Deadly Harvest (23 page)

FORTY

S
AMANTHA WAS PLE
ASED, AND
a little surprised, to find a helpful man at the Department of Immigration and Citizenship, who was able to retrieve information on Owido quite quickly. Apparently he'd entered the country legally about five months before, indicating that he was a tourist. He'd given a motel in Gaborone as his address. There was, however, no record of him leaving Botswana, and he was still within the time allowed him at entry. He was, of course, not entitled to work in the country.

Samantha thought it likely that Owido's plan was to stay in the country illegally, but at the moment there was no reason for him to be on the run from the police or anyone else, as far as she could tell.

She checked her notes and then headed for the factory where Owido had worked. The owner was a little nervous about a follow-­up visit after the call from Kubu, but he was polite and tried to answer her questions. However, she learned nothing more than what Kubu had discovered. At her request, he pointed out the ­people with whom Owido had worked. Most had little time for her—­or, it appeared, for Owido—­but one man was more helpful. He had a broad, open face and his ready smile made Samantha smile also.

“Mabulo? He was a good guy. Willing to do the jobs other ­people didn't want, like cleaning up at the end of the day. I had a beer with him once, and we had a nice chat. But ­people looked at us strangely. You know?”

Samantha nodded, although she couldn't see why ­people didn't mind their own business.

“When did you last see him?”

“On Friday afternoon a week ago. He wanted to know where he could go for a nice evening that Saturday, and I suggested a place. You won't believe it, but it's called BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL. But he said he didn't know anyone and didn't want to go alone, so I said I might join him there. He was pleased about that.” He looked down at his feet. “But I got tied up with something else.”

“Was he unhappy here? Any reason for him to leave suddenly?”

He shook his head. “Look, ­people aren't always fair, you know? And sometimes if you're different . . . and a foreigner . . . they're sometimes unkind. But it was okay, you know? I hope you find him. I hope he's all right.”

Samantha nodded and thanked him.

She thought through what Kubu had told her and what she had learned subsequently. There was no apparent reason for the albino's sudden disappearance, and she had a bad feeling about what may have happened to him. She decided that a visit to BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL should be next on the agenda.

S
AMANTH
A GREETED
B
IG
M
AMA
and received a big hug in exchange, as though she were an old friend. “Come and sit, my dear, and have some tea.” The large woman led her to a side table. Samantha hardly expected tea at a
shebeen
, but she'd begun to realize that things were not always as expected at BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL.

The two women sipped their tea and chatted for a few minutes about mutual acquaintances before Samantha got around to her questions.

“Do you remember exactly when Owido left that Saturday night?”

Big Mama thought it was around nine o'clock, but she didn't actually see him go.

“Can you remember who else was here that night? Were there any strangers? And particularly any who came by car?” If Owido had been abducted, then it must have been in some sort of vehicle.

It was now more than a week later, but Big Mama had a good recollection of most of her customers of that Saturday night. She pointed to each table in turn, visualizing who had sat at it. Samantha noted all the names. Big Mama also remembered that there was a number of customers that she hadn't seen before. She said her waitress might know them, but she only worked in the evenings.

“As to vehicles, there's Lome, the butcher. He came in his van. He sat there.” Big Mama pointed to a seat at the bar.

Samantha made a note. A butcher's delivery van sounded quite promising, although the thought of what might have happened at the butchery made her feel sick. “Do you remember when he left?”

“He kept looking at the door as though he was expecting someone. Eventually another guy turned up, and they left together.”

“What time was that?”

Big Mama shrugged. “I remember it was getting really busy. Maybe it was around nine.” About the same time as Owido. Samantha put a star next to Lome on her list.

She looked farther down the list for ­people with vehicles. “What about this Sunday Molefe and his friend?”

“Sun has an old Volkswagen Jetta. I don't know who the friend was, but I think they came in together. They sat outside. A few tables down from Owido.” Samantha realized it would be a good place to keep an eye on the albino.

“When did they leave?” she asked.

Big Mama thought about it. “When I noticed Owido had gone, they were gone, too.”

“Was anyone else sitting outside?”

Big Mama thought again. “Just two girls I didn't know.” She took a sip of tea. “They were sharing one beer,” she added with a hint of disapproval.

“Do you know much about Molefe?”

