by Anthony Mugo
“To hit hardest one employs one’s dominant hand,” Sanse addressed Jimia. “I was hit on my left ear from behind. You’re left-handed.”
Jimia couldn’t even raise his head.
“Your account of the events of October 16th was very convincing,” Sanse went on. “So was your willingness to assist. I would expect no less from the best ‘broker’ in town who loves detective novels. Allow me to give my version of what happened. You received a call at 5:40 p.m. not from a client but the blackmailer who claimed that Nimu, your secret wife, was cheating on you. He told you to collect proof from First and Last Bar. My guess is that the evidence, most likely a photo, was stuck under the corner table. You rushed to First and Last and found the evidence as promised. You became mad. You decided to drown your anger with beer. The problem at hand didn’t have a quick fix. A confrontation with Gitonga would readily attract Cecily’s attention. Bob joined you followed by Job. The two eagerly shared their altercation with Gitonga. At seven thirty you moved to Ikeno Bar. You wanted your presence noted so you engaged Felix in a conversation. Luck was on your side as Gitonga called you hoping to settle the matter amicably. Earnest, the bartender at Ikeno Bar can’t recall your time of departure which means you could have left before or after Gitonga’s call. Whatever the case you caught up with Bob, mugged him, bundled him in your car and drove to Gitonga’s homestead. It is a ten-minute drive. You possibly hid your car in the entrance to the opposite homestead which is deserted. You deposited Bob behind the house making sure that he was out cold before Gitonga let you inside the house.
“Munderu and Elizabeth witnessed the quarrel as they put it but it was you in Bob’s place and the subject was Nimu, not Grace. You hammered Gitonga to death. On the table were the Share Transfer Form and a copy of a will which you tore up. The will awarded Bob a paltry fifty thousand which is a clear affront given that he is the only child. You dashed out and ensured that Bob was still out. You wiped your finger prints off the hammer and put it in his grip. You positioned him so that it appeared he had stumbled and fallen while fleeing. You joined the rescuers at the front door and suggested that it was easier to break the rear door. Confusion worked in your favour as everyone thought you had just arrived. You offered to bring in the police effectively creating a chance to retrieve your car.”
The multitude was in stunned silence.
“When Marion and I met in your office you introduced her as your sister Edith. Your behaviour had my mind racing. How could you drive your sister out of your office with half-eaten meal wrapped up in paper? You didn’t want the two of us in the same room. I went ahead to question Bob’s grip on the hammer, his journey from First and Last and your time at Ikeno Bar. I asked about Nimu. You panicked. What if I met the real Edith at the funeral? That is when you decided to act. You attacked me and lit a blazer in my house hoping that I would die from carbon monoxide. Unfortunately for you, I don’t kill easily.”
The woman stirred then opened her eyes.
“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Sanse said. “I am Mike Sanse.”
“Marion Wairimu,” the woman said and turned to Jimia. “Did you kill him?”
“You started it!” Jimia said.
“Oh my God!”
“Why couldn’t you just let go?”
“Did you have to kill him?”
“I lost my head. I am so sorry.”
“Next time a tube of Medusa will do,” Sanse said. “It has been ages since I drunk real beer, you know.”
“Samuel Jimia, you are under arrest for the murder of Emilio Gitonga,” Pai said and handcuffed Jimia.
Sanse was walking towards Naomi when this handsome man fell in step with him. “What a eulogy!” The man said.
“Thank you,” Sanse said. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Doctor Gilbert Kanyua, Chief Public Health Officer.”
“Of course,” Sanse said. “You are the attendant at Mediplus Chemists.”
“That is my side hustle. What about the blackmailer?”
“Are you a victim?” Sanse asked.
“Not at all,” Dr. Kanyua said with a grin. “It is a loose end nonetheless.”
“My duty was to absolve Bob. It should never be upon a single man to save the world. They killed Jesus for it, remember?”
“I hate to be leaving but a pressing matter just cropped up at the office,” Kanyua said consulting his wrist watch. “I have to rush to Nairobi.”
