Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

“Good to know,” she says, “but can I tell you now?”

“Now you can.” I needed to get that out of the way.

“I went over to see Lesedi today, and Vimbo showed me the books you’d bought for him. The receipt fell out of the bag.” She pauses, waiting expectantly for me to connect the dots.

“And?”

“The date proves you were buying books when Nick was murdered.”

“So?”

“So?” She blinks. “It proves your innocence.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not as if I can drive into the local police station and slap a receipt on the desk to prove I’m innocent of murder when I’m guilty of twenty-something heists.”

Her face falls. “What about sending the receipt in anonymously?”

“I paid cash. There’s no way to prove the identity of the buyer of those books.”

“What about the person in the store who sold you the books? Can’t he identify you?”

“I appreciate you trying, but give it up. Leon is looking into it.”

“He’s trying to find out who did it?”

“Yes.”

“What will you do when you know?”

“We’ll expose them.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Some things are simple.” Cupping her face, I kiss her lips. “Finished with dinner?”

“Yes, thanks. I’m not very hungry. What about you?”

“I’m good.” I take the tray and lean over her to leave it on the floor. “Now go to sleep. You need the rest.”

She shifts down and puts her head on the pillow. I kiss her again, but her eyes are already closing. It’s the shock. The best way for her body to recover is rest. I hold her bandaged hand in mine until she’s breathing with an even rhythm before I slip out of bed and get dressed. Taking my phone, I go out onto the terrace so I don’t wake her.

The call connects to the ER in Harare. I request information about Banga, but the nurse tells me he’s still in the operating theatre. It’s late, but I doubt Shona will be sleeping.

She sounds tired when she answers.

“How are you holding up?” I ask.

“Good. The doctor said he’ll let me know how Banga is doing the minute he gets out of the theatre.”

“Do you need anything? Can I send someone?”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the money you transferred. It’ll help if I have to get a hotel room for the night. How’s Cas?”

“Shaken up, but brave.”

“She did well, Ian.”

I look toward the closed doors of my room. Our room. “I know.”

“The people love her. She works with them, and she actually knows what she’s doing. She’s mixing with them, sharing their food and their shebeen. She’s part of them now, Ian. She saved one of us. If you make her unhappy, they won’t take to it kindly.”

“I know how it works. You don’t have to spell it out.”

“You better hold on to that one. I told her the same, but she wasn’t happy when you left with Oliver and those whores.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve worked it out.”

“You won’t get another one like her.”

“Yeah.” Because she was made for me. “Call me when you have news.”

“Take care now, you hear?”

“Says the one who needs to take care.”

She cuts the call with a chuckle.

Like Cas, Shona has strength in spades.

At first light, there’s a commotion at the door. I dress and step outside, closing the doors behind me to not wake Cas. The whole village is there. Keeya is at the forefront, carrying an iron pot. The women carry baskets, and the men carry handwoven rugs and blankets.

“What’s going on?”

“We heard the news,” Keeya says. “We brought gifts for Cas.”

I’m about to say she’s sleeping when the double doors open. Cas steps out still dressed in my robe. Her eyes grow round when she sees the horde crammed between our terrace and the riverbank.

“Aikona, Cas,” Keeya says, crying and stomping up the steps. “Look at you.”

“I’m okay,” Cas says with an awkward smile.

She doesn’t like the attention, but this is the biggest honor the villagers can pay a person.

One by one, they climb the steps and leave baskets with beads, jewelry, dried fruit, and trinkets at Cas’s feet until the whole deck is covered with baskets. Each one takes his or her turn to shake Cas’s hand in the respectful manner while wishing her a long life and many babies.

To them, this is about more than killing a baboon and saving Banga’s life. The belief around here is that a baboon turns rabid when an evil spirit inhabits its body. In their eyes, Cas did nothing short of executing an exorcism.

After an hour, I wish we had some coffee. I make a mental note to get a coffee and tea maker in the room. On cue, a few women, followed by armed men, arrive from the direction of the main building with cone-covered dishes.

They lay the breakfast out on the deck table and tell me they’ll run the kitchen in Shona’s absence. I’m grateful for their kindness and foresight. Shona can do with a rest when she gets back.