Detective Kubu 01; A Carrion Death

by Michael Stanley

  “Of course, Superintendent. If you can get to Letlhakeng, we’ll send someone to pick you up.”

  “That will be very helpful. I’ll contact you to confirm the arrangements.” Then a lateral thought struck him. “Do you have a beard, Mr Ferraz?”

  “Well, yes, I do. What a strange question. Why on earth do you ask that?”

  “Oh, just curious. A lot of men do these days. Thank you again. Goodbye, Mr Ferraz.”

  For several minutes Kubu stared at his wall calendar. The March picture was a waterhole scene from the Chobe game reserve. Then he started making detailed notes on the conversation. He had only just finished when his phone buzzed again. This time it was Joy, reminding him not to be late for dinner because she was trying a souffle recipe that she had discovered in a recipe book at Woolworth’s while chatting to friends in the checkout queue. This case must be getting to me, he thought, if Joy feels it’s necessary to remind me when it’s dinnertime.

  Kubu then walked over to Edison Banda’s desk and gave him a rapid summary of what Ferraz had said.

  “I’m driving down to the mine tomorrow, Edison. Could you go to the airport about two hours before the Air Botswana flight to Johannesburg leaves? If Tannenbaum shows up, get his version of what happened at the Rucksack Resort. If he asks why you are interested, tell him that Staal is missing, and a corpse has been found with no identification. Watch his reaction. I’ll be back tomorrow evening. I’ll phone you when I get back. Thanks. Oh yes. Don’t forget to get Tannenbaum’s contact details in Germany.”

  Kubu walked back to his desk and packed his briefcase. “Good night, Edison,” he said as he walked out, wondering what would be appropriate to drink with a souffle.

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 32

  Kubu left at six a.m. so that he was ahead of the worst of the traffic and could enjoy Carmen. He didn’t know the opera well, but liked its compelling gypsy rhythms. It was only when Escamillo launched into the rousing Toreador song that Kubu unleashed his enthusiastic support, which he repeated several times to help pass the time.

  The driver from the mine met him at Letlhakeng just after eight. His vehicle was a vintage Land Rover whose shock-absorbers had given up their battle with the corrugated roads. It was nearly forty kilometres to the mine on a bad sand track, and Kubu was tired when they got there. He didn’t have much hope of decent food or drink and was not pleasantly surprised. Still, the drinks were cold. Jason turned out to be a pleasant host and, indeed, had a heavy black beard. Kubu guessed that he might be Dianna Hofmeyr’s nocturnal visitor. That would interest Joy and Edison.

  Before lunch Jason took him up to the mine and gave him the tour, even taking him into the diamond sorting room. However, he stayed as close to Kubu as his shadow. After that, he pointed out the processing plant and the large dump, which received the crushed and separated rock, robbed of its value. Jason said it grew at nearly half a metre a day, all round. Kubu tried to look impressed, but he regarded mines as necessary evils at best. Perhaps noticing this, Jason added that when the mine was closed, the dump would be bulldozed back into the open pit as part of the rehabilitation programme. They didn’t go into the mine itself.

  “Mr Ferraz, is it possible there was an accident down there?” Kubu asked. “Could Aron have been caught in a rock slide or a collapse of the pit wall, something like that?” Jason shook his head. “No, we know exactly who is in the mine at any time. It’s partly for safety reasons and partly for security. Diamonds are valuable, Superintendent. And every event is recorded. Nothing like that happened the day Aron left. And anyway, his Land Rover is gone.”

  Back at the living quarters, Kubu spent time poking around in Aron’s bungalow. Everything was neat and tidy. It looked as though a good bachelor housekeeper had cleaned and tidied up and then gone to work, expecting to be back shortly. Kubu discovered a couple of bottles of beer in the freezer which had frozen and burst. Apart from that, nothing seemed amiss. He questioned all the staff and several of the shift bosses. They all knew Aron, of course, and said nothing negative about him. But he had no real friends. A bit of a loner, he enjoyed his work, reading—textbooks on geology as often as not, or Laurens Van der Post novels—and learning about the local Bushman group, which he had visited quite often.

