CHAPTER SIXTEEN: A Different Investigation

EARLIER that Friday, back in Kenya, Alfred Shinam, the in-person manager of the Villa Rosa Kempinski hotel in Nairobi had had his weekend plans cut short after receiving a call, notifying him that someone had been killed inside his hotel.

Shinam had arrived at the scene first thing after the call, just a little later than the police who had already decorated the prestigious five-star hotel with yellow 'Crime Scene-Do Not Cross' tape.

He was in the middle of trying to get through and inside the building while arguing with the constables, telling them who he was when someone approached him from behind.

"Unafanya nini?" (What are you doing?)

The Indian manager turned around, coming face-to-face with a burly man who was huskily built, his brown police uniform tightening from the pressure of his body.

His skin was heavily dark, contrasting greatly with his uniform and his face and bald scalp shone from sweat, which was surprising as it was extra frosty that morning.

A constable walked over to him and muttered something to him then walked off.

"So, you run this place, huh?" the burly uniformed man asked him.

"Well, not entirely. . . the CEO is currently out on a business trip in Seychelles but I need to—"

"Need to what?" the man snapped at him, his Luo accent fully showing, "Ebu leave the premises kwanza. This is now official police business!"

"But—"

"Anything you have to say, you can take it up at the station with the OB."

"But I—" the burly man brushed the manager aside with a flick of one of his thick arms.

As established, the man was a no-nonsense figure and well respected in the city's law enforcement division, serving as Inspector of Police in the Nairobi precinct.

Inspector Spencer Owuor made his way inside the hotel until he found the crime scene where the body of an elderly woman lay, a large patch of dried blood blanketing a section underneath her head.

He felt his insides churn a little, wishing he had not enjoyed a full serving of toast, eggs, bacon and sausages for breakfast, upon seeing the victim's eye that had been torn apart by a bullet.

"What happened?" he asked as a female officer briefed him on the events of witness accounts.

"She was offering room service, came in here to clean. Apparently someone had been hiding in here, shot her and then ran off."

"The one staying in this room?"

"The hotel records show that a young girl had occupied the room between Wednesday, July 12 at four P.M. and Thursday, July 13 at noon."

"Where's the receptionist?" Inspector Owuor asked.

A young woman was brought outside the room's entrance. She was crying at the sight of the body and the inspector wished more than anything if she could just shut up.

Honestly, people die every other fucking day, woman! Now get your shit together!

That was not said out loud except for, "What is your name, Miss?"

"Eve-Evelyn. . . Evelyn Wangūi," she said through a fleet of sobs.

"You received a client yesterday afternoon, Miss Wangūi. A girl. Is that correct?"

"Y-yes."

"Can you describe what she looked like?"

"Well, sh-she, she w-was young, teenager or young adult, I think. Wore glasses and. . ." the receptionist shook even more until she was unable to control her sobbing.

"Miss? Miss!"

The inspector was seconds from losing it when another officer approached him.

"This was retrieved yesterday, sir," he said, handing the inspector what he discovered was a passport.

He looked carefully at the picture of a young girl with curly hair then slammed the passport in the receptionist's face.

"Is this her?"

The receptionist nodded before being escorted out of the premises.

The next witness was the hotel's sentry, who informed the inspector about seeing the girl run out of the building on Saturday morning, followed by a woman.

"It looked as if she was chasing her."

"And what did this woman look like?" asked the inspector.

"She was all in black and I think she was a mzungu, sir."

"A what now?" Inspector Owuor asked incredulously, turning to the female officer next to him, then to the passport still in his hand.

He noticed the details; that the girl was from India and now he had just learned that there was a white woman chasing guests in a hotel. He had to admit, that was one of the more stranger cases he's ever worked on.

"But this is an international hotel," he countered the sentry's statement, "wazungu hutoka na kuingia hapa kila siku!" ("White folks walk in and out of here everyday!").

"Not without checking out, Mkubwa," added the sentry, "and not while running either."

Wiping a hand over his sweaty bald head, Inspector Owuor handed the passport back to the female officer. "Run this through the system asap. I want answers immediately!"

"Yessir!"

He walked back into the room, passing over the dead body, his eyes scanning the floors, the bed until they stopped at the smashed monitor on the wall adjacent to the door.

"What is this?"

"The hotel's virtual customer assistant," another officer offered, "they use them to make orders and request for services like Internet."

"Wow, and they say that it's us who take up all the tax money," Owuor muttered to himself.

He then looked down at the body again, momentarily wondering how a teenage foreigner could actually have done this and whether or not there was something else at play here.

"And for God sake's, where the hell is the coroner team?" he shouted after his own eyes had wandered over to the deformed one of the victim.

"On their way!" someone yelled from outside.

"The building is to remain closed until I say so," Owuor said to no one in particular before making his way outside.

He spotted two COVID patrol agents walk by on the other side of the road and gave them a look of annoyance, daring them to come at him.

Like many other senior officials in law enforcement, Spencer Owuor did not have a vaccination bracelet, nor was he ever vaccinated.

The only ornament on him was his wedding ring which he then looked at, recalling when his wife had tried to talk him into getting a shot.

"Do you really want to die from this virus?" his wife had asked.

"I will die on my own terms, woman!" Owuor had shot back, "I've worked for the government far too long to know when there's a conspiracy brewing!"

Now, here was another conspiracy that was about to put the good old inspector to the test. He just didn't know it yet. What he did know, however, was that he had a criminal to catch.