The Witchdoctor's Bones

by Lisa de Nikolits

  “Did you know that he’s a surgeon?”

  “No! No way! Really? Wow. Then he could have done it like they said. And remember, he was totally obsessed with all that muti stuff.”

  They looked at each other.

  “And that would also explain their disapearance in Swakopmund and the fact that they looked so beaten up. But still … murder? And Mia? Come on, she’s nothing but an airhead and a stupid drunk.”

  “She’s a psychiatric nurse.”

  Helen was shocked into silence and Kate nodded. “You see? And they never wanted to really do any of the tourist stuff unless it involved witchdoctors and magic. And then, we got to Swakopmund, they disappeared, a woman was murdered in true muti style and they get all banged up?” Kate shrugged. “Who knows, there’s a good chance I’m wrong since it would really be crazy if it was true, but I’d love to find out.”

  “We can search their tent,” Helen said confidently, pulling the gloves off. “They’re all so out of it, we wouldn’t have to worry about them finding us. And I’ve already been in there, to put that stuff in Richard’s mask – I gotta tell you, watching that disgusting stinking stuff pour down his face was one of the best moments of my life. Who says revenge isn’t fantastic? Come on let’s go and search their tent.”

  By now the ceiling was covered with fist-size moths and the kitchen light had begun to flicker on and off, and little could be heard above the sound of the rain pounding on the tin roof, with torrents of gushing water pouring down the eaves.

  Helen stopped. “Fuck,” she said, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “What?” Kate froze, her heart was already beating hard with fright at the possibility of them being discovered in Richard and Mia’s tent.

  “I wasted my entire holiday on Robbie. How stupid was that? I can’t believe how stupid I was.”

  “You were heartbroken, Helen,” Kate said, “there’s a difference between heartbroken and stupid. And now you’re not heartbroken. Be happy about that, okay, instead of mourning the loss of a holiday that really wasn’t a holiday anyway.”

  Helen laughed. “You see, there you go again, looking on the bright side. Okay, you ready? I’ve got a flashlight. Don’t worry, they’re so out of it, they won’t know we’re there.”

  Kate and Helen stepped out into the deep mud. The flashlight illuminated a small area in front of them in the dense wet darkness. They headed for Richard and Mia’s tent, passing the wild party along the way. By now the group was buck-naked, singing and shouting as they danced around the trashcan fire under the awning. Entwined and entangled, they caressed one another, their bodies smeared with thick red mud, their faces war-painted masks with howling mouths. Kate stopped, mesmerized. The pounding music along with the primeval storm ignited the certain pull of animal lust in her and for a moment she too wanted to tear off her wet clothes and join the insensible party and dance with abandon. She too wanted to lose herself in the glory of Africa; Africa, a goddess of rage and fury. She turned to Helen, wondering if she felt the same crazy madness but Helen just laughed.

  “They look like such idiots, don’t they?”

  Kate turned back to look at the crazed group but Helen grabbed her hand and dragged her forward.

  They found Richard’s tent and Helen unzipped the sodden fabric and crawled inside, with Kate following.

  “Don’t worry about making a mess,” Helen said. “The place is a pig-sty anyway.”

  She was right and Kate looked at the chaos of jumbled items and wondered where to start.

  “You grab Mia’s bag over there,” Helen told her and Kate took the items out, one at a time while Helen grabbed Richard’s bag.

  They searched in silence. Kate was halfway through the bag when Helen suddenly snapped off the flashlight.

  “Ssh,” she said, “can you hear something?”

  Kate strained to listen. “It’s raining too hard to hear anything,” she whispered. She broke out in a cold sweat and crouched deadstill over Mia’s bag.

  “I can hear something,” Helen insisted. “Someone’s coming.”

  They waited in the darkness when suddenly the tent door was unzipped and Kate and Helen grabbed at each other. A body tumbled inside and fell top of them and they all screamed. Kate and Helen both realized that it was neither Richard nor Mia and Helen clicked on the flashlight.

  It was Ellie, drunk, stoned and muddy, deciding she’d had enough for the night.

