Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 01

by Predators

  He stood and strode away into the night. Sanderson watched as his figure was swallowed by shadows. Would she know? Must it be left to her? She did not believe sleep would come soon, nor would there be any rest for her if it did.

  CHAPTER 49

  Sanderson awoke early. In fact, she had not slept well after her conversation with Rra Kaleke. She hoped his prayers were more satisfactory than hers had been. She set out food and left a note for Mpitle to take care of the house and her brother until she had to leave for school. Sanderson drove off to the Safari Lodge. She would find a coffee there and see about the business of the spears. The engine of the HiLux coughed a bit more this morning than usual, and she thought she could smell steam, the sort hot engines make. She worried about that. She would be careful. Then, on impulse she turned toward her office. Mr. Pako no longer ruled that roost. She would check out the Land Rover. Since there was no one else in charge yet, she decided she would be the one, at least for this day, until the new man arrived.

  She pulled up in front of the lodge in the Land Rover and cut the engine. This vehicle ran no better than her bakkie and coughed several times before it chugged to a stop. As she stepped out onto the gravel, she noticed the police vehicle parked further down the circle. Was Mwambe going to ask the questions after all? She hoped so. As she considered whether she should climb back into the Land Rover, Derek Kgasa exited the police car. Derek she knew from school. They had shared textbooks and sometimes traded lunches. Derek was Mwambe’s nephew, which explained how he came to be a policeman. Sanderson knew enough about his brain power to know influence had more to do with his appointment than skill. But she liked Derek; everyone did.

  “So, Sanderson, you are here to help me with this?”

  “Why do you think that, Derek? Did your uncle suggest it?”

  “No, he said you would probably not let this mystery lie quietly, and if I could, I should try to talk you into a sensible way of presenting these events to the Americans.”

  “Sensible? You mean your uncle wishes it, and me, to go far away and for some time.”

  “He called your boss, Mr. Pako, in Maun, but he could not convince him to call you off. His words were ‘That woman is not my responsibility anymore,’ and he hung up. I am assigned to do this investigation, you see?”

  “You, Derek? Your uncle, with all the importance this investigation has for him, will turn it over to you instead?”

  Derek smiled and scraped at the gravel with the toe of his boot. “You know, Sanderson, I am rubbish as a policeman. I try, but except for answering the phone and directing traffic, I have no talent for this work.”

  Sanderson knew this. Everyone knew this, but she was mildly surprised to hear such a confession from him.

  “Why do you keep at it, then?”

  Derek shrugged and smiled some more. He had always been a cheerful follower, and she supposed he became a policeman because someone told him he could.

  “So, what will you do, Derek?” He shrugged again and looked uncomfortable. “Maybe we can help each other, then. Do you know what you would like to do next?”

  “I should interview people, and soon. The manager says the party of Americans will be leaving tomorrow. If there is anything they can tell us, I must find it out now.”

  “Do you know how the man came to die? Did you have a conversation with the medical examiner?”

  “No, my uncle told me the man was attacked by a lion, but there were suspicious wounds to the body and I should inquire. I do not know what that means.”

  “Derek, the man was stabbed with a spear point. They sell these things here in the gift shop. I think we should visit the shop and ask if anyone bought one lately. And if they did, were they connected to the Americans, don’t you think?”

  Derek’s eyes lit up. He stood straighter and nodded. “You are correct. We will ask about that.” He started toward the gift shop and paused. “What shall we ask?”

  Sanderson sighed and led the policeman into the store. The clerk had just opened for business. When she saw the policeman’s uniform she stopped what she was doing and raised her eyebrows. “Yes,” she said, “Can I be of help?”

  Sanderson waited for Derek to begin. He stood like an old baobab tree, which pretty much described him, very thick and hollow inside. When she realized he would not ask the woman the questions, she spoke up instead.

  “Can you help us, yes. You sell diassagai here, don’t you? I don’t see any now, but we were told you did.”

  The clerk looked first at Sanderson and then back to Derek. When he nodded his head quickly, she turned back to Sanderson. “We do not sell them any more. We had a request from the authorities to stop. Some men were fighting with them and there were injuries.”

  “When did you stop the sales?”

  “It was two days ago, I think. I can check for you.”

  “It is not that important. What we would like to know is if you sold any of them before the ban and if so to whom did you make these sales.”

  She pulled the sales slips from the drawer under the cash box and shuffled through them. She put four slips to one side.

  “These are the sales for that item in the last two weeks. You will see they are identified by date and the room number of the guest. Some also have names. This one, which has no name, must have been bought after five. You see this is Alice’s initials on it. She runs the store from five ’til closing.” She handed the slips to Derek who, in turn, handed them to Sanderson.

  She glanced at each. “We must take these to the manager for identification.” The sales clerk looked doubtful. “It is official police business, Missus, we will return them as soon as we can. Let’s go, Derek. We have some more queries to make.” And Sanderson led the policeman out of the store and off to the manager’s office.

  “You are very good at this,” Derek said. The admiration was evident on his broad smiling face. “You should become a detective like the woman in the books.”

