Detective Kubu 01; A Carrion Death

by Michael Stanley

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 78

  On Monday Kubu was able to satisfy his curiosity. He went to the Hofmeyr estate where Roland and Pamela had lived. Cecil now used it only as an occasional weekend retreat, preferring his comfortable property in town. Kubu wanted to see Young Tau.

  Kubu had not expected a warm welcome at the Hofmeyr estate and did not receive one. The maid who answered the call from the gate insisted that Mr Hofmeyr was not available, and that he should come back some other time. Eventually he managed to get her to call Cecil’s housekeeper and explained that actually he wanted to see Young Tau. She was no friendlier, but agreed to let him in.

  The maid met him at the front entrance, told him where to park, and without another word took him around the main building to a separate suite of servants’ quarters at the back. An old man was sitting on a plastic garden chair, eating his lunch at a table covered with newspaper in the shade of an umbrella thorn tree. The maid pointed to him and left.

  Kubu walked up to the man and extended his right hand, touching his right arm with his left hand as a sign of respect, and said in Setswana, “Rra Tau? I am Superintendent David Bengu of the police CID.”

  Tau looked up. Two pots steamed in front of him, one of maize meal and the other of a gravy-like stew. He had spooned some of the stew into a soup bowl and was rolling balls of the meal with his fingers to mop it up. He smiled, revealing strong gums but no remaining teeth. He was carefully shaven, and his head was covered with curly stubble now white. He wore an ironed white shirt, already spotted from the stew.

  “I am Young Tau,” he said. “You are Kubu. I remember you.” And indeed they had met once, a long time ago. Kubu had spent one weekend with Angus at the estate when they were at school together. While everyone had been polite, the Hofmeyrs didn’t seem to know quite what to make of Angus’s older black friend, and Kubu had felt uncomfortable.

  The weekend had not been a great success, and he had not come again. But he did remember the gardener, who had a lot of time for the two boys, told them stories of the bush and of the past, and seemed to know everything about plants. Everyone called him Young Tau. His father, Old Tau, had been the chief gardener before him and was long dead. Young Tau himself was already elderly then, although no one knew his actual age. Now he must be ancient. Kubu had hardly expected to be remembered from that one visit.

  “Sit down. Do you want some pappa le nama?”

  Kubu had grown up on food like this and accepted with enthusiasm. He pulled up another plastic chair and rolled up his sleeves while Young Tau called for another plate and spoon, soon brought disapprovingly by the same maid. For a while they ate in silence. Then Kubu asked after Tau’s family. It seemed that they were all well, but the litany of extended relations took some time.

  Then it was Kubu’s turn to run through his family’s health. Tau was very disapproving of the fact that he and Joy had no son as yet, and pointed out that this would be a great sorrow to Kubu’s parents. He himself had six sons. Kubu inclined his head, accepting this rebuke. He decided to change the subject before Tau started to recommend witchdoctor potions.

  “Young Tau, I want to ask you something about Miss Dianna,” he said. The old man nodded and waited. “Do you remember when she was young? She used to like to spend time with you and learn from you about plants and birds and animals?” Young Tau nodded again with the nostalgic smile of an old man remembering.

  “She learnt well. She listened carefully. Not only to me. She used to listen to the birds calling. I’d tell her how the thekwane called, flying to its big messy nest in the dead tree in the cattle dam, and she’d say: “No, Young Tau, it’s not quite like that, it’s more like this,” and she’d do the call better than me. She did it too well.” He shook his head. “It’s the bird that tells of Death.”

  He shook his head again, and then continued. “She could call some of the birds to come to her. The little owl was easy. Prrrp, prrrp, prrrp. Prrrp, prrrp, prrrp. Prrrp, prrrp, prrrp. She’d call at night for a few minutes, and he would come—sometimes two. They would sit on the branches and listen. She could call horses too. And once when she was on a camping trip she tried to call lions at night. I was quite scared they would come, because it sounded so real. But perhaps it wasn’t loud enough or not quite right. I don’t know.” He remembered how glad he had been that a guard with a gun accompanied them.

  “Did she imitate people also?”

