by Anthony Mugo
Relieved that the evening was finally on track, Catherine went to the kitchen for the cake singing “happy birthday’. She stopped dead on her return because Alex was gone. The tray she was carrying clashed on the floor. She dashed out calling “Alex! Alex! Come back. Please come back.” But there was no response. She ran into Sanse’s compound and stopped at the door panting. But for Mambo who was meowing mournfully all was silent. She stifled a scream as a hand connected with hers.
“Mum, come and see,” Alex said leading her to the window. The room was full of smoke apparently emanating from the kitchen. Sanse lay unconscious at the foot of the sofa.
“Mum, teacher said smoke kills.”
Wishing ill on Sanse was easy but witnessing his destruction triggered humane feelings that only the very evil could ignore.
Catherine ran off to seek help.
Chapter 19
Senior Detective Cosmas Pai had a lot of respect for his boss. Inspector Willis Boko stood for fairness. He disapproved of torture. He was supportive of his officers. In fact at times Pai thought Boko was too good-natured for a policeman. But Pai couldn’t hate Boko’s occasional sermon-like pep-talks enough. It was as though Boko loved hearing his voice echo in a room. Today’s theme was ‘putting God first’.
Pai let his thoughts wander in revolt. He was sure that the gagged voice on Gitonga’s phone belonged to one of the men in the room. He studied his colleagues, one after the other. He knew who had acquired what or moved where. He knew who had transferred his kids to a better school. His eyes lingered on Jerry Obiero. Obiero had served longest in the room and his retirement plans were in high gear. In the past year he had acquired a fleet of matatus. Pai imagined him, a handkerchief over his mouth, demanding a hundred thousand payoff. Obiero looked gentlemanly enough. But then human beings are deceptive animals. Pai’s focus shifted to Gordon Kewa, a slim, tall man so full of himself he didn’t fit in. Reportedly, Kewa was putting final touches on a three story building back home in Mombasa. Luke Mabanga never said much. Ezra Karau was a dark-skinned, no non-sense officer most feared by criminals. He recently divorced his wife of ten years and married a girl who was barely twenty. Kirk Sinya was Boko’s headache with issues ranging from bribery to planting of evidence. Rufus Kituku was ever too eager to tell his colleagues that his name was in the book of life. Timothy Mavedi was absent. However, Mavedi was in the clear because he had joined the team months after the disappearance of the memory card.
Pai closed his eyes to shut off Boko but a new voice penetrated his armour.
“My name is Jeremiah Wira!” The voice said.
“So?” Boko asked looking rather amused. The officers starred to liveliness to welcome the break from Boko’s lecture.
“I want to make a confession.”
“You have the floor,” the DCIO said.
“I killed my brother Emilio Gitonga.”
“See?” Boko declared triumphantly. “When you put God first murderers walk in un-invited.”
Everyone laughed but Pai. Boko chose to end his talk on that happy note. What the hell! Pai grabbed Wira and took him to the interrogation room.
“What did you just say?”
“I killed Gitonga and fixed his stupid son,” Wira said. “Not only did Gitonga order me to sign the Share Transfer Form, he wanted me gone by morning! He claimed that I stole thirty thousand from some piggy bank. Where was I to go?”
Pai hesitated. “I almost believed you then I recalled the quarrel. It centred on a woman.”
“Gitonga wreaked my marriage. He was a bastard I would gladly kill again and again. Such a leech has no right to live.”
“Why turn yourself in?” Pai asked.
“Killing is one thing, living with it is another.”
“How did you do it?”
“When I ran into Bob coming from town a plan occurred to me,” Wira said. “I offered to mediate between him and his father. I killed Gitonga then placed the hammer in Bob’s hand. I dashed away and resurfaced once the two were discovered.”
“How come you left the Share Transfer Form behind?”
“Elizabeth raised the alarm,” Wira said. “I had to leave in a hurry.”
“Do you know that you face the death penalty?”
Wira knew. He also knew that a miserable kid of twenty deserved a shot at life more. A part of him was saddened that he had to end up like this. But his resolve was as solid as that of a suicide bomber. He had lived his life. It was a wasted life, really. He had no dream to live for. He had accumulated so much baggage through the years he was weary of another day.
