The next morning found Kubu fretting in the reception area of the director of mines. He’d been waiting for over half an hour and had only been offered rooibos tea. Not even a biscuit. The director’s secretary ignored his glances at his watch and occasional sighs. He passed the time reexamining Kunene’s phone records, which Edison had obtained for him. He sighed again. Samantha would have identified the people by how they fitted into Kunene’s life. However, Edison just gave the names and left it at that. Mma Kunene had assisted by identifying some as friends and family, but quite a few were left. It would have helped if they could actually find Kunene’s cell phone with its contact list, but the phone was missing. Another puzzle.
Kubu concentrated on the day Kunene died. At around nine in the morning there was a call to a number that Edison had identified as “US Embassy.” After that there were several office contacts, an incoming call from an unidentified number, and then, at lunchtime, a call to Kunene’s wife—presumably the call where he told her he’d be home late. The unidentified one was interesting because it lasted nearly ten minutes. Edison noted that he’d requested more information from the phone company.
At last the secretary’s phone buzzed, and she waved him through to Director Mopati’s office.
“Assistant Superintendent, my apologies for keeping you waiting. Things are upside down here since Goodman passed away. My people are doing their best, but…” He shrugged and motioned toward a seat facing his desk.
“I understand, Director. And I won’t keep you long. I’m investigating Rra Kunene’s death.” Kubu hesitated. “Certain aspects have come to light that aren’t consistent with suicide.”
Mopati sank into his executive chair opposite Kubu. “I thought suicide was obvious from the circumstances,” he said.
“Perhaps, but we want to check all the possibilities. Did Rra Kunene ever give you any indication that he might want to take his own life?”
Mopati shook his head. “Absolutely not. It was a great shock to us all.” He hesitated, rubbing his chin. “To be honest, he sometimes did seem disturbed in recent months. I once asked him about it, but he said he was just going through a bad time at home. That everything would be fine. He apologized, but his work was always excellent. Nothing was too much trouble. His work always came first. He was a very impressive man.”
“Did he tell you about his domestic problems?”
Mopati shook his head. “He was having some issues in his marriage, I believe. I’m sure his wife didn’t tell you that.”
Kubu nodded. Kunene was having issues at home, and maybe more than his wife had suggested. But nothing that sounded like a reason for suicide. He waited for the director to continue.
“Women can be difficult, Assistant Superintendent.”
“Did he sometimes seem nervous or depressed?”
Mopati took his time. “Now that you mention it, perhaps. He always kept his own council, so maybe I didn’t realize it at the time.”
Kubu made a few notes while he collected his thoughts. “What was he working on in the days before he died? Could it be related to that?”
Mopati shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not. Routine stuff about applications for mining permits and the like. Nothing dramatic.”
“I have his phone records for the week before he died. Some are friends and relatives. I checked with Mma Kunene this morning. Some are other members of staff here, but there are a few less obvious ones. For example, would he have had any reason to call the US embassy?”
The director shrugged. “Of course we have contacts with other governments. Goodman was in touch with someone in the economic section there—I can’t remember the person’s name. But there was no reason I can think of for him to brief them right now.”
Kubu made a note of that. “I also want to check his appointments. Can you please arrange that for me?”
“Why do you want to do that?”
“I only want to know who he saw in the last couple of days. Just routine.”
The director looked unhappy, but all he said was “My secretary will help you with that.”
“I’d like to look at his office too. His cell phone is missing, which seems very odd for a suicide.” Mopati nodded but didn’t comment.
Kubu tried another approach. “Did he have any serious enemies here? I’m talking about someone who really hated him, someone who would be glad he’s dead. Not someone who just didn’t like his opinions or personality.”
Mopati shook his head. “No one. He was well liked, although he tended to keep to himself.”
“Do you know who he was meeting on the night he died?”
The director shook his head again. “I didn’t know he was meeting anyone. He didn’t say anything about it. Was he meeting someone?”
Kubu ignored the question and flipped back through his notes. There were a few things that puzzled him. Kunene had called the US embassy, yet his boss didn’t know of any reason why he should have. Kunene was sometimes depressed and kept to himself, yet he explained to his boss that he was having personal problems at home. Which he was, but why had Mopati been in such a hurry to say Kunene’s wife wouldn’t have admitted it?
“Mma Kunene said that her husband had recently received a promotion. Is that correct?”
“No, he’s been my deputy for some time. I wonder why he would tell her that.”
“And the insurance policy?”
“What insurance policy?”
Kubu rose to his feet. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve taken enough of your time, rra. I know how busy you are. I hope this will all be cleared up soon.” He offered his hand, and the director shook it, but Kubu could tell that the man was dissatisfied by the sudden way the interview had ended.
* * *
THE SECRETARY TURNED out to be quite helpful. She even pulled up Kunene’s appointments on her computer while Kubu was looking through the office.
“We share our calendars on Outlook,” she said. “Much more efficient.”
And much less private, Kubu thought. The secretary could and did tell him who was involved in all of Kunene’s meetings. He’d had a long meeting with the director and representatives of a mining company on the afternoon that he died, but there was nothing scheduled for the evening.
“He wouldn’t note his private appointments here,” Kubu mused. “He’d put them on his phone or something.” He’d looked through Kunene’s office, but there was no cell phone or anything else helpful for that matter.
Disappointed, he took his leave and headed back to the CID.
* * *
WHEN HE GOT back to his office, Kubu called the US embassy number. It turned out to be their general-inquiries number, and he had to wait as the recorded voice offered various options before eventually defaulting to a human. Explaining he was from the CID, he asked to be put through to the head of the economics department.
“That would be the Political and Economic Section,” the receptionist informed him, and put him on hold. After a moment, another woman answered, this time with a strong American accent.
“Assistant Superintendent? I understand you wanted to talk to me. My name is Connie Olsen. How can I help you?”
“Good morning, Ms. Olsen. I’m investigating the death of Goodman Kunene. Did you know him?”
“Yes, I did. He was at the Department of Mines. He was our contact there for mining and exploration matters. His death is a great tragedy.”
“It is. Did you speak to him last Thursday? The day of his death?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. He phoned me in the morning. I was so sad the next day when I realized that we’d never speak again.”
“Did you know him quite well then?”
“No. We met a few times. Business and a couple of embassy functions. That’s all.”
“When you spoke to him on Thursday was there any indication that he was upset?”
“Not at all. We just discussed a routine matter. He seemed fine.”
“And what was that routine matter?”
Olsen hesitated. “It was in connection with a mining lease that had been applied for by an American company. He told me the matter was still being considered. They needed more information.”
Kubu thought about that for a few moments. “Why didn’t he just go to the company concerned?”
“It’s complicated, Assistant Superintendent. The lease is important for strategic reasons. The United States is offering certain guarantees to support the applicant company. That’s what he wanted to check with me.”
“What’s the name of the company?”
“Uranium and Nickel Exploration. It’s applied for quite a large lease in the region of Shoshong.”
Kubu had never heard of the company, and this conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere. The call to the embassy was a dead end; Kunene was just doing his job. He thanked the woman, who told him he was welcome, and he hung up.
But he would have been very interested indeed if he’d heard the next call Connie Olsen made on the embassy’s secure line.