Deadly Harvest (24 page)

FORTY-TWO

W
ILSON
D
EMENE WAS NOT
at home, but a neighbor suggested Kubu try a small bar nearby, where Wilson was known to hang out. Kubu followed her advice, and the barman pointed out Demene, sitting with a ­couple of other men, deep in conversation, drinking Shake Shake beer. Kubu went to their table and sat down.

“Who're you?” one of the men asked. Kubu ignored him and focused on Demene.

“Are you Wilson Demene?” he asked the man who'd been pointed out.

Demene glared at him. “So what? We're busy. And this is private.”

Kubu passed him his identification. Demene glanced at it, then scrutinized it properly. “You're from the police, the CID? I already told that woman you sent everything I know. Why are you hounding me? I've done nothing.”

The other two men took their beers and moved off. Demene's eyes followed them to two stools at the far end of the bar.

“I just want to go over a few points with you. It's important,” Kubu said.

“I haven't done anything. Why do you ­people keep asking me questions? I've told you everything.”

“What sort of work do you do, Rra Demene?”

“Well, I buy and sell stuff. A middleman, if you like.”

“So you fill orders for ­people?”

“Not so much for ­people. More for shops and so on.”

“What sort of orders?”

“Whatever they want. I find it for them, get a good price.”

Kubu nodded, as if he were satisfied. “Does that include finding ­people?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Tell me about the albino, Mabulo Owido.”

“The man at BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL? I told your detective. I didn't notice him. I would have avoided him anyway. I don't like them.” Demene grabbed his beer and took a gulp, but his hand was unsteady.

“You see,” said Kubu quietly, “my information is different. My information is that you were watching him and, when he left, you and your friend Sunday Molefe followed him.”

“It's not true!” Demene cried. “Where did you get that information from? We went to the Gaborone Sun to gamble. You can ask the bartender there.”

“Oh, we've done that. But you see our information is very specific. There's no doubt about it. Now, what we don't know is exactly what happened after that. And that's as important for you as it is for me. What happened to Owido after he left the
shebeen
? Where was he taken? What was done to him after that?”

Demene jumped to his feet. “You're just trying to pin it on us with no evidence at all. I'm leaving right now.”

Kubu stood up, too. “I haven't accused you of anything, Rra Demene. You seem to know something we don't. What are we trying to pin on you?” He paused. “That you were involved in Owido's disappearance, perhaps?”

For several seconds the two men stood looking at each other. Kubu knew that this was the critical moment. If Demene left now, he'd pull himself together and would be much harder to break.

At last Demene collapsed back into his chair and stared into his beer; Kubu breathed a silent sigh of relief and settled himself in his seat again.

“I shouldn't be telling you this, but one of the reasons we know so much about that night is that a man came to us with information. I'm not going to say who he is, but he's never wrong. He helps lots of powerful ­people in the government.” Kubu's voice dropped to a whisper. “He communicates with spirits.”

Demene shrank into his chair. “A witch doctor? Witch doctors don't work with the police.”

“Actually, we get a lot of information from them. Especially when there's a murder involved.”

“Murder! Who said anything about a murder?” Demene tried to meet Kubu's eyes but failed.

“This man said he'd had a communication from Owido's spirit. That he was looking for the ­people who'd attacked him. I wasn't sure I believed him at first, but the man was so sure. And there was a strange feeling in the room.”

As the silence lengthened, Demene said, “What sort of feeling?”

Kubu dropped his voice again. “Hard to describe. As though someone was watching us, but there was no one else there.”

Demene swallowed. “Why are you telling me this? It's got nothing to do with me.”

Kubu stared at him. “I think you should tell the truth, Rra Demene. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes.”

Kubu waited for Demene to react, but he just shook his head and clasped his hands together. Kubu continued, “You see, the witch doctor explained to me that albinos have
very
powerful spirits. The spirit has sucked up everything from the body—­even the color of the skin. It's very bad to free one of those spirits by force. It's very powerful
muti
for a witch doctor, but
extremely
dangerous.”

“I don't want to talk about this anymore. I had nothing to do with this Owido man. I want to leave now.” Demene looked to where his mates had been at the bar, but their seats were empty. They'd finished their beers and gone. He got to his feet.

Kubu stood up, too, and blocked his way. “I need you to come with me for questioning.”

“Questioning? What about? I've done nothing. I've told you all I know.”

Kubu shrugged. “I need to get an official statement from you. I can only do that at my office.”

“I'm busy. I can't come now.”

“You have a choice. You can come with me now with no fuss—­we just walk out of here like old friends and go to my office—­or I can arrest you for obstructing a police investigation, handcuff you, and drag you out like a dog.”

For a few moments, Demene didn't say anything, his mouth opening and shutting. He looks like a guppy, Kubu thought.

“All right,” Demene said eventually, but his eyes flicked from side to side looking for an escape route. Kubu took his arm firmly and led him to the door.

K
UBU DROVE TO
M
ILLENIUM
Park and left Demene in an interrogation room alone for more than half an hour. Eventually he returned and pretended to turn on a tape recorder.

“This is Assistant Superintendent David Bengu. It is two-­thirty on May the fifteenth, 2012. I'm with Wilson Demene, who has volunteered to come in to provide information about the disappearance of Mabulo Owido, an albino.” He turned to Demene. “Please could you state your full name.”

“You said this would be quick. Where's the statement I have to sign?”

“Please state your full name.”

