Sandra and Philipp flew into the Malaga Airport at about eleven. They quickly went to a car rental, swiped Philipp’s Visa Card, then secured a blue Toyota Prado. Within minutes, they settled in it, slammed the accelerator and took off like a jet.
It took them just over half an hour to make it to Marbella.
Leaving the city behind, they reached the golf valley and finally the house where I was living. Having installed surveillance cameras all over the perimeter of my property, I saw the blue Prado the minute it pulled through the gate.
I followed it with my eyes, aware it was a new car at the premises. I saw it park right in front of my home. Unnerved, I stood up and went to the window. Who are these guys?
The answer came when I saw Philipp open the door and stepping out. He walked around and held the passenger door for Sandra.
Seconds later, a knock.
As it was my habit, I peeked into the peephole, and asked, “Who is there?”
I heard Sandra’s giggle, “Mami is so predictable!”
Laughing, I opened the door, embraced them and let them in. Turning to Sandra, I hugged my daughter again, “Couldn’t you call to let me know you were coming?”
“It was his idea,” Sandra said.
Philipp laughed, “You just drop me like that?”
I invited them to sit down. Then I told them about my earlier conversation with Supt. Troon. How I felt he was the toughest detective in the whole world.
“Did he agree to that characterization?” Philipp asked.
I smiled, “He protested it. He thought I was being overly generous with my compliments. That’s how modest he is.”
“The toughest detective?” Philipp pressed.
“Probably the best Scotland Yard ever had.”
“You really mean that?”
I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of home-made mango juice. I brought three glasses and set them on the coffee table. “You ask why I sat he is the toughest?”
Philipp nodded.
“It’s because he has ….. proved himself to be,” I then said.
Philipp seemed impressed. He said, “He must be a veteran crime fighter.”
“He is.”
“A fearless warrior.”
“That’s him.”
“The more reason you have not to go to Kenya. This is my reasoning - that if a great detective like Troon investigated this case, told the world who killed Dr. Ouko, what is there for anybody to add to his conclusions?” He poured the juice into his glass, “I, for one, think his conclusions should be let to stand. There is absolutely no reason for you to go to Nairobi.”
I had to laugh, “That’s why you came, right?”
He nodded.
Sandra was surprised by how swiftly Philipp and I glided into this topic. To her, the Dr. Ouko case was never going to be resolved. Why were so many people wasting their time trying to solve this murder?
Had not also her mother admitted that too many witnesses had already died? That the Kenyans authorities were not really interested to come to the truth? And that even if the truth would be told, Biwott was too cunning to be prosecuted?
Thinking she could add her voice to Philipp’s qualms, she said, “Mami, Philipp has a point.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you insist on going to Nairobi?”
I pointed at the Summon sitting on the dining table. “I have an obligation to tell the truth.”
“But others have already, Mami.”
“There is something they have never said because they did not know.”
“Back to the Committee thing, “ Philipp said. “This new evidence you want to talk about, what is it?”
“I cannot say.”
“Even not to us?”
I shook my head. I went to the kitchen und started to prepare a plate with seafood and salad. Then I decided to go back and sat next to Philipp, “Look ….”
Right then, there was a sharp nock at the door.
A knock?
Here?
I was the first to recover. I tiptoed to the peephole and took a peek. I saw a middle-aged man. He was in a red T-shirt, a new blue pair of Jeans. He wore really dark shades. Who was he?
Unsure that his mission was, I asked, “Who are you? Are you sure, you are at the right address?”
The man said, “Mrs. Marianne Briner-Mattern? I am from a special courier service - I have a message for you.”
“From where?”
“Please open the door.”
