No Witness No Leads

No Witness No Leads

Agnes N Lethena 2018

Published by BlueInk Publishing Company

Copyright © 2018

All rights reserved.

BlueInk Edition Statement

This book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or transferred to other people. If you would like to share it, please ask author’s permission first or you’ll be liable for fine.

Disclaimer

This is the work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s own imagination. Real places and organizations are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Edited by T. Pholosi

Cover page by Motseki Hlobotsi

PROLOGUE

Peter had opened his eyes. His world was still dreary, gloomy and forever disdain. Dude had failed in many aspects in life. He loathed himself — he sure did. Just as he pulled out his gun, a deafening gunshot punctuated the night. The heck is going on? For heaven’s sake this was Detective Peter Moloi’s lair, and though it was accessible to all people since it was a forest in the outskirt of Masooe, he wasn’t expecting anybody here — at this hour. He had sat upright still weighing his options. There wasn’t anything to live for. Another gunshot had blasted. Dead leaves rustled. He had recoiled in fear. The cop averted his gaze. He was in the clearing inside the woods. Should the shooter come this way, he would be an easy target. Luckily, nearby was a tree trunk. It was still fresh as though somebody had cut down the tree recently — like tonight. This could have given any normal person creeps. But the cop didn’t know how to be normal. He had crawled behind it. Just as he leaned against the trunk, a gut-wrenching scream echoed.

Adding more to his sorrows, somebody had cried, no…please! Don’t kill me!

Peter’s gaze had roamed to no effect. The entire forest was enshrouded with darkness. He lay on his back. As usual, the unnerving feeling assailed him. That scream sounded like he had heard it before — that voice. His thinking engines revved, at the instant. Fiona, his dark and lovely, meaning his night lover, had gone for an evening jog. He didn’t know where. But he knew the woman loved the woods. She loved a walk in the forest. She always said something like it was a therapeutic walk in this strange place which had dangers lurking in it since it was far away from the city. The cop climbed on his feet. Bad for him, his heavy legs had protested. But he had to find her. He took another direction. If need be, he would search the entire forest — which he had already done. Though unaware. Oh, poor soul had stumbled on fallen branches. He slumped down. The ground was damp. The dew might have started falling. Oddly enough, Peter Moloi felt it comfy. He had rolled over and lay on his back. Just then he shut his eyes — it was a night.

A laughter had broke through, startling him. He had gripped his gun. But couldn’t bring himself to stand. Boots crunching the dead leaves, stirred the cop up. His eyes darted back and forth. Then he hobbled to the direction where he thought he heard footsteps coming from. He had yelled as he realized what he had just bumped into — a human body. The amount of training he had received had armed him with skills to contend with anything life would throw at him. But this wasn’t one of them. Well, as a cop he came across dead bodies every now and then. But still he felt a shiver running down his back. To top this, the body had recoiled and contorted. Boy, the cop had backed away. Then stood as his heart slowed thudding in his chest. This person needs me — needs help. He took a closer look, part of him stomping, wanting nothing to do with this. The blouse on this woman’s body had rung bells. He had seen it before. Well, in the early hours of this very same night. Fiona was clad in it.

Adrenaline pumping in his veins, he had waddled toward her. His fingers reached for her pulse. Damn! He was required to remove his hand swiftly. Something had drenched his hands. He brought the hand toward his eyes. Good news, the moonlight had filtered through. But since the lacey clouds were frightening to cover the moon, the light wasn’t that much. But this, that had soaked his hands, was blood. Fiona had been wounded.

Babe, hang in there, the cop told her.

Under his scrutiny, the cop realized the woman had an opening on her neck. This was where the blood was oozing out. It was bad — so bad. The cop had torn his shirt. Then gauzed the wound. However, this couldn’t succor her pain. The cop frisked himself, pulled out his iPhone. He had redialed the last dialed number. Oops! It seemed there wasn’t any network coverage. The cop was required to climb on his feet, hand raised up in the air. No matter how he had flailed his hand in search for network, his phone couldn’t connect. Since he wasn’t a man to give up so easily, he had taken a few steps. He had seen a mound. Just as he stepped on it, a swinging wood log hit him. The man flew backward and slumped on a heap of dead leaves. Jesus! This was a bad night to be alive. His ass had protested. He could make use of massage but then, the woman. He rose and leaned against the tree. Not knowing what was behind that very same tree. He had punched his phone one more time. Still there wasn’t any network coverage.

