Deadly Harvest A Detective Kubu Mystery - By Michael Stanley Page 0,2

her head. “But someone must’ve. She would’ve walked up the hill. To get home.”

The constable hesitated, then said kindly, “Dikeledi, perhaps she decided not to go up the hill. Maybe your aunt is right. Maybe she did run away. Would she have a reason to?”

Dikeledi just shook her head, thanked him, and left.

She stopped outside the police station wondering what to do. Lesego might have run away from Tole and Constance—Dikeledi could understand that—but she’d never do it without saying goodbye to her sister. Never.

Dikeledi wandered around for a while and spoke to a few more people, but she learned nothing new. Eventually she gave up and headed for home. But when she came to the hill, she stopped. There was no other way for Lesego to get to their aunt’s house. She must have been here. Dikeledi scanned the area. It looked the way it always looked. Houses clustered at the base of the hill, then clinging to the road as it climbed. On the edge of the road ahead, a couple of Coke cans, candy wrappers, two cigarette packets, a number of plastic shopping bags, and a grubby scrap of paper. She caught her breath. She recognized the handwriting at once even from a distance, the bottom loops of the g’s bulging out in the telltale script. She grabbed the paper, her heart pounding. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She was meant to find this! She checked it for a message, but it was only Lesego’s shopping list. She felt a surge of disappointment, but at least she knew Lesego had been here. She shouted and ran back toward the police station.

Dikeledi didn’t recognize the man at the front desk, but she blurted out the story to him. He found the constable she’d spoken to earlier. He was eating a sandwich, and wasn’t pleased to be disturbed.

“What is it now, Dikeledi? What do you want?”

“Look. I found her shopping list! Where the road goes up the hill. That proves she was there and something happened to her.”

The constable carefully examined the piece of paper on both sides. He shrugged.

“Are you absolutely sure it’s hers? Anyway, she could’ve dropped it on the way down the hill in the morning. And even if she was on her way back, it’s only a few hundred yards from the shops. Maybe she threw it away when she decided she wasn’t going home.” He shook his head. But when he saw the girl start to cry, he added: “I’ll get one of the men to look around there and see if we can find anything else.” He pushed the list back at Dikeledi.

Dikeledi grabbed the paper and left, hopeless, ashamed of her tears. She walked home up the hill with the list tucked into her dress. She knew that the list meant something, despite the constable’s dismissal. One day it would be important. Until then, she wouldn’t tell anyone else about it. Certainly not her aunt. Not even the boys. No one.

It was several days before she had the courage to return to the police station. Again there was nothing new, and she forced herself to wait another week before she went back. The constable grew tired of her and became short and unhelpful. It was clear to Dikeledi that the police were no longer working on the case.

A week went by and Christmas came. Dikeledi and Lesego had always celebrated together. In the past, they found happiness together with their small, secret gifts. But with this lonely Christmas, Dikeledi finally gave up.

She knew she would never see her sister again.

TWO

IT WAS THE TUESDAY morning after the four-day Easter holiday. Assistant Superintendent David “Kubu” Bengu drove to work with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. Actually the song was in his throat—Rossini’s “Largo al factotum” from The Barber of Seville. He loved the piece with a passion, often startling other drivers with his slightly off-key, booming rendition. In some ways he saw himself as the factotum of the Criminal Investigation Department.

Just after passing the Game City mall, Kubu turned right off the Lobatse road into the Millenium Park offices of the CID. Every day that he came to work, he was grateful that the detectives had their offices at the foot of Kgale Hill—a wild enclave with the city lapping around its base, a rocky outcrop of natural bush that offered walks with wonderful views and provided homes for baboons, small buck, and other wildlife. Not that Kubu