  Several people had seen him the day before his trip, and he appeared to be in his usual private good spirits. No one had seen him leave, but such trips usually started early to avoid the heat of the day. The canteen staff remembered that he had collected some extra provisions but that he hadn’t told them anything about where or when he was going.

  The last person Kubu spoke to was Shirley Devlin, one of the administration people. She had nothing to add to what he had heard from everyone else. But something seemed to be bothering her. At last he asked, “Miss Devlin, is there anything else you can remember? Anything strange or unusual that took place? Anything at all that you’d like to tell me?”

  She hesitated for a moment and then said, “Well, Superintendent, there was one odd thing. It didn’t happen that day, but about a month before. Aron came to see me and insisted on checking all the Kimberley Process documentation against the mine returns for the previous three months. It took us hours.” She hesitated again, and Kubu nodded encouragingly. “Well, he said it was a new requirement. I wanted to check with Jason, but he was away. Anyway, we did it. But when I asked Jason about it afterwards, he knew nothing about any new regulations or requirements and said that anything like that would have come to him in any case. I didn’t say anything more about it, but it bothered me, you know?”

  “Was there anything wrong with the records?”

  “Oh, no. Everything balanced perfectly. Aron seemed quite pleased. We had a drink on it that evening. Superintendent, do you think something really bad has happened to him?”

  Kubu realised that other than Jason, she was the only person who seemed genuinely concerned. All the others had decided that Aron had taken himself off. The vehicle would be found at the airport, and Aron would be safely home in Germany. Kubu reminded himself to get the vehicle registration number and alert the airport police. He took his leave of Miss Devlin and headed back to the canteen to meet Jason. It seemed that Aron had prepared for a trip, set off early one morning with his equipment, and vanished into the desert. Did he reappear two weeks later as a naked, unidentifiable corpse under a thorn tree on a dry riverbed near Dale’s Camp? What had happened in those missing two weeks, and why had it happened?

  Jason had a cold beer ready for him, and Kubu warmed to the geologist at the same rate as the beer cooled him. He told Jason what little he had learnt, but didn’t mention the postscript from Shirley Devlin. Jason nodded. He had been through a similar exercise himself, he said. Then, taking a long shot, Kubu said, “Do you know if Aron had any bad accidents before he came here? It probably would have been several years ago? Broken arms?”

  Jason shook his head. “We check that our people are fit, of course, before they’re employed. But we don’t ask for detailed medical records. Perhaps his parents would know. Why do you ask?”

  Kubu ignored the question and asked, “Have you contacted them at all? His parents?”

  “No. I was hoping that he’d just turn up somewhere.”

  “Well, maybe he’ll turn up with them. Frankly, he seemed to be a bit lonely here. Maybe out there in the desert he just decided to go home.”

  Jason shook his head again and poured each of them a second beer. “You didn’t know him, Superintendent. I don’t think you’ll find him back in Germany.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes, sucking their beers. Then to break the mood, and just for the hell of it, Kubu asked, “Did Aron have a beard?” While Jason looked at him quizzically, considering the relevance of this, Kubu realised that he’d referred to Aron in the past tense.

  It was late when Kubu drove up his driveway. Ilia was delighted to see him and shared her excitement loudly with the neighbourhood. After a sho
wer and a cold drink, Kubu sat down and phoned Edison at home.

  “You’re going to be disappointed,” Edison said. “Tannenbaum showed up ninety minutes before the flight and wasn’t worried by my questions. He was obviously curious why he was being interviewed by the police and showed more concern than fear when I told him about the body. He said he didn’t think it could be Staal’s body because Staal had gone off with a girl at Khutse. If Staal was missing, the girl would have reported it. I think this is a dead end.”

  “Certainly sounds like it,” Kubu responded. “It was a long shot from the beginning. Still, I would appreciate it if you could resolve this by checking up on Staal at the airport on Saturday. He is on the same flight, I think.”

