborone Sun
hotel right after speaking to him. The hotel confirmed later that the person who received the call was our jackal-faced suspect. Now we had Chamberlain linked with the robbers. But jackal-face realised Tau could identify him and drove to Jwaneng that night and shot Tau, trying to make it look like a suicide. I think the only thing that saved Chamberlain that night was that he was the only one who knew the fence in Johannesburg who would exchange the diamonds for hard cash.”

  Kubu stirred his coffee and took a big mouthful. He wasn’t used to talking so much and needed to catch his thoughts. Joy said nothing.

  “So, we were pretty sure of who’d been involved—jackal-face for the robbery and murders, and Chamberlain for the brains. But knowing all of this doesn’t amount to much without hard evidence, so we had to work out how to catch them.

  “Fortunately, Chamberlain gave us jackal-face on a platter. He told us when and where the diamonds were going to be given to a fence. At a park in Johannesburg, in fact.”

  “How would Chamberlain know a fence?” Joy interrupted.

  “He didn’t. But he knew someone who did—a Lucas Letsa who works for Debswana. It turns out he’s a con man who conned his way into Debswana using false credentials. He’ll be met by police when he returns to Botswana—if he does.”

  Kubu drained his coffee cup, then continued. “So, the South African police set up an ambush at the Zoo Lake to catch both jackal-face and the fence.”

  “But why did Chamberlain do that? He lost his share of the diamonds that way, didn’t he?”

  Kubu nodded. “We think that Chamberlain had realised the situation was deteriorating rapidly and decided the best way to save his own skin was to get rid of jackal-face. So he set him up. As you’ve probably read, the South African police caught him, but he was seriously injured. He’s now conscious, but there’s brain damage. He’s confused, and he’s been raving about the major and the witch doctor and the robbery. Maybe one day he’ll be able to tell us a coherent story.”

  “And how did you catch Chamberlain?”

  “Well, he’d covered himself well, except for that one mistake of using Tau’s phone the night of the murder. We didn’t have enough to convict him, so we had to set a trap for him.”

  “I didn’t know police set traps. Isn’t that against the law?”

  “It depends on how it’s done. The trap we set was designed to get the major to admit what he’d done.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Well, we threw him off balance. One of my father’s friends is a real witch doctor. We asked him to dress up in leopard skins and so on. When Chamberlain came to work the first day after jackal-face had been captured, the witch doctor was sitting in his office chair. Of course, we’d primed him with all the relevant information.” Kubu smiled. “Maybe I was too hasty about white people being immune to witch doctors. Initially, Chamberlain told the witch doctor he was a fake. But when the witch doctor started recounting information that only the witch doctor involved in the robbery would know, he started to wonder and became pretty scared. Anyway, the witch doctor made Chamberlain think he had the diamonds. He even dropped a few on the carpet. Chamberlain couldn’t resist. He took the bait and implicated himself in the whole affair.”

  “I read he was arraigned the other day on charges of theft, accessory to murder, and several others I can’t remember.”

  “Yes, he’s going to be a guest of the government for a long time.”

  “But why did he do it? He was the head of the mine! He must have had plenty of money.”

  Kubu nodded. “He’s refused to say anything other than denying his involvement. But the recording of his meeting with the witch doctor is very incriminating—apart from anything else, he mentioned jackal-face’s real name. How would he have known that if he wasn’t involved?

  “As for motive, that’s harder. We’ve been digging around and discovered that all the family money comes from his wife, who is related to the De Beers owners. Probably he got his job that way too. He wasn’t popular at the mine and was likely to be replaced by a Motswana soon. Then he’d have been out of a job and stuck with his wife. They don’t get on, and she’s now filed for divorce. From what we’ve heard, they are a real pair of losers. And deserved each other.”

  “It seems that however much someone has, it’s never enough,” Joy commented.

  Kubu nodded. “I don’t have much money, but I do have a job I love, several good friends, and wonderful parents.”

  “Well, congratulations, Kubu. You’ve certainly had an amazing first few weeks.”

  * * *

  It was mid-afternoon before Kubu drove Joy back to her flat. When they arrived there, he parked and climbed out of the Land Rover.

  “You don’t have to come up, Kubu.”

  His lack of confidence kicked in immediately.

  Is she giving me the brush-off?

  But her next words allayed his fears. She took his hand. “I had a delightful afternoon. Let’s do it again next Saturday.”

  “That would be wonderful,” he stammered.