A cologne had wafted, saturating the still air. At the instant, Peter’s thinking engines had revved. They took him deep in his subconscious. The part of his brain where all information was stored. Many scenarios filtered in his mind. Till one memory shot up and stood lucid before him. This was Boss J’s — the fugitive that had abducted his wife and had done only God knows to her. As though he had read Peter’s mind, Boss J drifted into view. For a split second everything stood still. Both bulls took a chance to glare at each other. Peter was still standing five feet nine. His bony face full of beard. His black and white eyes which were glowing red due to anger, rested on this fugitive, who was in his gear: black overalls which matched with his boots. The hands were gloved in black leather gloves and his face was in a black balaclava. The fugitive stood six feet three inches. His physique normally sent shivers to his opponent’s spine but tonight, he looked like a cockroach Peter was ready to squash.

The big man had ambled toward Peter. This was a moment he had been waiting for all his life. Rage had surged in Peter. He too shared the sentiment. It was high time he killed this bastard and prevented many people from dying, in fact, murdered. With nothing said, the show was put on the road. The cop being the first to throw a punch. Bad for him, Boss J ducked. But then, Peter had many plans down his belt. He somersaulted. Then kicked the bastard’s back before planting his feet on the ground. To his dismay, Boss J decked him. His ass was the first to land. It was throbbing but the cop climbed on his feet. Pissed off, he threw a punch one more time. Argh! Boss J blocked it. The bigger man tossed off the cop. The little man had staggered. It seemed he had lost his balance. He had slumped on the ground. This time he had taken his time to rise. Boss J had yanked him. Okay, that had brought out the badass cop lurking within Peter. The cop flounced then stood before this bastard. He had charged at him. Thinking of hitting the living lights out of Boss J. But his plans had been shattered. Boss J produced out his gun.

Being in this side of the barrel weaponless and defenseless was chilling to the bone. The cop had backed away. He never heard of anyone who came to a gunfight weaponless lived to tell that tale. Fond of taunting and instilling fear in his victims, Boss J snapped in a clip. So it wasn’t loaded all along? The bastard glared at Peter. The cop was in deep trouble. But then, it seemed luck had a lot in store for him. Clouds had covered the moon. The dark enshrouded the forest. These people eager to kill each other stood in the dark. This time Peter had frisked himself. He remembered holstering his gun. But it wasn’t in its holster. Light had shone — its source, Boss J’s torch. Peter had shielded his eyes. This made him an easy target. The fugitive smirked behind the balaclava. Then aimed his gun at him.

Die, douchebag! Boss J yelled.

The words gripped Peter’s intestines. The man was ambitious, had many dreams yet to chase, and bad guys to bust. Perhaps he would try to find his wife. If she was still alive.

Kneel! Boss J had commanded.

Peter did just that. His head slouched. The cop had already made peace with dying. Perhaps my actions have caught up with me. He had thought. Taking a retrospect in his life, he was a badass cop. The man that never geared his ass in the right direction. He had received many written and verbal warnings. Yet never lived up to anyone’s expectations. He had his ways, his rules and his methods of wringing the truth out of his witness in the interrogation room.

Hands up! Boss J was really enjoying this.

He better be while it lasted. This bastard kneeling here was dangerous. That much Boss J knew pretty well. He had witnessed him in many occasions. If he got a chance just even a tad, he wouldn’t hesitate to send Boss J to hell. Or whatever place clowns like him would go after death. Boss J had circled around him. He was happy that he found him and happy that he would kill him tonight. He had pressed the barrel of the gun on the back of his head.

Naw. Even enemies respect each other, Peter said calmly.

Hush, you loser!

Me? Loser?

Boss J hit him with the butt of his gun. The poor Peter sagged like a loser they had declared he was.

Put the gun on my forehead. Give me a soldier death, Peter had begged.

Who cares where the bullet hole will be?

I do. I care. That’s all I want tonight.

As if that would change anything. But I will do you that courtesy. You know I raped her. Want to hear what she said? She begged me not to stop. She said please take me, Boss J had bragged.

