“Nigeria,” Samantha answered as she walked out of the cell.
A few minutes later, the second suspect corroborated what the first had said.
“I don’t believe it,” Samantha said. “All that work, and we’ve finally got something. I think it’s time to visit Rra Emefiele again.”
* * *
“HELLO, RRA EMEFIELE.”
“I told you I wasn’t interested!”
“Well, now you have no choice! I’m arresting you on charges of incitement to violence and of disturbing the peace. Edison, please handcuff him.”
“What do you mean? I’ve done nothing. I want to talk to my lawyer.”
“Save your breath,” Edison said. “Two men independently identified you as paying them to cause problems at a kgotla in Shoshong. You can call your lawyer after we’ve booked you.”
“And then we’ll let the revenue service know that we have you,” Samantha interjected. “They’re going to be pleased.”
“I’ve done nothing, and you know it. I’ll be back here by evening.”
“Dream on,” Samantha said. “You’re going down for a long time now.” She turned and walked away, leaving Edison to drag Emefiele to the car.
* * *
“KUBU? THIS IS Director Mabaku.”
“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”
“I’m lifting your suspension for the rest of today only. I want you to come in and interrogate a Nigerian Samantha located. He apparently was the man who paid our suspects to cause troubles at the kgotla. They’ve identified him from photos. I want you to have them identify him in a lineup. If they both ID him, interview him and find out who paid him, when, how much, and so on. This could strengthen our case against Shonhu, because I’m sure he was behind it.”
“Yes, Director. I’ll come in right away.”
“Two things, Kubu. First, remember this has nothing to do with your father’s murder. This is about the murders at the kgotla. Second, Samantha has some dirt on the man that you may be able to use to persuade him to tell us what happened.”
“Yes, Director,” Kubu said. “I promise I’ll behave.”
* * *
“MR. EMEFIELE. MY COLLEAGUE, Detective Khama, has already told you how much trouble you’re in. Unfortunately, she’s an inexperienced detective and missed the most important charge.”
Emefiele frowned.
“If you don’t tell me who paid you to get those two men to stir things up at the kgotla,” Kubu continued, “I have to assume that you wanted to cause the trouble in Shoshong. If that’s the case, I have to charge you as an accessory to the murder of two policemen, of the chief, and two elders. That can carry a very long sentence, Mr. Emefiele. Much longer than you intended to stay in Botswana, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know anything about Shoshong,” Emefiele said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mr. Emefiele. Where were you on the afternoon of Saturday, February fifteenth?”
Emefiele smiled. “I was in Johannesburg. You can check my passport. I couldn’t have been at Shoshong as well.”
Kubu nodded. “What do you say to the fact that two of our suspects identified you as being the man who paid them to cause trouble?”
“They’re lying!”
“I don’t think so. They’re willing to testify that it was you.”
“You’ve made some sort of deal with them to set me up.”
“No, Mr. Emefiele. They are being charged with murder no matter what they say about you.” Kubu stood up and turned to Samantha. “Go and charge him as an accessory to the murder of those who died at the kgotla.”
“Yes, sir!” Samantha jumped up eagerly.
“Wait!”
Kubu and Samantha both turned back.
“A man gave me money to get the men to cause trouble.”
“His name?” Kubu asked.
“I never asked for it. He came to my place, just like you did.” He pointed at Samantha. “Told me what he wanted and left.”
“How much did he give you?” Samantha asked.
Emefiele hesitated. “Five thousand pula,” he said.
“Nice profit, seeing as you only gave the men a thousand each,” Samantha said.
“What did he look like?” Kubu asked.
Emefiele shrugged his shoulders. “Black man. A Motswana, I think. Maybe thirty years old. I don’t know.”
“You’re sure he didn’t give a name?” Kubu demanded.
“I’m sure.”
“What sort of car did he drive?” Samantha asked.
Emefiele was silent for a few moments. “A silver car. A Toyota, I think.”
“Julius!” The name popped out of their mouths at the same time.
