by Anthony Mugo
“He didn’t drink as hard. Sir, with all due respect, I think hiring Mr Sanse is a big mistake.”
“Not when you are keeping him in check. You can do that, right?”
Pai couldn’t contain Sanse. One wrong move and Sanse would inform on him. Then he would be out of a job.
“I will do my best,” Pai said.
“I know you will.”
Chapter 6
When Sanse returned an hour later his hair part was in place. He had a fresh Kaunda suit and his Travolta boots were polished. He talked terms with Boko for quarter of an hour before he joined Pai.
“A chat with Mrs. Ciuri would be a good starting point,” Sanse suggested. Pai led him to the car without uttering a word.
“Where is your partner?”
“Detective Mavedi called in sick,” Pai said.
“I know,” Sanse said as they drove out of the station. “I don’t want me on board either. But I have rent to pay and stuff to do.”
Pai said nothing.
“I thought you had finally seen the light when you came for me,” Sanse said. “You should see the light, you know. It could persuade me on how best to deal with the List of Shame thing.”
Pai’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“Many people confess that I am the most likeable character they know,” Sanse said. “Some have added that I am handsome too. If you employ an objective eye you might realise it too.”
Pai’s foot stepped harder on the gas pedal. Sanse seemed poised to make his life hard. How low was he going to bend?
“I thought this was about solving a murder,” Pai said.
“Stupid me; how could I forget? Tell me about Oscar Ciuri.”
Pai took a moment before he said, “Oscar went missing two days ago. His car was found early morning dumped along Kathare-Nairobi road. He was last seen with his campaign manager at seven. Diana, his wife, was at the station when the body was found. We drove to the bridge where she identified the body.”
“Any demands?”
“None.”
“Any threats?”
“One.”
“Has anyone claimed responsibility?”
“No.”
“What was the time of death?”
“Four hours top before discovery.”
“Any mistress?”
“None so far.”
“What were his chances at the ballot?”
“He came second in the Party of Unity and Development nominations. He contested the results unsuccessfully.”
“How many opponents?”
“Four.”
They arrived at Ciuri’s home a few minutes past noon. A young boy of about fourteen was cleaning a motorcycle at the tap. He studied them momentarily before he resumed his chore.
“Who is the boy?” Sanse asked.
“His parents perished in a road accident,” Pai said. “Ciuri senior took him in.”
“Is Mrs. Ciuri in?” Sanse asked the woman standing outside the house. She was a darker and bigger version of Diana. She wore her hair box-style.
“What do you want?” The woman asked.
“Is she in?” Pai asked.
“She needs to rest.”
Diana appeared at the door. “I will talk to them, Claire.” Her eyes narrowed as she took Sanse in. “What is he doing here?”
“Mr Sanse is working with us on the case,” Pai said.
“You must be running out of ideas.”
“Have you two met before?”
“He offered his services,” Diana said. “I turned him down.”
Pai and Sanse joined Diana in the house.
“What brings you down?” Diana said settling on a sofa.
“We need to ask you some questions,” Sanse said.
“What questions?”
“How did you identify the body?” Sanse asked.
“You are kidding me, right?” Diana said.
“I am not,” Sanse pressed. “How did you do it?”
Diana glared at him. “Do I have to go through this again? You are bitter that I didn’t hire you, aren’t you?”
Pai pulled Sanse aside. “What is bugging you?”
“What do you mean?”
“We settled on the identity issue, didn’t we? I was there when she identified him.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” Sanse said. “What is the problem if she recounts the same to me?” Sanse began cracking his knuckles.
The two men stared each other in the eye.
“I will answer,” Diana said.
“What other queries will you answer on her behalf?” Sanse asked.
“Don’t push me,” Pai said between clenched teeth.
The two rejoined Diana.
“My husband had a mole on his left inner thigh,” Diana said.
“How much did he weigh?” Sanse asked.
“A hundred.”
“Age?”
“Thirty-six.”
“Height?”
“Five eight,” Diana said. “How is any of these necessary to finding my husband’s killer?”
“For how many days was he missing?” Sanse asked.
“Two.”
“Did anyone contact you or anyone with regard to your husband?”
“No. Look, they should have furnished you with...”
“Who would want him dead?” Sanse asked.
“As a public figure my husband had a lot of enemies, known and unknown.”
“Give us the known,” Sanse said.
“Kirindi.”
Everyone knew about Kirindi, a cult that was comprised of youths. Kirindi means a multitude in Kikuyu. It had its roots in the 1988 tribal clashes in the Rift Valley Province. Hundreds were killed. Thousands were displaced. A wealthy man formed a kibbutz for the displaced young men on his vast piece of land. With time the kibbutz became so crowded some of the youths had to move out. Once outside the kibbutz the youths moved from begging for jobs to imposing themselves on various economic activities. They became security providers. They authorised which public service vehicles pried which route. Businesses paid monthly charges pegged on size. In urban areas tenants paid protection fees; rural dwellers paid charges pegged on house type and size. There were charges on farm produce. There were charges on transfers to and from an area. There were construction charges. Dissent or default attracted heavy fines. Failure to pay the fines attracted execution by decapitation. Youths not originally in the kibbutz were recruited into the movement, some forcefully.