  She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  She turned and headed for the steps, leaving Kubu standing next to his Land Rover at a total loss for words. His whole body felt full of…

  What is it I’m feeling? Excitement? Fear?

  Both, he concluded. And also impatience for the following Saturday to come around. He smiled and climbed back into the Land Rover.

  “Joy,” he said out loud. “What a beautiful name.”

  * * *

  “Well?” Pleasant asked as soon as Joy came through the door. “How was it?”

  Joy didn’t answer.

  “Come on. Tell me. What’s he like?”

  “He’s wonderful.” Joy smiled. “And he doesn’t know it.”

  THE END

  Glossary

  Asseblief: Please (Afrikaans)

  Bakkie: Pickup truck (Southern Africa)

  Batswana: The Tswana people (see Motswana)

  Botho: The idea of gaining respect by giving it (Setswana)

  Debswana: 50/50 partnership between De Beers and the Botswana government

  Dikgobe: Setswana word for a mixture of beans and samp (see below)

  Dumela: Hello (Setswana)

  Dram: Shot (of whiskey)

  Fundi: Expert (Southern Africa)

  Gabs: Short for Gaborone

  Gou-gou: Quickly, quickly (Afrikaans)

  Highveld: Southern African plateau above about 1,200 metres

  Ja: Yes (Afrikaans)

  Jislaaik: An expression of surprise (South African slang)

  Jong: Young man (Afrikaans)

  Kêrel: Bloke, fellow (Afrikaans)

  Knobkierie: A short club made from hardwood with a knob on one end, used as a weapon (Afrikaans)

  Koffee: Coffee (Afrikaans)

  Kraal: Small traditional village (Southern Africa)

  Kubu: Hippopotamus (Setswana)

  Lekker: Nice (Afrikaans)

  Lobola: Bride price (Southern Africa)

  Mense: People (Afrikaans)

  Mma: Respectful term when addressing a woman. Mrs., madam (Setswana)

  Motswana: A Tswana person. Singular of Batswana

  Muti: Medicine (Southern Africa)

  Nee: No (Afrikaans)

  Ngaka: Doctor (Setswana)

  Nyama: Meat (Setswana)

  Oke: Person (slang)

  Pap: Dry corn porridge (Southern Africa)

  Pula: Botswana currency = 100 thebe

  Rra: Respectful term when addressing a man. Mr., sir (Setswana)

  Samp: Southern African food consisting of dried corn kernels that have been stamped and chopped

  Setswana: Language of the Batswana people

  Seswaa:
Traditional Botswana dish made from beef and goat meat

  Shake Shake: Brand of sorghum beer in Botswana

  Sjambok: Heavy leather whip

  Skelm: Bad person

  Thebe: Botswana currency (See pula.)

  Tsotsi: A bad person; a criminal (Southern Africa)

  Veld: Grassland, field (Afrikaans)

  Vrot: Rotten (Afrikaans)

  Ye ken: You know (Scottish)

  Acknowledgments

  Many people have given us their help and encouragement with this book.

  We thank our agent, Jacques de Spoelberch of J de S Associates, for his continued support.

  We are delighted to be published by the Poisoned Pen Press imprint of Sourcebooks, and thank Barbara Peters, Diane DiBiase, Anna Michels, Beth Deveny, and the rest of the team for their input and enthusiasm for our stories.

  We benefitted greatly from the valuable input of the Minneapolis writing group—Gary Bush, Barbara Deese, and Heidi Skarie. Also, Steve Alessi, Linda Bowles, and Steve Robinson read the completed novel and gave us very helpful feedback. With all their comments, it’s hard to believe that the book still has mistakes, but it probably does, and we take responsibility for any that remain.

  We’re also very grateful for the support and patience of our partners, Patricia Cretchley and Mette Nielsen, without which we’d never have reached THE END.

  Meeting the Young Kubu

  We didn’t plan that David “Kubu” Bengu would be the protagonist of a series of novels set in Botswana. In fact, when we wrote our first book, A Carrion Death, we weren’t planning a series at all. Even though we’re both South Africans, we chose to set the book in Botswana because we needed a setting where you could dump a naked human body undetected and be confident that hyenas would consume it, bones and all. Botswana fit the bill, but South Africa didn’t because the wildlife areas are so well controlled. As for the protagonist, we believed that we should write about what we knew and, as academics ourselves, we’d planned that a brilliant young ecologist would discover the body (before the hyenas had finished their work) and go on to solve the mystery.