Dying to Live

by Michael Stanley

  Ross nodded.

  “Do you have anything more to tell me?”

  Ross hesitated. “Apparently he sent a message to his wife saying he was going to Namibia. He hadn’t told me he was going there, so I—”

  “Namibia? When did he send this message?”

  “I think it was a day or so before you called Petra.”

  Kubu digested that. “So when I asked Mrs. Collins if she’d heard from her husband, she knew this and didn’t tell me?”

  “I don’t know what she said, but her husband said not to tell anyone, so—”

  “Why did she tell you, then?”

  “I’m an old friend! Of course she trusts me. But she knows nothing about you.”

  Kubu decided he needed another talk with Mrs. Collins. Perhaps she would be honest this time. And perhaps she’d received more messages since Ross left the US.

  “Do you have any idea why Collins might have gone to Namibia?”

  Ross shook his head. “It makes no sense.”

  Kubu changed the subject. “Do you know anything about a man named Ramala? He was also interested in Bushman traditional remedies, I believe.”

  Ross looked puzzled and shook his head. “I’ve never heard the name, but I’d be interested to meet him.”

  Kubu shook his head. “That would be hard, Mr. Ross. He’s dead.”

  Kubu noted Ross’s expression and decided that the American was telling the truth.

  At that point Edison came into the room and passed Kubu a note. He glanced at it and said to Ross, “I’ll be back shortly. Please think about what I said.” Then he headed for the door, with Edison following.

  * * *

  AS HE WAS walking, his phone rang, and he saw it was Joy.

  “Hello, my darling, how are things?” he asked.

  “I’ve got good news, Kubu. I can fetch Nono from the hospital tomorrow morning and bring her home.”

  Kubu’s face broke into a broad smile. “That’s wonderful news!”

  “Yes, isn’t it?” Joy said, after a moment.

  Kubu realized something was not right. “What’s the matter, Joy?”

  Again there was a pause. “Well, they say she’s stabilized. That she’s much better, but…”

  “Darling, they can’t cure HIV,” Kubu said gently.

  “The doctor said we’d have to watch her. See how she reacted to the new drug regimen. Kubu, I’m still worried.”

  “Darling, she’s going to be fine. I’m sure of it. Listen, I’m in the middle of a case here, but I should be home in half an hour or so. Will you be all right?”

  “Yes, of course. We’ll talk later.”

  “Love to Tumi.”

  Kubu disconnected, but paused for a moment in the corridor. He knew Joy. If she was worried, the chances were that there was something to worry about.

  Edison glanced at Kubu’s face. “Is everything okay?”

  Kubu frowned. “I hope so … Well, let’s get to Festus. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Festus was waiting in another interview room. Kubu introduced himself and started straight into his questions.

  “Rra Moeng, what is your connection with Dr. Christopher Collins?”

  “I was hired by his boss in the US to find him. A Brian Ross. Is Mr. Ross here?”

  “Why did he hire you?”

  “Ross thought Collins might be lost in the Kalahari.”

  “I’ve been in that position, rra. You don’t hire a private detective. You alert the police immediately.”

  Festus shrugged, but Kubu waited him out. At last Festus said, “I’m paid to investigate for people. As long as what they’re doing isn’t illegal, I don’t ask their motives.”

  “So how did you go about trying to find Collins?”

  “I persuaded the car rental agency to give me the coordinates of the four-by-four he’d rented, and then I went to look for it.”

  “And did you find it?”

  “Eventually I did. Between Ghanzi and New Xade. But it was abandoned, and I couldn’t find any trace of Collins. So I reported to Mr. Ross, and he decided to come out here himself.”

  “And you spoke to people at New Xade.”

  Festus looked surprised. “Yes, I did. But no one there knew anything either.”

  “And it didn’t occur to you to report any of this to the police?”

  Festus shrugged. “I had no idea the police were interested, and I was waiting for Ross to decide what to do.”