Kirindi flourished because to some politicians it was a basketful of youth votes. With time it became too powerful for its own good. It had the numbers, the finances and the arrogance to express interest in the presidency. That is when the government declared war on it. In Kathare a brutal vigilante group called The Hague spearheaded the purge. Kirindi members were hunted like wild animals. Execution occurred a few minutes after an arrest. Family members were given less than an hour to conduct burials. Religious activities were banned in these burials; it was a matter of getting the body in the soil. It was justice of the people, by the people, for the people.
“Why would Kirindi kill your husband?” Sanse asked.
“The Hague had an investigative arm which located Kirindi members who had fled,” Diana said. “Any member who was found he was brought back and executed. Oscar financed the bring-back within Kathare Central Ward.”
“How many bring-backs did he finance?”
“Five.”
“Give us the members’ names.”
“There was Andrew Ngare, Timothy Muriithi, Boniface Kiai, Bildad Mbotie and Kennedy Kamau, Fredrick Maru’s son.”
“Maru the civic candidate?” Sanse said.
Diana nodded.
“How did Maru take it?” Sanse asked.
“He threatened my husband,” Diana said. “He also stole the nominations. Oscar was running on a different party and would have beaten him fair and square.”
“Who else would want your husband dead?”
/> “You are the detectives.”
Chapter 7
Looking at Fredrick Maru Sanse tried to understand the chemistry between politics, a Stetson hat and a walking stick. The Maru on the campaign t-shirt looked younger than the person wearing it. Sanse gave him fifty years. He happened to be Ciuri’s campaign manager in the by-election following senior Ciuri’s demise.
“Congratulations on your nomination,” Pai said.
“Thank you,” Maru said. “You left out the important part.”
“I wish you all the best,’ Pai said.
“What brings you along?”
“Oscar Ciuri,” Pai said.
“Oh, that is a tragedy like no other.”
“You were close once,” Pai remarked.
“We won a tough by-election together.”
“What changed?”
“As the cliché goes, in politics there are no permanent friends or foes.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“Oscar locked me out,” Maru said. “Actually he locked everyone out. At first I was bitter. Then I told myself if I could deliver for him I could do so for myself. Here I am trying to do it.”
“Tell us about your son,” Sanse said.
“What is there to tell? He is dead.”
“You were opposed to the petition against the government,” Pai said.
“I am a realist,” Maru said. “As much as I would want justice for my son I am opposed to any angel or devil who wants to ride to fame on my misery. Nowadays if you can throw baby punches at the government you’re a hero. What a pity. The government had the Kwekwe Squad to hunt and kill. Why would it punish The Hague? The Hague has already moved in on wife beaters and petty thieves. Anyone who stands on its way is a fool. Welcome to the jungle.”
“Is that why you chose to take matters in your own hands?” Sanse said.
“Excuse me?”
“You promised to avenge your son,” Sanse said.
“Oscar was wrong to finance barbarism,” Maru said. “Why do we have laws? What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’? Ken was no angel but he deserved his day in a proper court. Gentlemen, you seem to forget that Kathare Central Ward, just like thousands of similar units countrywide, is electing a representative to the local government. I just happen to be a contestant as was Oscar Ciuri. My star is at its brightest and I wouldn’t spoil it for anything. ”
“Oscar alleged rigging,” Pai said.
“Every loser alleges rigging. Damn, it has become our forte. There is always a thief and several victims. As it were, a lone vote is enough to separate wheat from chuff. A hundred votes separated us.”
“Oscar was running on a different ticket,” Pai said.
“Talk of final kicks of a dying cow,” Maru said. “Our politics are so tribal that running on a ticket other than that of the tribal party is chasing after the wind. Elections end at nomination, gentlemen.”
“Kathare Member of Parliament won as an independent candidate,” Sanse said.
“The Party of Development and Unity handed it to her by giving a direct nomination to a snob who is also a thief. Let’s be honest with each other: Oscar was a big mistake. His father’s reputation could only take him so far. In matters readership the mango certainly fell far from the tree.”
“Where were you on the night Oscar went missing?” Pai asked.
“I was in bed with my lovely wife. Feel free to talk to her.”
Pai’s phone rang. He listened briefly then said, “Coming.”
He led Sanse out of the compound. “They arrested Style Jo, the youngster seen trailing Oscar on the evening he disappeared.”
Pai called his sister-in-law on their way to the station. “How did it go?”
“Baby steps, hotshot,” Esther said. “I need to earn her trust first. She promised to ask for permission to visit my place.”
“Thanks.”
“You are welcome.”
Style Jo was a twenty-something youth who spotted cornrows and earrings. His pants were falling off revealing a white innerwear. Ten or so necklaces hung down his neck. He paced and cursed and consulted his huge wrist watch. Pai and Sanse joined him in the interrogation room.
