Finding Linda Page 5

  “Give me the location.”

  Fifteen minutes later Rono parked his red Toyota Hilux outside Planet Earth Apartments . No one asked for his ID as he dashed up the stairs.

  “She’s over there,” said his sergeant.

  A chill ran through Rono as he raised the sheet from the young woman. Her hair had slipped across her eyes. With reverence, he brushed it to one side. He tilted his head towards the doctor. “Pretty girl. Forget robbery she still has an expensive watch on her wrist. It’s not sexual; rapists don’t leave the victim’s knickers intact. You won’t find any fingerprints. Hired guns always wear gloves. Two bullets in the head at point blank range are a guarantee she will not get up again. There are powder burns, which suggest a small calibre pistol. The question is who paid the assassin? Time of death, Doc?”

  “Two days at most. When I complete the postmortem, I’ll be more exact.”

  “Who is she, Sergeant? And who found her?”

  “Daniela Uba, age twentysix, sir. She’s a flight check- in operative at the airport. The neighbours told me she was a pleasant woman. No boyfriends, but had another woman staying with her. The man who lives in the flat above found her. He’s gone back to his flat to be sick.”

  Rono yawned. Where is the other woman?”

  “The man being sick told us he last saw her two days ago. Could be a coincidence or she killed the victim. Strange though, she left a few clothes as if she were coming back.”

  Rono shook his head; there was something strange. “Check the place for prints. Talk to the man upstairs. I’m going back to the office to write a report.”

  “It’s alright for you,” muttered the sergeant.

  “Miss nothing, unless you’d enjoy becoming a constable.”

  “Not one photo. I’d say that’s unusual.” The sergeant could feel Rono’s eyes on him. “You’ll get my full report tomorrow.”

  “On my desk by eight.” Rono left the flat and descended the stairs to where his red truck glistened in the evening light. Brushing a leaf from the bonnet, he pulled himself inside and drove to town.

  Back in his office, he sat behind his desk and pondered the murder of the woman as he wrote on his notepad.

  The flat was neat and tidy. Money, although not a lot, was still in her purse but someone had put two bullets in her head. Why? Who was her houseguest and where was she? Where did she fit into the puzzle?

  An outside noise disturbed his thoughts. He stood and stretched before shouting at a sergeant seated behind his desk. “Alcon, go and tell the noisy bastard next door to shut his office door. I’m trying to think.” The man leapt to his feet and almost ran out of the room.

  Rono had been in the death business for too long. These days he became depressed with one killing after another. Most he solved in less than a day, a punter kills a prostitute and leaves a million clues. A drug addict desperate for a fix murders his supplier. He sighed. Forty, divorced and two children to support, he speculated if it was worth the hassle. Nevertheless, his life was comfortable even if tedious.

  “Excuse me, sir,” said Alcon.

  Tact never came easy after a long day. “What?”

  “There’s a man at the front desk who wants to report a murder.”

  He lifted his eyes towards the ceiling. “Is today a full moon or something? I was going home but bring him in but before you do answer me one question. Did he do it?”

  “He’s the victim’s brother, sir.”

  He took a deep breath. “Fine, let’s talk to him and Sergeant, you can take notes but don’t interrupt.”

  Rono dropped into the chair behind his desk and searched for a packet of cigarettes. For a moment, he stared at the packet before he tossed them back into the drawer.

  “Azima Kambi, sir.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” He pointed to a grey plastic chair. “Mr Kambi, please relax and in your own words tell me the details of this murder.”

  Rono paid attention to his story before he said a word. “You tell me a prostitute killed your brother.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How would you describe this woman?”

  Azima thought for a moment. “Fat, could be Oriental. Short, dark hair, about one and a half metres in height and ugly. Oh, and she had tattoos all over her back.”

  “On her back? How come you saw her back?”

  His face reddened. “When she was riding my brother, I watched through a crack in the door.”

