by Anthony Mugo
***
Mavedi and Pai arrived at the abandoned house ten minutes of Kachero’s call. Mavedi joined the narrow road leaving Pai on the tarmac. He had to walk past the unfinished house because two women were walking in the opposite direction. He doubled back as soon as they vanished around the corner and entered the building which stood fifteen metres from the road. According to Kachero Diana had either collected or dropped something. Mavedi embarked on a frantic search hopping that the latter was the case. He lifted one of the stones and saw a picture in a polythene paper. Behind the picture was the inscription: Karia Coffee Factory Gate. 8:30 p.m. He photographed the picture on his phone anxious to leave. He returned it under the stone and left. He sent Kachero a message that said: Found it. He joined Pai.
“I see no sense in this,” Pai said handing back Mavedi’s phone.
“I think Kelvin saw or heard what he shouldn’t have.”
“Put yourself in Diana’s shoes,” Pai said. “Would you commit murder a day after another person associated with you is murdered?”
“It depends with what Kelvin knows. We should talk to him.”
“The picture comes first,” Pai said.
“Do we arrest the person who collects it?”
“Arrest him for what?”
Mavedi stepped out of the car and joined the narrow road. An old man was working on the farm opposite the unfinished house. Mavedi joined him on the lie that he was looking for a former schoolmate. The friend, Erastus, had sprung to his mind when an opening came up at his place of work. The old man ticked off all the young men who had been to Kathare Secondary School in the area as Mavedi kept an eye on the house.
Mavedi started as a motorcycle stopped at the entrance to the compound. The rider dismounted and rushed to the house. Mavedi thanked the old man and took off. He was about ten metres from the motorcycle when the rider got to the road struggling with his fly. He still had his helmet on. He was about five feet six inches. Judging by the immaculate riding gear he was not a boda boda operator.
“Can you rush me somewhere?” Mavedi said hurrying up. “It is only a couple of kilometres.”
The rider shook his head, mounted his bike, turned and took off. Mavedi called Pai. “Trail him.” He dashed into the house and checked under the stone. The photo was gone.
Pai pulled out just as the rider joined the tarmac. He kept his distance hoping that the rider would keep to the tarmac. He felt relieved when the rider entered a petrol station. Pai pulled to his left leaving his tinted windows up. His heart beat faster as the rider removed his helmet.
Style Jo!
Chapter 22
Pewa did his best to avoid locking horns with the law. Always. He paid his dues in time, even the weekly ‘gift’ to the Regular Police. For five years no one had fought in his bar. He never sold beer to minors. He operated within the stipulated time frame. Yet, despite his efforts to stay out of trouble, he was now entangled in a murder. He was yet to come to terms with the fact. He had given an honest account of the events of the previous night but the police never let go easily. He knew that they would return. And so he had done his best to get to the bottom of how he had locked Sanse inside his pub. He had consulted those who were present but none could shed light on how Sanse ended up spending the night in the bar. He had checked the padlocks and found nothing suspicious. He couldn’t recall letting his bunch of keys out of his sight.
Pewa was sure that if the shrewd detective chose to do something no one would realise he could. After the Gitonga case most people, Pewa included, held Sanse in awe. He accosted Sanse the moment the detective stepped in the bar.
“The police alleged a serious crime against you,” Pewa said.
“That’s how they earn their bread,” Sanse said.
“They seemed to suggest that I am your accomplice. We are friends, right? Level with me. Did I lock you inside?”
Sanse said nothing.
“You wouldn’t do it, would you?”
“Do what, Pewa?”
“Kill?”
Sanse chuckled. “Do you think I would tell you if I did?”
“I guess not.”
“How long have you been a bartender?”
“All my working life,” Pewa said. “I was employed for twelve years. I’ve run this place for eight years.”
“Stick to it.”
Pewa gave room as Naomi approached them.
“How is the case going?” Naomi asked.
Sanse embarked on clicking his knuckles. “I was sacked.”
Naomi started. “Why?”
“The police no longer think I can walk on water.”
Naomi toyed with her phone. “When I arrived in the morning they had put an extra padlock.”
Silence took charge. Naomi collected herself suddenly and said, “I am just a call away.”
“I’ll get your pay.”
“I understand the circumstances.”
“You earned it.”
Out goes the sixth, Sanse mused as Naomi stepped out of the pub. Two months previously she had beaten five candidates to become his office assistant. All candidates were sufficiently qualified academically but she was most perceptive. Now he had lost her. Damn, he should have tried harder.
Sanse phone rang. It was a new number.
“My name is Kelvin,” a voice said. “You gave me this number…”
“Yes I did.”
“Can I see you?”
Sanse directed Kelvin to Busy Bee. He arrived on a motorcycle.
“When did you learn to ride,” Sanse said.
“Two months ago. It is easy.”
“How is the going?”
“I am hanging in there,” Kelvin said.
“That is the spirit.”
Kelvin surveyed the place. “It is my first time inside a bar.”
“It was thoughtless of me to invite you here. How long have you been with Ciuri family?”
“Four years. Oscar’s father took me in. He was a good man. He paid for my medical bills and took me to school. My mother worked for the Mehta family.”