“Why am I here?” Style Jo said. “Stop wasting my time!”
“Sit down!” Pai said.
“I have rights…”
“I said sit down!”
Style Jo occupied a chair reluctantly. Sanse stood at the door taking in the situation.
“What is your birth name?” Pai asked.
“Joseph. Joseph Kenji.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I rap.”
“You what?”
The youngster released a string of incoherent words. Ed’s role model, Pai thought bitterly.
“I play with Kathare Stars,” Style Jo said. “We sang Cinderella. Why am I here?”
“Oscar Ciuri,” Pai said.
Style Jo tensed.
“You were stalking him on the day he disappeared,” Pai said.
“People follow politicians all the time.”
“The politicians don’t end up dead all the time.”
The youngster hesitated. “I wanted him to hire Kathare Stars to play in his campaign meetings.”
“Why couldn’t you just approach him?”
“You don’t just bulge into a conversation,” Style Jo said. “My teacher called it good manners.”
“Did you know each other personally?”
Style Jo hesitated. “Why?”
“Did you?”
“No.”
The young man was fidgeting.
“Did you get to sell your business idea?” Pai asked.
“The queue to see him proved long.”
“Who else wanted to see him?”
“These two men had been watching him for a while,” Style Jo said. “They accosted him on his way out. They argued momentarily before Oscar walked to his car and drove off. The two shoved Ndege, the man with whom Oscar had been chatting aside and walked away angrily.”
“What were they arguing about?” Sanse asked.
The youngster stared at Sanse. “I have said enough.”
“We are just warming up son,” Pai said. “Describe the two men.”
“One had a lazy eye. The other is beginning to develop dreadlocks.”
“Where have you been since?”
“In Nairobi. Band members can vouch for me. They are outside. Here is our promoter’s number.”
Sanse walked out just as Pai started dialling the number.
“The number is not going through,” Pai said.
“I talked with him this morning.”
Boko appeared at the door. “Can I have a word?”
“Sure.” Pai stepped out.
“Anything concrete on Style Jo?”
“Nothing so far.”
“Guess who has come for him - Fredrick Maru.”
“That is curious. What is the connection?”
“Fredrick Maru is a politician, a lawyer and Style Jo’s uncle.”
“What a combination. A moment sir,” Pai said as the call went through. The promoter confirmed that Style Jo had been in Nairobi with his band for the last three days. They performed twice. No, he could not vouch for them while offstage.
Ten minutes later Fredrick Maru and Style Jo were driving out of the station.
“How can Style Jo work with his uncle’s rival, the very person who facilitated his cousin’s death?” Pai asked Sanse.
“His band members denied any plans to work with Ciuri because he swindled them during the by-election,” Sanse said.
“That means Style Jo and Ciuri knew each other personally.”
The two walked into Boko’s office for debriefing which lasted half an hour.
***
Sanse sat at his customary table, his eyes riveted to his phone. Eight-hundred shillings of the money he got from Boko went to redeem the phone from the pawnbroker. Pewa passed by i
gnoring him completely. He was about to call Mathew when the young man walked in.
“So you have changed your mind,” Mathew said settling across the table. “Unfortunately, it is a bit late.”
“Is that so?” Sanse said.
“I accosted her. Apparently she once dropped by the office and found a co-worker holding my hand.”
“Case closed!”
“Women! You can’t live without them, you can’t kill them.”
“You are a philosopher.”
“Now I fully embrace the wisdom of letting a couple be,” Mathew said. “Imagine my chances at reconciliation had I hired a tail and she happened to find out. Get a beer on me. You have earned it.”
Sanse signalled to Pewa who took eternity getting to his table.
“I sought your audience because of a different matter,” Sanse said.
“I am listening.”
“Afterlife Assurance is Kathare Municipal Council’s insurer, right?”
Mathew nodded.
“Does the council have a life policy?” Sanse asked.
Mathew nodded again.
“When does the cover for the outgoing crop end?”
“It covers the full term which expires on the date of the next elections. That would be a month to be exact.”
“Suppose a life policy holder burns beyond recognition. How do you handle them?”
“We rely heavily on police investigations. Where is all this leading to?”
“Oscar Ciuri,” Sanse said.
“What about him?”
“How much is the policy?”
“Ten million.”
Sanse began to click his knuckles. “I would hesitate to give out ten million on the strength of a body mark.”
“Identification documents were on the body,” Mathew said.
“Picture this: your wife concluded that you were having an affair because a girl held your hand. It is called inference. An identity card is only meaningful to a given face and a set of fingerprints.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“A DNA test. If you can reward a person with ten million for succeeding to die it is only prudent to spend a few thousands to ascertain their identity.”
Mathew smiled. “So you are a bounty hunter.”
“A bounty hunter?”
“There you go playing dumb.” Mathew chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. “We pay ten per cent to anyone who stops a fraudulent claim.”