Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 01 (15 page)

Chapter 32

Henry Farrah was not as sober as he had appeared when he stormed out of Leo’s room. As with many of his generation, he’d grown up in an era that partied hard, played hard, and blew off the potential consequences. He thought he’d developed a high tolerance for alcohol. In fact, as a young man, he had. He could drink many lesser men under the table. But age plays tricks on one’s body. The ability to metabolize alcohol decreases inversely with the years, which is why there are so many old people diagnosed as alcoholics by their families. It’s not that they drink more, or even to excess. Two martinis before dinner might have characterized a couple’s preprandial drinking for years with no untoward effects. Then one day the roast burns to a crisp, or they miss dinner entirely, or…worse.

Henry would have been over his limit even if he had been twenty. He staggered from Leo’s room and headed down the path that led to the Sedudu bar. His intent was to get thoroughly blotto and then he’d have a few things to say to that bastard, Leo. It was very dark and the path was uneven and he stumbled a lot. He had to pass by a copse of trees whose hanging branches hung over the narrow walkway. As he came abreast of them, he could just make out the bar’s dim lights ahead. A figure stepped in front of him.

“Take some advice from someone who knows, don’t sell your soul to the company. It’ll kill you,” he mumbled to himself and paused, peered into the darkness in an effort to make out who stood in his way.

They were the last words to leave his mouth, for at that precise moment he experienced the most excruciating pain he’d felt since he passed a kidney stone. It quite literally took his breath away. The pain centered in his abdomen just below his breastbone. In the fraction of a second between the onset of the pain and his reeling away, he wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. The image of his wife and daughter flitted through his mind. There was the life insurance. In the seconds before the damage to his left ventricle caused by Brenda’s spear point resulted in a massive hemorrhage into his cardiac cavity, he managed to stagger forward, arms flailing. His thought, which he never completed: seek help at the Sedudu bar. Instead, faculties fading, he careened across the campground and collapsed in the scrub at its edge.

The last thing Henry Farrah saw before he departed this life was the enormous maned head of the lion. Its golden eyes seemed soft and strangely sympathetic, as if it, too, faced death and understood his anguish.

***

The sound of the struggle had aroused Sekoa, that and the metallic scent of blood that quickly wafted across the space between him and the sounds of distress caused by Henry’s death. He listened to the pounding of feet going away in one direction, the crashing about in the bush closer in. He heaved himself up on quivering legs and cautiously padded forward toward the inert man. He stood over him, poised and ready to give chase if by chance it should try to rise. He sniffed and snorted. The thing was dead. He would not have to kill it. He closed his jaws on the man’s shoulder and dragged him a dozen meters farther into the bush. This small effort so exhausted him he dropped to the ground next to his prize, panting. His starving body told him he must feed but he could not summon the energy to do so. He would rest.

Back along the trail he’d made dragging the corpse, the spear point had come dislodged and lay partially hidden in a clump of grass. Sekoa huffed and dropped his head on the man’s chest and closed his eyes.

There is some evidence, mostly anecdotal, that animals anticipate their deaths. Tales of elephant graveyards, cats who wander off to die, a dying bull who charges one last time. Who can be sure? It is equally uncertain if humans have that same sense. If so, the evidence for it is even scanter. So, one cannot say whether Sekoa knew his time had come. Henry Farrah certainly did not. The only certainty was that the two of them would be found together the next day by the hotel’s employees who’d been sent out to search for the missing Henry Farrah.

***

Brenda sat by the bed, obviously angry, her face flushed and her foot tapping a staccato beat against the floor.

“Where’ve you been?” she demanded of Bobby as he slithered in through the sliding glass door.

“I could ask the same thing about you, only I already know. You’ve been with Parizzi.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Why would I be seeing him? He’s a jerk.”

“He’s a jerk now? Woo-hoo, what happened to the hot financial deal he was going to do with the stocks? My stocks? Weren’t you supposed to be his partner or something?”

“The deal’s off and it’s your fault. You had to go and tell Leo about how Travis had bought them and now Leo has them and Travis doesn’t need us any more.”

“He dumped you, Brenda? Gee, I’m so sorry.” Bobby’s grin only infuriated her even more. She launched into a tirade that made all of her past efforts pale by comparison. Bobby cracked a beer and waited until she wound down.

“You got what was coming to you, Brenda, so stop your bitching.”

“What was coming to me? Listen, I busted my ass to put this thing together. And what about you? You’re out in the cold, too. Didn’t you tell me Leo fired you? So what do we live on now?”

