pick up messages, and the pay phone for making calls. It’s plausible. Then, when an appointment was set up, he could visit the shebeen in ordinary clothes and walk around the neighborhood to check that his client hadn’t been followed. Only when satisfied it was safe, he would go to the house and change into his baboon outfit.”
Mabaku took in this information. “Does the barman have any suspicions as to who it could be?” Mabaku asked.
“No, but I’d like to have the IT people in Forensics take a look at the computer. I’m told there’s so much information on every computer that they can tell the color of the underwear users had on.”
Samantha rolled her eyes.
“I’d like to leave a computer in the shebeen while we look at the one there,” Kubu continued. “That’ll make the manager more likely to let us take a look without formalities. Also, if the witch doctor does return, which I think is unlikely, it won’t be so obvious we’re snooping around.”
“What do you expect to find?” Mabaku asked.
Samantha couldn’t contain her excitement. “We’ll be able to see if the website we were told about has been accessed and, if so, when,” she said. “We’ll also then be able to see what other websites and webmail sites were accessed around the same time. That may give us additional clues. I really think there’s a chance we’ll find something.”
Mabaku sat quietly for a few moments. “Very well. Follow up on the computer, but don’t do anything without checking with me.” He stood up and headed for the door. He opened it, then turned. “Tomorrow is Marumo’s funeral, Kubu. You need to be there.” Then he was gone.
“He’s given us the go-ahead!” Samantha exclaimed.
Kubu smiled weakly. He was pleased to have Mabaku’s support but concerned about what the witch doctor would do as they closed in on him.
Then he groaned. The last thing he wanted was to spend an afternoon at the funeral of a politician he didn’t respect.
THIRTY-SIX
LOOKING AROUND THE CROWD packing the cemetery, Kubu wondered if every supporter of the Freedom Party had turned up. It was more like a political rally than a funeral. Whether they’d come to bid farewell to their old leader or to offer support to Jacob Pitso, the new one, he couldn’t say. The only reason he could see and hear what was going on at all was that a platform had been erected at the graveside and a portable public address system had been installed. The coffin, draped in a Botswana flag, rested at the front of the platform in silent witness to the dignitaries’ speeches.
Marumo’s brother gave a dignified eulogy on Bill’s life, but the speech given by Pitso was, in Kubu’s opinion, more of a political diatribe than a tribute, and he found it in poor taste. Kubu suspected that Marumo’s brother felt the same way, because when Pitso called for all to cry out against the injustice of the government and its tardiness in bringing Bill’s murderer to justice, he remained unmoved in his seat with his arms folded. But the crowd erupted into angry cries and waved fists. Pitso waited for several moments with obvious satisfaction before he raised both arms to quiet the mourners so that he could continue.
Kubu wondered why he’d bothered to come. It was thought important for the police to attend a victim’s funeral to show their concern to the family, but also to keep an eye open for unexpected mourners or peculiar behavior. However, Kubu had been unable to speak to Jubjub or any of Marumo’s relatives. Their sorrow was out of reach—on display only from the platform.
Several hours had passed, and afternoon was turning to evening. Kubu was exhausted. He was hot, his feet were killing him from standing all afternoon, and he was irritated by the crush of sweaty people around him. The last words had been spoken, and people were starting to drift away. Although he was tempted to join them, he decided he’d better try to have a few words with the family. As the crowd thinned, he made his way forward.
Pitso and the relatives were still surrounded by well-wishers and friends. Also, Kubu noticed, they were attended by a small contingent of uniformed police. Pitso complained about the undemocratic government and questioned its handling of the murder, Kubu mused, but at the same time expected its protection.
Eventually Kubu was close enough to see Jubjub. She was sobbing on the shoulder of Dr. Pilane. Obviously the