by Anthony Mugo
“There was an intruder threatening to commit murder.”
“Don’t you think your presence just became more necessary?” Sanse said.
“Now I know.”
“Yet you left to avoid negative publicity.”
“You heard me.”
“How is saving a life negative publicity?”
“Okay, so I left a needy man. Do you intend to fry me for it?”
“I am not in the business of frying people. Anyhow, I think you just earned yourself negative publicity.”
“How so? Look, I have told you the truth.”
“Truth that doesn’t make sense,” Sanse said.
The two men regarded each other.
“I can’t be late for the service.”
“In case your followers knew what I know you would have more on your plate than lateness.”
“Why are you so hard on me?”
“I am soft, considering.”
Munderu stood and walked to the window. The congregants, his congregants, reminded him of disturbed safari ants. Some were leaving, others were filing in. Some had stopped for a catch-up, or a dissection of the just ended sermon. They were young and old, women, men and children - a perfect amalgam. He reminded himself that he, Senior Pastor Peter Munderu, had the call. It had always been so right from his day in Youth. Clear as the light of day. He had been a real threat to the deadbeat pastors with their sleep-inducing sermons. Then came his ordination that bred so much strife he had to decamp with a sizeable chunk of the sheep three years ago. With the congregants’ determination and sacrifice came the birth and blossom of Kathare All Miracles Church. His star was finally shinning bright. He recalled when he could not feed. Now he fed like a king. He recalled the woes he underwent to get to his present position; of perpetual prayer and devotion that strained the mortal being in him; of service that went unnoticed. He had been righteous, yes, he had been godly. If God had taken him back then he would be in heaven. But God didn’t take him. Instead God blessed his ministry. The Devil was not idle either; he was watching and scheming. God gave prosperity; the Devil gave temptations, temptations too powerful to conquer.
Munderu faced Sanse. “I am guilty of many evils but murder.”
Sanse smiled tolerantly. “Did I say you murdered Gitonga?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Did you murder him?”
“As I said I know the Devil’s work when I see it,” the pastor said and all but begun to cast the devil. “What you need is God’s redemption.”
“Is that a fact? Are you referring to the same God that I know? If yes don’t interrupt because He is busy working for me.”
“Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?”
Sanse got on his feet. “I am the man who will show the world your true self.”
Sanse made for the door.
“Okay, okay! Jeez. I told you. I…,” Munderu swallowed hard. “Okay. I have been seeing Elizabeth. I am blood and fresh after all, see? There you have it. You are not investigating infidelity now, are you?”
“Hell, no.
“I know she isn’t worth it,” Munderu said. “Just don’t rub it in.”
“You are yet to answer my question,” Sanse said. “Why did you run?”
There was a knock at the door before Damaris walked in. “You are already late for the service,” she said.
“A moment please,” Munderu said. Damaris closed the door behind her.
“I am a tolerant man,” the pastor said. “But tolerance too has its limits.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I am sorry if you feel threatened. Anyway, I didn’t kill anyone. As for my foibles, it is between me and God.”
With that he walked out of his office.
Chapter 13
When Sanse arrived at Gitonga’s homestead the door to the big house stood slightly open. He knocked gently and waited. He could hear excited voices inside. The discussion centred on the chairperson of Women Chapter in the church. Since her election, Sanse gathered, she had gained weight. When his knock went unanswered the second time he wedged the door and eased himself in. Five women turned to glare at him. Elizabeth was the most hostile. She sprang to her feet to accost him.
“How dare you?” She hissed.
“I knocked.”
Elizabeth fished her phone and started dialling furiously. “It is time the police dealt with you.”
“Let’s talk about Pastor Peter Munderu,” Sanse said. Elizabeth ended the call frantically.
“Come on in,” she said trying hard to sound cheerful. She approached her visitors and addressed them in a hushed voice. They marched past Sanse wearing weathered smiles. The sitting room housed enough items to start a high-end furniture shop. Sanse took a copy of Gitonga’s funeral programme that lay on the table and busied himself studying it. Elizabeth returned and sunk in a sofa opposite him. Her hands were shaking.
“Munderu,” Sanse said. “Why did he run from the scene of crime?”
“Who told you that?”
“Someone who saw him.”
Elizabeth sized him up. “It is complicated. But it has nothing to do with the murder.”
“Let me be the judge to that.”
“Some things are better left unsaid. Have you talked to him?”
Sanse just stared at her. Elizabeth cupped her head in her hands.
“Pastor Munderu and I have been seeing each other,” she said raising her head. Sanse continued to stare at her.
“What? I have needs too damn it!”
“Tell me what happened from the moment Bob arrived,” Sanse said.
“Gitonga and I were in his study when Bob arrived at one. Gitonga was enraged to see Bob. He told Bob he should have died at birth. Bob said he would kill him. The two abused each other close to five minutes before Bob stormed out. I ran after him but he didn’t want to talk to me. I retired in my house. Gitonga came to me half an hour later and asked for a cup of coffee. It was Eunice’s day off. He was his charming self when I served him the coffee. He left in a hurry at two-thirty.”
