Juba Good by Vicki Delany Read Free Book Online Page A

have something to do with the events of the last two weeks.
    Was someone trying to warn me off the investigation into the murder of the girls?
    Why? It wasn’t as if I was getting anywhere.
    The people at the Blue Nile didn’t like me much. Clearly, they’d rather I stopped poking around. That something funny was going on there wasn’t in doubt. It might be nothing more than overcharging for drinks. It might be selling drugs on the side. It might just be that the manager was a weak guy who thought he was tough. They’d know where to find girls like Olivia.
    Would they be able to get her into the compound? And into my room?
    Possibly. With a few hefty, well-placed bribes.
    Easier, though, if they had help from the inside.
    It was no secret I was interested in the killings of the women. Everyone in the UN police and most of the South Sudanese knew. I’d been asking questions. Trying to open an investigation.
    Was someone telling me to butt out?
    I gave up trying to sleep. I had planned on making myself a special lunch that day. A big bowl of pasta. Might as well have it for a late breakfast.
    I’d managed to score some butter at the store and arugula at the market. A woman who grew fresh herbs in her small patch of garden had given me a huge bunch. Fresh cream was unavailable. The milk would be out of a PVC pack. But you can’t have everything.
    I crossed the yard, dreaming of homegrown cherry tomatoes eaten warm from the sun. Nigel was heading toward me, dressed for work. He saw me, turned and walked away.
    I called after him. He shouted over his shoulder, “I’m late, Robertson.” He kept walking. I broke into a jog and soon caught up to him.
    â€œWhat’d you do to your face?” I asked.
    â€œStreet brawl. You should see the other guy.”
    â€œYou weren’t working the last couple of days, were you?”
    â€œI didn’t say I was working. I said I was in a street brawl. Are all Canadians so bloody nosy?”
    He stalked off. I let him go.
    I’d seen enough.
    Two long deep scratches ran down his right cheek. From the corner of his eye almost to his lip. Nasty. Half an inch over and he might have lost the eye. The injury wasn’t fresh. Two days old, maybe.
    Nigel was a hothead. It was entirely possible he’d been in a fight.
    But he hadn’t gotten those injuries in a punch-up. More like the result of a thin knife. Or a woman’s long nails.
    Nigel would know they didn’t have the resources here to analyze blood for DNA.
    But he would also know I’d try to secure the evidence anyway. As it was, I’d labeled the bag with the knife. I’d taken it into the police station and told them to keep it safe.
    Tomorrow, my shifts switched to days. Nigel was working days also.
    As I cooked lunch, I thought long and hard.
    I scarcely tasted the pasta.

Chapter Fourteen
    Nigel was a lot younger than me. By the end of the fourth day, I was getting mighty tired. I worked with Deng during the day. I watched Nigel at night.
    There isn’t much of what we consider nightlife here. Police patrols come out around midnight. Roadblocks are set up. Cars are stopped by armed police for no reason at all. Most foreigners like to be home early.
    Nigel was dating a British woman. He took her out to dinner one evening. I sat in the parking lot in my borrowed vehicle, watching the restaurant door. They went back to her place.
    The other nights, he went out with male friends for dinner or a few beers. I showed the security guards my ID . I told them I was on a secret undercover mission. Whether they believed me or not, they let me wait in a dark corner of the parking lot. When Nigel left, I followed. He went straight back to the UN compound.
    Sunday evening, the fourth night of my surveillance, Nigel went to a rugby game. Africa versus everyone else. He drank a lot of beer, chatted to women, didn’t pay much attention to the game.
    I lurked in the