Detective Kubu 01; A Carrion Death

by Michael Stanley

  Kubu laughed. “Some other time, Bakkies. I haven’t tied this one up yet.”

  Back in Knysna, Kubu reviewed the statements and evidence Bakkies had obtained. Then he checked in to the bed-and-breakfast Bakkies had recommended—Bond Lodge on Bond Street. It was a lovely old house—more than a hundred years old—with beautiful yellowwood ceilings and floors and furnished with an eclectic collection of antiques. It was not on the sea, but halfway up the hill behind the town. The upstairs offered a magnificent view of the lagoon for which Knysna was famous. In the distance stood the Heads—the precipitous cliffs on either side of the lagoon’s narrow channel to the sea.

  The friendly owner offered him a glass of wine and gave him the rundown on the nearby restaurants. Kubu commented on the beauty of the area. Even if it was outrageously moist.

  He phoned Joy, assuring her that all was well, and that he would be home the next day. He promised he was sticking to the spirit of his diet, although the letter was more elusive on a business trip. Then he chose the restaurant to which Bakkies took his wife on special occasions—also recommended by the owner of the B&B. She made a reservation for him and gave him a ride.

  The restaurant was called the Firefly Eating House, and Kubu understood the name when he arrived. The entrance and garden of the old house that hosted the restaurant were festooned with streamers of tiny lights giving an otherworldly feeling which was to carry through the whole evening. A tall lady in a simple dress with a hint of the Orient showed Kubu to a tiny table on the narrow veranda, nestled against the firefly lights and bougainvillea. The table had to be moved perilously close to the edge of the veranda so that Kubu could fit.

  The fare was an eclectic mixture of curries and spiced foods from various countries, fused into intriguing combinations. Kubu’s mouth watered as aromas wafted from the kitchen. To start, he chose babotie spring rolls—Eastern wrappings filled with the Malay-inherited dish of the Cape of Good Hope. For the main course he ordered tiger prawns from Mozambique with a sauce from Goa. He wanted a wine that would hold its own with the spices, and the waiter suggested a gewürtztraminer from Stellenbosch.

  The unlikely spring rolls were delicious; the prawns firm with a delicate flavour enhanced rather than swamped by the coconut-curry sauce. He took his time to finish the piquant wine. Then he ordered homemade cardamom ice cream and a cappuccino with cream not froth.

  After finishing his coffee, Kubu stayed at his table, enjoying the afterglow of the wine, the lingering flavours, and the strangely peaceful ambience of the packed restaurant. At last he paid the bill, pocketed the receipt for Mabaku’s scandalised perusal, and caught a taxi back up the hill to the B&B.

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  PART NINE

  Deceivers Ever

  “Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore.”

  Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, Act II, Scene 3

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 64

  Although he caught the seven a.m. flight from George, Kubu nearly missed Dianna. His flight from Johannesburg was delayed, and she was already at Johannesburg’s Lanseria airport when Kubu’s flight took off. By the time he had cleared Customs and Immigration at Gaborone, her Learjet was only minutes behind him. Just long enough for him to toss his overnight bag into his car and get back to the terminal.

  He watched the BCMC Learjet land and then went into Arrivals. He knew that VIPs came through a side entrance after clearing Customs and Immigration. He would intercept Dianna and her mother there. A man sporting a Grand Palm Hotel uniform and holding a neat sign was also waiting for them, presumably to help with the luggage and to drive them to the hotel. That will have to wait, thought Kubu.

  Soon two smartly dressed women came through. He recognised Dianna at once and presumed that the mature but still beautiful woman with her was her mother. He had met Pamela Hofmeyr briefly long ago with Angus, but he wasn’t sure that he would have recognised her now. He approached Dianna.

  “Ms Hofmeyr? I’m Superintendent David Bengu. We spoke recently on the phone about a murder case I’m investigating.”

  Dianna looked at him with mild surprise. “Oh yes. Kubu, isn’t it? Is this a chance meeting?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. We need to ask you some questions in connection with a murder we are investigating.”