“Is that when he hit the gate?”
“Yes. He arrived in a huff some minutes after three and told me to help him find his phone. We couldn’t find it. He left again at twenty minutes to four.”
Elizabeth looked weary.
“On his return at five-thirty he found Job dancing in the sitting room and sacked him on the spot. When I tried to engage him he ordered me to keep my distance. I had never seen him so agitated. I was worried for him because his doctor had strongly recommended a week’s rest. I called Pastor Munderu at six requesting him to come and talk to Gitonga. Munderu has been instrumental in encouraging my brother and guiding him spiritually and I hoped Gitonga would listen to him. Pastor Munderu arrived some minutes after eight. We knocked on the door for a while but Gitonga didn’t respond. It was cold and I invited Pastor Munderu to my house for a cup of tea. After fifteen minutes we decided to try Gitonga again. We heard the commotion on nearing his house. I wailed for help.”
“How often did Munderu come over to minister to your brother?”
“This was his fourth or fifth time.”
“And each time Gitonga was beside himself?” Sanse asked.
“The other times my brother was sick.”
“Gitonga was upset, not sick, yet you called in the pastor.”
“You talk of him as though he were a doctor,” Elizabeth said.
“Why did he run?”
“He felt guilty.”
“Why?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “We just had sex.”
“Could sex have lasted longer, say, beyond eight thirty?”
“I checked time on our way to my brother’s house. It was exactly eight thirty.”
“Where was Munderu parked?”
“He came in a taxi.”
“Why?”
“He said his car had a mechanical problem.”
“Tell me about the q
uarrel,” Sanse said.
“Gitonga said that he was the one the woman loved. Bob said she was his wife. Gitonga said Bob could have the woman’s body but would never have her heart. Bob said Gitonga would have neither as he would be dead within seconds.”
“Is it possible that someone other than Bob was in the argument?” Sanse asked.
“Negative. I would recognise Bob’s voice anywhere. It is not just the voice but the bone of contention.”
“What weighs more, the voice or the subject?”
“You can’t separate the two. Not in this case. They complement each other.”
“Would you be as certain if the quarrel was, say, about the weather?”
She glared at him. “I would.”
“How many voices would you recognise?”
“Do you seriously want an answer to that?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“How many?”
“You’re wasting time trying to discredit me. It was Bob, full stop.”
Their eyes locked. “Exactly where was the hammer?”
“Bob was holding it,” Elizabeth said.
“You mean touching it?”
“Must you ask the same question twice? I saw it with my own eyes!”
“How long did the attempt to force in the front door last?”
“Three minutes at most,” Elizabeth said.
“How long did you take to raise the alarm?”
“I was confused momentarily when Pastor Munderu said he had to leave.”
“Describe the room where you found Gitonga,” Sanse said.
“Bob did not just want Gitonga dead; he wanted him in a pulp.”
“What was on the table?”
“There were pieces of paper among them a torn will.”
“Why did Gitonga leave in such a hurry he hit the gate?” Sanse asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did he get a girl after Grace?”
“No.”
“Before Grace?”
“If he had a girl then he kept it a secret.”
“Before Sharon?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Elizabeth said. “When Gitonga was ten he ran off to live with our maternal grandpa. Shortly after our mother’s death our father sold our land and disappeared. Fortunately Gitonga had bought this place. He accommodated us.”
“How did he meet Sharon?”
“They met at the university.”
Sanse started clicking his knuckles. He reasoned that for Gitonga to leave in such a hurry he hit the gate an urgent and serious issue must have come up. The issue had nothing to do with Bob because, according to Elizabeth, her brother was his old charming self when she served him a cup of coffee. Since Gitonga was alone he either recalled the issue or someone talked to him on the phone. The latter was more probable considering his desperation for his phone.
“Gitonga called Jimia at eight,” Sanse observed. “Does it mean he found his phone?”
“He replaced it.”
Elizabeth pulled a drawer and handed him a cell phone that looked new. Gitonga had made a single call to Jimia at ten minutes past eight.
“Where did you search for the phone?”
“Everywhere,” Elizabeth said.
“Everywhere?”
“Do you question everything?”
Sanse smiled. “You didn’t find it so you didn’t search everywhere.”
Elizabeth said, “We combed the house dialling the number repeatedly. After some time it went off-air.”
“That’s better.”
Sanse got down to building possible scenarios. For the phone to go off-air either someone switched it off or its battery died out. If the former applied then the phone was a dead-end. The latter case led to two possibilities. One, the phone had been in the house on silent mode. Two, Gitonga had dropped it outside the house. Sanse decided to explore the two possibilities. He started his search in the study which was the immediate room on the left from the rear door. Gitonga was an organised man. As far as work was concerned his being at the office or at home made little difference. On the wall were pictures of masterpieces Gitonga and Sons had built. Gitonga’s bigger-than-life portrait beamed from the far wall as if to say ‘I saw it all.’ Sanse moved to his bedroom, the kitchen and every room without success. According to Elizabeth, Gitonga had never stepped upstairs since the death of his sons.
