Deadly Harvest A Detective Kubu Mystery - By Michael Stanley Page 0,115

it was Sunday, so he didn’t need to rush. It took him a while to get going, but a shower woke him up. At breakfast he told Joy about the noises in the ceiling and promised to look into it, adding that it was probably the tasteless unsweetened muesli she was making him eat that attracted the vermin. Joy replied that he should stop talking nonsense and finish his coffee or else they’d be late for their visit to his parents.

Nevertheless, they were there in good time and, as usual, the girls were the center of attention and spoiled by everyone. It was a relaxed day, and Kubu found that he was beginning to accept his father’s inevitable decline, and that he could still enjoy his company. He was glad of the pleasure Wilmon clearly took in both girls, and no longer corrected him when he referred to Nono as “your daughter.”

And he managed to keep the mystery of the muti murders in the back of his mind.

FIFTY-SIX

JOSHUA GOBEY SAT IN the study of his elegant home in Phakalane and sweated. The air-conditioning isn’t set low enough, he thought. But he knew that wasn’t the real problem. The real problem was the witch doctor sitting in jail being grilled by Mabaku and his men. How long would it take before he broke? If he couldn’t save himself with his powers, he wasn’t going to save Joshua.

He’d practiced his response to the inevitable questions. He’d deny everything. He’d claim that the CID was trying to discredit him in order to smooth its director’s path to the deputy commissionership. He’d be scandalized by the suggestions of his involvement and go straight to the commissioner with his grievances.

After all, nothing linked him to Owido or to the witch doctor. He’d been so careful about that. But he worried about what surprises Forensics might have in store. In fact, he was sure Mabaku would find incriminating evidence whether it was there or not. It was certainly what he would do if their roles were reversed. He cursed under his breath and wiped at the dampness on his brow.

So when his cell phone rang, and he didn’t recognize the number, he was curt.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Joshua, it’s me. Listen very carefully.”

Joshua felt the blood drain from his face as he recognized the witch doctor’s voice.

“Where are you? Why’re you calling me? Did they let you go?” His voice was a croak. Suppose the man was calling from the CID, and the call was being recorded? His hand shook so badly that he nearly dropped the phone.

The response was laughter, the witch doctor’s unpleasant laugh that was all sarcasm and no humor.

“Let me go? Do you think I would allow the police to catch me? Do you think my powers are worth nothing?”

“But I read . . .”

“You read about a man who’s my servant. He does what I say. He knows nothing about me—as little as you do. He disposed of bodies when I’d finished with them, that’s all.”

Joshua felt a wave of relief mixed with something else. Elation? Yes. His faith in the witch doctor’s promises and powers was restored.

“That’s fantastic!”

“Joshua, you seem to forget. I’m invisible unless I choose to take human form.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Now we want the police to tie up this case and move on to something else. So that we can get back to what’s important.”

“What if they discover that this undertaker—what’s his name—isn’t you?”

“Then we could have a problem. I don’t want any more interference, any more delay. You must make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Me? What can I do? That isn’t my department! The CID is under a man called Mabaku.” Joshua paused and closed the door in case his wife walked past. “Can’t you get rid of him? That would solve all our problems.”

“I’m not going to do everything by myself. You’re senior in the police and have the ear of the commissioner. Make sure Rampa is charged with the killings.”

“How can I do that? I know nothing about it.”

“Here’s something that should help you. The police either know already or soon will: Rampa has Marumo’s briefcase. The one that disappeared the night he was murdered. So he’s implicated there, too.”

“Marumo? The politician?”

The witch doctor sighed. “Remember you’re headed for the top, Joshua, just as long as you do precisely what I tell you.” The line went dead.

Joshua leaned back in his chair and swallowed. For the first time he consciously realized what he’d done. He’d put