Darling... I Need Your Corpse: Detective Mike Sanse #2 (Mike Sanse series)

by Anthony Mugo

  “Sanse!” the man greeted.

  “Jimia.”

  Now at sixty, Sanse thought his brother-in-law appeared just as he did fifteen years previously when they first met. Jimia was a retired college teacher turned farmer.

  “I planned to call you,” Jimia wondered whether it was in order to ask a man who had lost his family and home how he was doing. Of course he had done the best he could to get Sanse on his feet again. He had paid instalments worth over a hundred thousand. He had financed Sanse’s office. When things ran out of hand he had advised Sanse to dispose off his home before the bank did. However, Sanse would hear none of it. What was he to do?

  “What did the bank say?”

  “I must clear the loan and charges to get my home back,” Sanse said.

  “In other words you must buy your home back on their terms.”

  “They called it a lifeline.”

  “This country went to the dogs years ago.”

  “I need to borrow your bike.”

  “What is going on?”

  “I need to run a small errand.”

  Jimia knew better than to delve in the issue. He gave Sanse the ignition key and watched him ride out of the compound.

  Half an hour later he was squatting outside the gate to his home - his former home. The Mazda had had the four wheels deflated. No one had cared to draw the curtains. A poster on the gate read: No trespassing. This property belongs to Mercantile Finance Bank. What would Betty say if she woke up to find the poster? He recalled her joy when his employer had approved his loan to buy the land build the house. She had been opposed to taking residence in Nairobi from the word go. What with the violence and polluted air. To her, kids brought up in the city more than not turned out bad. The world was rotten but at least in the countryside the line between virtue and vice was not as blurred. He rarely argued with her. As regards the future of the family she always had a better judgement. But the same violence she had run away from followed her and claimed everything.

  A cat emerged from the cypress fence and stretched.

  “Mambo!” Sanse called.

  The cat dashed in his direction. Sanse took him in his arms. Mambo got busy meowing a string of questions. Or was it greetings?

  “Damn, you are so thin!” Sanse slumped on the ground and held Mambo closer. Mambo was the only pet he could tolerate simply because having him was like having Jack. Jack had collected him in the streets when he was days old. Sanse forced back tears. Crying in front of Mambo was crying in front of Jack. Don’t! When he couldn’t hold back any more he let go of Mambo, jumped on the motorcycle and spent off. He could still hear Mambo meow miles away.

  Chapter 25

  At seven-thirty Senior Detective Cosmas Pai and Detective Gilbert Mavedi were in position outside the gate of Karia Coffee Factory. Mavedi had bowed to pressure and changed from the white suit. He was still disturbed by Sanse’s appraisal of their partnership. In Kathare most people were in their homes by eight. Trailing someone at night with thin traffic was a challenge. There were no shadows to hide behind. Pai had opted to wait for Style Jo at the rendezvous point. The plan was to catch Style Jo alive hence strict orders against shooting unless it was absolutely necessary.

  ***

  Kachero was dying for a puff. A chain-smoker, he had lasted two hours now but couldn’t leave his post lest his target slipped through his fingers. He had drunk hard and late the previous night and he needed the comfort of his bed. He wondered idly how such a boy could kill a giant like Oscar Ciuri. Style Jo had to be one mean bastard.

  At eight thirty a motorcycle emerged from Ciuri’s compound. The skies were clear and the moon was at its brightest. He called Pai informing him that Kelvin was on his way.

  “Good work,” Pai muttered.

  ***

  There was the sound of a motorcycle rolled in and stopped near the gate. The rider did not dismount. He consulted his watch.

  “Kelvin or Style Jo?” Detective Mavedi whispered.

  “Style Jo,’ Pai said. “Kelvin should roll in any moment now.”

  The rider dismounted, checked his watch again and stretched.

  “He doesn’t look like he is about to chop someone’s head off,” Mavedi said.

  Style Jo continued to pace, consult his watch and stretch.