“The Asians?”
Kelvin nodded. “She said home is in Nakuru. We never visited the place. I think my parents had problems with their parents or something. What happened to your family and car?”
“It is a long story.”
Sanse bought Kelvin a soda.
“Thanks,” Kelvin said after sipping the soda. “She said that you are off the case.”
“Did she?”
“She was talking on the phone.”
“With whom?”
“Claire,” Kelvin said. “She is happy that her husband is dead.”
“Why would she be happy?”
“He beat her up. She received her worst beating two weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“It was about a bank loan,” Kelvin said.
“What about it?”
“I don’t know.”
An awkward moment passed.
“The police should just let go,” Kelvin said. “Ciuri’s killer deserves a medal.”
“What did he do to you?”
Sanse shifted in his seat as tears began flowing down the young boy’s cheeks.
“You should have let me leave. I was ready to leave everything behind. When Diana returned she did it again.”
“Did what, Kelvin?”
Kelvin was now crying. “She called me her co-wife.”
Sanse hated moments when he didn’t know what to do or say. Kelvin sobbed. Five minutes later he was still fighting for his composure.
“I feel so dirty.”
“Kelvin, do you deserve a medal?”
Kelvin shook his head. “I will earn mine soon.”
“You just lost me.”
Kelvin regarded him through tears. “She must pay.”
“What are you planning to do?”
Kelvin blew his nose. “Anything. She treats the rat in the house better.”
“You should get a hold
of yourself,” Sanse said. “It is when you feel so low that you do the dumbest of things. Murder charge is a nightmare you don’t want to face.”
“She has earned her punishment!”
“Leave her to me.”
“You’re no longer on the case.”
“Not anymore,” Sanse said. “From now on I work for you.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Mind you, I don’t work for free,” Sanse said. “It will cost you a shilling.”
“You’re toying with me...”
“Tell me about Willy. How much was he demanding from Diana?”
“I didn’t get a chance to hear him talk with Diana,” Kelvin said. “On the day he arrived she was so livid with me for allowing him into the house she threw me out. I stood outside the gate wondering where to go. After twenty minutes Willy walked out of the compound. He was talking on the phone.”
“What was he saying?”
“I didn’t hear much,” Kelvin said. “He mentioned ‘four metres.’”
Sanse didn’t see the context in which Willy would talk of length following a chat with Diana. Rumour had it that Stan and Willy robbed a church in the middle of the service. The church let go because Willy’s father was the presiding priest. Their presence at Kathare could only mean one thing: to squeeze more out of Diana. Willy’s short visit and appearance at the station the following day could only mean that he had prevailed over Diana. In the streets a million was a ‘mita’. That would mean Diana had agreed to pay Willy four million.
“Has Diana asked you about Willy?” Sanse asked.
Kelvin jerked in his seat. “She spent an hour yesterday asking me what I knew about Willy. She said she wanted to find his killer as it would lead her to her husband’s killer. She was friendly which is unlike her.”
“Did you tell what Willy said on the phone?”
“Four metres? I didn’t think it was important. Is it”
“It could be,” Sanse said. “Don’t share it with anyone, okay?”
Kelvin nodded.
“You’ll only pay for results,” Sanse said.
“One shilling?”
“A better offer is most welcome.”
Kelvin walked out.
Chapter 23
Kelvin had covered fifty metres when this car cut him in. It stopped and Pai stepped out.
“We met at the station,” Pai said. “I need to talk with you.”
Pai and Kelvin drove in the car as Mavedi followed on Kelvin’s motorcycle.
“This should not alarm you,” Pai said. “We believe that you can help us find the person who killed Ciuri and Willy.”
Kelvin said nothing.
“You want Ciuri avenged, don’t you? He accommodated you. He educated you.”
Kelvin didn’t even look at Pai.
“Why did Mr. Sanse want to see you?”
“I am the one who sought his audience,” Kelvin said.
“Why?”
“He is my friend.”
“I am your friend too,” Pai said. “What he can do I can do better. He is no longer on the case, you know. What did you tell him?”
Now that Oscar was dead Kelvin saw no need to tell the police about his abuse. He had shared with Sanse because he seemed to care. Sanse seemed not only interested beyond solving the case. Telling the police of his intention to take revenge on Diana was the last thing on Kelvin’s mind. “It doesn’t concern the case.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I wanted him to know that I am doing fine.”
Pai smiled despite himself. “Where were you on the day Ciuri disappeared?”
“I was at home.”
“Where was Diana?”
“I left her in the sitting room when I went to sleep,” Kelvin said.
“Where were you the day Will was killed?”
“I was at home.”
“Did you see him when he came by?” Pai asked.
“I saw them arguing through the kitchen window.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“I don’t know.”
“We believe that Willy died because he knew who killed Ciuri,” Pai lied. “The same could happen to you if you withhold information.”
Pai’s warning had Kelvin’s mind racing. Sanse had warned against sharing Willy’s phone conversation. That couldn’t involve the police, could it? If the conversation was as important as Sanse implied then he needed police protection. Again, he believed the police were better placed to pursue Diana.