Boy had done a lot of things Peter hated. But this that he had just said had earned him an excruciating death. Peter yanked his leg. The other leg went out under him. The big man slumped down. Heck the dead leaves had billowed in the air. Peter sprang on him. His hands reached for his neck. Peter gripped the poor Boss J. The man regretted ever wasting his time. He could have fired the gun. He could have killed this bastard. As the pressure built on his throat, he had flounced and kicked. The man thought of toppling this bastard off of him. But all that never won him gold. His eyes had bulged, ready to pluck out of their sockets.

Please! Boss J wheezed.

Then who is the loser? Who is it?

Boss J couldn’t get an opportunity to answer. His feeble hands had dropped down. Peter smirked. It was over. But then, a groan had stolen his attention. Fiona had moaned and groaned. Peter glanced at her. So she is still alive? He wondered. Just then he mistakenly eased his grip on Boss J’s neck. A mistake he would live to regret. Abruptly Boss J toppled over Peter. The man plopped on the wood log which was nearby. Metals had clunked in his head. The ensuing pain threatened to blackout the cop. Peter clamped his head with both hands as though that would ease the pain. Boss J took that opportunity. He aimed his gun at him. This instant not wasting any time. His finger had pulled the trigger. The click sound had erupted. This had brought Peter to the now. He spun still on the ground. The bastard had just snapped in a loaded clip. Slowly the barrel of the gun faced Peter. Man! This was scary, knowing that it was loaded. Peter had covered his face with his hands. Indeed, he had had his chance. But as usual had wasted it. Now he would reunite with his maker. So yes, he was happy he would get a soldier death. The bullet would pump through the frontal lobe. People would know he had faced his enemy headlong.

A deafening gunshot blasted. Peter had recoiled in horror. A minute long silence followed. The cop opened his eyes, he found that he was still in the forest — not in hell. What had just happened? He roved his gaze around. The bastard was near him, heaving wearily. Peter stood. Then his gaze caught something. Another man, lit by the moonlight, was standing a few feet from where they were. He had a smoking gun in his hand. As Peter studied him, he realized his face was in balaclava as well. He had sagged down. This was far from over. The man had waddled toward Peter, who lay on his back. He was ready to shield himself with this Boss J idiot. But then, the man offered him a hand. Peter glanced up at him.

This short man! Ben! Jesus, how did you find me? Peter had asked, elated.

Well, I’m pissed off and demand answers.

Look, I’ll explain. I will. But let’s find Fiona.

Who is that?

It’s somebody. Somebody I…dammit!

Somebody you are screwing? Man, how is that even possible? Your wife is still missing.

Ben, you don’t understand. Let’s find her and take her to the hospital.

How did she end up here?

It’s a long story.

Then I’m not getting any involved. I’m leaving.

No, you are not.

Ben did, he started away. Peter had punched the air. He really had banked his hope on his partner. Being given a cold shoulder by him was as close as being abandoned by God. Not that Peter was a believer but this felt the same. His mind had contrived a plan. But then, his partner was trudging deeper in the woods. Soon he would vanish and that would leave Peter balls-deep in legal hot water. Here was a dead body which would require to be disposed.

He yelled, fine! It was supposed to be a one night stand. But we fell…fell—

Okay, enough! Ben snapped, retracing his steps.

The man had just saved his partner. He would see to it that this dead body got disposed as well. He always cleaned after Peter. Although he hated it. But he had grown to accept it. Alone, Peter messed up every now and then.

Let’s call for backup, this was the best Peter came up with.

And say what to the good guys when they ask questions?

The truth.

So there is the truth?

What do we do now?

Ben was mute. He didn’t know the answer this time around. He had shot the man with his gun. Ballistics would trace the bullet. He already knew it would point back to him. But he could declare the gun stolen. That was it. He shot his partner a look. Peter got the signal. They had to get out of here. The cops had started away. Just then, Boss J aimed his gun at Peter. He still would take him down with him. However, Ben caught a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye. With nothing said, he emptied his remaining bullets on him. Boss J recoiled — contorted. Then paused.

Will you stop wasting the bullets, Peter said to Ben.

Is that a thank you? This bastard was aiming at you again.

Peter spun. Had Boss J still been alive, he would have killed him with his bare hands. The man never knew when to stop. But then, it was over with him. Fiona was here and she needed his help. He had hobbled away, hoping to find her.

Hey, stop! Ben called for his partner.

Ben, Fiona is going to die.

We’ve another problem. This one is going to send me to jail. I think we need to get rid of the body.

Okay. But let’s find Fiona.

You’re not hearing yourself.