“Samantha, go and get Julius’s photo,” Kubu said eagerly. “And the photos of another four or five men about the same age. Let’s see if he can pick him out.”
* * *
“WE’VE GOT HIM!” Kubu could barely contain his excitement as Emefiele pointed to the photo of the late chief’s son. “Julius. I never trusted him.”
He turned to Emefiele. “Thank you. We’ll speak to the revenue service and ask them to drop their charges.” He walked to the door. “Constable,” he said to the man standing quietly in the corner. “Constable, take this man to the cells and book him as an accessory to murder.”
Emefiele jumped up. “You promised—”
“I promised to speak to the revenue service about your tax problems. That’s all,” Samantha chimed in. “You helped get several people killed. That’s what we’re charging you for.”
“But I didn’t hurt anyone.” Emefiele had started to whine. “This Julius must have killed the men. I sold him a gun too!”
There was silence in the room.
“Say that again,” Kubu said quietly.
“I said that the man who paid me also bought a gun. A .22 handgun.”
“Oh my God!” Samantha said. “Julius murdered his own father!”
CHAPTER 55
When the police came for him on Friday afternoon, Julius was meeting with two of his friends at his house. They were finalizing their strategy for the election—now only a week away—that would make Julius chief. The elders were scared; they knew there would be more trouble if Julius wasn’t elected and that the trouble would be directed at them. So Julius had the numbers he needed, and if it was more because of fear than respect, he had no problem with that.
But Julius was worried. The papers were full of the story of Shonhu’s arrest, and Hong hadn’t returned his calls. When he’d phoned that morning, he’d been put through to someone he didn’t know, who said that Mr. Hong would be away for some time. What if Hong started talking about their cozy deal?
He tried to relax and concentrate on the discussion. After all, why would Hong bring that issue up? It looked like he had much bigger problems.
“Kgosi,” one of the friends called out. “There’re some people driving in here.” Julius went to the window to take a look.
Two vehicles had pulled into the driveway: a police van and an unmarked car. Julius felt a flush of panic, but it was too late to run; he’d have to wait and see what it was about.
He opened the front door and waited for the policemen. Three uniformed constables climbed out of the van, and the man getting out of the car was the police station commander. He’d always been a supporter of the old chief and never shown Julius the respect that he felt was his due. At least the fat man from Gaborone isn’t with them, Julius thought. Who would’ve thought that the senile old fool in Mochudi would have a sharp detective for a son?
The station commander offered no greeting. “Julius Koma, I have here a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Rra Rankoromane Koma.” He paused and then added caustically, “Your father.” Julius was too shocked to respond. He saw the disgust in the man’s face and the scorn in his eyes.
“You don’t have to say anything, but anything you say will be noted and may be used at your trial.
Do you have anything to say?”
Julius shook his head, still speechless.
“No, I didn’t think you would. You must come with us. You’ll be taken to Gaborone. You better get what you’ll need.”
The station commander followed him into the house with one of the constables. The others remained outside.
“You must go,” he said to the two men gawking at their leader. “At once. I have a search warrant for the house, and I’m to secure it until the forensics people arrive.” They gathered up their belongings and headed for the door.
“Wait!” Julius called after them. “I need a good lawyer. They’re trying to frame me! It’s all a lie. Do you understand? Please!” Neither looked back. A few minutes later when Julius was brought out in handcuffs and roughly shoved into the back of the waiting police van, there was no sign of either of them.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Zanele arrived with the forensics team. She knew the responsibility was on her to get the evidence required to convict Julius. So far he had motive and opportunity, but they needed a clear connection to the murder. She intended to find it.