  Kubu leaned back in his chair. “And what is your connection to Kgosi Ramala?”

  Kubu noted the momentary surprise on Festus’s face, and the hesitation. “Nothing. Why would I have a connection with a witch doctor?”

  “Rra Moeng, you got an official of the rental car company to give you information that you had no right to obtain. Probably bribed him. Then you found Collins’s vehicle and illegally searched it—”

  “You’ve got it wrong, Assistant Superintendent. I was looking for a missing person. The vehicle wasn’t locked, and I didn’t take anything. I was just looking inside, in case—”

  “There was evidence in there of where Collins had gone.” Kubu leaned forward. “You contaminated what may well be a crime scene.”

  “I knew nothing about a crime! I was looking for someone in the desert.”

  “The vehicle had been abandoned for some time, hadn’t it? Yet you didn’t think it was worth reporting to the police.”

  “I was going to, but I needed to inform my client first.”

  “That’s a good excuse. And then you roughed up an old man at New Xade, who reported it to the police there.”

  “I just grabbed his arm! Look, Assistant Superintendent, I was doing my job. I didn’t know anything about an investigation. I suggested to Mr. Ross that I should talk to the police in Ghanzi, but he wanted to come out here himself first.”

  Kubu leaned forward and stared at him. “Rra Moeng, you’re a private investigator. That means you’re licensed. If I don’t think you’re cooperating, I can make renewing your license very difficult.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” Festus said. “If I can be of help, I will.”

  “Let me ask one last time. What do you know about Kgosi Ramala?”

  Festus shifted in his chair. “I don’t know anything.” He paused. “But I heard a rumor.” He held up his hands. “Through the grapevine. I can’t tell you who told me, and I can’t vouch for it at all. It may all have been made up to get a few pula out of me.”

  Kubu leaned back and folded his arms. “Tell me the whole story. Then I’ll decide what to do with you.”

  * * *

  HALF AN HOUR later, Kubu led Festus into the interview room where Ross was scowling.

  “About time,” Ross exclaimed when he saw Festus.

  “You’re both free to go,” Kubu said, “but I’ll need to talk to you both again.” He turned to Ross. “How long are you planning to stay in Botswana, Mr. Ross?”

  “Perhaps another week.”

  “And what are you planning to do now?”

  “I was considering going to New Xade and seeing what I could find out. About medicinal plants, of course.”

  “Indeed. Well, you’re allowed to go anywhere you like in Botswana, but be warned: If you go to the Kalahari, base yourself in Ghanzi and get a proper guide and translator. And if you go to New Xade, check in with Constable Ixau there. I’ll let him know, and he can help you.”

  And keep an eye on you, he added to himself.

  “Also, please let me know if you’re planning to leave the country.”

  Kubu turned his attention to Festus and glared at him. “And if you learn anything more about Collins or Ramala, you let me know. And leave the following up to us. That’s our job. Remember, at least two people have been murdered already.”

  Festus looked as if he wanted to object, but in the end he said nothing.

  “Is that absolutely clear?” Kubu waited until both Ross an
d Festus had acknowledged that it was. “Detective Banda will take you back now.”

  Kubu watched them leave with Edison.

  I can’t see Ross being behind a murder, he thought. But I’m sure he’s hiding something. And as for Festus, although he’s a thug, I doubt he’s a murderer. Still, at least we have a possible lead on what happened to Ramala. Chinese mafia? Then there’s the professor. Suddenly he’s helpful, but he was pretty offhand the first time I interviewed him. Kubu shook his head. And we’ve no idea if Collins is really out of the country.

  He wanted to sit down with Samantha and brainstorm the whole situation. He tried to phone her, but it was after six o’clock and she’d already left.

  I’ll talk to her first thing in the morning, he decided. Maybe we can come up with some new ideas.

  He did a quick calculation: it wasn’t even midday in Minneapolis. He could call Petra Collins.

  He let Joy know that he was going to be late, then picked up the phone.

