Death of the Mantis

by Michael Stanley

  Jill nodded. “I heard a rumor. Of a fight or something. Well, Monzo had a nasty temper too, as bad as Haake. Funny that they seemed to get on together.”

  Lerako had to ask her to repeat the last sentence. Then he said, “You mean they knew each other?”

  “Monzo joined Haake the day he left. I think they were going off to explore some area together. Obviously Monzo had a much better knowledge of the Kalahari than I have.”

  “Please tell me exactly what happened. It could be important.”

  “Well, the day Haake left, Monzo joined us at breakfast time. He had driven from the game camp and hadn’t had much to eat, so I gave him toast and marmalade while Haake had his omelet. They talked about an area they meant to go to. Monzo said they could get there in a couple of days, and Haake seemed quite excited. They had second cups of coffee, then Haake paid, thanked me very nicely for my help and trouble, and they left. That’s all there was to it, I’m afraid.”

  Lerako leaned forward. “Did they look like old friends, or as though they’d just met?”

  “I think they’d met before. Haake recognized Monzo as soon as he arrived. But they shook hands formally, not as though they were good friends or anything.”

  “Did you see either man again after that?”

  She shook her head.

  Lerako got to his feet. “Mma Jill, you’ve been a great help. And the coffee was excellent as always.”

  “You’re welcome, Detective. Just don’t steal any of my camels on your way out.” She laughed.

  Lerako drove slowly back to the main road, his mind testing out the new development of the link between Haake and Monzo. Two men with hot tempers and things to hide.

  He didn’t even notice a camel watching him superciliously from the side of the road.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  After the previous day’s grueling drive back to Gaborone from Windhoek, Kubu came into the office late on Friday. It was only that afternoon that he heard what Lerako and Tau had discovered. Not only did the new information linking Monzo and Haake support his view of the murders, but he noticed a change in Lerako’s attitude also. Lerako was coming around. The stone wall was crumbling.

  And there was interesting news from Windhoek too.

  He felt he had enough to take to Director Mabaku, and he wanted to share the story. Perhaps Mabaku could enjoy a pleasant weekend, also.

  The director was dealing with e-mail and paperwork. How does he stand it? Kubu wondered. He must have three times the amount of administrative stuff that comes across my desk.

  Mabaku swung round and gave Kubu a dubious look. “I hope you have something good to report for a change, Kubu.”

  Kubu settled himself into a chair without invitation and nodded. “I think we know what happened,” he said. “Not all the details. But the outline. We can see the picture now.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Lerako and me.”

  “Lerako’s in agreement with this?”

  “Ninety percent, I’d say.” He hesitated and shrugged. “Eighty at least.”

  Mabaku leaned back, looking more relaxed. “Let’s hear it.”

  “It’s Haake. We believe he’s on a treasure hunt for the source of the Namibian coastal diamonds. It seems to have become a passion, perhaps an obsession. And he’s afraid of anyone stealing his ideas. So when he discovered he was being followed on one of his exploring trips, he took action.”

  Kubu filled Mabaku in on Muller’s story of the theft of the data, his hiring of the private investigator, Krige, and his recent phone call from Haake. “Krige would’ve needed to keep quite close to Haake, and we think that at some point Haake noticed him. That night—if Ian’s right about the time of death—he doubled back, crept up on Krige, and killed him. He spent the night there and in the morning set up the fake shooting attack. The forensics people found ammunition in Krige’s car, so we think he had a handgun with him, which we never found. Probably Haake did find it and used it to make it look as though another person shot at him. But his story falls down because there was no trace of a third person there. There are no footprints that we can’t link to either Haake or Krige, and no sign of a third vehicle. The two of them must have been alone out there. Once we discovered the connection between them and understood what Haake was doing, we could see a motive. It was all pretty obvious.”