  ***

  Soft moonlight bathed the overgrown trees. Sanse crouched in the bush as a car drove past lighting up his hideout. He consulted his watch: eight twenty. Any minute now, he told himself. He drained the Medusa tube and threw it away. If he succeeded he would need more Medusa to celebrate; if he failed he would need a lot more to drown his frustrations. But how could he fail? Diana was clever but not that clever. He thought of Pai and Mavedi crouching in a bush not so far away. But then Pai could have connected the dots in the intervening hours.

  There came the sound of a motorcycle before its single beam started dancing on the trees. It rode past, stopped and doubled back. The rider stopped at the entrance to Ngarira’s compound as though to muster some courage. I would do no less, Sanse told himself. Ngarira can change into anything. He stepped onto the road as the motorcycle rode into the compound. Ndege’s story of burning bush that wasn’t consumed was rife in Sanse’s mind as he followed the rider into the compound. He treaded more carefully as he neared the motorcycle whose beam still illuminated the night. He stopped ten feet from the rider who killed the engine of the motorcycle. An eerie silence took charge. A huge man emerged from one of the dilapidated structures, his hands hooked at his waistline. The light beam hit him dead in the face. The man stood six feet, possibly slightly higher. He was in heavy boots, dirty jeans and hooded zip-up cardigan. He pushed the hood back to reveal a bald scalp. This added to a week-old beard gave him a jungle look. He was unmistakably the man in the campaign posters.

  Oscar stood akimbo for a long moment, his thumbs hooked on the belt loops of his pants.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Oscar asked.

  “I told you to leave Willy to me,” Diana said.

  “You cheated on me and now you expect me to pay for it?”

  “I did what I had to do!” Diana said.

  “No one is getting my money. No one!”

  Diana’s hand came from inside the jacket. She was holding a gun.

  “Hey, easy! Where did you get that from?”

  “You’re right,” Diana said. “You shouldn’t pay for it; you should die. I know about Style Jo.”

  “What?”

  ***

  “Kelvin should be here,” Mavedi said.

  Pai said nothing. Deep in his heart he sensed that something was amiss. Of course he had suspected that all was not well. Did Diana make Kachero? If so what was the connection between Kelvin and Style Jo? However, he had sworn never to display his underbelly in front of his junior partner. This was his plan and it better work otherwise...

  Style Jo kept redialling his phone. Apparently the call was not going through. Judging from the way he was shifting his weight from one leg to the other Pai knew he was growing impatient too. He pocketed his phone after a redial and mounted his motorcycle.

  “He can’t go,” Pai said. “Let’s get him.”

  Style Jo was so startled to see four men holding guns he fell off the motorcycle. He hit the dust as handcuffs were slapped on his wrists.

  “What is going on?” He demanded.

  “You are under arrest,” Pai said.

  “For what?”

  Pai took Style Jo’s phone and went through the calls. He had not made any calls since two. He checked his messages and settled on one that read: Oscar always sung your praises. I will leave my details at the old farmhouse. I see interesting times ahead.

  “Shit!” Pai said.

  “Our friend is gay. I knew something was amiss.”

  “Get lost!” Pai barked at Style Jo who took off at full speed. Pai collapsed on the ground. He was weeping.

  “You should have listened to me,” Mavedi said.

/>   “Shut up!”

  “I can’t take this anymore. You act just to shoot everyone else down. Someone is obviously wrong with you. In the end you mess everyone up.”

  “Are you done?”

  “No. I am a good detective and I know it. I am not your puppet.”

  Pai knew that there was some truth in what his partner was saying. In reality he had come because he wanted to escape from his problems. He had ended up messing the whole thing.

  “This was a diversion,” Pai said. “We better check on her.”

  ***

  “As a matter you should thank me for cheating on you,” Diana said. “I made you feel whole. I made your father proud.”

  “You said that you were seeing a doctor,” Diana said. “But you were seeing Style Jo and other men all the time. How could you?”