Big Mama shook her head firmly, causing a ripple through her fat. “He calls himself a businessman but never specifies what business that is.” She drained her tea and chuckled. “Not really my ‘cup of tea,' as they say in English.” Samantha thought it an odd phrase, but she realized Big Mama didn't care for Molefe. That alone was enough to put a star next to his name.

By the time Big Mama had finished her analysis of each person, Samantha had two starred names to follow up. Then there were the two men Big Mama didn't know. Samantha decided to start with Sunday Molefe. He and the butcher seemed the most promising.

S
AMANTHA DROVE SLOWLY DOWN
the street on which Molefe lived, and tried to make out the house numbers. Eventually she spotted a battered Volkswagen Jetta parked at the side of the road, outside the house she sought. It was lunchtime on a Monday, but it looked as though Molefe was home.

She banged on the door and waited. Eventually, it was opened by a youngish man wearing only khaki shorts and sandals. He was well-­built and quite good-­looking, but his teeth had been neglected.

“Who're you?”

“Are you Sunday Molefe?” Samantha showed him her police identification.

He studied it carefully, then nodded. “What do you want?”

“I want to ask you a few questions. Can I come in?”

“I suppose so.” He stood aside enough so that she could enter by brushing past him. She got a whiff of bad breath and grimaced. He led her to the main room of the house and sat down at a wooden dining table in front of a half-­eaten plate of
pap
with fatty sausages. He didn't invite her to sit, but looked her over, starting at her face and working down. His expression made it clear that he'd seen better, and he resumed his lunch.

Samantha ignored his rudeness and helped herself to a chair. “We're trying to trace a man who's gone missing.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“We think you may have seen him. Where were you on the evening of Saturday, the fifth of May?”

“Saturday a week ago?” He appeared to think about it. “I went to a
shebeen
with my friend Wilson. We had a few drinks, and then went to the Gaborone Sun and gambled.”

“Which
shebeen
was that?”

“It's called BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL.” He laughed. “Actually she knows nothing, but that's what it's called.”

“Did you notice anyone there in particular? Maybe someone who looked out of place?”

Molefe shrugged. “Look, it was more than a week ago. I don't know. I picked up Wilson; we cruised around a bit and went for a drink.” He used the sausage to shovel up
pap
. He chewed with his mouth open, exposing the bad teeth.

“When did you get there and when did you leave?”

“I don't remember exactly. Okay?” It wasn't okay, but Samantha had to accept it for the time being.

“When did you get to the casino?”

“That was about nine o'clock. We gambled for a few hours. Lost. We had a ­couple of drinks and split. Look, what's this all about anyway?”

Samantha ignored that. “Did you speak to anyone at the Sun?”

“Yes, some girls later on. And the bartender. He'll remember us. Bastard stole a hundred pula from me.”

“How's that?”

“I gave him a two-­hundred pula note, and he said we'd only given him a one hundred. I even gave him our names so he could check later and call us. But he never did, the bastard.”

How convenient, Samantha thought. I bet you asked for his name, as well as giving him yours. “Did you get his name?”

Molefe took out his wallet from the back pocket of his shorts and scratched around till he found a scrap of paper. He gave it to her, smiling.

Samantha read it, then looked up at him. “What about the albino?” she asked casually.

Molefe frowned, then he deliberately put the rest of the sausage in his mouth and chewed it carefully. After he'd swallowed, he asked, “What albino?”

“The albino who was sitting near you at BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL. You must remember him.”

Molefe shook his head. “You think I remember everyone I see in a bar? Maybe a girl—­a good-­looking girl. But there's no shortage of them, either.” He shrugged.

Very relaxed, casual, not worried at all, Samantha thought. He's very pleased with himself, but that doesn't mean he's guilty of anything. She asked him for Wilson's full name and contact details, which he gave her without hesitation.

With nothing more to ask, she was glad to leave Molefe to his lunch.

T
HE
A
LWAYS
B
EST
M
EAT
butchery was in Broadhurst Mall. Lome worked there with an assistant and a woman who ran the cash register. The shop was busy at lunchtime, and Lome was doing a brisk trade in delicacies like tripe, sweetbreads, and game meat as well as more usual fare. Samantha had a good look around and watched Lome efficiently dealing with the meat. He was a hefty man; she could visualize him overpowering the albino and bringing him here. The screech of bone being sawed set her teeth on edge.

At last the shop emptied, and she was able to talk to Lome. She showed her identification, and he took her to a tiny room at the back, leaving the butchery in the hands of his assistant. He appeared nervous and kept looking out into the shop.