  Rono stroked his stubblecovered chin. “Why did you arrive here at,” he glanced at the clock on the far wall, “ten in the evening to report this? Are you hiding something? With no corpse and only your word, it makes life difficult. Did you kill your brother and concoct this story to disguise his absence?”

  Azima took a deep breath. “Why would I kill my brother? The woman who did this works in a brothel. I can take you there. She killed him so you must arrest her.”

  “Start from when you watched her fuck your brother. I’ll ask the questions and you give me the answer. How does that sound?”

  A telephone rang but remained unanswered.

  Azima nodded.

  “Who killed your brother?”

  Azima spread his hands. “The fat woman.”

  Rono smiled. “Why did she kill him?”

  Azima shrugged. “He refused to pay her and told her she was a rubbish fuck.”

  Rono’s mouth twitched. “When did you know your brother was dead?”

  “When I saw him lying with his throat cut on the bed.”

  “Rono stared at the young man in front of him for a long time. What happened next?”

  “She wrapped him in a blanket and dragged him away.”

  Rono’s brow creased into a deep frown. “Let me get this straight. This woman overpowered a young virile man and while you watched, disposed of the corpse. Do you expect me to believe you?”

  “Yes.”

  Rono gave a wry smile and swore under his breath, stood, and ambled to the window. He stared out at the dark star-filled sky. A local pig farmer would have ground the evidence to pulp. He was sure the brother had seen the murder but something bothered him. “Mr Kambi, can you describe this woman well enough for my sergeant to draw a likeness?”

  “Yes.”

  He pointed. “That officer will be at his desk tomorrow morning. Be here at nine.”

  “If it means you’ll arrest her, why not?” Azima stood and held out his right hand. “Thank you for listening.”

  Rono watched him go, sat in his chair and called his sergeant. “It’s not enough knowing Fat Mama Santos killed the man, we need proof. The bedding will have long gone. The body, when minced, the pig farmer fed the pigs but we must offer his brother hope. I’m going home.”

  ***

  Rono and the funeral director attended Daniela Uba’s burial at the Mbaraki Cemetery.

  “We did our best. She looks regal as she sleeps,” said the funeral director. “She was a pretty girl. Are you a family member?”

  “Not exactly. I’m investigating her murder.”

  The director smiled. “I hope you catch whoever took her life. Such a waste.”

  “Has anyone asked about her?”

  “No. I apologise I didn’t mean to sound harsh.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Rono.

  A young priest arrived. “God gives and God takes away.” His young eyes peered at the casket as it descended into the ground. From behind a gravestone, a tape deck played fitting music.

  The director nodded as he left leaving Rono staring into the hole.

  The gravedigger stood beside him. “Was she your friend?”

  “Never met her when she was alive. It’s sad when a young woman dies and there’s no one to mourn her passing.”

  “I must fill in the hole.”

  “That’s what they pay you for.” He held out a hundred shilling note. “Can you do me a favour?”

  The man lifted his head and studied the inspector. “Yes, so long as it doesn’
t cost me any money.”

  “Buy two or three Mickey Mouse bushes and plant them on her grave.”

  “You’ve given me too much money.”

  “Have a beer on me.” Rono trudged away, jumped into his truck and drove back to his office.

  The afternoon sun shone through the windows blinding Rono. From his tray, he lifted a buff file detailing the brutal murder of a prostitute.

  “Sir,” shouted his sergeant as he charged into the room.

  Rono raised his head. “I’ve told you about rushing in this office? I don’t like it, don’t do it.”

  “But, sir. There’s been a breakthrough in the Daniela Uba murder.”

  Rono closed the file and placed it on his desk. “Fanaka, you found the murderer?”

  “No, but I did as you instructed and fingerprinted her flat. Two good prints and someone wore cotton gloves. One set belonged to the victim, and the other drew a blank in Nairobi. For the hell of it, I showed the identikit picture to the neighbours. I can confirm she was the other woman in the flat. With her prints and a likeness, I requested Interpol for any information they might have. This morning I received a reply from a Major Johnston in Cape Town. The name she’s adopted is Linda Liu.”