  “Oh. Aron Frankental. Well, my mother and I have just flown in from South Africa. We’d like to settle in at the hotel. Perhaps I can see you later on in town.” At this point the waiting hotel driver approached. “Oh, hello, Demi. I have my usual suitcase, but Mother has several. Let me show you.” She started towards the luggage collection trolley, but Kubu stopped her.

  “I’m sorry, Ms Hofmeyr, but we need to talk to you at once. It’s very important that we get your input immediately. I don’t need to detain your mother; perhaps the driver can take her and the luggage to the hotel. We won’t keep you long.” He hoped that the last comment would prove untrue.

  At first Dianna was inclined to argue, but she thought better of it. Kubu was standing right in front of them, symbolically barring their way. Dianna looked at her mother doubtfully. “Will you be all right, Mother?”

  Pamela Hofmeyr shrugged. “Of course. I lived in Gaborone for fifteen years, you know.” The way she said it suggested familiarity rather than nostalgia. She offered no corresponding support to her daughter. She seemed content for Dianna to finish her business—whatever it was—with the police and find her own way to the hotel. She pointed out her suitcases to Demi. His trolley bulged.

  “Very well, Superintendent. Since you won’t allow us the courtesy of recovering from the trip, let’s get down to it. What is it that you want to know?”

  “I would like you to accompany me to CID headquarters. I’ll explain there. May I carry that for you?” He nodded towards Dianna’s laptop case. Dianna handed it to him. She made sure her mother had all her belongings before she allowed Kubu to lead the way to his vehicle.

  “Really, Superintendent, I’m trying to help despite your poor manners. You must tell me what this is about if you expect me to cooperate.”

  Kubu stopped and faced her. “Very well. We have conclusive forensic evidence that your brother was killed. In fact, he was murdered.” He watched her face. Fleeting hints of fear and shock crossed her face. Then they were gone. Or was it just his imagination?

  “That’s impossible,” she said flatly. “What evidence? How come the South African police know nothing about this?”

  “I’d prefer to explain it at the CID,” said Kubu, walking on so that she had no option but to follow. He wanted her to brood about what lay ahead. At last I’m going to get to the bottom of all this, he thought. Dianna accompanied him to his vehicle without further protest, and they drove in silence to the CID headquarters at Kgale Hill.

  Kubu settled Dianna in the interview room and left her there with Edison while he went off, ostensibly in search of tea. Actually, he needed to let Mabaku know what was going on. He had been unable to reach the director the night before and had had no chance to contact him that morning. He was feeling guilty about that. He walked down the corridor to Mabaku’s office to invite him to join the interrogation. But the director was out, and his secretary was not in her office either. He bumped into her at the tea urn.

  “Oh! Miriam! Where’s the director? I need his help interviewing a witness.”

  “He’s gone to Lobatse. They’ve caught some of the gang from South Africa. He’s been there since early this morning.”

  “Please call the director on his mobile phone and tell him there is an important breakthrough in the Kamissa case. He must return here as soon as possible.” He smiled as he carried the tea back to the interview room. Mabaku didn’t take orders from his assistants. This would give Kubu the time to handle the interview himself.

  He put the cups of tea on the table and sat down opposite Dianna. She took her polystyrene cup and took a sip. Her face grimaced with distaste. Edis
on, on the other hand, excited in anticipation of the interview, swallowed most of his while it was still too hot. Kubu set his cup aside.

  “Ms Hofmeyr, I want to thank you for your cooperation. I know what I am going to tell you will be a big shock. You will understand why this meeting was so urgent.” Kubu paused, watching her face. “About a month ago a body of a white male was discovered in an and region near the Khutse game reserve. The body had been there for a few days and was badly eaten by wild animals. Little more than the bones were left. At first we thought it was the body of the geologist you mentioned—Aron Frankental—but we know now that it wasn’t. In fact, we’ve recently positively identified this body.” He paused, letting this sink in and watching Dianna’s silent face. “I’m afraid the corpse was that of your brother, Angus Hofmeyr. I must caution you that I am making inquiries into his death and I believe that he was murdered. I want to know anything you can tell me that may help me with this matter, and I must warn you to be careful what you say.”