“I hope this will be quick,” Lome said. “My apprentice is only learning.”

“I just need to ask you a few questions. We're trying to trace a man who's missing. We think you may be able to help us.”

Lome shrugged. “I will if I can.”

“Where were you on Saturday night, the fifth of May?”

Lome jerked round, surprised. “Saturday before last? I had a few drinks at a bar. After that I went home and watched TV.”

“Which bar?”

“It's called BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL. Fun place.”

“Did you go alone?”

“That's right.”

“Did you meet up with someone there?”

“No. I said I was alone. Just chatted to the ­people sitting nearby.”

“And when did you leave?”

Lome glanced at his watch as though it would remind him, and then looked out to the shop again. His assistant was cutting T-­bone steaks. “Around nine, I think it was. Something like that.”

Samantha made notes slowly, letting Lome worry about the steaks. Then she looked up and asked, “Did you see an albino man at the
shebeen
?”

Lome returned his attention to her, and hesitated. “Maybe. I think there was an albino sitting outside. So what? I don't know him.”

“And you left there alone?”

“That's what I keep telling you.”

D
RIVING BACK TO THE
CID, Samantha reviewed the two interviews, deciding how she would summarize them to Kubu.

Molefe was relaxed and self-­confident with a conveniently constructed alibi for later that Saturday night. But he'd reacted to the question about the albino, and had given himself time to prepare his answer. Lome, on the other hand, was clearly nervous about something, and had lied about not meeting anyone at the
shebeen
. Yet his response to the albino question was completely natural. He'd seemed surprised by it, but not at all concerned.

Could he react that way with bits of Owido in his cold room? Samantha shuddered. She didn't think so, but men occasionally surprised her. She wished Kubu had been with her, but she wasn't going to admit that to him.

FORTY-ONE

W
HEN
S
AMANTHA REPORTED BACK,
Kubu encouraged her to follow up by returning to BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL that evening and talking to the waitress.

She tidied up her office, closed down her computer, and went to the Wimpy at Game City for a quick hamburger. Then she returned to the
shebeen
, finding it crowded despite it being a Monday night.

Big Mama was very busy keeping the customers supplied with drinks, but she waved to Samantha when she came in, and as soon as she could she bustled over with a Coke.

“Have you discovered something?” she asked, puffing a bit after all the running around.

Samantha shook her head. “I'd like to speak to that waitress you said is here in the evenings—­perhaps she noticed something about Owido and the ­people you didn't know.”

Big Mama nodded. “Her name's Nuru, but one of her children is sick, so she'll only be in later. That's why I'm so busy. We'll chat as soon as I have a chance.” Then she was off again.

Samantha sat at a small table out of the way and nursed the Coke, hoping Nuru wouldn't take too long to appear. About fifteen minutes later, a rather plain girl wearing an apron approached. “I'm Nuru,” she announced, pulling up a chair. “Now, how can I help you? Big Mama is already upset I'm so late, so it better be quick.”

Samantha explained what she wanted, and the woman thought about it. “I don't know the two girls that sat outside. One beer between them and no tip. There were also two guys that hadn't been here before, but they joined up with some regulars and left late.”

That was a dead end, Samantha thought, but perhaps the girl knew something about Owido.

“Do you remember the albino who was here that night?”

“Oh, yes. He was sitting outside.”

“Did you notice exactly when he left?”

“It was just before nine. I was going to have a cigarette break at nine, and it was just before that.”

“Did you see anyone else leave at about that time?”

Nuru nodded. “When I went to pick up the empty glass, I saw Sunday Molefe and his friend swallow the rest of their beers and leave as well. None of them left a tip.”

Samantha leaned forward. “You mean Molefe and the other man followed the albino?”

Nuru shrugged. “I didn't watch them. Maybe they went another way. But they seemed in a hurry to leave as soon as he did.”

Samantha asked several more questions, but Nuru couldn't help her with anything else. So she thanked the woman and headed for home, getting to bed later than usual.

T
HE NEXT MORNING SHE
slept through the alarm and rushed to interview Molefe's friend, Wilson Demene, before he went to work. Although it was after eight by the time she found the house, he was still there. He responded to her third knock, unshaven and with a hint of alcohol on his breath.

“What do you want?”

Samantha showed him her police identification.