  “That’s fine. I just hope it doesn’t take too long. I promised to take Maki to the early showing of Diamonds are Forever that evening.”

  “You should be back in plenty of time. One other thing, please could you call Forensics tomorrow morning and arrange for someone to go down to Maboane on Monday and do a thorough scan of Frankental’s room? Hopefully we can make a DNA match with the body.”

  Kubu hung up and went out to join Joy on the veranda.

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 33

  Of course, Kubu could not leave well alone. He might have done so but for a short article in the Daily News describing the break-in at BCMC headquarters. Surely Cecil Hofmeyr had the pull to keep that out of the government press if he wanted to? But it was the content that really intrigued him. It specifically mentioned money and personal papers. Where on earth had that information come from? Cecil had been adamant that nothing had been stolen but the money and had insisted that Mabaku close the case. Very strange! Kubu simply could not resist paying Kobedi another visit.

  He decided to test Kobedi’s mood at home this time. He wasn’t sure he’d find him in, but if not, Kobedi’s staff might provide other leads. He drove to Kobedi’s house in the upmarket suburb of Phakalane, north of the city. The house was hidden by a high wall and heavy metal gates. Kubu’s heart sank. He wasn’t going to be able to work his way in easily. He almost gave up and drove on, but he decided to try his luck and parked just out of sight of the gates. He walked up to the gates and was about to press the bell when he realised that, in fact, they were not locked. They were slightly apart, and swung open easily when pushed.

  He walked up the driveway, surprised by the open gates, and approached the front door. It, too, was slightly ajar. Even more surprised, he knocked. But he made no special effort to be heard, and when there was no response, he pushed the door open gently and went into the hallway. Feeling somewhat guilty, and without raising his voice, he called out, “Mr Kobedi?” But he surprised himself with how softly he said it. His instincts told him there was something badly wrong in this silent and open house.

  He walked through the lounge, noting the ornate but quite tasteful furnishings, and then to the main bedroom. The door was open here too. The bedroom was extraordinary. The walls were mirrors, perhaps concealing cupboards or a dressing room or even a bathroom. In the centre of the room was a king-size bed, directly under another mirror on the ceiling. Shaggy off-white carpet covered the floor. Kubu took all this in almost incidentally, because he was staring at the floor at the foot of the bed.

  Kobedi lay there with blood dripping down his face. One forearm was at a funny angle. Kubu bent over him. Blood was still flowing from some of the wounds, so he wasn’t dead. Since the blood had not dried, the attack must have taken place a short time before. Then he noticed a torn piece of paper partly obscured by Kobedi’s body. He bent down, meaning to examine Kobedi, but a slight noise made him jerk upright and swing around. He found himself facing a huge black man holding what looked like a .45-calibre pistol by the muzzle, and the next instant the butt crashed down on Kubu’s temple. There was an explosion of pain and light, and for a moment he thought he heard Mozart. Then everything was absorbed by darkness, and he sank to his knees and collapsed over Kobedi’s body.

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  PART SIX

  Ugly Death

  “What sights of ugly death within my eyes!”

  Shakespeare, King Richard III, Act I, Scene 3

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 34

  Kubu opened his eyes. In the background, ghostly white blurred figures were watching him, and in the foreground was an ominous black blob. I’m in hell, he thought. But of which religion? He forced his eyes to focus, and the black blob resolved itself into Director Mabaku’s face. I’m definitely in hell, he decided, before he realised that the white figures had become a doctor and a nurse. All were looking at him with concern. He considered closing his eyes again in the hope all of them would go away. But the doctor bent over his bed and held up three fingers.

  “How many fingers do you see, Superintendent Bengu?” he asked in a voice not to be denied.

  “Three,” said Kubu weakly.

  “And are they clear or blurred?”

  “Quite clear.”