Her team put on their overalls, gloves, and booties, and spread out, doing their work efficiently. She headed straight for the main bedroom, carrying a close-up that Mabaku had given her of Julius at the kgotla. He was wearing a gray sports coat and charcoal pants. It only took her a few minutes to find the jacket, and she carefully took it off its coat hanger. She felt through the pockets—they were empty—but the lining on the right-hand one felt different, coarser. She paused, then turned it inside out and checked the stitching. It was obvious that the pocket had been replaced. The color had been well matched, but the material was of a different quality. She smiled. “You thought that was good enough, Julius,” she said aloud. “Just replace the pocket. Too stingy to throw away a nice jacket.” She knew that jacket would take Julius a step nearer to the gallows. She folded it neatly and zipped it into an evidence bag.
There were several pairs of jeans and a variety of belts. One of the brown belts had a darker rust stain on the rough inside of the leather. She collected it, but at first, thought nothing of it. She knew Julius’s clothes would have bloodstains. He’d lifted his dead or dying father. But then she rechecked the picture. It was hard to be sure, but it appeared that Julius was wearing a black belt with his gray pants at the kgotla. Maybe the stain wasn’t blood? But then she came across a black zip-up rain jacket with a hood. She bagged that also. Maybe that stain was blood after all. Just not Chief Koma’s blood.
She stood back from the cupboard and thought it through. Maybe Julius was careless about his clothes or maybe he was just careless, period. Careless and stingy. And in that case, there might be more to find. She felt a touch of excitement as she returned to her careful search, and she was rewarded by the discovery of a small safe fixed to the back wall. She looked at it for a few seconds, wondering where she might find the key. They could get a locksmith, but somehow she didn’t think Julius would have hidden the key well. And she didn’t think he’d carry it with him.
It was Meshak, one of her men, who found it in a desk drawer under some papers.
“A burglar would never look in the desk drawer,” she said sarcastically. “I don’t know why he bothered with a safe at all.” She shook her head. “Bring the camera and video me opening it, Meshak.”
The first thing she saw when she opened the safe was the revolver. She reached in carefully and used one finger to lift it out by the trigger guard. She took a closer look. “The serial number’s been filed off, but that’s not going to make any difference. Can you believe he was stupid enough to keep it?” Meshak shook his head, but in his experience most criminals were stupid, and the smarter they thought they were, the stupider they turned out to be. “He’ll probably have his prints on it too,” Zanele continued. Before she passed the gun to Meshak, she checked the cylinder. “Be careful. It’s loaded.” Meshak took it gingerly.
“Don’t forget the ammunition,” Zanele added. She lifted a box of .22 ammunition out of the safe by its corners and passed it to Meshak for fingerprinting.
Neither of them had any doubt that they’d found the gun that had been used to kill Chief Koma at the kgotla.
CHAPTER 56
When Kubu left home on Monday morning, he was feeling cheerful. He’d enjoyed a good breakfast of eggs, toast, and coffee and had pleased Joy with his relatively enthusiastic eating. And he was looking forward to the interview with Julius. Mabaku had been delighted with the evidence from the Nigerian and immediately ordered the arrest of Julius, whom they left in a cell until Monday morning while Zanele saw what she could do to link him to the revolver. Mabaku’s enthusiasm had even run to lifting Kubu’s suspension, and the two of them had agreed to meet at eight a.m. to plan the interrogation; Mabaku would lead, and Kubu would back him up.
Also, at last Kubu felt he was coming to terms with his father’s murder. He remained convinced that it was Shonhu who had plunged a knife into his father’s chest. However, Shonhu refused to say anything about the murders, so they might never know the true reason why. Whether his silence was due to loyalty to his masters in Beijing or fear of them, they didn’t know. When told of Hong’s betrayal, Shonhu had sneered, “He’s scared to go home. He’ll say anything.” No doubt Davidson would try to exploit that at the trial, but it wouldn’t wash. There was no doubt that Shonhu would be convicted of the Kunene murder. And if they never proved the Wilmon case, well, a man can only be executed once.
However, when Kubu reached Mabaku’s office, he knew at once that something was wrong. Mabaku returned his greeting and invited him to take a seat, then sat for a few moments saying nothing. When he did speak, the tone was somber.