  “Why are you in my tent?” she asked, looking confused.

  “This is my tent,” Helen asserted, “and Kate’s sharing with me because you guys are making too much of a ruckus out there. Go and find your own tent, you’re getting crap all over us.”

  Ellie sat up and burped. “I feel sick,” she announced.

  “Take it outside,” Helen said brusquely. “Now!”

  Ellie clambered over them and crawled out into the night. Helen stuck her head out and watched as Ellie took two paces and then fell down in the mud, retching.

  “Eugh,” Helen said. “Listen, we’d better hurry up.” She balanced the flashlight on a pile of dirty clothes and they resumed their search, working in silence.

  “I’ve got nothing,” Kate said, coming to the end of Mia’s possessions, disappointment in her voice. “And I was so sure.”

  But Helen had gone oddly silent. “Uh, no, actually, you were right. Funny, I feel sick. I mean I didn’t really think that it could be true.”

  “What did you find?” Kate felt a headache starting and she realized that she had been clenching her jaw. She crawled over to where Helen was kneeling.

  Helen wordlessly held up a ziploc bag that held a necklace with the name ‘Rosalee’ written in gold cursive script.

  “Oh my God,” Kate said, shaken by the discovery. It was one thing to harbour suspicions and another to discover the truth.

  “But wait, I found more…” Helen held up a torn piece of newsprint with an advert for an escort agency that had a picture of Rosalee.

  “Why would they be so stupid as to keep this stuff?” Kate whispered.

  “Because they’re that arrogant,” Helen said, digging deeper among Richard’s things and pulling out a pair of high-heeled silver platform shoes with glittery sequinned straps. The shoes were worse for wear and a large rust-coloured stain covered the one heel. Kate grabbed a plastic bag that had held liquor and Helen dropped their findings inside.

  “Let’s go,” Helen hissed, “we’ve got enough stuff. The police will do the rest. Come on.”

  They ran back to the kitchen where the light continued to flicker on and off.

  “Should we tell Jono?” Helen asked and Kate shook her head.

  “He won’t do anything.” She dug out her cellphone. “There’s no signal.” She shook the phone as if that might help.

  “It’s the storm,” Helen said. “We’ll have to wait until the morning. In the meantime, let’s go and wait inside the bus, our tents will be soaked.”

  Carrying their precious cargo carefully, they ran back out into the rain and towards the bus.

  Under the awning, the dancers had lost their manic energy. Gisela and Lena had passed out and were lying in each other’s arms. Jasmine was out cold, her head in Mia’s lap. Mia was smoking a joint, her eyes closed and Richard was leaning up against a tent pole, cradling his ruined mask and finishing off a bottle of bourbon. The music had stopped and even the storm’s fury was beginning to abate. No one noticed Kate and Helen climb into the bus.

  “Here,” Helen threw a T-shirt at Kate. “The advantages of me drying my stuff everywhere.”

  Kate tried to summon a grateful laugh but she was wrung out by the events of the night and she pulled the T-shirt on in silence, appreciating its dry warmth.

  “Drink this,” Helen said, handing her a can of Coke. “Lots of sugar, good for shock.”

  Kate cracke
d it open and even managed a smile. “You are good in a crisis,” she said. “If anyone can save the world, it’s you.”

  “Gotta save my own world first,” Helen said dryly, spreading mats out on the floor. “Come on, lie down, get some rest.”

  “I’ll never manage to sleep,” Kate said but before she knew it, it was morning.

  She sat up, groggy, while the events of the previous night sorted themselves out in her waking mind. Helen was still asleep and Kate grabbed her phone and quietly made her way outside.

  The sky was clear and cry of the ring-necked dove sounded its haunting melody. The air was washed with a spicy clean fragrance and Kate took a deep breath, drawing the purity deep into her lungs. Around her, the others slept on, oblivious.

  She got André on the second ring and she explained the situation to him.

  “I’ll get my cop friends,” he said. “We’ll be there in two hours max. Are you safe till then?”

