The Lollipop Flew Away (Mike Sanse Mysteries Book 1)

By Anthony Mugo

Emilio Gitonga is murdered following a quarrel with Bob Gitau, his son. In the quarrel father disowns son and son threatens father's life. When Bob is found at the scene of crime holding the murder weapon he is put on trial. His fate appears to be sealed until his wife hires Mike Sanse, a former CID officer now a private investigator, to interrogate the case. The judgment is a week away. Sanse has a week to stop the bank from repossessing his home. Can the police stand being challenged? Did Bob kill his father? If not, can Sanse navigate the web of deception, blackmail and greed in time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Mugo
• Release date: Jun 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370618309

Anthony Mugo

Anthony Mugo was fourteen when he read The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie. By the time he got to the last page he knew he wanted to become a mystery writer. His dream was realized with the publication of the Mike Sanse murder Mysteries Series. His Young Adult novella, Never say Never, is based on his struggles at getting an education. It won him the Burt Award. He won the same prize in 2014 with Ask the Stars. When Anthony Mugo is not writing he is reading. When he is not reading he is writing. He lives in Nairobi with his wife, son and daughter.

Book preview

The

Lollipop

Flew Away

A Mike Sanse mystery

Anthony Mugo

Published by Anthony Mugo

Copyright ©2016 by Anthony Mugo

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews – without the permission in writing from its publisher, Anthony Mugo.

[e-mail]

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of contents

Disclaimer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

List of characters

About Anthony Mugo

Connect with Anthony Mugo

Other titles by Anthony Mugo

An excerpt of Darling... I Need Your Corpse

Chapter 1

The court was full. The defendant, Robert ‘Bob’ Thuo, a wasted, twenty-year-old youth with the face of an older man, appeared oblivious to the storm gathering around him. His sunken, close-set eyes oscillated between the judge and the prosecutor finally settling on the audience. Grace Nduta, his wife, appeared shaken for reasons best known to her. Jeremiah Wira, his uncle, was in a trance. Why the heck was he muttering to himself? Then there was the audience, a pathetic, holier-than-thou mob that attended burials for a first-hand story. He couldn’t hate them enough.

Bob’s confidence that truth would set him free had long thawed to be survived by dread. The prosecution was painting such a twisted picture he was confused. Of late a few shillings’ worth of the poisons they called alcohol was enough to knock him out cold. Indeed he had woken up in the ditch a couple of times. Nevertheless, could he kill someone – his own father – and forget?

The prosecutor, Edwin Ponyi, a forty-something, six feet tall man with broad shoulders, wiped his face with a handkerchief, his eyes glancing at the stalled fan momentarily as if in a plea. His manner said it all: this was his stage and sending criminals to jail was his mission in life. On the stand was Elizabeth Watene, his star witness.

What did the defendant say? Ponyi asked.

That he would kill Gitonga, Elizabeth said.

All eyes were on the defendant who appeared subdued.

Let’s go to the evening of the same day, Ponyi said.

I had gone out for fresh air when I heard raised voices coming from my brother’s house.

What did you hear?

Gitonga and Bob were quarrelling about a woman. Gitonga said that the woman loved him. Bob said that she was his wife. Gitonga said that Bob could have the woman’s body but not her heart. Bob said Gitonga would have neither because he would be dead within seconds. A commotion erupted and I wailed for help.

Who is the woman at the centre of the quarrel? Ponyi asked.

Grace Nduta, Bob’s wife. She was once Gitonga’s lover.

All eyes turned to Grace who cupped her face in her hands.

Go on.

Some neighbours answered my distress call and we set on forcing the front door. We moved to the rear door which is lighter only to find it open. Bob lay unconscious outside the door holding a hammer. We dashed to the sitting room where Gitonga lay sprawled on the floor, de- dead.

It was the defendant’s time to question the witness.

Why do you hate me so? Bob asked feebly.

This is not about love or hate; it is about what I witnessed.

You want to take my father’s wealth. I want the world to know that I didn’t kill him!

Do you have any question? the judge interjected.

I didn’t kill…!

Order! Order! Shouting will not give you better results.

I was ambushed. It is true!

Any questions? The judge asked. The defendants shook his head. He was sobbing.

The next witness, a slender, tall bespectacled man in his fifties, was sworn in. His beard ran thick and wild, a momentous contrast with his bald scalp. He exuded the confidence of one who has walked a particular path a thousand times.

Tell the court your name please, Ponyi said.

Alfred Shikuri your honour, the man said in soprano.

What is your profession, Mr. Shikuri?

I am a pathologist, your honour.

For how long have you been a pathologist?

Shikuri scratched his scalp in recall. Twenty-five years.

Ponyi nodded appreciatively. "You must be very experienced, Doctor Shikuri."

Thank you, your honour.

Now, did you carry out an autopsy on Mr. Emilio Gitonga?

Yes your honour.

Kindly furnish the court with your findings.

But for a smashed skull the deceased’s body was fit enough, the doctor said. The damage on the skull must have resulted from repeated blows by a heavy, blunt object.