  At last Dianna reacted, and her reaction was extraordinary. She laughed out loud. “Superintendent, that’s absolutely ridiculous! Is that the story you’ve wasted my afternoon on? You said this body was found a month ago. Angus was with me last Tuesday at the coast in South Africa. Do you think I wouldn’t know my own brother after thirty years? Is this some sort of joke?”

  God, she is a cold fish, Kubu thought. And damn convincing. But not to me. Not any longer.

  “Ms Hofmeyr, this is no joke. There’s a positive match between a DNA sample from that corpse and a DNA sample supplied by the South African police from the arm you identified as being from Angus.” Kubu prayed fervently that this would turn out to be true.

  “But Angus was with me that night! He went for a swim early the next morning!”

  “Ms Hofmeyr, that is simply not possible.”

  Dianna appeared at last to understand the implications of what the detective was saying. “Are you suggesting, Superintendent, that Angus was not with me that night? That I’m lying about this?”

  “Is there another explanation?”

  “I don’t think this is funny, Superintendent, and I don’t know what you are trying to do or why. You say the body was discovered a month ago? During that month Angus was hunting in Botswana, travelling in South Africa, and with me in Plettenberg Bay. He must’ve been seen by dozens of people. He spoke to even more on the phone. He even told me he had a call from you! You know perfectly well he was alive during all that time.”

  “No, Ms Hofmeyr, I think someone impersonated him during that period. Someone who did a very good job, and had a lot of help from a person who knew Angus very well indeed. That person would have to be a family member. Of course, an impostor would never have been able to fool you. As you say, you have known your brother for thirty years.”

  “I want to call my solicitor.”

  “You have that right. I think it would be best to cooperate, though. Murder is a capital offence in Botswana.”

  “I have nothing more to say until my solicitor arrives. I won’t help you with this ridiculous vendetta.”

  And true to her word she said nothing more until her attorney arrived half an hour later, a tall, thin man wearing a pinstriped suit—almost a caricature of the corporate lawyer. He introduced himself as Donald Price. Another man accompanied him, shorter and fatter, with bright, piercing eyes. Kubu recognised him at once. Jeffrey Davidson was Gaborone’s best criminal defence lawyer.

  Kubu explained the situation to the two lawyers. They listened carefully and then requested some time alone with their client. Kubu fumed, but couldn’t refuse. He used the time to try to reach Mabaku again. It turned out the director was still busy in Lobatse. Then he phoned Ian MacGregor.

  “lan! How are you?”

  “Kubu! I have news for you. What you wanted to know.”

  “The samples matched.”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I finally used my head and worked it out.”

  When Edison called him back to the interview room, it was obvious that the lawyers had no intention of allowing the interrogation to continue. Price started.

  “Are we to understand that Ms Hofmeyr is a suspect in this murder investigation, Superintendent? If so, how come the South African police seem to have no interest in the matter?”

  “I haven’t said she is a suspect. I believe she is lying about seeing her brother before the alleged drowning. That may make her an accessory. The South African police don’t have access to the evidence we have recently obtained.”

  Davidson came in next. “And all the other people Angus spoke to, or saw, during the month after he supposedly shuffled off this mortal coil? Are they also suspects and accessories? Including yourself?”

  “Of course not. Someone posed as an impostor during that period, including a week stay at the Fairwaters clinic. We know who that person is, and we expect to arrest him very soon.”

  “Superintendent, Miss Hofmeyr says you are an old school friend of Angus,” Price commented. “Let’s leave aside the fact that, as a result, you may not be as objective about this as you should be. Did you have a formal interview with Angus, or did you just chat a bit?”

  “We chatted on the phone. He knew a lot of personal stuff, but made some key mistakes.” Kubu realised that he was getting defensive. He tried to recover the initiative. “In any case, Ms Hofmeyr is supposed to be answering the questions. I’d like to get back to where we left off.”