  Kubu paused and frowned. “The thing is, when I spoke to Haake, he was quite convincing. His story hung together and was pretty much what he told Tau. And, of course, he denied any knowledge of Krige. I knew he was hiding something, perhaps that his visits to Botswana had a more serious purpose than hobby trips. But nothing set off an alarm in my head. There was one thing, though. He used Krige’s name before I mentioned it. When I asked him how he knew the name, he said he’d heard it on the radio. But he couldn’t tell me where or when. The Namibian police have established that Krige’s name did appear in the Windhoek newspaper on the Monday, but there’d been no report on the radio. What’s more, when they showed Haake’s picture to the caretaker at Krige’s apartment building, she recognized him. On Thursday he came to the apartment building and asked her if she knew when Mr. Krige would be back. She told him Krige was away on one of his cases. She knew Krige was a PI, so Haake found that out and probably linked it to Muller. I’m sure that led to the threatening call to Muller.”

  Mabaku wanted to know more about Haake’s motivation, and Kubu went over what they’d learned about his project from Muller, Ilse, and Jill. At last the director appeared satisfied.

  “It seems to make sense,” he said. “Certainly enough to grill him and see what you can get.” He hesitated. “But what about Monzo?”

  Kubu described the deposits in Monzo’s bank account and the information from the Endabeni Guest House and Berry-bush Farm.

  “He was obviously moonlighting. But the most significant thing Lerako discovered was that Haake and Monzo met up at Berrybush Farm and went on a trip together. Monzo seems to have been a greedy type. I’d guess he tried to muscle in on Haake’s plans—or even his discovery if he’s actually discovered something—and that Haake decided to put a quick stop to that. So he came back on another trip, kept out of sight, and killed Monzo with the rock, hoping it would be taken as an accident.”

  Mabaku thought this through. “How would he know where Monzo was going to be that day?”

  “Probably he set up a meeting. Lerako found exactly one phone call to the ranger station the afternoon before the murder that couldn’t be traced. It was about the time Monzo took a call, and it came from a public phone in Hukuntsi near the gas station there. So Monzo made up the story of sorting out the Bushmen and met Haake in the desert. That’s when Haake made his move.”

  “And what about the fake footprints?”

  Kubu shrugged. “I don’t think they were fakes. Probably Haake checked out the area before Monzo came.”

  Mabaku shook his head. “It’s very thin, Kubu. All guesswork. All you know is that the two of them went on a field trip together. There’s no evidence they had a fight or indeed any contact after that. Maybe Haake has an alibi. Maybe he wasn’t even in Botswana on that day. You’d better check with Immigration.”

  Kubu had thought of this too. “Director, you’re absolutely right. But you agree we have a strong case against Haake for the Krige murder. How likely is it that there are two murderers running around in the middle of the Kalahari at the same time? I’m pretty sure that once we have Haake in custody, we’ll get to the bottom of all this. He’ll be forced to admit to the Krige killing, and then he’ll come clean on Monzo too.”

  Mabaku nodded. He could accept that strategy, but there was one flaw. “And where is Haake right now?”

  Kubu wriggled uncomfortably in his chair. “It’s strange. We know he crossed into Botswana on Tuesday. We should have him by now. He had no reason to believe we were after him, nothing that would make him run for it. But there’s no answer on his cell phone. My guess is that he’
s on one of his trips, probably deep in the Kalahari again and so out of contact.”

  Mabaku looked doubtful. “I hope this isn’t another of your vanishing suspects, Kubu. I wouldn’t start celebrating until Haake is safely behind bars, if I were you.”

  But Kubu was confident. “We’ve alerted the South African police, Interpol, the lot. There’s nowhere for him to go, and I don’t think he even knows we’re looking for him. In a day or so he’s going to drive into a town or approach a border post. And then we’ll have him!”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Kubu spent Saturday morning at the office catching up on paperwork that had accumulated during his visit to Namibia. But his spirits were good, and he hummed a Mozart tune as he plowed through the stack of papers. The week had been successful. He was confident that his prime suspect for the Krige murder would be apprehended in the near future and Monzo’s death would then be explained.

  He was looking forward to the evening. Pleasant had invited them to dinner, and Joy had arranged a babysitter for the first time. Kubu felt a pang of guilt as he eagerly anticipated being with Joy for a whole evening without Tumi. As much as he loved the two of them, when they were together, he felt he was getting too little of Joy’s attention.