Indeed, he wasn’t and so was Ben. This was a serious matter; it needed their immediate attention. The police were declared to be the most brutal people that ever lived. That had made the people to march across the station street — declaring they would rather police themselves. The human rights activists and lawyers had joined the movement, adding more fuel to this fire. That had caused the police boss to have a talk with the cops. The man introduced an electric chair — yes, death penalty. Indeed, in Lesotho, there wasn’t nothing like death penalty. But he was willing to make an example had any cop under his watch abused poor civilians. These two had shared a glance. They knew that bastard meant it. He was under many corrupt men’s payroll and would be glad to put the good guys on an electric chair. Being zapped alive was just goose bumps inducing and these two didn’t have any intensions of meeting that horrible fate.

Peter had wiped his forehead. This was going to send them to the chair. Well, since the captain hated him with passion, he wouldn’t stand a chance to exonerate himself — to point out how this was a self-defense. Now he had brought Ben into this. Jesus! The cop had smirked as some thoughts drifted in his mind. They could lam away right now. Then declared Ben’s gun missing. If captain couldn’t buy that, Peter would sweet-talk with the ballistic guys. However, he wasn’t in the best of terms with those dullards too. But everyone got a price. He had glanced at Ben. This time rational thoughts crossed his mind. Even if this could work, the fibers would still pin them to the body — especially him. They had rolled and fought with Boss J which had led to the crossing of fibers.

Let’s take off his clothes, Peter said.

And the bullets? We extract them out too?

I’ve got that one. Let’s take off his clothes.

What about your DNA on him? I mean body cells? What do we do about that?

Ben, for heaven’s sake, can you give me solutions here!

I say, let’s bury this bastard. Besides, if there is anyone to be blamed for his death, that person is you. You’ve been at each other’s throats since like forever. So if the good guys find a naked body, it’ll still point back to you.

But how? How do we get rid of it?

Shovels. I’ve got some in the car.

We going to bury him at the same time take Fiona to the hospital? Then go back to work?

Maybe all that would be possible if we stop asking ridiculous questions and get onto it.

With that, Ben had retraced his steps to his car that was parking outside the forest. The man had the shovels which were found at the crime scene. He was on the way to the forensic lab when he tracked his partner’s car. Had he gone his way none of this could have happened. Ben was a good cop. Well, there wasn’t any squeaky clean soul on earth. He had skeletons in his closet. But all that couldn’t put him on the electric chair. Arriving at the car, he stood. Nothing stays hidden forever. This had crossed his mind. For now, it would. He had gripped the shovels. May our enterprise thrust.

The thing was, Ben wanted to lam away and leave Peter with this mess. Everybody would believe Peter stole his gun. Once they found out that it was his gun that had shot Boss J. But then, the roots of their friendship ran deep. It all started a decade ago when they got paired together. At the day of their pairing, the captain had told him he was a light that would gear Peter into the right track. Often times he had tried but failed. He had asked for a new partner. Only for the captain to tell him either he worked with Peter or he resigned. The man had made peace with it. Along the way he had grown to like Peter. Despite all his faults, the cop was a dedicated cop. That had won his heart. Peter Moloi had earned himself a soft spot in Ben’s heart. For that, he would help his partner.

He had put the shovels on his shoulder and headed back to the spot. These wouldn’t be taken to the forensic lab anymore and for that, Ben hated himself. Another clown, who had committed a crime, would walk free without these shovels. They had that clown’s DNA. As he got back, he found Peter had already hauled Boss J to his final resting place. Where they would dig a grave. Perhaps they would come back some other time to exhume him when the dust had settled. This body was a dynamite. It would erupt soon. This was the certainty Ben couldn’t shake off. He had glanced at the body. His first victim that he shot in cold blood.

Hey, he was a bad guy. He killed people. And he was going to kill many more. You did an outstanding job, Detective Benjamin Masiu, Peter thought to sing him a praise since he could see iota of doubt and regret plastering his face.

The men had rolled up their sleeves. Then dug the grave. This time around no soul said a word. Thoughts were running through their minds. Peter was happy. It was finally over. He would live his life peaceful. As for Ben, this mark of Cain was weighing heavy on his shoulders. A good detective that went bad wasn’t what he had envisaged. But what had happened had happened. The professional road was still wide ahead of him. Next time he would choose what’s right. Once done digging, they had straightened up. With nothing said, they had yanked