  “I don’t think that is a realistic thing to do. That woman is from another day and age. Can you see me acting like that?”

  Derek shook his head. No, there was no way this Sanderson would ever be mistaken for that old mosadi. But he still seemed stuck on the possibility of Sanderson having such a glamorous position. She was a handsome woman, for sure.

  “Forget it Derek. It will not be. I am only hoping to retain my current employment. I do not know what the new man who comes to replace Mr. Pako will say to me after he has heard from that man.”

  As they walked to the manager’s office, Sanderson sorted the slips and arranged them by date.

  “This is very curious, there are diassagai being sold to people with the same room number a day apart. Why would they buy two?”

  “Tourists are strange people, Sanderson. Perhaps they wished to have a pair for an arrangement. Maybe they buy them for a friend. Who can say. They are very curious people.”

  “Or one of them wished to cover up the fact that the first went missing and maybe found its way into that man’s belly.”

  CHAPTER 50

  The American attaché arrived in Kasane early, accompanied by Kgabo Modise. The director at DIS thought it would be a good idea if they had presence at the interview. And, in that case and because he’d been on the scene at the time the body was found, Modise should be the one to go on the trip. Modise wished he’d selected someone else. He never felt comfortable in the presence of officialdom in general and this particular official in particular. The president, briefed on the potential diplomatic difficulties Henry Farrah’s death might create, insisted they fly to Kasane in OK1, the president’s plane.

  Modise’s rise in the ranks of the police service had not been meteoric, but swift nonetheless. When the new Directorate of Intelligence and Security had been formed and subsumed the Criminal Investigation Department, he’d been absorbed into the new configuration. They were acutely interested in the Greshenko-Botlhokwa connection, which was why he’d drawn the assignment in the f
irst place. He knew he should be pleased that the director thought to send him, but this lion caper was one add-on he could do without.

  Inspector Mwambe, overwhelmed by the government’s reaction to his little problem, nearly fainted when he saw the plane touch down. The inclusion of Kgabo Modise did not increase his ease, either. In the police car, he asked if the attaché had been briefed sufficiently. As he did not know what Modise might have said, he knew he must tread lightly until he could determine what would be an appropriate thing to say. He’d practiced his response in front of the mirror the night before. It is most serious and a full investigation by my best man is now under way, he’d recited it a dozen times, altering his expression until he found one that he thought combined both competence and sympathy. But now? What to say? Modise knew of Derek’s capabilities or lack thereof. My best man was not going to wash.

  “Inspector Modise has filled me in, but I would like to have your take on the occurrence. You are, after all, local and familiar with this sort of thing far more completely than the folks in Gaborone—no offense, Inspector Modise.”

  Modise smiled. “None taken, Excellency.”

  “Call me Harry.”

  Mwambe heard but could not see himself calling the American official by his first name. These Americans, they have no sense of propriety, so familiar. He tried to concentrate. He began his speech for the attaché, stuttered, and began again.

  “It is most a serious situation, and I have launched a full investigation by my best…by my team…we have begun our investigation into it. There were…there are, certain complexities with this situation that must be resolved and—”

  “Tell him about the wound,” Modise interrupted.

  Trust Modise to root around like a warthog and make a mess of this. “There was a most puzzling wound found on the body.”

  “It looked like he’d been stabbed.” Mwambe wished Modise would shut up.

  “Perhaps when we arrive at Headquarters we can have the medical examiner fill you in. We also have the photographs of the scene and so on.”

  “Yes, let’s do that.”

  For the moment, Mwambe was off the hook. Perhaps he’d have a moment after they arrived to send someone else over to the lodge to help Derek and make a real show of investigating. Any hope he harbored to minimize the situation until the Americans left later in the day had flown out the window with the inclusion of Inspector Modise in the mix. He would need a miracle to get out of this one. Divine intercession did not seem a likely outcome.

  Annoyance did not do justice to the way he felt.

  ***

  The hotel manager seemed eager to help the policeman, less eager to speak to Sanderson. Her presence confused him. She understood why. There was no way he could know, or should know, that at that moment Derek stood as helpless as a gazelle caught between a pride of lions and a river full of crocodiles.

  The manager said he would identify the guests if he could. He hemmed and hawed, eyebrows dancing up and down, as he flipped through the bits of paper they’d handed them. Sanderson caught a whiff of coffee and remembered she’d planned to have a cup here and that she had not eaten yet.

  One purchase, the manager finally reported, had been made by the English couple who had come to Kasane to add to their bird-watching totals, a pastime that seemed peculiarly British. Another belonged to an important man from Francistown who spent many weekends at the lodge with a woman the manager did not think was his wife, and the remaining two belonged to the young couple who were with the American party.

  “You cannot miss them,” he said. “Their name is Griswold, Robert and Brenda Griswold. The woman is always dressed in a…a flashy manner, talks very loudly, and entertains the game drivers with her appearance and remarks. The husband will usually be found in the bar. The English couple left yesterday, and the man from Francistown on Monday. It would appear that you will only be able to interview the Americans.”