“We? What’s with we? You and me aren’t a
we
anymore. It’s, like, just me.”

“Yeah? You thinking about cutting me out? Let me tell you, it can’t happen, Buster. You’ll end up losing the farm. See, I know things about you—a certain thing. I have alternatives, and I’ll hire me a lawyer.”

Bobby giggled and then composed himself. “You’ll need a good one, maybe local at that?”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. But you’d better believe I am not going to suffer, now or ever again. That company? I figure its going to be mine soon.”

“Yours? That’s a laugh. Leo thinks it’s his company. Travis says it’ll soon be his, and now you say it’s yours? How do you figure that?”

“Let’s just say I fixed it.”

“Fixed what?”

“All you people, even my own wife, you all think I’m stupid. Well, I am not the stupid one here. You want to stick around, Brenda, you’d better be real nice to me from now on. Calling me stupid could be, like, hazardous to your health.”

Brenda studied him closely, weighing her options, all of which had been drastically reduced in the last hour, and calmed down. She thought she knew how to manipulate him.

He giggled again. She was stuck, and he was going to enjoy this, it seemed.

“Nice, how?”

“What, I have to spell it out for you? Go take one of those long showers you like so much. You need to wash Travis off so take your time and make sure you do it right. Then, come out. You know what I want.”

She hesitated, seeming to weigh her chances one way or the other, shrugged, and did as he asked. When the shower door closed he slipped her bloody glove in the trash can under a supply of tissues she’d deposited earlier. He noted that some of the blood oozed onto two of the tissues, her tissues, with her DNA.

Sweet.

Chapter 33

Dawn brought back the birds yammering in the trees. Farther away, toward the park, an elephant trumpeted, ushering in the rising sun. Mist drifted across the river, and the day broke fresh and new. Near the river, the herbal scent of the river seemed to rise with the mist. David Mmusi considered himself a very lucky fellow. He had a beautiful girlfriend and a part-time job at the Safari Lodge. Each morning before school, he would walk to the Sedudu bar and straighten up. His job was to remove the empty bottles, empty the dust bins and ash trays, and sweep up. In the afternoon he would return and help fill the ice buckets, place the tables and chairs in order, and set out the bottles of liquor for the evening’s consumption. It did not pay well, but it would serve as a foot in the door for the future after he finished his education. Jobs at the lodges in Kasane were difficult to obtain. He had a head start.

He quick-stepped down the path from the main lodge, humming along with the latest song from America that he’d downloaded to his MP3 player. At the turning in the path, where tree limbs hang over, something bright and colorful caught his eye. He stopped and looked into the deeper shadows against the tree trunks. A leopard patterned scarf apparently dropped by a guest fluttered weakly in the freshening breeze. He picked it up and folded it carefully. It will be a very fine present for Mpitle, he thought. He put it in his pocket and continued on his way to the bar. He had work to do and a long walk after that to school. He would present this fine scarf to Mpitle during lunch break.

***

Travis saw the dawn. He had not slept. Too much had happened in the last few hours, and his excitement had kept him as alert and wide awake as a triple shot cappuccino. Getting rid of Brenda Griswold had been easier than he’d expected. Once she realized she no longer had anything with which to bargain and therefore he had no further use for her, she’d left, but only after making some very explicit suggestions as to what he could do with himself in the future, several of which were neither gracefully stated nor anatomically possible. He guessed he’d gotten off easy. He hoped she would find her way back to her husband and former life. She certainly seemed capable. She’d hooked Bobby once, she could do so again.

Candor was not a virtue in the circles in which Travis moved, but he had to concede he felt no remorse. Schemers like Brenda always landed on their feet. She would this time as well. He turned his attention to the papers he’d brought from Chicago. He didn’t need half of them anymore. They dealt with a now no-longer-operative, the who, what, and how of his take-over plan. The rest were detailed performance ratings of the company, its divisions, and subdivisions. He’d need to memorize the figures. If he and Leo were going to work together, he’d need to know as much as he did—no mean feat. Leo might not have the benefit of an MBA, nor, Travis believed, a baccalaureate, but when it came to the company and its myriad pieces and parts, he was a walking encyclopedia. Whether or not people thought Leo was over the hill, they conceded he knew his company—all of it.