“Journey mercies,” Sanse said.
Chapter 23
“Take it in your stride,” Pai told himself. “Cheer up; a catastrophe has been averted!” But no thought could lift his spirits. Defeat had never tasted this bitter. Now he would rather Sanse was his partner. It was not just Mavedi and his dignity on the cross but that of the entire police force. The media would have a field day. Hard questions would be asked: how many innocent prisoners are languishing in jail? Can the police be trusted to deliver justice anymore? Pai could see angry citizenry cursing and calling names as they watched the nine o’clock news. Names of the inept officers behind the mess would come up in bars, in public gatherings and in homes. They would come up on Facebook and trend on Twitter. But more mentions would go to the hero of the moment: Mike Sanse, the saviour who was summarily dismissed for being a danger to himself and the society.
Pai forced himself to concentrate on what Marion was saying.
“I am to blame,” Marion sobbed. “I was attracted to the two. Gitonga was razor-sharp and gentlemanly. Jimia was handsome and witty. If I had my way I would have fused them together. Each was overdoing himself in desperation to win me. Competition bred so much hatred they once came to blows. It is Gitonga, the ever judicial one, who suggested a way-out. They gave me a week to choose between the two. Each promised to honour my decision. I was so indecisive I doubted I would ever make headway in an eternity, let alone a week. On the third day Jimia took me out for a treat. I got the shock of my life as we walked into this hotel. There, in broad daylight, was Gitonga cuddling a girl. I was so shaken I scuttled out. Who was the girl? Had Gitonga moved on already? Was his candour a façade? I was really confused. I didn’t want to see Gitonga. Naturally, the incident played in Jimia’s favour.”
Marion stopped to wipe off tears.
“Gitonga’s date approached me a month after the incident claiming that she was hired by Jimia to entice Gitonga. Much as I wished to ignore her I visited the hotel and sure enough she was telling the truth. Jimia had invited Gitonga for a drink to celebrate the truce. When Gitonga got tipsy Jimia gave the hooker her cue and brought me to the hotel. The worst came when I missed my period. I was lost. My parents were so hostile I fled to Nairobi with a friend. I don’t know how I survived. It is Gitonga who found me first fifteen years ago. I turned his marriage proposal down as marrying him would have awakened the old rivalry since I had Jimia’s child. Four years ago Joy fell so sick I had to contact Jimia for help. It was his burden too. By the time Joy got out of hospital Jimia had convinced me to move in with him.”
“Tell me about October 16th,” Sanse said.
“The blackmailer called me at 3: 33 p.m.,” Marion said. “He warned that if Gitonga didn’t pay up he would call Jimia. I almost went crazy as my calls to Gitonga went unanswered. Only two weeks before Gitonga had called the blackmailer’s bluff. The blackmailer kept calling long after Gitonga had gone off-air. I switched off my phone. I haven’t used that number since.”
“How does he collect?” Sanse asked.
“Gitonga would drive at night in a given direction then drop the money on the blackmailer’s cue.”
“Do you have any idea about his identity?”
“If Thomas surrendered everything he should be a police officer,” Marion said.
Mavedi arrived in a police car and, after a flurry of instructions from Pai, left with Jimia and Marion.
“Do you know what you have done?” Pastor Munderu accosted Sanse. “Now I can’t preside over the burial.”
>
“Why bury the person you wouldn’t protect?” Sanse said. “My little faith tells me that by omitting the sex part I am foiling God’s lesson on how not to be His servant. Lucky for you the blackmailer is still out there. If you’ll excuse me I’ve got things to do.”
Sanse joined Pai.
“I need that photo,” Pai said.
“Which photo?”
“Of Marion and Gitonga.”
“Of course,” Sanse said handing Pai the photo. Pai frowned as a much younger Sanse smiled at him from the photograph.
“Damn!”
“If that face isn’t handsome then I don’t the meaning of the word,” Sanse said. “Time spares nothing. Talking of photos...” He extended his hand. Pai handed him three photos taken during the last year end party.