  Davidson changed the subject again. “Do you have a shred of evidence to suggest that our client was involved in murdering her brother or anyone else, Superintendent? Do you have a motive?”

  “It’s possible she was covering up for someone else. Someone she cared for a great deal. Yes, I think we have a motive.”

  Davidson let that be. “The only thing that makes this connection between Angus’s remains at the beach and your body in the desert is a DNA test you claim to have had done. I presume you’ve done several tests from different sources?”

  “So far we’ve done one test.”

  “Superintendent, at the risk of being insulting, mistakes can be made. Similarities can be misinterpreted. A single test is anything but conclusive. If this was the final nail in the coffin, perhaps it would justify us being here now. But your coffin has no wood at all. You have nothing but this one nail to support this incredibly far-fetched story. You are the detective, but may I suggest you obtain a sample you know comes from Angus Hofmeyr? From his home, perhaps? A sample we can be sure is his DNA?”

  “We’ll be doing all that. And we’ll be matching the sample against samples taken from Ms Hofmeyr and her mother. Meanwhile I want to hear Ms Hofmeyr’s side of the story rather than continue this courtroom drama.” Kubu was getting testy.

  “No, I’m afraid not, Superintendent,” said Price. “You have not a shred of evidence for this unbelievable theory. You are simply harassing Ms Hofmeyr. We will be taking her back to the hotel now. Please do not interfere with her again unless you have some real evidence, and at least one of us is present.”

  “Now wait a minute. Ms Hofmeyr isn’t going anywhere until I find out what I want to know!”

  “Are you arresting her then?” Davidson asked quietly. “Exactly what is the charge?”

  Kubu was tempted, but he thought it through. He glanced at Edison’s impassive face. No help there. What do I actually have? Conspiracy to commit murder? It hinges on Angus being dead when she said he was with her. He wasn’t at Fairwaters, but then she hasn’t said he was. The case hangs on the one DNA test, and even that’s informal. I certainly don’t want these two Rottweilers attacking Ian.

  Kubu cursed himself for being an overconfident fool. With Jason or the red-bearded creature from Angola in custody, he would have an unassailable case. As it was, he just didn’t have enough to hold her.

  “Ms Hofmeyr, you are free to go. For the moment. I shall require your passport in the interim, however.” He held out his hand, k
nowing that she must have it with her as they had come straight from the airport. Dianna looked at her legal eagles, but they could see no grounds for objecting. She dug into her laptop case and handed Kubu the passport. He had his one small triumph.

  The three rose to go. “Superintendent,” said Dianna, “you may wish to consider something else. If the DNA really does match between the arm at Plettenberg Bay and your body in the desert, then perhaps it isn’t Angus’s arm. I didn’t see the arm. The South African police didn’t show it to me. I only saw his rings. It may be that someone was trying to fake Angus’s death. Did you ever consider that?”

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  “I’ve no idea. But at least it is less unlikely than your scenario of mass hallucination.”

  Davidson indicated to Dianna that they should leave. He wanted the police to move on at their own pace without any helpful suggestions. But Price couldn’t resist a last jab. “Next time you go on a fishing expedition, Superintendent, I can suggest some excellent spots for tiger fish on the Chobe River. Have a good afternoon.” Kubu ignored him and directed his own parting shot at Dianna.

  “I hope you will reconsider your position, Ms Hofmeyr. We will be meeting again very soon.” But Kubu was quite wrong about that.

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 65

  Red Beard hung up and put his mobile phone on the copy of the newspaper that lay open on the table. He had circled three items in the second-hand-vehicles-for-sale column. The first would suit him best, but any one would be acceptable. He grunted, picked up a worn briefcase, and added the newspaper and his mobile phone to the contents—some papers, a stuffed envelope, and a pistol.

  He put on a worn leather jacket and walked the short distance to catch a minibus taxi to the Gaborone bus station. He was staying in a downmarket hotel in Lobatse and didn’t stand out in the eclectic mixture of impecunious guests. It was inconvenient staying seventy kilometres from Gaborone, but the inconvenience bought safety.