  “Yes, fine, the rest of the gang are all out of it. They’ll most likely still be drunk when you get here.”

  She closed the phone and looked up to see Jono climbing out of his tent. She called out and walked towards him.

  The Aftermath

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, ANDRÉ ARRIVED with the police, two hours after having spoken to Kate. Helen and Kate explained the situation and handed over the evidence and the police made a thorough search of Richard and Mia’s tent while snapping handcuffs onto the sullen pair.

  “Helen and I remembered Sofie saying that they posted stuff back to England from Swakopmund,” Kate added. “There may be more evidence on its way to the UK.”

  The constable in charge nodded and made a note. “The good news is that you guys found enough to put these two away until we come up with more — and we will.”

  Kate turned to say something to Helen and saw her chatting happily to one of the helicopter pilots, a small man with dark hair and a sizable nose.

  André followed her gaze and he laughed. “Got her sights on Kevin, does she? She could do a lot worse. But he’s got two kids. I don’t know how she’ll feel about that when she finds out. His wife left him a couple of years back, left him with a baby and a toddler. He’s a good guy.”

  “I think she’d make a good mother,” Kate said. “If you ask me, all she’s looking for is a family to love.”

  “And you and me, bokkie, are you still going to let me treat you to the lap of luxury before you head off back home?”

  “André,” Kate said, “I’d love nothing more than a real holiday, I can’t tell you…” She was interrupted by the arrival of another helicopter that landed in a cloud of dust and she turned enquiringly at André who shook his head. As they watched, the pilot climbed down and unlatched the back door, holding it open for a police officer who helped a thin black lad in handcuffs climb down.

  “My goodness,” Kate said, “that’s Dumi. What’s he doing here?”

  “That’s the boy you mentioned to me, the one who followed you that night?”

  Kate nodded.

  Dumi pointed to Kate and the police officer led him over. “This is the guy who stabbed the fellow from your tour,” the police officer explained. “And he’s here to identify the man who paid him.”

  Dumi started to cry when he saw Kate. “Madam, I am very sorry,” he snuffled. “He said he would give me a hundred dollars if I hurt you. He said I mustn’t kill you but I must hurt you, I am very sorry.”

  Kate felt the coffee rise in her throat and before she could help herself, she threw up into the mud, with André patting her back. She straightened up and wiped her mouth. She looked at the police officer. “I’m not going to jeopardize anything but I’m quite sure I know who’s responsible.”

  “It is that man over there,” Dumi said, pointing at Rydell who was yawning and stretching, having just climbed out of his tent. Dumi continued. “He said he would pay me one hundred and fifty dollars for stabbing the man and one hundred for you. He said I must not hurt you as badly as the man. That is why I was following you that night, Madam, I am very sorry, Madam.”

  Rydell saw Dumi and his face paled. To the everyone’s amazement, Rydell started to run, heading towards the bush with his strange jerky stride.

  André watched him for a moment. “I think it’s time I practised my rugby tackle,” he said and he took off after Rydell, catching hold of him easily and leading him back by the scruff of his neck.

  “I don’t even want to look at him,” Kate said, staring at the ground as the policeman snapped handcuffs onto Rydell who looked amazed, as if he could not believe what was happening.

  The officer led Rydell back to the helicopter along with Dumi and the small aircraft took off.

  Kate watched it become a tiny dot in the sky and she started to shake. “For the first time,” she said, “I truly understand what it means to have one’s life threatened. I was so full of myself. I never thought Rydell would harm me. I even thought he liked me.”

  André hugged her close. “He’s deranged, bokkie. I bet he’ll get off on an insanity defense and go to a mental home. But Kate, I promise you, I’ll help you get over this, okay?”

  She nodded, her head buried in his chest.

  “The police are packing up,” he said, stroking her back. “We should be able to leave soon.”

  Three weeks later, Kate was waiting to have lunch with André in Le Bistro Afrique in Swakopmund.