“Time to visit where it all began,” Sanse said. “First and Last Bar.”
Pai started. “Wait a minute. Do you plan to splash the photos in a bar?”
“Hardly.”
When Sanse and Pai got to First and Last Man Irosh was playing Jamaican Farewell. But for a hooker who was wriggling her backside his effort was lost to the twenty or so revellers. Pai and Sanse joined Makao at his table. Makao’s unblinking eyes hardly left the two arrivals as they walked to his table.
“You must have enjoyed our services,” Makao said.
“Where else would one find watermelon boobs threatening to bust free of a nylon tank top at this hour?” Sanse said pointing to a girl two tables away. He ordered a beer for himself and Makao.
“I thought you prefer Medusa,” Pai said.
“Not when someone else is picking the tab,” Sanse said. He took a generous swig at his beer before he placed the photos of the CID officers in front of Makao. “Is any of these men a regular?”
Makao went through the photos, his eyeballs hovering on the rim of their sockets. He handed them back shaking his head.
“One of them was here before Jimia’s arrival,” Sanse said. “He sat at the corner table.”
“That table was empty for at least two hours of Jimia’s arrival,” Makao said. “I am here when this place opens and when it closes down. This is my office, well, sort of.”
Pai took away the beer.
“My answer stands,” Makao said.
Sanse cleared his beer and led the way out. “There you are,” he said.
“What if he is too drunk to recall?” Pai asked.
“What if he recalls best when he is too drunk?” Sanse countered. “You can only go so far with a one-track mind.”
“Please don’t start.”
“I am just saying,” Sanse said getting into his car. “Coming?”
Pai shook his head.
“Trust me,” Sanse said, “you got your beer worth.”
Sanse took off. The fact that the blackmailer had planted the photos long before he made the demand meant that Gitonga was in trouble whether he paid up or not. Was his default on the previous demand the reason? Was it business rivalry?
Chapter 24
A different preacher had taken over from Munderu. Naomi was overly excited to report her find of three embossed notes which checked with the pictures on her phone. She had since consulted Elizabeth on the identities of the three contributors. The first note came from James Warui who was a teacher at Kathare Township Primary School. The second came from Christopher Muturi, the owner of Apex Contractors. The third one came from Johnson Gatonye, a mason with Apex Contractors.
“How can I thank you Miss Naomi?” Sanse exclaimed. “Excellent job. Now we wait for the funeral to end.”
When the funeral ended a crowd of mourners mobbed Sanse. Most of them expressed their admiration for his sleuthing. A few of them rebuked him. Where was his honour for the dead? Why couldn’t he do his thing before or after the funeral? Christopher Muturi was the most vexed.
“How dare you?” Muturi said.
“Cooperation can take you a long way,” Sanse said.
“So is minding your own bloody business,” Muturi said. “You just succeeded to jump in the ring with me.”
“Threatening another person is criminal in this country.”
“So is defamation,” Muturi said before he walked to his car and drove off.
Naomi pointed out James Warui for Sanse. Sanse strolled so that he closed Warui’s path.
“Mr. Warui!” Sanse greeted.
“Detective! You know me by name?”
“Jeez,” Sanse said. “Am I so easily forgotten?”
Now Warui was really confused. “For the love of me...”
“Here is a clue,” Sanse offered. “Yesterday evening between eight and nine.”
Warui brightened up. “Echo Bar?”
“Think harder.”
“I was home all day. I went to Echo Bar at seven and left at nine for home. I don’t recall seeing you anywhere.”
“I hope you will be keener tonight,” Sanse said walking away. Warui was still shaking his head and smiling thinly when he walked out of the compound. Felix gave Sanse a hard look from a distance before he entered his uncle’s house.
“Let’s get out of here before someone clobbers me,” Sanse said leading Naomi to his car.
“What about Johnson Gatonye?” Naomi asked.
“At the moment we can safely assume he got the money from Christopher Muturi.”
“Meaning that Muturi is the blackmailer?”
“Meaning that Muturi merits a closer look.”