  “Sometimes for a joke. She could do me very well.” Young Tau gave a toothless laugh. “Specially me scolding her for something.” He grinned. It was obvious he had been fond of the girl.

  “What about her brothers? Could she imitate them?”

  Tau shrugged. “Perhaps for a joke,” he repeated. “She didn’t like Master Daniel, though. Their mother spoilt him. He was often rude to me. Once he called me bad names and told Miss Dianna that they were rich, so she was stupid to learn about birds and plants.” He paused, lost in the past. “He would get her into trouble if he could. She could do his voice very well. He didn’t like that. Sometimes they were very bad enemies for a while, but children get over these things. But after the leopard got Master Daniel, she changed a bit. She didn’t copy people after that. And she didn’t laugh so much. Sometimes she would get angry for no reason, and her voice became hard and harsh. There was a darkness there.” He shook his head with the sadness of it.

  “Did she ever talk to you about what happened with the leopard?”

  “She told me what happened.” He nodded. “And when she was older, she killed the leopard herself,” he added with pride.

  “Did she ever pretend to be Master Angus?”

  Young Tau just shrugged.

  Kubu was pleased he had come. Dianna had clearly been an accomplished mimic. Perhaps she herself had been Angus’s voice after he was dead—perhaps even for some time before. Also he was glad to have seen Young Tau again. He imagined there was a lot more interesting stuff in Tau’s head, but he didn’t know the right questions to get it out.

  “Ke itumetse, Rra Tau,” he thanked his host formally. “Thank you also for the lunch and your wisdom. Perhaps I may come again to see you?”

  But Tau had a question of his own. “Are you going to catch them? These evil people who killed Master Angus and Miss Dianna?”

  Kubu nodded. “First I have to find out who they really are,” he said.

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 79

  This is becoming a bad habit, Kubu thought as he once again headed for the Wimpy at Game City. It was only six-thirty a.m. when he arrived. Once again he ordered the steak-and-egg breakfast and settled down with the Daily News. By coincidence, today’s headline also announced a BCMC board meeting. Last time, the newspaper had reported Dianna’s ascendancy to head of BCMC. This time the headline was very different: ‘Shake-up At BCMC’.

  Kubu read on with great interest.

  …meeting yesterday morning, the board of BCMC brought about major and unexpected changes to the executive of the company. The board confirmed its previous decision to make Mr Cecil Hofmeyr CEO of the company—a step down from his previous position of chairman, which had included the function of CEO. The position of chairman, recently made vacant by the untimely death of Dianna Hofmeyr, who had held the position for only a few days, was filled by longtime government-appointed board member Mr Peter Rabafana. The other government-appointed board member, Mr Robert Nama, was appointed as an executive director. Sources who wish to remain nameless told the Daily News that surprisingly little discussion preceded the new appointments. Local analysts had expected Cecil Hofmeyr to pull together enough family votes to vote himself back in as chairman and CEO.

  Kubu shook his head. “What’s going on?” he said to himself out loud, catching the attention of two young patrons at the next table. They were not sure whether the question had been addressed to them. They decided to remain quiet and see whether it was repeated. Kubu shook his head and again asked ou
t loud, “What on earth is going on?” The two youngsters, who were the only people within earshot, looked at each other, picked up their trays, and moved to the far end of the restaurant.

  Kubu speculated on what had happened. Cecil must have been caught on one of Kobedi’s tapes, and senior government members were using this to control him. He wondered whether Mabaku had seen the tape, and if so, what he had done with it. Good riddance, thought Kubu. Cecil’s history was one of sleaze and tugging at the edges of what was ethical. He may have made BCMC very successful, but there was always an angle that benefited him. Kobedi was obviously a benefit that Cecil thought he could keep under wraps. But he had underestimated Kobedi—and the ambition of some government officials.

  As he wondered about BCMC and its politics, his eye caught another front-page headline: ‘Spate of Civil Service Resignations’. Kubu’s eyebrows arched.

  In an unexpected development yesterday afternoon, three more senior civil servants resigned from their positions. This adds to the resignations announced yesterday. Reasons for the resignations include early retirement and a wish to pursue other interests. One of the people retiring, Mr Thapelo Sengwane, has decided to emigrate to the UK. A spokeswoman for the Ministry for Presidential and Public Administration described the five almost simultaneous departures as ‘coincidence’.