“I have earned it,” Wira said.
Pai cursed. The bastard! “You love wasting time, don’t you?”
“You have wasted enough time with Bob,” Wira said.
“I think you just missed your way to the hospital.”
Wira grinned. “Today is Monday, 30th of October year 2007. It is a little past eight o’clock. My name is Jeremiah Wira, 52, sixty-five kilograms, divorced...”
“Shut the hell up!” Pai said impatiently.
Pai’s phone rang. It was Detective Mavedi. He pressed ‘reject’ and turned to Wira. He wished he had the option of torture. He had seen a few techniques in the movies that could work magic.
“Bob is innocent!” Wira said.
The phone rang again.
“What?” Pai barked. He hung up and made for the door.
“What now?” Wira asked. “Hey, I am talking to you!”
Pai closed the door behind him and faced Mavedi. He brought Mavedi up to speed and instructed him to grill Wira.
“Wait a minute,” Mavedi said. “Is my job to prove him innocent? Shouldn’t it work in the reverse?”
“Just do it, okay?”
“Where are you going?”
“You should learn to do more and ask less,” Pai said.
As he was stepping out of the office Pai was afraid that he was fast taking after Sanse. He suppressed the thought telling himself that anyone would have found it hard to put up with Sanse’s bloated ego as much as Mavedi’s thick head. He was sure that someone had pocketed good money to have Mavedi hired. Now he was stuck with the deadweight.
Pai found his thoughts drifting back to Wira and the soil on his hands and boots. Could Wira have been so ingenious?
Chapter 20
Sanse woke up with a start. His head was throbbing like hell. He ran his tongue over his lips because they felt unusually dry. He opened his eyes and cursed. The lights were still on! How he hated to sleep with the lights on! How come he had forgotten to switch them off? A closer look at the ceiling elicited another curse. Why was his ceiling cream? He closed his eyes then opened them slowly, very slowly. The irritating lights and cream ceiling remained. He turned as someone cleared their throat to his left. Catherine sat on a chair watching him worriedly.
“Morning,” she said. “Welcome back to the world.”
Sanse sprang to a sitting position and realised he was in a foreign bed in a foreign room. Alex joined them holding the card he had bought the previous day. Now Sanse was really confused. Did he attend the party? If so, how come he did not go home?
“Mr. Sanse!” Alex said.
“Hey, champ.”
“Are you okay?”
“I never felt better,” Sanse said.
“Teacher said smoke kills.”
“Did he?”
“Why do you do it?” Catherine asked.
“Why do I do what?”
“Cook and drink?”
“Oh, that,” Sanse said struggling to connect the dots. “It is stupid, isn’t it? What is the time?”
“Quarter to seven,” Catherine said. “We thought the house still had carbon monoxide.”
“Of course,” Sanse said. “If you will excuse me I have to run.”
“Breakfast is ready,” Catherine said.
“Thank you but I must run,” Sanse insisted. Nothing made sense to him until he got to his house. Five empty beer bottles
. The debris of a sixth bottle littered the floor. The family photo which usually hung on the wall lay on the floor. A sufuria with tomatoes, onions and beef ready to cook standing next to a brazier with half-burnt charcoal. The items told the sad story of a man who, overcome by grief, took a break from cooking to drown his grief with beer. Unfortunately for him, he got too drunk and inhaled too much carbon monoxide coming off the brazier he died of intoxication. Ingenious.
Mambo was meowing incessantly possibly giving his account of the attack. Or maybe he was mad that his housemate had spent the night out. His concerns were however lost in his strange language.
Sanse cleaned up and drove to Rumu’s.
“Thirtieth is today,” Rumu said after the two had exchanged greetings. “I hope you have the money.”
Sanse shook his head. To him this was a day that should never have dawned. He had but hours to salvage his home.
“For now I have a case to solve,” Sanse said.
“What case?”
“Bob hired me.”
“When?”
“Yesterday,” Sanse said. “You’re the emcee at the funeral. I want to squeeze in.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I will read the eulogy.”