“Kubu, something came up over the weekend. Zanele worked like a dog as usual, and she played a hunch that turned out to be right.”
This sounded like good news, so Kubu nodded and waited for the director to continue.
“She has Julius’s prints on the gun and ammunition, and the jacket he saved from the kgotla is positive for powder residue. He shot his father with that gun in the jacket pocket. No doubt.” He paused. “But she found something else. There was blood on one of his belts. She got the South Africans to do a rush job over the weekend. It was your father’s blood.” Mabaku paused again and waited for that to sink in. “She also found a hooded rain jacket. And Chinese boots, size seven.”
Suddenly, it all seemed so obvious to Kubu. He should’ve known that Julius had murdered his father. Julius had admitted to visiting Wilmon, and they’d quarreled over some sort of land issue, and Julius was, after all, the only connection to the mine.
Kubu took a deep breath. There was still one huge question.
“Why?”
Mabaku shook his head. “I don’t know, and we may never know unless Julius tells us. We can’t make a case on the bloodstain alone.”
Kubu started to protest, but Mabaku held up his hand. “We’ve got him for his father’s murder. He may well come clean. I’ll interview him with Samantha; she can link in the Nigerian.”
Kubu swallowed a wave of resentment. Samantha replacing him! But Mabaku was right. He’d been right from the beginning, and the proof was in the outburst of last Thursday. In his father’s case, he couldn’t rise above his emotional involvement. “Yes, Director, I understand.”
Mabaku nodded. “Good. I know how hard this is for you, Kubu, and I can’t promise success, but I can promise we’ll try our very best.” Uncharacteristically, he rose and stuck out his hand. Kubu shook it and said, “Thank you, Jacob. You’ll let me know as soon as you have something?”
“I can do better than that. We’ll use the new interview room with the one-way glass. I want you to watch. You may be able to pick up something we miss.”
Kubu thought that unlikely; that wasn’t the reason Mabaku was doing this. “Thank you, Jacob,” he said again. Mabaku nodded.
After Kubu had left, Mabaku asked Miriam to have Sama
ntha come and see him so he could brief her. While he was waiting for her, he made a call to Ian MacGregor.
* * *
KUBU SAT IN the observation room facing the one-way glass panel looking into the interview room itself. It was like a vacant stage waiting for the play to begin and Kubu was the audience of one. But this play wouldn’t have a happy ending. Maybe it wouldn’t have an ending at all. The tension he thought he’d laid to rest had returned. He wanted to grab Julius and beat the truth out of him.
The door opened, and he looked around to see Ian MacGregor. The Scotsman smiled. “Fancy meeting you here, Kubu. How’re you doing?”
“Ian! What brings you here?”
“You don’t think I’m interested?”
“You have nothing to do today? No bodies?”
“They’ll wait. They’re not going anywhere.” Ian paused. “The director thought you might appreciate someone to keep you company.”
Kubu nodded. “Thanks, Ian. Bring any Scotch?”
Ian laughed. “For Julius’s wake? Maybe a bit premature.”
“Yes, maybe.”
At that moment, the door of the interview room opened, and a handcuffed Julius was pushed in. There was another man with him whom Kubu didn’t recognize, a lawyer presumably. Julius said something, but Kubu couldn’t hear what. The room was soundproof too. They’d have to wait until the recording started for the sound to be piped in.
Shortly afterward, Mabaku and Samantha came in, and the sound was switched on. Kubu and Ian concentrated on the proceedings, staring through the one-way glass.
“Rra Koma,” Mabaku began, “this interview is being recorded. You have been charged with the murder of Rra Rankoromane Koma, chief in Shoshong. You have been apprised of your rights. Do you have anything to say?”
“I certainly do! This is all a setup. You’re trying to frame me for this so that the mine expansion is blocked. It’s outrageous!”
Mabaku didn’t react. “Let’s go back a bit. Do you know a Lamado Emefiele?”
Julius shook his head, but Mabaku insisted on a formal answer. “No. I do not.”
A Death in the Family Page 27