  The article went on to discuss the careers of the gentlemen concerned, but there was no real clue as to their motivations.

  Kubu shook his head yet again. More chums of Kobedi’s, I bet, he said to himself. I wonder what other heads are going to roll?

  Shortly after Kubu got to the office, Mabaku summoned him. They talked about the cases for about half an hour. Kubu told Mabaku who Daniel really was, and what Young Tau had told him about Dianna’s ability as a mimic. And that the web of forensic evidence was tightening. The bullet from Sculo matched the gun taken from Red Beard at Kazungula; mobile phone traces linked Dianna to Ferraz and both to Red Beard; and it was Red Beard’s thumbprint on the petrol slip Kubu found at Kamissa.

  Zanele had confirmed that Angus had been murdered at the farmhouse. The unknown fingerprints in the upstairs prison and on the coin belonged to him. Kubu paused, imagining his friend’s desperate and ultimately unsuccessful efforts to escape. As yet there was nothing concrete linking Ferraz and Red Beard to Aron’s death, but Kubu had no doubt there would be once they found the body. Red Beard was at the centre of the web. But he was still at large. The world’s police forces had been alerted, but nothing had turned up. They could only wait.

  Mabaku seemed distracted, his mind elsewhere. To Kubu’s surprise, he called Miriam and ordered coffee and biscuits for both of them. After the coffee had been poured and a few biscuits savoured, Mabaku asked, “Have you seen this morning’s paper?”

  Kubu nodded and remained quiet, waiting for Mabaku to take the lead.

  “I am sure that you realise that the two lead stories are related?” There was a hint of a question in Mabaku’s statement. Kubu nodded.

  Mabaku continued, “You know how worried I was about the potential for misuse of Kobedi’s tapes. As I am sure you surmised, one of the tapes had Cecil as co-star. Somehow that was connected with the result of the board meeting. I wonder how he survived at all. And I’m sure you figured out that the current spate of resignations is also related to the tapes. Kobedi must have been a very persuasive character.”

  “He was disgusting,” Kubu responded. “He thought he had enough on everyone to keep them all quiet, not to mention guarantee a steady income. His is the one murder I don’t hold against Red Beard! Kobedi was well organised; I have to give him that. To have all those tapes made in secret without anyone ever knowing. What a racket.” He continued in his most innocent voice: “What happened to the tapes in the end?”

  Mabaku stared icily at Kubu, “This goes no further than this room, understand?” Kubu nodded. “I’d looked at several of the tapes to see who was implicated. There were two or three with really high-profile people, including the one starring Cecil. I decided to take the lot to the commissioner. He’s honest, and I trusted him to do the right thing. He was very shocked and told me to leave the tapes with him and to erase any copies. There were a variety of other senior people in the private and public sectors involved. I think we’ll be seeing more departures pretty soon.

  “The commissioner told me yesterday he had destroyed all of the tapes, in the national interest. Do you think I should believe him?”

  Kubu decided this was a question he shouldn’t answer. Suddenly Mabaku stood up and went to the window overlooking the Kgale Hill. “You and I, Kubu, will bide our time on this. I mean to keep my word about everyone adhering to the same standards. Keep your eyes and ears open. We will have to be patient, but I think we will prevail.”

  ∨ A Carrion Death ∧

  CHAPTER 80

  Business parties are a mixed bag for most people, but not for Ilia. For the fox terrier, they were wonderful. She could greet a stream of unknown people at the gate, barking loudly to show who was in charge. Then for the duration of the evening, she could pester them until they made a fuss of her and slipped her tasty morsels. What could be better?

  Pleasant was the first to arrive, about an hour before the appointed time of seven o’clock. Ilia met her at the gate with raucous delight. It was all that Pleasant could do to keep her from jumping into her arms. She fended Ilia off with a chilled bottle of South African sauvignon blanc from the Steenberg vineyard, something that the manager at the bottle store had recommended. She had also bought two bags of ice, which Kubu had forgotten.