  “Telephone number?” The sergeant handed over the file.

  “Good work. I’ll fashion a policeman out of you yet.” He handed over the dead prostitute’s file. “Catch her pimp and charge him with murder.” He smiled. “Life becomes interesting again. Now go away and read this file. It will keep you busy while I check out the major.” He reread the phone number, punched the buttons on his mobile.

  “Good afternoon. Claremont Police Station, Serena speaking. How can I help?”

  “Inspector Rono Obi of the Kenyan Police stationed in Mombasa. Can I speak to a Major Johnston?”

  “Give me your number and I’ll tell him you called.” Rono gave his mobile and the station number.

  “When you pass the message, tell him it concerns a Linda Liu.”

  “Will do, sir. Thank you for calling.”

  The line disconnected. He leant back in his chair deciding whether to brew a cup of coffee or wait. He was three metres away from his chair when the telephone on his desk rang. In a three strides, he lifted the handset. “Inspector Rono Obi.”

  “Major Johnston, Cape Town. You have information on Linda Liu.”

  “Thank you for calling me back. Yes and no. She may have murdered a girl she was living with and she’s disappeared.”

  Johnston chuckled. “If she was living with the girl she didn’t kill her unless it was a serious lover’s tiff. They were more than likely an item.”

  “That adds a different dimension. So who is she?”

  “She’s a pirate and she murdered a businessman in a local hotel. Her last mission failed because the crew fought back. I believed she was dead.”

  “As she’s missing from the crime scene, she may well be dead.”

  “She has nine lives that one. I’ll send a copy of her file but keep me in the loop.”

  “I will. Thank you for an interesting chat.”

  “If it helps catch that murdering bitch I’m with you.”

  “One minor problem, Major. I’ve got to find her.”

  “You will, Rono. My sixth sense tells me something will happen to our friend.” The call ended.

  Rono made a cup of coffee, smiled and murmured, “I wish I had your confidence, Major.”

  6

  Rono sipped his coffee and reread the lengthy fax from Johnston. “Linda Liu, beautiful and as dangerous as an angry lion. You’re definitely a shoot first girl.” He stroked his unshaven chin. “Sergeant, I’m going to Daniela Uba’s flat. You could have missed something important.”

  He clambered into his truck and drove fast along the coast road to the scene of the crime. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into a parking slot. For a while, he sat there; nothing stirred, even the sea breeze had deserted the courtyard. He glanced up at the apartments’ windows and let his gaze wander. The lack of people did not seem right. Someone must have seen something. “Why am I here?” For a moment, he saw a curtain in a ground floor flat twitch. It was not the wind; whoever was there, was observing him.

  He paraded around the complex and pressed the door entry buzzer. “Police.” The door lock clicked. In seconds, he knocked on the door marked Mrs Robson. He kept knocking until he heard two bolts draw back.

  On a sturdy security chain a gap appeared. The dark eyes of an aged white woman peered through the gap and gave him a hard stare. “Identification.”

  Smiling, he passed his ID card through the gap and the door slammed shut for a minute before re-opening.

  Her old eyes radiated wisdom. “How can I help you?” asked the grey-haired woman. In her right hand, she held a walking stick.

  “I must talk to you on the murder of a woman on this complex.”

  She studied Rono, smiled and took three steps back. “You’d better come in; my neighbours are a nosy bunch.”

  Rono strolled in, stopped and secured the door behind him. “Better safe than sorry.” He followed her as she tottered into her main room.

  She pointed with the stick. “You can stand there and ask your questions. You were here after they found that young women.”

  He nodded and remained standing. “Take your time and tell me what did you see or hear from your window that you didn’t tell my sergeant?”

  “Your sergeant never asked.”

  “Interesting, so you saw something?”

  “I never said I did.”