At first Naomi had struggled to take Sanse seriously because of two reasons. First was his drunkenness. Alcoholism had reduced so many men to zombies, the so called wamunyotas who hardly engaged in anything worthwhile. Their wives had even appeared on television decrying lack of activity in the bedroom. How could such a person deliver as a detective? But Naomi had since leant that a drunken Sanse was sharper than a dozen sober men combined. He had just proved to be better than the police force with its authority and resources.
The second reason was his car. What kind of a man drove such a death-trap? The car showed lack of self-love and disregard for the law. The front bumper was held in place with wires. The windscreen had a crack. The tyres were butter-smooth. The left side mirror was missing. Its painting had leopard patches. When it moved its tailpipe reminded one of a steamship. Either Sanse didn’t bother to signal or none of the lights worked. Naomi was surprised it moved at all.
You can therefore understand Naomi’s dilemma when Sanse held the passenger door open for her. She froze momentarily before she managed a thin smile. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t just turn Sanse down in the face. She didn’t trust her ability to generate an excuse he wouldn’t see through. She got in hoping that her guardian angel had jumped in too.
“You were wonderful back there,” Naomi said trying to hide her nervousness. She hoped that by engaging Sanse in a conversation he would not speed.
“Sometimes I get lucky.”
“Why would Gitonga cut off Bob but bequeath Dan?”
“Dan is Gitonga’s son.”
“Really?”
“I think Gitonga’s claim that Bob is not his blood is the truth. Gitonga simply cut out an illegitimate kid and bequeathed his own.”
“They said Wira turned himself in. Why would he implicate himself?”
“He believes he is Bob’s father.”
“What?”
“Gitonga married Sharon as a statement to Jimia and Marion,” Sanse said. “You know the thing: you deny me a sip of your soda, I go for the biggest bottle. Sharon was learned and more beautiful. Trapped in a marriage without love she sought intimacy in Wira and, possibly, other men. She died giving birth to Bob. To Gitonga Bob was a reminder of Sharon’s infidelity. Wira can’t understand why he can’t father kids yet he sired Bob. He has been broadcasting his seed all over the place and now he is HIV positive. He chose to trade his seemingly worthless life for Bob’s. At the time of the murder he was weeding Sharon’s grave. It was exactly twenty years since her death.”
“What a mess! Does Bob know all these?”
“No,” Sanse said. “He won’t know it from me.”
Naomi had hoped that the Mazda’s rattling would cease once they joined the tarmac road but she was wrong. The car was wobbling as if it had oval wheels! She raked her mind for instructions in the event of an accident. Buckle up! She reached for her seat belt only to find a broken buckle. She thrust her feet in front of her and dug her nails in her seat.
The rear left wheel of the Mazda had troubled Sanse for weeks. He hadn’t considered it serious but now, with Naomi squirming next to him, the wobbling felt catastrophic. He had learnt that acceleration reduced the wobbling. An alarm went off in his head the moment he stepped on the gas pedal - the brakes! Have a little faith, he told himself. His faith didn’t take him far as he negotiated a corner only to see a traffic policeman standing on the road, his hand up in the air. The pads squealed in protest as he stepped on the brakes. What was meant to be an emergency stop took ten metres to slow down the Mazda. He swerved left, shifted the gear lever in reverse, released the clutch and stepped on the accelerator. The engine roared but there was no movement. He rammed the lever in reverse again. Still no movement.
“Jeez, not now.”
“He is coming,” Naomi warned.
“Come on!”
The gear engaged just in time. The Mazda jerked back on the road forcing the passing van to swerve to avoid a collision. The officer’s baton landed on the boot of the car just as Sanse took off the way they had come. Five hundred metres up the road he joined a dirty road to the left.
“Sorry for that,” he muttered.
Neither of the two spoke for the rest of the journey. Elizabeth was waiting outside the office when they arrived. She looked like a spitting cobra ready to strike.
“Did you have to drag our names in the mud?” Elizabeth demanded. “I thought you want to keep your home.”
“I thought you trusted my discretion,” Sanse countered.