  “That is what I am,” Oscar said. “That is what I was meant to be.”

  “Did you have to molest Kelvin?”

  Oscar was lost for words.

  “Why did you marry me?”

  “You were begging for it, remember? My father was happy. The society was happy.”

  “Filthy bastard!”

  “Get me my money and you’ll never see me again.”

  “All you’ll get is a bullet in your thick skull,” Diana said. “This is interesting, you know, killing a dead person.”

  “Don’t do anything that you’ll regret for later.”

  “The bully is shaking in his shoes! I love this. Tell me; do you feel like wetting your pants?”

  “Okay then, we will share the...”

  “Beg for your life!”

  Limitations of a private investigator continued to wow Sanse. What was he going to do now that he had found Oscar? He decided to send Pai a message. He had just found Pai’s number on his phone book when something brushed against his leg. Ngarira can change into anything. He jumped thereby disturbing nearby twigs. Diana swung the gun in his direction. She had the presence of mind to cover Oscar at the same time.

  “I’ll count up to three,” she said. “One, two...”

  Sanse wondered what was scarier, Karuthi Ngarira as a snake or a gun in the hands of a housewife. He stepped out of the bushes, his hands up in the air.

  “You!” Diana gasped.

  “Yes, me,” Sanse expected a torrent of bullets to rip him apart any moment.

  “Is this Mike Sanse?” Oscar’s voice carried both disappointment and appreciation in equal measure. “Of course it is!”

  “For a moment there I thought Karuthi Ngarira had come for me in the shape of a snake. One can’t be sure in a place where bushes burn without being consumed.”

  “You’re a fool to believe such nonsense,” Diana said. “Join him.”

  Sanse joined Oscar.

  “You are off the case,” Diana said.

  “I am a private investigator,” Sanse said.

  “Did you follow me?”

  “That would be sloppy,” Sanse said. “When Kelvin told me what Oscar did to him I knew that Oscar and Style Jo were intimate. To Style Jo Kelvin’s photo meant new love. But how could you play pimp to a boy who was happy that his tormentor is dead? I thought of a hiding place within the radius and direction with Karia Coffee Factory and here we are. You guessed right; the police would think you want Kelvin dead. They would also hope to ambush Style Jo in the act.”

  “Wow!” Diana said. “You fit the bill. Unfortunately it ends here. What a waste to future victims of murder.”

  “See what you have done, chicken-head,” Oscar said. “Get the hell out of here. I will take care of your mess.”

  “That is a mistake,” Sanse said.

  “Unbelievable!” Diana said. “Now you want to save my skin after working so hard to bring me down.”

  “I instructed someone to call the police if I am not home by ten,” Sanse said. “The same person has damaging stuff on you.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Oscar said.

  A cobweb of uncertainty masked Diana’s face.

  “You took a huge bank loan to finance your re-election,” Sanse said.

  “He is playing with your head!” Oscar said.

  “You knew you were done when you lost the Party of Unity and Development nomination. Trying to win an election on a ticket other than that of the tribal chief’s party is akin to forcing an oblong mortise through a circular tenon. You were done politically and economically. That is when you came up with the plan to defraud the insurance company. You became Kim and approached Mbao promising to relocate him to the city. You made him bid farewell to people who would otherwise query his absence. Of note is Naomi, my secretary. You brought Mbao here then left your car at the roadside. Diana reported you missing and harassed the police to find you. You killed Mbao on the night of the second day, chopped off his head, legs and arms then dumped him at Thiba Bridge. Diana was at the station early enough to accompany the police to the crime scene for identification. Everything was going to plan until Afterlife Assurance demanded a DNA test. Diana displayed her ingenuity when she brought in Willy, effectively sidestepping the identity issue. The police were desperate to believe that it was your body and she gave them straws to crutch on to. But then Willy turned out to be more of a problem than a solution. He wanted a big chunk of the loot. Diana talked of Willy working with other people. The mention was Stan was enough for me to believe her. When Willy was killed I knew she couldn’t have done it because Stan is not the kind of man to be swindled. It had to be a stakeholder angered by that Willy had invited himself to the party.”

