The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu Read Online Free

colliding with a policeman.
The constable, ignoring Dupie, addressed Tatwa in Setswana.
    “Sergeant, you must come at once. We’ve found another man.”
Tatwa could tell from the uniformed policeman’s demeanor that he
had another corpse on his hands. “You’d better come with us, Mr. Du
Pisanie,” he said. “I’m sorry to further delay your lunch.”
    ♦
    They had found the body at the western end of the camp. One of
the policemen had walked to the top of a small cliff at the edge of
the water and had looked down. A man lay crumpled at the bottom of
the slope.
    It took Dupie and Tatwa several minutes to clamber down to the
body and join the other uniformed policeman. There was no mystery
about this death, no arcane cross on the forehead, no slit throat,
no severed ears. The man had been hit hard enough to dent his
skull. He must have been on the path above, because the body’s
progress down the scree had marked rocks with blood. The body was
that of a large, well-built black man, wearing shorts, T–shirt, and
a light jacket, all in khaki. He wore dirty white sneakers without
socks, and a pair of binoculars hung around his neck. The face
stared sightlessly at the sky.
    “My God,” said Dupie. “That’s Sipho Langa! He’s been murdered
too.”
    Tatwa clenched his teeth. Suddenly he had two victims and one
suspect instead of one victim and two suspects. The forensics
people would have their work cut out to cover two murder sites
before dark. Just then a light plane flew low overhead, probably
the pathologist. He was glad of that. He needed help. This was his
first big case, and he was beginning to feel out of his depth. If
Zondo were the culprit, he’d be out of the country already. And, if
he had the right connections as Dupie suspected, he would be
impossible to shift from Zimbabwe. Since his boss in Kasane was
ill, Tatwa decided to call the director of the Criminal
Investigation Department in Gaborone directly. He and Dupie walked
back to the main camp in silence.
    “May I use your office? I need to contact the CID in
Gaborone.”
    “Why in Gaborone?”
    “It’s procedure.”
    “Go ahead. Call me if you need anything.”
    As they walked through the dining area, everyone became silent.
Glancing at the river, Tatwa noticed the large crocodiles sunning
themselves on convenient sand banks. One was huge – a fifteen-foot
monster. Tatwa shuddered. He hated crocodiles; one had cost him a
younger brother. Pulling himself together, he walked to the office
and made his call to Director Mabaku.

∨ The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu ∧
3
    A ssistant
Superintendent ‘Kubu’ Bengu had just returned from a daylong
investigation of a robbery at a gas station in Lethlakeng, when he
was summoned to see the director. A meeting with Mabaku was an
unwelcome intrusion because he hoped to finish his report before
going home to his wife and dinner. With a sigh he heaved himself
out of his chair and headed for the director’s office.
    Mabaku growled, “Why are you always away when I need you?”
    Kubu opened his mouth to respond but was cut short.
    “It’s too late now! Sit down.” Mabaku pointed toward a chair. “I
have an urgent matter to discuss. It concerns a double murder
reported this morning.” Kubu had heard nothing of a new murder
case. His eyebrows rose.
    “This morning a Motswana male was found with his throat cut at a
lodge in the Linyanti. Probably happened last night. Then his face
was mutilated. Later, another guest – a South African – was found
bludgeoned to death and dumped in a gulley. There are a number of,
shall we say, sensitive aspects to the case, and we have a camp
full of tourists stuck there. Detective Sergeant Mooka is
investigating. But he’s new, and he needs help.”
    “Oh, Tatwa!” Kubu chuckled. “Good chap even if he is a bit
tall!” Kubu had met Mooka as a trainee in Gaborone. They could
hardly avoid hitting it off. Mooka had acquired the nickname of
Tatwa, a play on the