Sanse went to the garage. The doors of the Benz opened readily and he eased himself in. Ten minutes later he was sure the phone was elsewhere. He proceeded to the Prado where he took less time. There was a less dusty patch to the right of the BMW which implied that it had not been parked at its exact slot. It also meant that the Mercedes and Prado had remained parked and that the garage had not been cleaned since the fatal day. Sanse went on his knees and saw the phone behind the Prado’s front left wheel. He went to the study and set upon charging it. It was an expensive model able to record the last engaged call. The last call was received at 2.30 p.m. It went thus: “This is RH208. Get a hundred thousand ready by three. Wait for instructions. Remember, I never give second warning.”
The caller’s voice was muffled to conceal his identity.
Chapter 14
Three numbers constituted thirty un-answered calls made within twenty minutes. RH208 had called five times, the last call coming at 3.40 pm. Sanse knew that the number was out of service long before he tried it. With so many unregistered SIM cards criminals were having a field day. The second number, saved as Nimu, had called nine times. It was off-air too. Elizabeth had called sixteen times. A number saved as Apex had called at ten minutes past two. He went through Gitonga’s messages most of which concerned his business. None seemed helpful. He was going through the phone book when Elizabeth walked in.
“Where did you find it?” She said.
Sanse handed her a piece of paper. “Do you recognise any of these numbers or names?”
Elizabeth tensed on looking at the numbers. She handed back the piece of paper shaking her head.
“You’re lying,” Sanse said.
“If you know what I know why ask me?”
“You tensed.”
‘I don’t know any of those numbers or names, okay?”
A tall man in his twenties appeared at the doorway. He was in a buggy T-shirt, jeans pants and slip-in sandals. His eyes hardened on seeing Sanse.
“A moment, Felix,” Elizabeth said. The man walked out.
“How long has he worked for Gitonga and Sons?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know,” Sanse said.
“He would work as a casual on holidays,” Elizabeth said. “He joined full-time after college.”
“I want to talk with him.”
“About what?”
“Are you afraid he might spill the beans?”
“What beans? Felix is just plain stubborn.”
“I just saw a son who waits when he is asked to wait.”
Elizabeth hesitated. “He can’t know about Munderu. That is a warning.”
“Well, I stand warned.”
Elizabeth walked out reluctantly. She returned with Felix who studied Sanse the way a child does a stranger he doesn’t like much. Sanse handed him the piece of paper. Elizabeth sat in a sofa.
“What’s this all about?” Felix asked. “The police completed their investigations, didn’t they?”
“I am not police,” Sanse said.
“I would be shocked if you were.”
“Felix!”
“Mother, why are you entertaining this nonsense?”
“Please.”
Felix looked from Elizabeth to Sanse then the piece of paper. “The first number belongs to Christopher Muturi of Apex Construction Company. Gitonga sacked him a year ago.”
“Why?” Sanse asked.
“He had registered his own company and was bidding against his employer. We had lost two bids to his company by the time he left. In the first case he fail
ed to enclose a copy of certificate of incorporation; in the second the company PIN. Muturi has made a name for himself but Gitonga and Sons remain dominant. The latest point of friction is a bid Gitonga and Sons won. Muturi called the office accusing Gitonga and Sons of plotting to drive him out of business through low pricing. He must have called Gitonga on his cell.”
“The other numbers?” Sanse asked.
Felix shook his head.
“Were you present on the day your uncle died?” Sanse asked.
“He wasn’t,” Elizabeth said.
Felix moved a step closer. “You should burn daylight elsewhere.”
“Felix! Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Felix looked from Sanse to his mother and back.
“You are afraid of him, aren’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Of course you are.”
“Get out!”
Felix hurried out. Sanse found himself picturing the damage a hammer could do in the hands of such an energetic man.
“This is not good for you,” Sanse addressed Elizabeth. “First Gitonga’s money is stolen. Then, on his ultimatum for its return, your boyfriend disappears from the scene of crime under unexplained circumstances. I can think of several reasons for his escape. Maybe your brother allowed you into the house. Maybe he insisted you had to leave. Maybe your boyfriend smashed his head in. Maybe it was your son who did the smashing. Maybe you cooked the argument altogether. Come to think of it, First and Last Bar is a few metres from where your boyfriend took a taxi.”
Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “You are insane. Do you know that? You are out of your bloody mind!”
“You are already reaping from your actions. New clothes, new house, cars...”
Felix stormed the room holding a thick stick.
“Get out!” Felix ordered.
“Felix!”
The young man rammed the stick against the door. Sanse had no doubt in his mind that he meant business. Sanse also knew that the odds were not in his favour. The young man was more energetic and agile. A scuffle would be a point in Pai’s scorecard. The difference between a cop and a private investigator continued to wow Sanse. Six months before he would have fished out a gun, handcuffed the big-head and thrown him in a cell just to make an impression. He would have kicked the bonehead’s ball to his stomach and all he would have done was weep and beg. But all that was in the past.