Diane Rucho.

28

Preston was leaving the parking lot of the police station in his old sedan when he got a call from Sandy Muiru. He had recently added her number to his contact list.

With one hand on the steering wheel, he answered the phone, "Sandy?"

He thought he heard muffled sobs on the other end. After a brief silence, he heard more sobs. Fear and worry pulsed in his heart. Why was she crying? From the moment he met Sandy, he knew she was bold for her age, and a little impulsive, but he never expected to see her like this - shaken, afraid, and crying.

"Sandy, are you alright?" he asked, driving out of the main gate of the police station. He took a turn towards Jogoo Road and pressed the accelerator. Just before he left the station, Emma Ruto sent him her house pin location. She lived in Donholm, Upendo Court, opposite Greenspan Mall, east of the Nairobi central business district, about 4 kilometres from the station.

"A man... shot," Sandy's voice piped up. "He's dead."

Preston skidded the car to a halt at the side of the road, the hood hitting a raised curb. On any other day, he would have winced at the impact on the car, but not today. "Sandy, what are you saying? Where are you?"

"The shooter... ran... off," more sobs. "It's my fault."

"Where are you?"

"Hijos Pub, Mombasa Road."

"Are you alone?"

"No... no. Cynthia's with me. She's catatonic. She's not talking, Preston. What if she had been shot too? God. What have I done?"

Preston manoeuvred the car from the side of the road, backed up in the opposite direction right in the middle of the road, and then sped up.

"I'm on my way. I need you to stay calm. Alright? Don't let Cynthia out of your sight."

Silence.

"Okay."

After Sandy ended the call, Preston grabbed the walkie-talkie from the console of his car. He pressed the push-to-talk button, holding it close to his face. "This is Officer Preston Arina to Control. I need backup at Hijos Pub. A man has been shot. I repeat. I need backup. Hijos Pub. Mombasa Road."

A male voice came over the radio. "Control has already dispatched three patrol officers to the scene."

"Status update?"

"Waiting for an update," said the male voice.

Preston ended the call and then used his mobile phone to call Officer Michael. It rang for a few seconds before Michael answered.

"Hello, Preston?"

"Are you still at the station?" Preston asked.

"Yes."

"I need you to go see Emma Ruto at her house in Donholm. Now. I'm sending you the location."

Michael sensed the urgency. "What has happened?"

"There's been a shootout at Hijos Pub. A man is dead. Sandy saw the whole thing."

"Goodness. What was she doing there?"

"That's what I'm about to find out."

Another call came through Preston's phone. It was Inspector Frederick Nyanchama. "I need to go, Inspector Nyanchama is calling," he said to Michael before ending the call.

He swiped to the right to answer Nyanchama's call. "Sir?" he said.

It took a second before the Inspector spoke. "How did it go with Brian Thuo, the boyfriend?" His bumpy voice was a little relaxed. Preston imagined the Inspector was in the comfort of his house.

"He didn't say much. He was rather careful not to incriminate himself. Anyone else would say he's hiding something."

"What about the alibi?"

"It doesn't check out. He claims that on the day of the murder, he was at home with his father. But the father is long dead."

"No one else was with him that night?"

"None that he mentioned."

"Well, that makes the alibi unreliable. He could just as well have been lying. He knows you can't prove otherwise."

"Just what I thought. When I asked him about Diane Rucho's past, he acted rather subtly. He laughed off the suggestion that he was violent with her when he knew she was now a damaged soul."

"Careful. Yeah, I see it. He must have seen it from miles away," the Inspector said, pausing briefly, before coming back on again. "Let's say maybe he's telling the truth. Maybe the past didn't break their relationship, only made them get closer. Maybe even he felt the need to protect her."

"If that was true, to begin with, why lie to the police about his identity? Why provide misleading information?"

"What did he say about that?"

"Something about suspecting that if he said he was 'Big Ted,' the police would be on his track. A cliché move."

"How did the house search go? Any evidence found?"

"The house search came back negative. No gun was found. No drugs," Preston said. "The place was clean."

Inspector Nyanchama sighed at the other end, "If that's the case, we can't hold him in the cell anymore."

"We got the traces of paint at the crime scene—"

"Yes, I agree. But that's all circumstantial. Not enough to link someone to a murder. The defence would throw the case out in the beat of a second. You know very well it can't hold any ground."

"Give me two days."

"As much as there's pressure from the Commissioner's office, I want this to be done the right way. Release Brian Thuo by tomorrow morning," the Inspector said before ending the call.

As Preston sped along a red stop sign, he wondered if releasing Big Ted, the only suspect in the case, was the right thing to do. What if he got rid of any possible evidence out there?

Preston's mind wandered to Gary Wako. Was there any connection between Gary and Big Ted? Was it Big Ted who had kidnapped Gary Wako?

But Big Ted didn't come across as intelligent; he was just all muscles. There's no way he could have plotted Gary's kidnapping, Officer Edward's accident, or the Doctor's food poisoning.

Preston entertained the thought that maybe there was another player on the field. But who?