“You know my name! I'm Wilson Demene.”

“Some new information has just come to light. I need to ask you some more questions.”

Kubu made a show of pulling out his notebook and flipping through the pages.

“Ah, here it is,” he said, nodding. “Someone at BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL says you were sitting at the next table to the albino. Is that right?”

Demene nodded. “I suppose so.”

“So you
did
see the albino?”

Demene hesitated. “Yes. I saw one sitting at a table outside.”

“Why did you lie about it before?”

“I forgot about it! I have nothing to do with those ­people. I suppose there was nowhere else to sit.”

“And when did the albino leave?”

“I don't know! I told you I wasn't taking any notice.”

“So the fact that you left at the same time was just coincidence?”

“Yes. I mean I don't know. I mean we went to the Gaborone Sun. I don't know where the albino went.” Demene was completely flustered.

“You told me that you didn't like albinos. Why is that?”

“They look disgusting.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes!”

“I don't think so. I think you know they have powerful spirits, and witch doctors use them for their most powerful
muti
. You know that.”

Kubu noticed that Demene couldn't keep his hands still.

“Come on, Rra Demene. You knew albinos make strong
muti
, didn't you?”

Demene swallowed.

“Yes, I've heard that.”

“Rra Demene. Do you know why witch doctors never catch albinos themselves? Why they always ask someone else to do it?”

“No!” The word sounded strangled as it came out.

“The witch doctor protects himself very carefully. Hides himself from the albino's spirit. So the albino's spirit comes back and haunts the men who caught him. He blames them. And eventually he drags them off. No one knows where, but no one sees them ever again.” Kubu waited for about thirty seconds, but Demene said nothing. He just sat staring.

Kubu stood up. “I'll be back in a while. I have things to do. Just remember that there's nowhere to hide from such a powerful, angry, spirit. Nowhere at all.”

He turned and walked out.

T
WENTY MINUTES LA
TER,
K
UBU
received a phone call. “The man in the interrogation room wants to see you.”

Kubu smiled. He picked up the phone again and called Samantha. “Meet me at the interrogation room in five minutes,” he said.

Before they entered the room, Kubu told Samantha to watch and listen, but not to interrupt.

“Okay,” she said, puzzled.

Kubu brought a third chair into the room, and he and Samantha sat down opposite Demene, who now looked terrified.

“Now, Rra Demene, are you ready to tell us what happened?”

Demene looked at Samantha but didn't recognize her. “I didn't do it. It was Molefe. I just helped him. I didn't know what he was going to do. You have to believe me.”

“Does it matter if I believe you? It's Owido you have to convince.”

“You've got to help me,” Demene cried. “I don't want to die.”

Samantha looked at Kubu, amazed.

Kubu stared at Demene. “There's only one thing you can do, and even that may not work.”

“I'll do anything,” Demene begged. “What do you want me to do?”

“You have to confess the whole truth and then ask the albino for forgiveness.”

Kubu leaned over and turned on the tape recorder.

“This is Assistant Superintendent David Bengu. It's three-­thirty on May the fifteenth, 2012. I'm with Wilson Demene, who has volunteered to come in to provide information about the disappearance of Mabulo Owido, a citizen of Tanzania, an albino. Detective Samantha Khama is also in the room.” He turned to Demene. “Please could you state your full name.”

“Wilson Demene.”

“Now,” said Kubu. “If I'm going to help you, you must tell me exactly what happened and particularly anything about the witch doctor. Do you understand that what you say may be used in evidence later if you're charged with a crime? We are recording this.”

“Yes, yes.” Demene couldn't sit still. Then he settled down a bit and told them how he and Molefe had spotted Owido, and followed him to BIG MAMA KNOWS ALL. Then they waited and followed Owido when he left. As soon as they had him alone, they knocked him out and bundled him into the trunk of the car.

“We drove out of town and dumped him by a tree at the edge of the road.” He described exactly where they had left him. “I've no idea what happened after that.”

“Oh, yes, you have! You can guess.” Samantha could no longer contain herself.

Demene looked at her blankly for a moment but then turned back to Kubu. “That's everything. You have to help me now.”

Kubu met his eyes. “No, that's not everything at all. Who told you to abduct an albino? How did you know where to leave him? How did you get paid and how much and by whom?”

“I don't know! Molefe handled all of that. He told me we had to catch an albino, and we'd be well paid. I didn't ask why or who would pay. I hate those ­people, so I was willing to help. He gave me a thousand pula and said there would be more later if his client was satisfied. And maybe we could get more work like that. I was okay with that.”

“Who did Molefe speak to? How did he make contact?”

“I don't know! When we caught the albino, Molefe sent a text message to someone, but I don't know who that was. It's the truth. I swear it. I wish I'd never gotten mixed up in this.”

Kubu stood up and leaned over the table, his face close to Demene's. “Are you sure that's all you know?” he hissed.

“I promise. I promise.”

“That is the end of the interview.” Kubu turned the tape recorder off. “Now you'd better apologize to Owido.”

Samantha's face was a study in astonishment as Demene fell to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Forgive me, Rra Owido, sir. Please forgive me. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't mean to harm you. Please don't make me die! Please!”

Kubu signaled to Samantha to come with him, leaving Demene sniveling on the floor. As he left the room, Kubu looked back and said, “I'm going to charge you with being an accessory to assault and kidnapping and perhaps murder. You'll be okay. But Owido will be in your head for the rest of your life.”