  * * *

  “HELLO, SUPERINTENDENT BENGU. Have you made contact with Chris?”

  “No, Mrs. Collins, but it seems I was looking in the wrong place. You told me he was in Botswana, but you knew he was actually planning to go to Namibia.”

  There was a long silence. “Chris made it very clear that I was to tell no one about that,” she replied at last.

  “But you told Mr. Ross.”

  “Yes, he’s an old friend, and I was worried because Chris had suddenly left Botswana and the police were looking for him.”

  “This is a murder investigation, Mrs. Collins. Withholding information from the police here is as bad as doing so from your police in Minneapolis.”

  “I … I didn’t know it was a murder investigation. You didn’t tell me that.”

  “It makes no difference what sort of case it is. You’ve wasted our time and delayed our investigation.”

  There was no reply. Kubu breathed deeply a couple of times to calm down.

  “Mrs. Collins, I want to explain to you what’s been happening here. It will take a few minutes.”

  He told her about the two murders and how he believed they were somehow connected through Bushman herbal medicines. “You can see why I’m so eager to find your husband. Not only can he help us with what actually happened to the Bushman, but he could be in real danger himself. Whoever is behind this doesn’t care what happens to anyone who gets in their way.”

  “But he’s not even in Botswana!”

  “We don’t know that for sure. All we know is that you received an email saying so. We have no record that he left the country. Was there anything about the email that struck you as unusual? Something that your husband wouldn’t normally say?”

  She hesitated. “Just when he signed off … but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Would you read it to me, please?”

  “Okay, wait a minute while I find it.”

  Kubu could hear menu tones as she worked on the phone. “Ah, here it is. He said, ‘Hi darling, I’m going to Namibia and don’t want anyone to know. Please don’t tell ANYONE. I’ll be out of touch for some time but don’t worry. All’s well. I love you, Chris.’ It’s just that he usually just says ‘Love,’ not ‘I love you.’”

  Kubu thought for a moment before he responded. He was sure Petra Collins had been shaken by the story he’d told her and that she was ready to cooperate.

  “Mrs. Collins, this is what we’re going to do. We can trace where the email message came from. Once we know that, we can at least look for your husband in the right place.”

  There was another long silence. At last she said, “All right. What must I do?”

  “I’ll speak to one of our IT people. Her name is Helenka Koslov. She’ll know what to do. She may call you directly or she may call the Minneapolis police. Worst case is that they may need to take your computer for a few hours. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Oh, God, I hope he’s all right. I had no idea … Please do what you can as quickly as possible.”

  “We’re working on it. I’ll phone you back as soon as I have any information.”

  After he hung up, Kubu scratched through his internal directory until he found Helenka’s number. He’d worked with her before and liked the skill and enthusiasm of the young Russian IT whiz, who’d emigrated to Africa for its wildness and its warmth and had joined the Botswana police.

  “No problem,” she said, after he’d explained what he wanted. “Have answer tonight. Email in your Inbox in the morning.”

  As he hung up, he decided to call it a day. I wonder what state my dinner will be in when I get home, he thought. Dried out in the oven or chilled in the fridge?

  CHAPTER 29

  The next morning Kubu brought Samantha up to date on developments, finishing with the rumor about the abduction of Ramala.

  “Please check Riverwalk Mall,” Kubu suggested. “Maybe they have video cameras facing the parking lot. Security may still have the data.”

  “Can I send Edison? That Gampone guy is arriving this morning. How do you want me to handle that?”

  “You should meet him at the airport and bring him here,” Kubu replied. “We can both talk to him.”

  “Do you think he’s involved?”

  “I doubt it, but let’s assume he is. He’ll be very tired, so it won’t be too difficult to upset him. Maybe something will slip.”

  “What about his safe?”