  “You are quite something, eh?” Oscar said. “Sorry I killed a fellow drifter. You should be grateful that I didn’t kill more. The morons took my money knowing they would elect my rival. Incidentally, did you expect me, us, to join you in the streets?”

  “No one forced you to vie,” Sanse said.

  “Shut up the two of you!” Diana said. “Killing you is a mistake.”

  “Thank God for such a wise head,” Sanse said.

  “But letting you live is a bigger mistake,” Diana said.

  “How will you explain Kelvin’s photo?” Sanse said.

  “I was out to confront my fears that Oscar was gay,” Diana said. “For months now Oscar’s association with Kelvin and Style Jo has been suspect. Unfortunately, my bike broke down forcing me to abandon my quest.”

  “The police know that you promised Willy four million,” Sanse said.

  “Enough of dillydallying,” Diana said. “Sorry guys, I have to rush.”

  “Hey!” Sanse said. “That gun has no silencer. Do you know how far its sound travels?”

  “He has a point there,” Oscar said.

  “You will end up in jail,” Sanse said.

  “No,” Oscar said. “You will be hanged. Hanged! Think of Stacey on her own.”

  The sound of an approaching vehicle raided the night air.

  “What the hell…” Oscar trailed off.

  “I called the police and left the line open,” Sanse said. “It is over.”

  “Shit!” Oscar cursed. “I can’t be arrested. We can’t be arrested!”

  Oscar started towards his wife, his hands outstretched.

  “Stay back!”

  “Be sensible for once!” Oscar said.

  The gun exploded and Ciuri wailed in pain. Diana lost her footing. Sanse took the opportunity to dash behind one of the buildings. A bullet shattered a beam close to his head. The gun cracked again before all went silent. Utter relief swept over Sanse as he heard Mavedi’s voice ordering Ciuri to get on the ground. He got from his hideout to see Diana lying in a pool of blood. Ciuri was writhing in pain near her body. He walked up to Mavedi.

  “You could be a good shot after all,” Sanse said.

  “Thank God you don’t have artificial holes on you,” Mavedi said. “If I ever get killed I’ll die happy knowing that someone brighter than the killer is on my side.”

  “Have you apologised to Style Jo already?” Sanse said.
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br />   “Show a little professional courtesy, okay?” Mavedi said.

  Sanse approached Pai. “That was fast. Thank you.”

  “That was a stupid move,” Pai said.

  “I’ve really tried but I just can’t inform on you,” Sanse said. “Maybe be it is because you gave me the best two years of my career. Maybe I am getting soft. Maybe it’s the knowledge that a score against you is a score for the bad guys. Maybe it’s the knowledge that for all our differences, strengths and weaknesses, it should be us, the good guys, against the bad guys.”

  Sanse started out of the compound.

  Chapter 26

  Boko welcomed Sanse with a thin smile. “It would appear that you’re at your best when you’re on the ropes,” Boko said. “You suspected Diana from the onset. Why?”

  “My secretary happened to be close to Mbao, the blind man who begged outside Five Star Hotel,” Sanse said. “He called her on the day Ciuri went missing telling her that a Good Samaritan in the name of Kim was transferring him to the city. It seemed curious that Mbao would relocate two days before a body without the head, arms and feet surfaced. Mbao weighed over a hundred kilograms, just like Ciuri. He had no kin which rendered him expendable. By chopping off the hands, feet and head the killer wanted a contrived identification. One doesn’t need six years of marriage to spot a body mark. A lone, purposeful contact with the body is enough. I approached Diana with a very friendly offer pegged on results. I highlighted your failure to protect and recover her husband but she still chose to stick with you. As she would confess later, she knew me.”

  “You should have told us about Mbao.”