  They had just returned from a long safari to the Okavanga Delta and had gone on to the Chobe National Park and then Victoria Falls. From there they had flown down to Cape Town and stayed at the Mount Nelson hotel for a few days before heading back via Sossusvlei so Kate could get to see the heart of the Namibian desert that she had missed out on. Following that, they had flown back along the coastline with spectacular views of the Skeleton coast. Kate enjoyed every magical moment of her second, real holiday. She and André quickly fell into an easy rhythm and the horror of her overland journey had, for the most part, faded.

  She opened a newspaper to see a familiar story:

  A London couple was yesterday indicted on several charges: first degree murder, trafficking human body parts, violating international and national postal customs, and smuggling.

  Dr. Richard David Conlon, 34, and Mia Amanda Teller, 31, both of Kensington Gardens, have been in custody in Namibia for several weeks and have now been formally charged. Evidence has shown that the couple went to Namibia on an overland holiday to select and kill a victim for body parts that they sent back to London.

  When asked why she had engaged in the ‘muti’ killing, Teller said she’d “done it for kicks”, that it was “something different to do.”

  Dr. Conlon said that he had been studying traditional African healing techniques for some years and he’d been curious as to whether there was any truth to the muti legends.

  “We felt compelled to investigate further, to see for ourselves. I know it seems shocking in London, but in Africa, it’s perfectly normal,” he’s reported as saying. “As a doctor and a surgeon, I was interested from a research and development point of view. It’s unfortunate that the woman had to die, we obviously do understand that, but research is research; I’m a scientist, and I stick by my decision to have killed in the name of science; that’s how we’ve evolved as a species and made some of the most important discoveries of our time.”

  The body of Rosalee Khumalo, 23, a sex worker, was found in December, with her limbs severed, her genitals and breasts cut off, her head missing, and fat removed from her abdomen.

  The British police, working with the Namibian task force, alerted the British postal service after evidence of the murder was found by two women on the trip, and an interception by British Post and the police led to the discovery of packages containing a human eye, a severed human head, human genitals and breasts, and a bag of what appeared to be human fat, all packaged i
nside tourist souvenirs and addressed to Dr. Richard Conlon.

  Access to the couple’s computer revealed that they intended to sell some of the body parts, hoping to extort exorbitant sums of money. Parties who expressed interest in purchasing the body parts are also being investigated and will face charges.

  The case continues.

  Kate showed André the newspaper when he arrived at the restaurant and his face darkened. “Ja, that poor woman lost her life and Jono and Betty had a very bad time because of them. If those two hadn’t been obsessed with bad muti, a lot of the bad stuff wouldn’t have happened. I mean Rydell was one crazy dude regardless, that’s true, and Stepfan was such an arsehole, so with him, it was simply a matter of time.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “Ja, and the fact that Charisse died and Harrison got hurt had nothing to do with them, so nee man, I guess bad things would have happened anyway.”

  Kate leaned over and tousled his hair. “I’m glad Sofie’s going to be okay. She’s lucky she had such a good doctor. And I got emails from Jasmine, Ellie, Enrique, Eva and Marika,” she said. “They’re all back home and fine, and they had a great time on their roadtrip. Oh, and Lena went back to Sweden with Gisela. I got a lovely message from them too, they sound very happy.”

  “And Jono will bounce back,” André said. “I meant to tell you, his bosses were sorry he had to go through that hell, and they gave him a month off with full salary paid, the works, and they’re going to give him a new tour route. And, like I thought, Rydell the weirdo ended up back in Kansas, in a mental home. His mother and family doctor flew out and saved him. You wouldn’t believe it, but Rydell comes from big money, he’s been crazy all his life. He used to kill the family pets willy-nilly but they never thought he’d actually murder anyone or hire someone to do it.”

  Kate shuddered. “I still can’t bear to think about me walking down that street all alone that night, with Dumi sent to hurt me. I hope they lock Rydell away forever. How do you know all this stuff anyway?”

  “Friends in lowly places, what can I say?” André grinned at her. “And Harrison’s fine. He made a full recovery, and Treasure’s moved to Seattle with him and her kid and her mother, and she’s going to have a baby, did you know that?”