  The doctor nodded, apparently satisfied, and walked back to the end of the bed. He glared at Mabaku. “You can talk to him now, but briefly. He’s had a severe blow, and we’re lucky he’s not seriously concussed. You must be careful not to upset him.” This remark made Kubu smile. How could Mabaku avoid upsetting him?

  “How are you feeling, Kubu? You gave us a real scare there.”

  Kubu digested the fact that Mabaku had addressed him by his nickname and tried to get feedback from his body in order to answer the question. His head hurt badly, and his right elbow felt as though someone had attacked it with a hammer. His left arm hosted a drip. It all felt unreal. It’s the painkillers they’ve given me, he decided vaguely.

  “Not too bad, actually,” he replied finally. “My head hurts like hell, though, and my elbow is sore.”

  “You fell on it when you collapsed. You were hit really hard. You’ve been out and sedated for hours. The doctors first thought your skull had been fractured, then that you had a bad concussion.” He looked down at the mound in the bed. Recovering some of his usual acid, Mabaku added, “But I told them your head was solid bone, so they shouldn’t worry too much.”

  Kubu managed a weak laugh. “Where is Joy?” he asked.

  “She went out for a few minutes. She’s been here since they brought you in several hours ago. She was beside herself. What on earth possessed you to go to Kobedi’s house alone, especially after I had told you to drop that line of investigation?”

  Kubu didn’t want to answer that and quickly changed the subject. “When did they find me? For that matter, who found me?”

  “The neighbours heard a shot. They had already called the police, and a car was on the way. Otherwise you might have ended up like Kobedi. The police constable called an ambulance right away. How did you get into the house? You didn’t have a search warrant.”

  “The door was open, and I suspected foul play,” Kubu improvised. “I was right, too. Is Kobedi dead?”

  “He wasn’t when the police arrived, but he died on the way to hospital. He was beaten and then shot.”

  Kubu digested this. “I was bending down to look at him. There was something under him. A piece of paper, I think. Then I heard a noise behind me. I turned around, and that’s when he hit me. It was a very large black man, but I saw him only for a split second. I think he was wearing army clothing of some kind. I really didn’t see him properly. I felt the gun butt well enough, though.”

  “Could you describe him?”

  “Perhaps I could try an identikit.”

  This was too much for the doctor. He said that there would be nothing like that for the time being and told Mabaku that he should leave. Kubu decided that it would be handy to have this doctor with him for all his interviews with his boss.

  “Doctor, you must understand that a man has been violently murdered, and Assistant Superintendent Bengu is a key witness. What he tells me may help to apprehend the murderer.
I won’t be longer than necessary.” The doctor harrumphed and looked inclined to argue, but at that moment Joy arrived. Realising Kubu was awake, she rushed to the bedside to kiss him. This caused a flurry from the nurse, and Mabaku decided to give up.

  “I’ll come back later when you are stronger, David. Possibly first thing in the morning.” With a sour look at the doctor, he turned and left. Kubu was too busy enjoying Joy’s attention to respond to his boss’s departure.

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 35

  Kubu tossed and turned all night, partly because of his aching head, partly because of the discomfort of having a drip in his arm, but mostly because his mind could not stop trying to make sense of all the confusing facts. There is a break-in at Cecil Hofmeyr’s BCMC office. An important letter about a BCMC diamond mine has been stolen. However, Cecil claims only a small amount of money has been taken. Cecil’s assistant admits being paid by Thembu Kobedi to steal the letter from Cecil. Cecil wants the whole thing swept under the carpet, but a newspaper prints that personal papers were taken as well as money. Shortly thereafter, Kobedi is murdered, and Kubu attacked. A geologist from the diamond mine is now missing, and the body of a white man is found, mutilated to avoid identification, apparently dumped in the desert from a BCMC Land Rover. Could this all be unconnected?

  By the time the nurse brought tea at five-thirty a.m., Kubu’s headache had returned, and he was pleased to take his medication. The doctor had insisted he remain in hospital for observation until the following morning, but Kubu wasn’t sure how he was going to get through a whole day wasted in bed. There was so much to do!