Ponyi walked from the witness box to the defendant’s and, facing him, asked: So, Doctor, in your professional view, what caused Mr. Gitonga’s death?

The doctor cleared his throat. The deceased died from excessive haemorrhage and brain damage. The blow at the back of the head impaired the medulla oblongata which controls the heartbeat, blood pressure and breathing among other vital functions of the body.

Ponyi walked to the clerk’s table and picked a hammer in a polythene bag. It was introduced earlier as evidence.

This, for the reference of the court is exhibit A. Now, Doctor Shikuri, you were requested to classify the blood on exhibit A. What did you find?

The blood group on exhibit A is O.

And what is the blood group of the deceased?

Blood group O your honour.

Thank you sir. That is all.

The defendant had no questions for the witness. Silence ensued as the judge scribed away furiously. He stopped, removed his glasses and studied the court.

Thank you for the business of the day, the judge said. Robert Thuo Gitonga versus the Republic adjourns until October 31st.

His gavel landed on the table.

Chapter 2

Grace forced her way through the human traffic milling out of the courthouse. She knocked a tall man off balance who turned to look at his aggressor, his look carrying more amusement than annoyance.

Slow, madam, easy does it.

Grace turned to offer an apology and gasped. Mr. Rumu! I am so sorry.

Grace! Rumu shook Grace’s hand, his bulk towering over her. You look dreadful.

It doesn’t get any worse, does it? Grace said. Bob is telling the truth, you know.

In a court of law truth is rarely enough particularly against a man of Ponyi’s experience.

I must do something. I just don’t know what.

You need someone to look into the mugging angle, Rumu said scribbling an address and a name on a piece of paper. He is the best.

Grace studied the piece of paper, thanked Rumu and took off. She was a twenty-one year old mobile hour-glass in cream top and red skirt designed to conceal as much as it revealed. She fanned herself with the palm of her hand as she closed the road. An approaching car swerved to avoid her. She didn’t see it. She didn’t hear the driver’s obscenities either. Her mind was far, far away. She had made the wrong decisions once too often she was about to pay dearly. If Bob was convicted all would be lost. As matters stood, that was almost a certainty.

Kathare was a town on the move with new buildings and businesses mushrooming every day. It came as a surprise to Grace that a private detective had set up shop too. Nyota House stood off the main street; a three-storey relic with a steep staircase whose climb gave a low opinion of the intended saviour. She stopped for a breather at the second floor. The corridor before her was dim and empty. She walked half-heartedly and stopped at door no. 23. A fresh, handwritten tag read: GENIUS INVESTIGATIONS. She pushed the door and walked into a tiny office. At the middle was a small office table. On the table was an empty tray. At the table sat a man who struggled to his feet to welcome her. He towered over the small table, his frame bent forward seemingly too frail to stand upright. A quick look at his face suggested stupidity, but his eyes were alive, keen and intelligent.

He was drunk.

Welcome to Genius Investigations, the man said.

I want to see Michael Sanse.

At your service.

Grace’s eyes squinted. Her intended saviour, if at all the skeleton in front of her was Mike Sanse, could save nobody. If anything he himself needed saving. Rumu was wrong. She turned to leave.

How was the honeymoon?

Grace turned sharply to face the man. Excuse me? Sorry I bothered you.

Grace stormed out and hurried down the staircase into the afternoon sun. She felt bitter with Rumu and the world. How could Rumu pair her with a drunk to counter the police? Heavens, she could achieve more on her own. Come to think of it, she could go on a hunger strike, or even threaten to strip…

She dialled Rumu’s number. How could you? Heavens, my husband’s life is on the line yet you send me to a wino?

Enough, young lady! You are abusing a man of honour. Mr. Sanse is the best detective I ever came across. But for him hordes of crimes would still be unsolved today. I have a testimony. Some years ago my son was kidnapped. The kidnappers wanted one million in cash. Well, I didn’t have that kind of money. I offered what I had, six hundred thousand but they insisted on a million. Sanse saved Christian. Don’t ask me how. He stopped to let it sink. There is something you should know. Mr. Sanse was ever a true professional. He loved two things in life: his family and work. He lost his family six months ago. He also lost his job.

How many kids?

Three.

All dead?

Yes. I personally financed his undertaking. Now, don’t question my judgement. If anyone can do anything then it is Mr. Sanse. Go back to him.

Grace stood rooted. She felt as if she had physically hit a wall. The staircase was a sure turn-off, but it was the act of baring her soul to a drunk that made her weary. After a long thought she decided that she stood to lose little. She would only burn some fat, waste a few minutes and get her ego bruised. She had lost a lot already and was about to lose everything. She started up the staircase reluctantly.

Grace took time to re-appraise the office. That the man was drunk was a fact. However, everything else about him was remarkable. The grey Kaunda suit would have sat him better if he were five kilos heavier. His hair part was so perfect his hair could have been held in place with glue. On his left hand was an expensive Omex watch. A trilby hat was perched on the coat stand.

Why do you think I am newly married? Grace asked.

"Your ring has a gold-coat that fades easily. Yours is perfect. You couldn’t have lost one because your finger is