Real estate? Leo said he wanted a piece of it to build his lodge and casino and maybe a few other projects. Well, why not? The old guy could not last much longer. Why not give him a hobby? And the way this country was progressing, a tourist spot on the Chobe River could pay. He’d have a conversation with Greshenko about that. Perhaps the company could hold its retreats here.

Overall, it had been a stupendous night. He flopped on the bed and dozed. Meeting with Leo and the Russian—when? Leo hadn’t said. Soon.

***

Sanderson awoke early. She’d had a dream that frightened her. Something about death. She couldn’t recall exactly what, but it felt close. She crept to Michael’s room and listened to his ragged breathing. Not Michael. Who? Who was going to die? She could not get back to sleep, so she dressed and prepared coffee and porridge. Today she would have to stop the hunt. She could not justify the time any more. Mr. Pako would be leaving in the afternoon and that would settle it at last. The game drivers had reported that a new male lion had assumed the rule over the Natanga pride. That made her sad. She would miss old Sekoa.

Mpitle stirred and asked if something was wrong.

“No, nothing’s wrong, girl. You go and sleep some more, then you must get yourself ready for school. Your breakfast is on the burner. Make sure Michael eats something. I must go and see about this hunting we have been doing.”

She stepped out into the dawn, took a deep breath and climbed into her truck. The anxiety she’d felt earlier would not go away. What could it be, all this thinking of death? Rra Kaleke approached her.

“
Dumela, Mma,
will we be hunting today?”

“
Dumela, Rra
, no, no hunting today or any more, I think.”

Rra Kaleke nodded. “That lion is gone far from here. But I thank you, Sanderson, for the opportunity to hunt again. You are a good woman.”

With that he turned on his heel and strode away. She recognized that he’d paid her a high compliment. He reminded her of old Sekoa, and she wondered how many months or years either had left on this earth.

***

Brenda spent the early dawn staring at the bare back of her sleeping husband. It had been too easy. Bobby was up to something. What had he meant when he said he’d fixed it? Why so confident all of a sudden? She wished she knew. She’d go through his stuff and find out, but first she needed a shower. She slipped out of bed and into bathroom. She inspected herself in the mirror. Her mascara had run and she looked like a raccoon. Her hair could have served as a nest for a pair of storks. She was a mess, and really hungry.

***

The gray monkey sat on his haunches and studied the lion and the man. He had no fear of either. He knew they no longer posed a threat. The sun warmed the ground, and that woke up the flies. They began to arrive, first just a few, and then they came in swarms. The vultures would be next and then the rest of the carrion eaters. A dead lion, a dead man. The inevitable sequelae of scavengers soon to come frightened him more than either the man or the lion would, if alive. He galloped away.

A kilometer to the west, the hyenas began yipping and chortling. The pack waited. They had tested the air and knew their enemy lay dead nearby. There would be food, but did they dare go so close to the humans? They’d found the gap in the fence and had even made a protracted sortie in the direction he’d gone, but caution quickly overcame hunger, and they’d retreated. But now?

The pack circled, barking and yipping, awaiting a decision from their leader. The pack’s matriarch lifted her head and turned eastward, toward the scent. She snapped her jaws, made a noise that sounded like a cross between a gargle and a bark, and then turned and trotted west. Some of the pack milled about, reluctant to follow, and yapped their frustration at having to pass on this easy feed.

Chapter 34

Leo Painter’s morning started slowly. He’d slept fitfully at first, until the four extra-strength Tylenols and the nitro finally kicked in, easing his chest pain. Bright sunshine and singing birds finally pulled him back to consciousness. He arose, splashed water on his face and confronted the day. He didn’t like what he saw. A shower and shave only marginally improved his mood. He dressed and contemplated an early breakfast. His sour stomach vetoed the idea. He brewed a pot of hotel room coffee and nibbled at a mango, the only item left from the basket of monkey-purloined fruit. It had apparently rolled under the bed during the simian rampage and been found by the cleaners sent to restore order. The coffee was bad, the mango stringy, and his disposition elevated only slightly from this attempt at nutritional discipline. He looked at his watch. Both Greshenko and Travis were late. He could forgive Travis. He had neglected to specify a time when they spoke the previous night, but Greshenko knew better.

A noise at the sliding glass door momentarily drew him away from his annoyance. A gray monkey sat in what could pass as a slovenly lotus position on the deck, contemplating Leo. Leo stared back. He’d once tried staring down a cat and lost. In the absence of anything better to do he took on the monkey. The latter, evidently satisfied he had Leo’s complete attention gravely pointed with its right arm and long fingers toward the path that led to the Sedudu bar. He rolled his head clockwise, grinned and gamboled away on all fours.

