In clipped, wary sentences, Doris told the judge what she had disclosed to Zoe in their first meeting. This time, however, she didn’t hide the fact that she had left Kuyeya with Bright and Gift and gone to the market with a client.
“Do you know how Kuyeya escaped the flat?” Sarge asked.
Doris nodded. “My daughters left the door open.” She looked down at her hands, sorrow etched on her face. “I should have taken better care of her. Lusaka is a dangerous place for girls like her. I should have made sure she was safe.”
As soon as Sarge sat down, Benson Luchembe went on the attack. Doris, however, seemed invulnerable to the onslaught. He accused her of being a criminal, and she replied that if she had committed crimes, so had the police officers, politicians, and lawyers who paid her for sex. He then made the mistake of turning a question about Bella into an argument about the irrelevance of her relationship with Darious. Sarge quickly objected, and the judge sustained it with a frown. After a few more questions—all of which Doris met with an unflappable calm—Luchembe abandoned his inquisition and took his seat again.
When Sarge declined to redirect, Mubita allowed himself a rare smile. “We will begin again at eight thirty tomorrow. Until then, this Court is in recess.”
Watching the judge walk wearily down the steps, Zoe realized the depth of her own exhaustion. Dizzy from sleeplessness and stress, she was tempted to rest her head on Joseph’s shoulder. She waited until the deputy removed Darious from the dock and Luchembe departed with his entourage before joining Sarge and Niza in congratulating Doris.
Doris appeared overwhelmed by the attention. “Can I go home now?” she asked Zoe.
Zoe nodded and led her toward the exit. “I know that wasn’t pleasant,” she said, “but you were wonderful.”
Doris gave the faintest trace of a laugh. “I did what you told me. I pictured that lawyer as a baboon. After that, it didn’t matter what he said.”
When they reached the arcade, Doris put a hand on her arm. “I have something for Kuyeya.” She rummaged in her bag and took out a ring studded with small emeralds. “It was Bella’s. She used to put it on Kuyeya’s finger before we went out at night.”
Zoe’s heart clutched when she saw the way the emeralds gleamed in the lamplight. She took the ring, appreciating its immense significance.
“I’ll give it to her tomorrow,” she said.
chapter 28
The next morning, Joseph and Zoe drove into Kanyama to fetch Amos, the nganga. The rising sun gilded the edges of the compound with molten light, but the spiderweb of lanes remained in shadow. Joseph turned left at the sign bearing Amos’s name and navigated toward the house with the red door. The lane was a hive of activity—pedestrians walking, children playing, old men lounging, women hanging clothes on the line—but the house with the red door was quiet.
“Wasn’t he supposed to be ready?” Zoe asked as Joseph parked beside Amos’s car.
“I texted Bob Wangwe yesterday,” Joseph said, grabbing his rifle from the back seat.
Zoe followed him to the porch. He knocked on the door and called out the nganga’s name. When they heard no movement, he grabbed the doorknob. The door popped open.
“Amos!” Joseph cried, barging into the hopelessly cluttered living room. Close on his heels, Zoe nearly doubled over in disgust. The place smelled like a charnel house.
“Amos!” he called again, aiming his rifle into the dimly lit kitchen.
When no one appeared, they moved toward the back of the house, taking care to avoid the tables littered with herbs and animal parts. The stink became so overpowering that Zoe held her nose. Joseph aimed his gun into the bedroom, and Zoe peered into the gloom of the consultation room. She clutched Joseph’s arm. On the floor were two misshapen heaps.
One was the charred carcass of a bird.
The other was Amos.
Joseph went to the window and threw open the curtains.
“Dear God,” Zoe gasped, staring at the deep cut in the nganga’s neck.
Joseph knelt down to examine the corpse. He manipulated one of the nganga’s fingers. “He’s been dead a few hours. It must have happened overnight.”
“What does the bird mean?” she asked softly, dread churning in her gut.
He looked at the carcass in distaste. “It’s a spell of protection.”
She walked with him into the living room. “At least we have the recorded confession.”
Joseph looked dubious. He punched in a number on his phone. At the sound of the message he clenched his teeth. “Mr. Wangwe, this is Officer Kabuta. Your client was murdered last night. I don’t know where you are, but you need to meet us at the Subordinate Court right away to vouch for the recordings. If you don’t appear, we’ll ask the judge for a contempt order.”
Joseph slid the phone into his jeans, his face fraught with tension.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Zoe asked.
Joseph nodded. “He must have found out.”
“You and I can authenticate the recordings,” she said hopefully.