His face fell. “Oh, police.” He hesitated, avoiding her eyes. “Look, I'm busy. Could you come back later?”

“It's very urgent, Rra Demene. It won't take long.”

“Just a minute.” He closed the door, and she heard him talking and a woman replying. He said “police” loudly, and a moment later the back door slammed and footsteps hurried away. Then Demene let Samantha in.

The front door opened onto the living room, bachelor-­furnished with a wooden table, a few mismatched chairs, and a large television. He offered Samantha a seat.

“Rra Demene, I want to ask you about Saturday night a week ago.” Demene nodded, looking down at the table.

“Where were you that night?”

“I was with my friend, Sunday Molefe. We drove around a bit, had a few drinks at a
shebeen
, and then went to the Gaborone Sun and gambled.”

“Which
shebeen
was that? When did you get there?”

“Around seven. A place called BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL.” He shrugged.

“Did you see an albino at the
shebeen
?”

Demene became agitated. “No! Why would I? I avoid them anyway. They bring bad luck. We just had a few drinks, that's all.”

“There was an albino sitting opposite you. You must've noticed him.”

“I ignored him. I mean I would've ignored him if I'd seen him. I told you I don't like them.”

“When did you leave?”

“About nine.”

“Did you follow the albino?”

“No. We went to the Sun. You can check with the bartender.” He hesitated. “I told you I didn't see any albino. How could I follow him?”

Samantha didn't bother to pursue that. She would just hear Demene mouthing Molefe's story again.

She tried a few more questions, but Demene stuck to his story despite his nervousness. Eventually she thanked him for his time and left.

Next she went to the Gaborone Sun. The bartender who had served Molefe wasn't in yet, but the restaurant manager phoned him for her. She spoke to him for several minutes and discovered that he had seen Molefe and Demene, although his version of the money story was different. Then she drove to the CID, headed straight to Kubu's office, knocked, and went in. She found Kubu in a pensive mood behind his desk, nibbling cookies. He looked up and nodded toward a seat. She accepted an offered cookie; breakfast had been rushed.

“I've been thinking about the butcher, Lome,” Kubu said. “Why would he deny meeting someone at Big Mama's? It happened in front of everyone there. He would know that we could check up on that. And I can't believe the witch doctor would display himself in such a public place if he meant to abduct and kill someone there. It doesn't make sense.”

Samantha thought about it. “Maybe Lome met someone else he doesn't want the police to know about. Nothing to do with Owido.”

Kubu smiled. “Exactly what I was thinking. We'll still need to check it, but I think if we let him know we're investigating a possible murder, he'll tell us the truth.” He finished the cookie and casually reached for another. “What did you find out last night?”

Samantha could hardly contain her excitement. “The server I spoke to at BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL said that when Owido left, she saw Molefe and Demene drain their glasses and leave, too. She said it was just before nine. They may have been the last ­people to see him!”

Kubu put down the cookie he was about to pop into his mouth. “Samantha, that makes a huge difference. It's still circumstantial, but if Molefe and Demene were following him, they may be the culprits.”

Samantha nodded. “I followed up this morning with Demene. I didn't learn much more, but he was really nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Yes. Not meeting my eyes, glancing away, hesitating over answers. Anyway, he denied he'd seen an albino at the
shebeen
even though he kept getting confused about that. He said that he wouldn't go near one anyway because he didn't like them and they bring bad luck. Apart from that he repeated exactly what Molefe said. Obviously Molefe had told him about my visit.” She sighed. “I should have gone straight to Demene from Molefe yesterday.”

“Maybe not. It may have been a good idea to let him stew. Anyway, Molefe would have called him the moment you left.”

Samantha nodded. “And their alibi checks out as far as it goes. I spoke to that bartender at the Gaborone Sun. He remembered them all right. Molefe definitely only gave him a hundred-­pula note, and then made a big fuss. However, it happened some time after he came on duty, and that was at ten p.m. So it only proves that Molefe and Demene were at the Gaborone Sun more than an hour after Owido left the
shebeen
.”

“You've achieved a lot, Samantha. We've narrowed the possibilities down, and I think our best bet at the moment is Molefe and Demene. I've got an idea about how to handle Rra Demene. I think I'll pay him a visit.”

“Should I come with you?”

Kubu thought about it, then shook his head. “I think this might work better if I'm on my own. You have a go at getting the truth out of Lome.”

Samantha had to be satisfied with that.