Then there was the matter of Charity’s “love relationship with a man.” Charity’s grandmother, Vivian, had suspected a man at the nursing school. Had she seen Charity’s journal, she would have been more specific. Charity was in love with a doctor—Jan Kruger. But what had prompted Vivian to ascertain that she was with child? Who did Vivian think was the father?
Charity’s letters did not tell her much. In them, she wrote about the past and encouraged Cynthia and Godfrey to take care of their grandmother. What references she made to Lusaka were devoid of detail. The only useful insight offered by the letters was a glimpse into Charity’s psyche. When she left Livingstone in 1996, she still had a capacity for delight. In this respect, the letters contrasted dramatically with the third volume of her journal. The penmanship was the same, but by April of 2004 her joy had died.
Zoe stuffed the letters back in the envelope and walked to Joseph’s desk. For all that Cynthia had disclosed, she still couldn’t explain the genesis of Darious Nyambo’s hatred. Joseph took one look at her face and set aside the report he was reviewing. He read Cynthia’s letter, reserving comment until the end.
“This is interesting,” he said, “but it leaves gaps. We still don’t know what happened when she got to Lusaka.”
“Precisely. We need the housekeeper.”
Joseph nodded. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“I’ve been thinking about updating my wardrobe.”
He laughed. “I like the thought of you in chitenge.”
Early the next morning, they drove to the City Market in Zoe’s Land Rover. Before leaving the Prentice property, Joseph removed the GPS unit from beneath her bumper and put it with its twin in his truck. If Dunstan Sisilu was paying attention to their movements, he would think they were enjoying a Saturday morning at home. Nevertheless, Joseph took an indirect route and made two stops to ensure they were not followed.
They entered the market by the main gate and walked slowly toward Chiwoyu’s stall.
“I’ll meet you there,” Joseph said suddenly, ducking down an aisle.
Zoe shuffled along and watched the crowd, trying to suppress her nervousness. She passed Chiwoyu’s aisle and didn’t see the housekeeper. She turned down the next aisle and stopped beside a display of bags, looking toward the entrance to the market. She saw a flash of black sunglasses, and her heart jumped into her throat. But the man wearing them was rail-thin and had a mane of silver hair.
She took a breath and walked the length of the aisle. She met Joseph on the other side.
“If he’s here, he’s invisible,” he said.
Zoe nodded. “It looks like the shoe vendor could use some company.”
As before, she took a seat on the vacant chair and watched the aisle. This time they didn’t have long to wait. At twenty past nine, a slightly hunched figured emerged from the exit. Zoe immediately recognized the housekeeper. She stood quickly and moved in the old woman’s direction. The housekeeper saw her when they were twenty feet apart. She lowered her head and tried to get past, but Zoe stepped into her path.
“Please listen to me,” Zoe said, knowing her time was limited. “Darious raped Kuyeya because he has AIDS and she was a virgin. His crime was not random. He hated her mother and he feared her. He was certain she’d cursed his family. The mystery is why. What happened between Frederick and Charity fifteen years ago?”
The housekeeper didn’t speak, so Zoe went on. “I’m convinced Frederick met her in Livingstone and offered her a job. I know she left nursing school and came to Lusaka. I know something painful happened. But I don’t know what it was. Somehow Charity ended up on the street as a prostitute. Somehow a girl who had all the promise in the world died of AIDS.”
To Zoe’s astonishment, the housekeeper began to cry. “What you say is true,” she said. “But I am old and have no one to protect me.”
“I can protect you,” Zoe said quickly. “I have friends in the diplomatic community. I can get you a new job.”
The housekeeper hesitated. “I must think about this.”
Zoe pulled a fifty-pin note out of her wallet, along with a pen. As she had done at Shoprite, she wrote her mobile number on the margin of the bill. “You can call me or send a text. The trial is the first week of April. We need the information soon.”
The housekeeper stuffed the money in her bag and headed toward the chitenge stall. Zoe watched her walk away. Would I take the risk? she asked herself honestly. Would I defy the Nyambos and trust a stranger to keep me safe?
Seeing Joseph approach, Zoe said, “She knows the whole story. But she’s still afraid.”
“I can’t say I blame her,” he replied.
“Neither do I.”
chapter 24
Lusaka, Zambia
February, 2012