“That is Felix’s role,” Rumu said. “He won’t like it. Nobody will. It is betrayal.”
“Will you?”
“If it is worth it...”
“It is.”
“Does this mean you know the killer?”
“Yes.”
“Give me a name.”
“All in good time,” Sanse said. “All in good time.”
Rumu was lost in thought for a long moment. “I know I will regret this.”
“There will be a fundraiser in favour of Kathare Orphanage,” Sanse said. “Elizabeth will fill you in. Publicise it on the mike as much as possible.”
“You’re one of a kind. Bob can’t pay in time.”
Sanse fished out his comb and started working on his hair part. “They say there is a God up there. Lest I forget, you haven’t seen me, you haven’t talked to me.”
Chapter 21
Mourners were happy to crown Gitonga’s ten-year patronage of Kathare Orphanage with a donation. After all it was a paltry hundred shillings. Those without borrowed from friends. It would be mean, a shame even, not to contribute so little to such a worthy cause. Some gave more. Rumu reiterated the need to stand with the less fortunate in the society every five minutes.
Family members and close relatives - Felix, Grace, Elizabeth, Dan, Jimia and his wife Cecily – occupied a tent in front facing the rest of the mourners. To their left was a smaller tent that housed Pastor Munderu and his church team.
Naomi, dressed in a black flowing dress and a hat, sat at a small table near Elizabeth’s house. A hundred plus mourners had made their donations but she was yet to find any of the embossed bills. She was sure she couldn’t miss one if it passed through her hands. Sanse was ingenious but this was too long a shot.
Speaker after speaker paid glowing tributes to the fallen brother. Gitonga had been a humble giant, a beacon of hope to the hopeless. He had been close to the haves and closer to the have-nots. His death was a big loss to mankind.
Naomi’s heart raced as her fingers felt the now familiar mark. She was trembling with excitement as she jotted down the description of the man who had given the note. Brown. Short. Corduroy pants. Striped sweater-vest. White shirt. Safari Boots.
It was time for the eulogy. A wave of excitement gripped the crowd as a slender man in a black Kaunda Suit and trilby hat made his way to the front. Those in the know whispered to their neighbours that the emaciated man was a detective. “What is he doing here?” The question went round.
“Mr. Michael Sanse will read us the eulogy,” Jimia said. Eyes searched for Felix whose task, as per the programme, had just been usurped. A murmur erupted but Sanse’s voice quelled it.
“The eulogy of the late Emilio Gitonga Kagai,” Sanse started. “Birth: Mr. Emilio Gitonga Kagai was born in 1959 in Kathare District, Kanyei location to the late Machere Kagai and the late Agnes Kariuko. He was brother to Elizabeth Watene and Jeremiah Wira. Education: Emilio Gitonga was educated at Kanyei Primary School, Starehe Boys Centre and Kenyatta University where he graduated with a degree in Civil Engineering. Family: In the year 1982 the diseased married the late Sharon Muthoni Gitonga. The couple was blessed with three children; the late Saul Kagai, the late Eric Ngare and Robert Thuo. Business: Emilio Gitonga was a successful businessman having employed and nurtured many youths. Death,” Sanse surveyed the congregation. “Kindly allow me to walk you through Mr. Gitonga’s final moments. To accord him his well-deserved respect we should all stay calm and seated.”
Another murmur.
“On the 16th of this month Mr. Gitonga was home resting when Bob, his son, arrived at one,” Sanse started. “Bob had been away for over two years. Father-son reunion quickly degenerated into a quarrel in which father disowned son and son threatened father’s life. Bob left barely ten minutes after his arrival. At ten minutes past two Gitonga received a call from Christopher Muturi who was infuriated by a bid that Gitonga and Sons had just won.”
Muturi buried his head in his hands.
“At two-thirty Gitonga received a call from one RH208,” Sanse went on. “RH208 stands for Riana Hotel room 208.”
There was a louder murmur which was compounded by calls to hush up. Felix rose in protest but his mother forced him back on his seat.