Kelvin repeated Willy’s words to Pai.
“Four metres,” Pai said thoughtfully. “Four million?”
“Four million? Does it mean Diana promised him four million?”
Pai swerved to the kerb and pulled up. “No one should know we talked, okay?”
Kelvin nodded and stepped out. His place was taken by Mavedi.
“Hey,” Kelvin said. “You said I could be killed...”
“Not after confiding in us,” Pai said. “If you don’t share it everything will be alright.”
Kelvin stepped out of the car. His place was taken by Mavedi.
“Tell me we have something,” Mavedi said.
“We’re red hot,” Pai said. “I just can’t figure how Diana plans to get away with three bodies in two weeks.”
Pai’s phone rang. It was Esther.
“Meet me at Joy Café.”
“Perhaps she in a cult that uses heads, arms and legs in their sacrifices,” Mavedi said.
Pai stared at his partner for a long moment. “I thought Sanse murdered Willy.”
“I am just thinking aloud, okay?”
“If a partnership with you isn’t a curse then I don’t know what is,” Pai said.
“Why are you hostile to alternative views?”
“You mean stupid views?” Pai pulled up. “We meet at seven thirty. Get rid of the white stuff.”
Mavedi stepped out of the car and slammed the door. He kicked a nearby electric post.
He was at Joy Café within ten minutes.
“You said you were getting through to her,” Pai told Esther.
“Yes,” Esther said. “She opened up yesterday.”
“And?”
Esther toyed with her mug. “She is pregnant.”
Pai’s eyes were two saucers. It is always a boy. “She is what? Who is responsible?”
“Calm down.”
“How can I calm down when…?”
“It appears she knows you better than I do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“She said you will blow a gasket.”
“What did she expect, a medal? Where is she?”
Esther sipped her tea studying him. “You should relax.”
“I warned her about men all the time!”
“I think I will leave now.” Esther got on her feet.
Pai’s animosity subsided. “Sit down. Please.”
Esther sat down. The two took their tea in silence.
“I am sorry to say this but to Norah you are a policeman,” Esther said.
Pai recalled the caricature. Gun, his father and two intruders. When did he lose his step?
“She is fourteen for heaven’s sake!”
“If she ever needed a father this is the time,” Esther said. “But healing is only possible in the right state of mind. You are not ready. Let her stay with me. When you are ready she will be waiting for you.”
Esther got on her feet and walked out.
Chapter 24
The two waltzing men held each other by waist and shoulder. “Mwomboko is not hard; just two steps and a bow,’ one of them sang. “Karing’aring’aring’a karing’aring’aring’a,” his partner chimed. They brought the dance to an end with a curtsy. They were rewarded with half-hearted clapping across the room.
Detective Mavedi had witnessed two minutes of the action. He remained stone-faced telling himself that any sign of appreciation was a sign of weakness. He walked over to San
se.
“Customary table, eh?” Mavedi said pushing his specs up his nose bridge. “You are off the hook.”
“Lucky me.”
“Diana wants Kelvin dead,” Mavedi said.
“Is that a fact?”
“Style Jo is our man.”
Sanse got his jolly comb and started combing his hair.
“We hope to arrest him in the act,” Mavedi said. “Am I forgiven?”
Sanse continued to comb his hair. “Do you apologise for every accusation?”
“Why?”
“You would be apologising half of the time,” Sanse said.
“Is it so hard to forgive?”
“Proving one’s worth is hard,” Sanse said. “I was there once. However, I could readily find the chair I was sitting on.”
“No wonder you couldn’t get along with Pai.”
“I wouldn’t think of playing the errand boy as getting along at all.”
Mavedi cursed. “I am my own man!”
“So you are,” Sanse said.
Mavedi called himself names. Why had Boko pushed him to apologise to this hard-to-please drunk? At heart Mavedi was far from being apologetic. Pushing his own ideas felt mighty good. It didn’t bear desirable results but it showed independence of thought. Now Sanse was calling him an errand boy, the very tag he was fighting to shed. Police work ought to be left to police. Sanse had had his chance and it was time he left others have theirs.
“I don’t blame Pai for not taking you seriously,” Sanse said. “What with a white, tight fitting suit, suspenders and a pair of shoes two-sizes big? It is more daunting when you dip yourself in perfume.”
Mavedi jumped to his feet. “You are such a conceited old fool. You are lucky to have sympathisers high up.”
“Sometimes I think I am too lucky for one person,” Sanse said.
Mavedi hurried out.
Sanse consulted his watch: two thirty. He walked out of Busy Bee. He had walked along the tarmac road for about seven kilometres. He joined a dirty road and, after a kilometre, went down a steep pathway then up the shoulder of a hillock. People working on their farms greeted him as he passed. The pathway gave to a murrum road. About a hundred metres down the murram he came upon a homestead with a high cypress fence. The air was suddenly filled with pig snores and chicken cloaking. A man in white overall and gumboots was attending to the cows. An older man sat in a wicker chair reading the day’s paper. On seeing Sanse he folded the paper, removed his reading glasses and stowed them in their porch.