“Thank you for the suggestion, friend, but it’s a bit early for a drink.”

The monkey did not respond. A knock at the door. Leo swiveled around.

“It’s open.”

“I am sorry I’m late,” Yuri Greshenko looked hot and sweaty. “But on my way over here I had a flat tire. Actually, I had two.”

“Two? How’d you manage that?”

“I don’t know. The tires were fully inflated when I left the Mowana Lodge, and just after I pulled around the corner by the golf course, the left front tire just went flat. I didn’t see an obstruction, no pothole, nails, nothing. I went to get out the jack and spare. The jack was missing and the spare was flat as well. And I found this.” He held up a dark leathery thing. “I called the rental company and they are sending someone to fix it. I didn’t think I should wait, but I had to walk the last kilometer and a half.”

“What’s that?” Leo pointed at the thing dangling from Greshenko’s hand.

“I don’t think I want to know. The last time I was here, I heard tales about witches and magic and ritual sacrifice of prepubescent girls and boys, and I’m afraid this might have something to do with that.”

“They killed kids?”

“It was said so. I don’t know. I never had it confirmed or authenticated. It’s just what people said.”

“You don’t think someone wanted to cast a spell on you, do you?”

“Not me, I don’t think. On you. Remember the old lady and the goats? She was yelling at me when we stopped. We were driving a left-hand steering car and I was seated in the passenger seat, which would have been the driver’s side in the right-handed variety. She is used to seeing right-handed cars, so she probably thought I was the driver. I think she may have spent some of your money with an
ngaka
and this is a bit of
boloi
, witchcraft.”

“So you believe that piece of whatever caused your flat tire?”

“No, I don’t, but it is not important what I believe. It only matters what the person who put this thing in the car believes. Judging from the look on that old woman’s face, we got off lucky. She wanted you dead.”

“Take more than a piece of hairy leather to pull that off. I’d offer you some of my coffee, but it’s really awful. As soon as Travis gets here, we’ll go for breakfast at the lodge.”

“The young man knows what you want to do up here?”

“Not all of it, but enough. Also, he is unclear why you’re here. I suspect he had some intel on you and suspects the worst.”

“No doubt. He must think you’re off your rocking chair. Is that how you say it?”

“Close enough.”

“You are a very trusting man, Mr. Painter. Most people would not have had the, what do you say…the stomach—”

“Guts.”

“The guts to engage my services. I have a reputation, you know. I am guessing, but I think that policeman who has been on my tail since the day we arrived has a dossier on me and is waiting to see who I contact. Approaching Rra Botlhokwa could easily be misinterpreted.”

“As long as you don’t break any laws…”

“It is not a matter of breaking a law. This country is very proud of the fact it is considered one of the least corrupt countries in the world. It ranks above most European nations and a long way above the United States. They will react to even their suspicions.”

There was a commotion outside followed by a knock at the door. Again Leo invited the caller in. Travis entered followed by another man. Greshenko sat a little straighter at the sight of the second.

“Leo, I was held up, sorry. This is Mr. Modise. He wishes to have a word with Mr. Greshenko and with you.”

Modise stepped into the room and surveyed it like a man about to repossess the furniture. Nothing seemed to escape his notice.

“Inspector, what can I do for you?” Leo would be polite and careful. Greshenko could very well become a problem, and if he were to leave town it could certainly put a hair in the soup.

“I must ask you a few questions. But first let me say that we are honored with your presence, Mr. Painter. I am told of the many things you have done, and we, in this country, hope you can teach us much about minerals.”

Leo nodded and wondered if polite pleasantries were always part of the drill in Botswana, or if this man was treading lightly because someone higher up told him to be careful.

“But I must also put a question to you as it respects the man they call Rra Botlhokwa.”

Here it comes, Leo thought. Greshenko edged forward in his chair. Travis lifted one eyebrow.

“You see, it is thought that this man may be dealing in matters that would attract the attention of my police department. That is the truth of it. And then there is Mr. Greshenko here, whose most interesting file is sent to us by Interpol. So, we must ask if there is anything that you are about that will cause me to suspect you of some behavior that might possibly embarrass our two governments?”

Very neatly put. It was just the right combination of circumlocution to stay within the boundaries of diplomacy and just a little steel at the end to make us sit up and take notice.

Leo pondered how to frame an answer when someone else knocked at his door.