man abducted the albino and left him on the side of the road out of town. We checked the spot, and it looks likely that the marks in the sand are consistent with what the man claimed. We are in the process of checking phone records and have a warrant to search the second man’s car. That’s the vehicle that the first man says was used to transport the albino.” Mabaku paused and let the commissioner think it through.
“Why are you telling me this now? It could have waited at least until after the deputy commissioner’s funeral.”
“Commissioner, we think the albino’s life is in danger, if he’s still alive. So we need to move as quickly as possible. What I want is your permission to examine the phone and appointment records of the deputy commissioner and to interview his staff, in an attempt to find out who his informant was. That may be the quickest way to identify the witch doctor.”
The commissioner stood up and walked to a side table and poured himself a glass of water. He gestured toward Mabaku, asking whether he’d like one. Mabaku shook his head.
After the commissioner had sat down again, he spoke in a quiet voice. “Jacob, you and I have known each other for nearly twenty-five years. I think we respect each other.”
Mabaku nodded.
“I think also that we both held Deputy Commissioner Gobey in the highest esteem.”
Mabaku nodded again.
“What you are asking me to do—even the appearance of an investigation into his affairs—will sully his reputation. I can’t do that to him or his family.”
Mabaku’s shoulder slumped. He’d tried but lost.
“But . . .”
Mabaku looked up.
“But, if you can guarantee that this investigation can be done extremely discreetly, that no one will be suspicious, then you should go ahead. We need to deal with these despicable murders. However, if it comes out that you are investigating the deputy commissioner, I will deny any knowledge of what you are doing.”
He paused.
“Understand?”
Mabaku nodded firmly. “Thank you, Commissioner. I won’t let you down, I promise. Thank you.”
FORTY-FIVE
KUBU AND SAMANTHA SAT in the meeting room with the sketches of connections in the muti cases on the whiteboards around them. Zanele had just brought in her report on the forensics examination of Molefe’s possessions, and it was disappointingly thin.
“Well,” said Kubu after he’d scanned it, “the best news is the piece of albino hair. That will be hard to explain away.”
Zanele nodded. “Microscopic examination is enough to prove it’s a black-race human albino hair, but the trouble is it’s just a fragment. It doesn’t include the follicle. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to do a DNA test against the samples I collected from Owido’s room at the boardinghouse.”
“Nothing else in the car trunk? Owido was supposed to have been in there for a while.”
Zanele looked pained. “Molefe did a good job. It was vacuumed and the carpets recently washed. Nothing we could pick up on his clothes, either. Of course, we might be able to link something else to the scene where they attacked him, or to where they left him. I’ve taken some soil samples and so on. But it’s a long shot.”
Samantha held up the photographs they’d taken of tire treads at the place where Owido had supposedly been dumped. “The treads match those of Molefe’s car.”
“Yes, and probably several thousand other cars,” Kubu grumbled. “It’s going to be hard to hold Molefe on what we have now. His lawyer is making a big production about the whole thing being a setup.”
“But how does he explain Demene’s confession?” Samantha asked.
“He claims that Demene was badgered into making it, and it won’t stand up in court if he changes his mind. And if Demene sticks to his story, then he’ll just say Demene is making it up to protect the witch doctor—probably out of fear. And he’s implicating Molefe just because they were together at the shebeen. It’s Demene’s word against Molefe’s. And probably a judge will find Molefe the more credible of the two. Our whole case hangs on one albino hair. Now, if we can match that to Owido, it’s a different story.”
“I’ll get to it right away,” said Zanele, already on her feet.
Kubu turned his attention to Molefe’s phone records. “Anything in this lot?” he asked Samantha.
“There are dozens of numbers, and it will take time to check them all. But I concentrated on those around the fifth of May. There are several to Demene—calls and text messages—but nothing that would shake