“RH208 is a blackmailer,” Sanse said. “He ordered Gitonga to have a hundred thousand shillings ready within an hour for further instructions. Gitonga rushed to the bank to withdraw the amount before the bank closed down at three. He got the money but a new problem had cropped up: his phone was missing! Panic gripped him. He rushed home and teamed up with Elizabeth in searching for the phone. When the two failed to find it Gitonga dashed to town and bought a new one. He also replaced his card in readiness for RH208’s call. As we know, a replaced SIM card takes up to an hour to become active.”
By now the crowd was dead silent.
“At a quarter past four Gitonga visited his lawyers and wrote a new will. He got home, found his farmhand dancing and sacked him. He had bought a hundred thousand shares in the Ken-mint IPO through Wira. He made Wira sign the transfer of the shares to his name.”
“We are here to celebrate Gitonga’s life not to soil his name,” Felix shouted. His outburst only worked to heighten the audience’s curiosity.
“Let the man finish!” Someone shouted followed by a chorus of agreement. Felix slumped back on his chair.
“Allow me to take you back to October 14th, three days before Gitonga’s death,” Sanse went on. “On this day, Gitonga found thirty thousand missing from his piggy bank. He gave the household three days to refund the amount otherwise he would kick everyone out. On October 16th, the last day of the ultimatum, Gitonga ordered Elizabeth to leave first thing in the morning. Elizabeth sought Pastor Peter Munderu’s intervention. Munderu arrived in a taxi about a quarter past eight. Munderu and Elizabeth knocked but Gitonga refused to allow them into his house. Elizabeth invited Munderu to her house for a cup of tea. At eight thirty the two decided to try Gitonga again. On nearing Gitonga’s house they heard an argument emanating from the house. According to the two the argument, which centred on a woman, was between Gitonga and Bob. Gitonga laid claim to the woman’s love, Bob claimed she was his wife. Gitonga assured Bob he could have her body but not her heart. Bob told Gitonga he would have neither as he would die in seconds. A commotion followed which prompted Elizabeth to raise the alarm. Munderu took off to avoid bad publicity. Some neighbours answered Elizabeth’s distress call. Gitonga had called Jimia at ten minutes past eight requesting to have a word with him. Jimia arrived and suggested a shift to the rear door which, in his view, is lighter. The rescuers rushed to the rear door only to find Bob in a coma. He had a hammer in his grip.”
The mourners were spellbo
und now.
“As we all know Bob’s judgement for the murder of his father is tomorrow,” Sanse went on. “But did he kill Gitonga? The answer to this question rests on three facts. Fact number one: when one falls hard they lose grip on whatever they are holding. Bob fell so hard he passed out yet he still had a grip on the hammer. Fact number two: it is a forty-minute walk from here to town. Bob left First and Last at eight and was in a quarrel with his father at eight thirty. He was drunk. He was penniless. It was dark. How did he manage the distance in less time? Fact number three: Drunkenness has many downsides. It lands you in the ditch. It kicks etiquette out the window. It slows down body and mind. It impairs speech. I should know. Bob was kicked out of First and Last for drunkenness and misconduct. Yet Pastor Munderu and Elizabeth can repeat his speech verbatim. Yet Bob was agile enough to hammer a sober Gitonga in the head. Oh, I know; surprise can beat the strongest and all that wisdom. If you stay with me long enough you will know that Gitonga was more than ready. The bottom line is twofold: either Pastor Munderu and Elizabeth fabricated the quarrel or someone other than Bob was in the room.”
Excitement was now feverish. Sanse didn’t help matters as he took eternity frisking his pockets. Finally, with evident relief, he found the object of his search from the left breast pocket of the Kaunda suit. He took time to study what looked like a photo.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sanse said. “Kindly assist me to identify the woman in this picture. Mind you, the picture is sexually explicit.”
“No!” A woman shouted at the back.
There was commotion at the back and in front. The one at the back was caused by the collapse of the woman who had just shouted. The one in front was caused by Samuel Jimia who had taken to his heels.
Chapter 22
Jimia managed to get to the gate before Pai swept him off his feet. He landed on his face in an unholy heap.
“Bring them in front please,” Sanse said.
Everyone was on their feet and talking now. Pleas for silence flew back and forth. Cecily walked up to her husband, hit him hard across his face and walked away.