  Pleasant was a little nervous because she knew the nice young lecturer from the university was also going to be there—the one Joy and Kubu had told her about on a few occasions.

  “Just be yourself,” Joy had admonished her. “Don’t be nervous. Get to know him. Ask him a lot of questions. Pretend to be interested.”

  Pleasant had to laugh at Joy’s efforts to find her a man. Joy must think that she sat alone at home every night. In reality, Pleasant dated frequently and knew a number of delightful young men. She just hadn’t yet met one that she wanted to marry.

  Much to Joy’s delight, Bongani arrived next. When he walked into the house, he looked a little nervous, but it was unclear whether this was from running the gauntlet of Ilia’s vociferous welcome or from the daunting reality that he was early and so had no crowd to use as cover. He too brought a bottle of wine. He had seen Château Libertas before and had tried it once. He quite liked it, and it was within his budget. He thought a French wine would be an unusual gift. He didn’t know that, despite its name, it was merely one of South Africa’s less expensive offerings.

  Joy welcomed Bongani at the door and introduced him to Pleasant, whose first impression was positive. Good height, lean body, and an attractive face. She did not have much more to feed her first impression, because Bongani mumbled something and clamped his mouth firmly shut.

  “Can I get you a drink?” she asked him. He nodded. “Give me a hint as to what you would like,” she teased. “Scotch, water, wine, soft drink?” He stood without answering. She waited for a few seconds, then said, “All right, then, if you can’t make up your mind, it will have to be a surprise.” She turned and walked into the kitchen. Bongani felt his face flush as he heard Joy and Pleasant burst into laughter.

  A few minutes later, Pleasant walked back, carrying a glass of white wine. “I hope you like it,” she said. “It’s a South African sauvignon blanc—comes highly recommended.” He took the glass and stammered his thanks. He was relieved to see Kubu approaching. Pleasant was about to ask him a question when the next guests, Director Mabaku and his wife, Marie, arrived to a prolonged yapping from Ilia.

  “Good evening, Joy, Kubu. Good evening, everyone.” Kubu shook hands and offered drinks.

  “I would like a small glass of white wine, please,” Marie said.

  Kubu turned to Mabaku. “Mr Director. What will you have? I have some nice whisky
, if you like.”

  “No thank you, Kubu. I’ll try one of your famous wine offerings. How about a nice red with some soda water?”

  “You want the soda in the wine?” Kubu was barely able to ask the question.

  “Of course!” Mabaku said.

  Kubu managed not to shake his head as he walked to the kitchen. There’s no way I’m going to put soda into my wine, he said to himself. Not even into the Château Libertas.

  A few minutes later he handed Marie her white wine and Mabaku a glass of red wine and a glass of soda water.

  “I put the soda separately,” Kubu said. “I wasn’t sure how much you wanted.”

  Mabaku took the two glasses with an abrupt “Thank you.” Immediately he poured the soda into the wine, the mixture back into the soda glass, and then back again, leaving him with two glasses of bubbling rose-coloured liquid.

  He turned to Kubu, glared, and said, “Spritzer! Wine spritzer! You’ve heard of them, haven’t you?” Kubu didn’t know what to say, so he nodded and retreated to talk to Bongani, who was still looking lost. Mabaku tried without success to suppress a smile.

  A few minutes later, Ilia raced out of the house, skidded on the veranda and returned with Ian MacGregor. He was alone, a confirmed bachelor, although a woman or two had tried to change that. Kubu introduced him to the people he didn’t know.

  “My, my,” murmured Ian to Kubu. “The only glass of milk on a tray of hot chocolate!” Kubu burst out laughing. He took Ian by the arm and led him into the kitchen to choose his Scotch.

  Bongani wasn’t going to initiate conversation with anyone, least of all Pleasant—a vivacious young woman who took delight in teasing him. He was experiencing the familiar turmoil that surfaced at such parties. He wanted to be liked and be part of the group, but had no confidence in his ability to fit in successfully. He couldn’t understand how mature adults could talk such trite nonsense for hours on end. He was sure he couldn’t last more than a few minutes of such frivolous exchanges. He would run out of things to say. He wished he could sit down one-on-one with someone and talk about something interesting, something serious, such as global warming or deforestation.