  Appreciating the evening off, Joy smiled the whole way to Pleasant’s apartment. They knocked at her door, both expecting a frazzled Pleasant to greet them. Joy’s sister was not an accomplished cook—probably because she was single and often invited out—and was invariably running late. To their surprise, Pleasant looked completely composed, and greeted them with a wide smile and hugs all around.

  Kubu was immediately suspicious. Something’s up, he thought.

  The next surprise came only seconds later as they walked into the small living room. Standing there was Bongani Sibisi, lecturer in ecology at the University of Botswana, and Pleasant’s on-and-off boyfriend.

  “Bongani! How nice to see you,” Joy said enthusiastically, shaking his hand.

  “Where’ve you been hiding?” asked Kubu, giving him a thump on the shoulder.

  The handsome young man with John Lennon glasses smiled shyly. “I’m well. And very happy to see both of you. It’s been a long time—my fault. I’ve been busy on a new project.”

  “I’ve a surprise for you,” Pleasant said with a big smile.

  I knew it, Kubu thought. Here it comes.

  “We’re going out to dinner. Bongani’s treat. He wants to celebrate—he’s just been promoted to associate professor. We’ll have a drink here, and I’ve made some snacks. Then we’re going out to Rodizio at Riverwalk.”

  “Congratulations, Bongani. That’s wonderful!” Joy gave Bongani a big hug, to his mild embarrassment.

  “Well done,” said Kubu giving Bongani another thump. “Very well deserved too, if a little late. The university doesn’t realize just how good you are.”

  Rodizio was a newish restaurant and none of them had been there before. They spent a few minutes perusing the menu. Both men ordered Meat Rodizio, described as an unending supply of different types of meat—chicken, fillet, pork ribs, veal, chorizo sausage, and others. Kubu was delighted. All-you-can-eat meat! He sighed contentedly. The women both ordered vegetarian dishes, as though they could offset the amount of meat about to be consumed. Finally, Bongani ordered a bottle of South African sparkling wine for the occasion. Kubu would have preferred a decent red, but made no comment.

  After they’d all had a chance to tuck into their food, Kubu lifted his glass. “I have a few toasts I’d like to make. First, to you, Bongani. Congratulations on your promotion. It is well deserved, and we are proud to know someone who knows so much!”

  The four clinked their glasses.

  “The second toast is also to Bongani—thank you for this lovely dinner. You shouldn’t have spoiled us like this—but we love it. I hope your promotion to full professor comes soon. I have a suggestion of where to eat that evening!”

  More leaning across the table to ensure all glasses were touched.

  “And my third toast is to my dear sister-in-law, Pleasant. Thank you for not cooking!”

  After the laughter had died down, the four resumed eating. Kubu was particularly impressed with how frequently waiters appeared at his side holding swords skewering the different meats. I’ve gone to heaven, he thought.

  Finally, Bongani raised his glass and said quietly. “I also have a toast.” He paused for effect. “To my fiancée, Pleasant.”

  The whole restaurant turned to see what the shrieking was all about. Joy was uncontrollable. She jumped up, tears welling in her eyes, and hugged Pleasant. Then she hugged Bongani. Then Pleasant again. Bongani and Kubu were a little embarrassed by the commotion, but did nothing to stop it. They couldn’t have even had they tried.

  Pleasant rummaged in her bag and pulled out a small box. She opened it and lifted a ring with a small diamond in a contemporary setting. She slipped it onto her ring finger and flaunted it with a huge smile. Joy and Kubu admired it and exclaimed how beautiful it was.

  Kubu lifted his glass and drained it with a flourish. “You must come back to our place and have another drink. This is a wonderful evening. We must enjoy it to the full.”

  Eventually they ended up back at Pleasant’s apartment, having made a detour via Kubu’s liquor cupboard for the best of his stock. They had realized that continuing the party with Tumi in hearing distance could ruin the evening. The babysitter was promised double payment for a few more hours.

  The celebration continued until midnight, when they left; Kubu prayed that there would be no roadblocks on the way home. It wouldn’t look good for an assistant superintendent to be caught driving under the influence.