  Derek thanked the manager, and he followed Sanderson back outside. “So, we have our murderers.”

  “No, Derek, no murderers, not yet. These spear points are sold everywhere. It is not necessary that the one that killed the man came from this lodge or this gift shop.”

  Derek’s face collapsed into a frown. “What then? How will I ever be able to know the killer?”

  “It is not so easy being the detective, you see. We must ask some questions of these two people. But you must appreciate that they may not be involved at all.”

  “But how will we know? They will have stories, alibis. They are married, they will not point the finger at one another.”

  “We shall see. If they can produce two spears, it will not be them. If they cannot, well then, we will ask some more questions. We will suggest the presence of fingerprints. I don’t know, Derek. I am a game ranger, you are the policeman. Let’s see if we can find a coffee and something to eat. We can discuss what you should do then.”

  ***

  Brenda surveyed the heap of clothing and paper bags at the end of the bed. She poked her husband in the ribs.

  “Wake up. We have to go to breakfast, and then I want to go to the pool and get some sun. I’m beginning to fade. Too bad they don’t have a tanning salon here. I need to get back home. Maybe we can fly to Miami Beach when we do.”

  Bobby grunted and rolled over.

  “No, I mean it. We have to get moving. Listen, before we go to breakfast, at least let’s get these dirty clothes in one bag so we can pack up quick tonight.”

  She rolled out of bed, pulled on the tee-shirt she’d discarded the night before, and yanked one roll-along from the closet. She tossed it on the bed, unzipped the main compartment and tackled the mess on the bench. She gathered armfuls of clothing and dumped them into the bag, mashing them down so that she could zip the bag closed. When she finished with the bench, she reached under it to retrieve Bobby’s dirty socks and underwear.

  “Wow, look at that.”

  Bobby opened one eye. “What?”

  “My assagai. It was here all the time, under your smelly socks,” She held it up for him to see and then pulled the paper bag with its sales slip in it from the trash can and put in the spear. She slipped that in a desk drawer.

  “There, that’s that. I wonder what happened to my other glove? Maybe it’s under the bed. Get up, Bobby, I need to lift this mattress. And you could use a shower.”

  Bobby said something that sounded like mumph and swung his feet to the floor. Brenda peeled off the tee and headed to the shower.

  “Me first.”

  CHAPTER 51

  At least the coffee was hot. Sanderson preferred the way she brewed coffee to the hotel’s version. However, as the staff had not charged her for it, she could not complain.

  “What now, Sanderson?” Before she could make a suggestion, Derek’s hand-held squawked. “Yes, hello? Who? Yes, of course.” His face took on a look of near panic. “He’s coming here.”

  “Who’s coming here?”

  “My uncle, the American attaché from Gaborone, and another policeman. What do I do?”

  “Well, you can sit here and look afraid of your shadow or, you can hide somewhere, or you can carry on your investigation.”

  “My investigation? What investigation? I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “You questioned the manager. You have some suspects. You have a plan.”

  “I did nothing. It was you, Sanderson. You asked the questions. What now?”

  “Derek, the questions I asked were answered by the hotel manager and the saleswoman because you were there. They didn’t respect my game ranger’s uniform; they respected yours, you see. Now, what we must do is find this young couple the manager tells us about, and ask them about the spears. If it comes to nothing, well, you are investigating, and your uncle will be happy.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Do you have a better plan, Derek?”

  Derek did not. They gulped down their coffee and headed toward the room assigned
to the Griswolds.

  ***

  Brenda had put on her very skimpy bikini and rummaged through the bag she’d packed with laundry earlier for a cover-up when Bobby exited the shower.

  “Put on your trunks, Bobby, and a shirt. We can go straight to the pool after we eat. Maybe they have poolside and we can have lunch there, too.”

  “Always it’s food with you. As much as you eat, I wonder why you don’t weigh, like, a ton or something.”

  “It’s not always about food, and besides I have this high metabolic rate. A doctor told me that one time, and that’s why I don’t have a weight problem like Desiree and some of the other girls. If they ever stopped dancing they’d, like, be huge or something.” She gathered her tote, stuffed a towel, sunblock, and three magazines in it. “Come on, we gotta go.”

  “Hold on to your hair for a minute. I can’t find my flip-flops. They must have been shoved under the bed.”

  “I packed them, wear your Nikes. They’re better on the boards anyway. Come on, come on.”

  “Slow down, Bren, you’ll bust a gut.” There was a tentative knock at the door. “See who’s at the door while I put on my shoes. Why’d you have to pack my flips anyway?”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch. I got it.”

  Brenda dropped her cover-up on the bed and went to the door. A policeman and the animal person stood outside. The policeman’s jaw dropped when she opened the door. It must be a new thing to see a bikini, or something.

  “What’s the problem, officer?” Brenda leaned forward and gave the cop a peek. It always worked. She hadn’t had a traffic ticket in years. What the heck, there was a time when that peek would have cost some serious money. The animal person answered. The cop seemed tongue-tied.

  “We wish to ask you some questions about the death of Mr. Henry Farrah.”