By the time Mabaku arrived at Kubu’s home, things had settled down, and Amantle was able to thank him for his kindness the night before. Then Kubu took the CID director into the garden so they would have some privacy. Once they were seated, each with a glass of ice water, Mabaku got straight to the point.
“Kubu, we need to explore every possible motive for your father’s murder. Most likely it was an opportunistic attack. Maybe some thug thought he was carrying money.”
“An elderly man in old clothes? It seems unlikely. Father never walked around with much cash. What would he use it for?”
“But a mugger wouldn’t know that, would he?” Mabaku paused. “But we need to look at other options too. Think back over your cases, your arrests. Has anyone threatened you? Said they would get even or something like that?”
Kubu thought for several moments. “There was that gang of bank robbers. One of them shouted, ‘I’ll get you for this,’ but he shouted all sorts of stuff as the guys handcuffed him. I didn’t take any notice at the time.”
“Was there any evidence that they were connected to a wider group? A sort of mafia-type thing?”
Kubu shook his head. “Anyway, why my father? If they wanted to hit me, why not do just that? It doesn’t make sense, Jacob.”
Mabaku had to agree. Nevertheless, he made Kubu go back over all his recent cases, and some not so recent, noting every possibility for later checking. At last he said, “That seems to be it, Kubu. But I need to talk to your mother again. Maybe she remembers something more. At least she can give me a bit of background. Is she up to it?”
Kubu nodded. “I think she’ll be okay. She’ll want to help in any way she can.” He hesitated, then asked, “What have you got so far? Anything?”
Mabaku sighed. “Not as much as I’d hoped. I wanted an early breakthrough and a quick arrest for both our sakes. I’ve got that Interpol conference coming up in New York in a couple of weeks, and I want the satisfaction of seeing the culprit locked up before I go. Last thing I need at the moment is a trip halfway across the world.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Zanele is working through all the forensics stuff. We went house to house last night. A few leads but nothing really helpful.” Kubu had a suspicion that Mabaku might have more information, but clearly he wasn’t going to share it.
Mabaku put his hand on Kubu’s shoulder. “I know how you’re feeling, and I know what you want to do. But remember what I said last night. Keep out of this. Don’t even talk to anyone about it.”
Kubu sighed. “Yes, Director. I understand. I’ll take you in to Mother now.”
* * *
AMANTLE HAD SETTLED on the couch in the lounge and was drinking tea. Joy offered Mabaku a cup, which he accepted. Kubu joined them and went to find the biscuits, which he passed around, keeping a few for himself. But in the end he didn’t eat them and left them on his saucer.
“Mma Bengu,” Mabaku began, “do you know why your husband went out last night and where he meant to go? He was found at Litabi Street. That’s quite a way off.”
Amantle shook her head. “He said he was going to meet a friend. I said it was late and he might get lost. His mind … it is not so clear anymore. Sometimes he is fine, but other times he gets very confused, even angry. It is because of the illness, because of…”
Kubu rescued her. “My father was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. On bad days he didn’t know who he was or where he was.”
Amantle nodded. “I was afraid he would get lost. It was already quite late.”
“He didn’t say who he was going to meet?”
“I asked him, but he said it was someone I didn’t know. That was strange because I know all his friends. But that’s all he would say.”
“And he didn’t say where he was going to meet this friend?”
Amantle shook her head.
“Was there anything about your husband’s behavior over the last few days that surprised or puzzled you? Or something strange that he said?”
Amantle shrugged. “Since he started to get sick, he was always saying strange things. Sometimes he went out and said he needed to meet people about his herbal medicine. I thought that was odd because he used to bring people to our home, and he would talk to them, and I would make tea. Now it was different. I was afraid he would get confused or lost when he went out. But he always came back when he said he would. Until last night.” She paused and thought for a moment. “But he was behaving strangely at dinner. He seemed in a hurry and even left some of his food. He kept looking at his watch.”
“What time was it when he left?”
“About eight o’clock.”
“And when did he say he would be back?”
“He just said he would not be late. But when he had not come back after two hours, I was sure he was lost. So I went next door to Rra Ngombe and woke them up so I could use their phone. I do not have one myself.”
Kubu cursed himself for not thinking of that. They should each have had phones, and he should have persuaded Wilmon to have his with him at all times. How had he missed that? But it was too late now.
“I phoned Constable Tohe at the police station,” Amantle continued. “He knows Wilmon and knows about the trouble with his mind. He grew up with Kubu and is a good friend to us. Anyway, he promised to look for Wilmon. And he found him.” Tears started to run down her face. Joy gave her a tissue, and she dabbed at them ineffectually. “I am all right,” she said, and sipped her tea. “I am all right.”
Mabaku waited for her to finish the cup. “Did you try to call him on his cell phone?”
Amantle shook her head. “He never takes his phone with him, and anyway I do not know the number.”
“Did he have any money with him?” Mabaku asked.
“Why would he take money? What for? It was too late to shop.”
“Didn’t he have a wallet? Wouldn’t he have taken that with him?”
Amantle shook her head again. “If he took money, he put it in his trouser pocket.”
Mabaku made a note of that, then changed the subject. “Mma Bengu, please think carefully. Did anyone ever threaten your husband? Or did he have any bad enemies? Someone who hated him enough to do this?”
Amantle shook her head in annoyance. “No one. Everyone liked him! He helped so many people with his medicines. You can ask anyone. He would spend hours talking to people and giving them advice. I think you should go and find this wicked man who killed my poor husband. I have nothing more I can tell you.” The tears started to flow again, and Joy put her arm around her.
Mabaku realized that there was no point in continuing to question the poor woman. He stood up and asked her to call him if she thought of anything else, anything at all. Then he thanked them all and headed back to the CID.
As he drove, he breathed deeply. He had to prepare himself for the press conference at five.