Deadly Harvest A Detective Kubu Mystery - By Michael Stanley Page 0,3

had ever been very far along the walks; his bulk and general belief that the best exercise involved lifting something delectable to his mouth rather dampened his enthusiasm for clambering up the hill. Nevertheless, as he squeezed himself out of his old Land Rover in the narrow parking bay, he could enjoy the wildness of the hill above him and hear distant calls from the baboons.

Kubu had spent a quiet weekend with his wife and daughter, and had particularly enjoyed the pleasure three-year-old Tumi had given his parents when they were all together on Easter Sunday. They were besotted by her.

He had barely walked into his office, however, when he realized that the day was not going to be a quiet one. There were already four messages on his desk.

The top one read, “The Director wants to see you—immediately.” The word immediately was underlined many times. The director’s assistant was not shy about making a point.

The second was from his wife, Joy, reminding him not to forget to pick up Tumi at noon for her doctor’s appointment. He felt a twinge of irritation. Stop nagging, he thought. You told me about it as I was walking out the door.

The third message read, “Detective Khama would like to speak to you.” Kubu raised an eyebrow. Samantha Khama was new to the Criminal Investigation Department and the only female detective. Kubu had met her briefly when she joined the CID a few weeks earlier, but he hadn’t worked with her on any cases. Already the rumor mill was active, with people whispering that she disliked men and was possibly a lesbian. This was a dangerous reputation to have in a country where same-sex relationships were illegal. What did she want? he wondered.

The final message was in his own handwriting—he’d left it for himself on Thursday afternoon, before the long weekend. It had but one word on it—“Funeral.”

“SIT DOWN.” DIRECTOR MABAKU was not known for his pleasantries.

Kubu carefully lowered his considerable frame into the armchair that faced the desk. Mabaku took a folder from the stack on his desk and opened it.

“What do you know about Bill Marumo?”

Kubu frowned. Marumo was a charismatic politician who had defected from the ruling Botswana Democratic Party to found the Freedom Party. Disgruntled voters were flocking to him, and pundits were beginning to think that he could become a real threat to the BDP. But Kubu didn’t think much of Marumo, regarding him as an upstart with no respect for tradition. A crowd pleaser with no substance.

“He’s getting a lot of attention. Swaying a lot of voters. Even Joy’s talking about supporting him.” He rolled his eyes. “And as for Joy’s sister, Pleasant, she and her husband—they’ve actually joined his party.”

“Who would want him dead?”

“He’s dead?” Kubu gasped.

“I didn’t say that! I asked who would want him dead.”

“Obviously the BDP would be delighted if he went away. There’s no other real opposition. But they’d never do anything as stupid as that.” He paused. “I don’t know much about him otherwise. He may have some private enemies. Why? What’s happened?”

“There was a dog’s head at his front door this morning. And a message smeared on the door in blood. Here’s a photo.”

Kubu looked at the print. The words “your next” were scrawled across the door. The writer had obviously dipped his hands in the dog’s blood to write the warning.

“At least we know whoever wrote the message wasn’t well educated,” Kubu said with a smile.

Mabaku didn’t appreciate the joke. “I want you to dig around and see what you can find. Marumo will see you at his house at noon. The address is on the back of the photo. This had better not be the BDP’s doing!”

“Has Forensics been there?”

“Yes. Your friend Zanele Dlamini had her people there right away. She may still be there. The head was only found two hours ago.”

Kubu heaved his large body out of the chair.

“And, Kubu,” Mabaku growled, “this is very important. I want to know what’s going on. And quickly. Report to me when you get back.”

“Yes, Mr. Director.”

IT’S GOING TO BE one of those days, Kubu thought as he walked back to his office. How am I going to pick up Tumi, take her to the doctor, and be at Marumo’s house at the same time? I’ll bet Marumo will be an hour late anyway. Maybe I should get Tumi to the doctor half an hour early and hope he can see her right away. I may even be at