  Rono smiled. “Mrs Robson, I guess that these days you don’t go out much. The television is awful so unless you read or sew you're bored. You stare at the world through the window. From the outside no one can see you unless like today you jiggled the curtain why?”

  She smirked. “Your eyes are those of a copper and you miss little. To pass the time, I have a silly hobby. You’re right, I lounge here, scrutinise my world and write notes on what I see.” “Is anyone aware of your little game?”

  She smiled. “Of course not and you’re the first man to visit my home in years.”

  “Why me?”

  “You don’t quit. I’m sure your wife complains.” He shrugged. “I’ve been in this business so long it’s difficult to have a home life. When I hop out of bed in the morning, I don’t have a clue where my investigations will lead. My wife hated both my job and me. After a ton of arguments, we gave up and divorced. Life for both of us is better. Please tell me what you saw that was different.”

  She took a thick ledger from a side table, seated herself and read from the page. “There was a black man with white hair hiding in the bushes. Is that useful?”

  He let her act out her game. “Tell me something, where did he hide?”

  “Outside is a wonderful yellow hibiscus. He stood and loitered in its shadow. I can see from here but most wouldn’t. Anyway, minutes after the young women left in a car he fiddled with the lock. I couldn’t believe it, in seconds he was going through the front door. He wore blue overalls but I don’t suppose that’s of any interest.”

  “Information catches the bad men.”

  She grinned. “Compliments will reap rewards, young man. Where was I? Ah, yes. Late in the afternoon, the young woman returned with someone. I think they are,” she hesitated, “strange, you know what I mean.”

  Rono smiled. “Lesbians is the word you’re embarrassed to say. Fifty years ago no one dared to think such people existed.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t agree with unnatural relationships. I digress. An hour later, an ambulance arrived. Two men dressed in hospital greens carried a stretcher into the block. They wheeled a stretcher into the ambulance with a dead body shrouded in a white sheet. The white-haired man carrying a full plastic bag leapt into the back.

  “Why did you think it was a dead body?”

  “The sheet covered the face; they do that when a person’s dead. Where was I? Then the driver slammed the d
oors and drove away. He turned left out of the car park, which I thought was strange. To get to the hospital it’s quicker if you turn right.”

  “Most impressive, Mrs Robson, but I don’t suppose you noted the licence plate.”

  She frowned. “I’m old, not a fool. KGR 797. Standard yellow with hospital badges on either side.”

  “Mrs Robson. Could I borrow your book? I promise I will deliver it back?”

  “No, you can’t, but you can take my page of notes. Please hand me the ruler on the table.” With the straight edge in position, she tore the page from the book.

  He stared at the copper script writing. “Thank you. Your observations are a plus to my enquiry.”

  “Is the white-haired man the murderer?”

  “He could be but I must investigate further.”

  “I enjoyed the company. I don’t suppose you can stay for a cup of tea?”

  “As much as I’d love to, there’s a ton of paperwork on my desk, waiting for me.”

  “I’ll show you out.” Using her stick, she stood, followed him to the door.

  As it shut, he listened to the bolts sliding home and smiled. “I must not forget to send her a bunch of flowers.” ***

  In the main office of the police station, Rono sat on the edge of his desk and spoke to his three sergeants. “The Daniela Uba murder.” He related the old woman’s story. “I must decide what we do next.”

  “Sergeant Bello, visit Mrs Robson with your laptop and create an identikit picture of the whitehaired man.” From his wallet, he took a fifty-shilling note. “Take this and you can buy her a bunch of flowers. Don’t spend every penny.”

  “Yes, sir. On my way.”

  “We need help to track this man, sir,” said Sergeant Cisse.

  “When I have a picture, I’ll contact Interpol and the major in South Africa.”

  On his desk, he spread out a road map of the area. “Tell me your thoughts. The ambulance took the coast road and headed north. Where was it going? Dimka, you have the registration; check the traffic cameras in Malindi. I’d bet my wages for a month they took this Linda Liu to Somalia.” “Why would they do that?” asked Cisse.