  Kubu thought a moment. “When we’ve finished here, go with him to his house and make sure you’ve got the search warrant with you. Let’s see whether he shows you the safe.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Don’t say anything until you’re leaving. Then ask if he has a safe. If he says he does, take a look at it. If he says he doesn’t, arrest him for obstructing an investigation and bring him in. Then I’ll really look forward to talking to him.”

  While Samantha was making notes, Kubu checked his email.

  “What is it?” Samantha asked, seeing the expression on his face.

  “Helenka in IT says that the message Mrs. Collins received was sent from an IP address here in Gaborone. She’s following that up.”

  “So Collins was here in Gaborone, not in the Kalahari!” As soon as she said it, Samantha shook her head. “No, we don’t know that. Anyone who had his email details and his wife’s address could have sent the message.”

  Kubu nodded. “My guess is that Collins is still in Botswana, and probably in Gaborone—or at least he was last week. When Helenka traces the IP address, that could be the breakthrough!”

  * * *

  JONAH GAMPONE WAS not pleased when Samantha met him at the airport and told him that he had to accompany her to CID headquarters.

  “Goddammit,” he spluttered. “I’ve been flying for sixteen hours. I’m tired. I’m jet-lagged. I want to go home, take a shower, then get some sleep. What’s this all about?”

  “Rra,” Samantha replied, “there was a break-in at your house. We need some information from you.”

  “A break-in? When? What did they take?”

  “We think it was this past weekend and, of course, we don’t know what they took. That’s why we need to speak to you.”

  Once they had retrieved Gampone’s suitcase, they walked out to her car, conveniently parked in front of the terminal.

  “What about my car? It’s parked over there. How will I get it home?”

  “If you give me your keys, my colleague will drive it to the CID.”

  Reluctantly, he handed her the keys.

  “I apologize for the inconvenience, rra,” Samantha said, as they reached her car. “But time is important in these cases. I’m sure you’ll be home in an hour or two.”

  * * *

  “RRA GAMPONE? I’M Assistant Superintendent Bengu. I’m sorry we have to meet in these circumstances, but we need information urgently with respect to the break-in at your home. Would you like some tea or coffee?”

  “Coffee, please.” />
  “Samantha?”

  “Tea, please.”

  Kubu picked up the phone and asked the man at reception to bring two teas, a coffee, and a plate of cookies to the conference room.

  “Now, rra,” Kubu said, turning to Gampone, “while you were away, someone broke into your home…”

  “I know. She told me,” Gampone said, nodding at Samantha. “How can I help you if I’m sitting here? I need to go home and see what’s been taken.”

  “I realize that,” Kubu responded, “but we need some other information first. Please bear with us.” He opened his notebook. “First, you’ve been overseas for two weeks. Please tell us where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

  “What’s that got to do with the break-in? You’re wasting my time,” Gampone snapped.

  “Just answer our questions, please, rra. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll get home.”

  There was a knock on the door, and the receptionist came in with a tray.

  “Thank you, Joshua. Just put it on the table.”

  Kubu handed Gampone a cup of coffee, then offered him milk and cookies. He gave Samantha her tea and slid the plate of cookies to her. Finally, he put three cookies on his own saucer and took a bite of a fourth.

  “So, rra, please tell us about your trip.”

  For the next few minutes, Gampone told the two detectives where he’d been—Vietnam, Hong Kong, mainland China.

  “What business are you in?” Kubu asked.

  “I import different types of merchandise and materials from those countries, and I’m trying to establish an export business, too.”

  “What’s in Botswana that you can export?” Samantha asked.

  Gampone paused before he answered. “Cowhides, small soapstone sculptures from Zimbabwe, indigenous artifacts, and beadwork ornaments.”

  Samantha frowned. “What are indigenous artifacts?” she asked.

  “Mainly replicas of old Bushman hunting kits. You know, bow and arrows, spears, containers for holding poison, and so on.”

  “Cowhides and ornaments? That’s a strange combination.”

  “Not so strange if you know the Eastern markets,” Gampone responded. “Distributors handle a wide array of products. I’ve found two who want that combination.”