  If Tumi cried that night, neither Joy nor Kubu heard her. They both slept as though drugged. Before his eyes closed, Kubu had a momentary fantasy that he and Joy would make love. They’d had a wonderful evening with nothing to spoil the enjoyment. But although the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak, and it was only seconds before Kubu’s snores reverberated through the house. Fortunately Joy was equally inebriated and heard nothing. In fact, although Kubu didn’t know it, she made nearly as much noise as he did.

  Kubu awoke on Sunday morning with a fierce headache, made worse by Tumi’s incessant crying. Both he and Joy had overslept by more than an hour, and Tumi was letting them know, in no uncertain terms, that such neglect was unacceptable. To make things worse, Ilia howled every time Tumi hit a certain note.

  The weekly trip to Mochudi to enjoy Sunday lunch with Kubu’s parents was further delayed because Pleasant and Bongani were late in arriving, no doubt victims of the same malaise.

  When they eventually set off, the hour’s drive was uneventful. Pleasant sat in the back seat with Joy, who was trying to console Tumi. Bongani was even quieter than usual, and Ilia had been relegated to the back of the Land Rover, where she was frustrated by being so close to the cold meat and salads Joy had brought for lunch.

  As soon as the car door was open, Ilia raced along the fence, skidded around the corner at the gate, and jumped up at the elder Bengu, who smiled broadly and lifted the dog affectionately.

  Kubu walked up to his parents and greeted them, “Dumela, Rra. Dumela, Mma.” He then extended his right arm to his father, touching it with his left hand as a mark of respect.

  Wilmon responded solemnly: “Dumela, my son.”

  “I have arrived,” Kubu said formally. “And I apologize for being late.”

  “You are welcome in my house. How are you, my son?”

  “I am well, Father. How are you and Mother?”

  “We are also fine, my son.” Wilmon’s voice was strong, but quiet. Joy and Pleasant gave Wilmon and Amantle hugs, and Amantle took Tumi from Joy, kissing her on the forehead and rocking her in her arms. As if by magic, the baby stopped crying. Then Kubu introduced Bongani. “Father, Mother, this is Pleasant’s friend we have told you about. Dr. Bongani Sibisi. He’s a professor at the university.”

  As B
ongani shook hands with his parents, Kubu watched his mother with amusement as she thoroughly scrutinized the newcomer.

  “So, you are the man who has been giving Pleasant such a difficult time.”

  Bongani had been warned of Amantle’s directness, but this was not the greeting he’d expected.

  “Um,” he spluttered. “I don’t try to be difficult . . .”

  “It is important to be nice!” Amantle interrupted. “Pleasant tells me that you spend too much time working and not enough time paying attention to her.”

  “But, Mma, . . .”

  “No ‘buts,’ Bongani! Pleasant deserves your attention all the time. Not just when it is convenient to you. That is very selfish!”

  “My mother,” Pleasant broke into the exchange. “Don’t be too hard on him, because I have good news for you. He has asked me to marry him!”

  Amantle hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “I hope you have accepted?”

  Pleasant nodded. Only then did Amantle’s wrinkled face break into a huge smile.

  “Hallelujah! I am so happy for you.” She handed Tumi back to Joy and enveloped Pleasant in her arms. The two swayed back and forth, locked in shared joy. Then Amantle broke free and shook her finger at Bongani. “It is about time! I was very worried that Pleasant would end up unmarried and without child.” For her that was the ultimate horror. Bongani smiled weakly.

  Then Wilmon smiled and extended his hand. Pleasant pushed the hand aside and gave him a huge hug. As usual he wasn’t certain whether to be shocked or delighted. Delight won, and he patted her cautiously on the back. “I am very happy for you. I wish you both a very happy life together—like Amantle’s and mine.”

  Then he turned to Bongani. “Bongani, I do not know you, but if Pleasant loves you, you will always be welcome at our home.”

  “Thank you, Rra. Pleasant always has such kind words to say about you and your wife. It will be my privilege to get to know you.”

  “Congratulations, Bongani.” Amantle extended her hand. “If Pleasant loves you, so do I. But make sure you respect her and treat her well.”