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Every Saturday, Tilly met with a group of friends to walk in the Sigiria Block of Karura Forest. They went right as the park opened at six in the morning to beat the weekend crowds. It was a nice way to catch up and give their dogs, not to mention themselves, some exercise. This Saturday, as they walked along one of the sloping trails leading to the off-leash area, Tilly told her friends about her plans.
“So, I can set up this business, and even hire one or two people if it grows. It’ll take time for the paperwork, but it’s going to happen. I think I’m going to call it,” she paused and raised her free hand as if unveiling the name, “Nairobi SetUp.”
“That’s fantastic!” said Nadia, who worked in the Economic Division of the German embassy. “Does this mean you plan to stay long term in Nairobi?”
“Absolutely! I never want to leave!”
“I feel the same way, but, sadly, that’s not an option for us. We’re hoping to extend our post for another two years, but I don’t know if the embassy will allow it. We’ll see what happens.”
“We’d rather stay here,” muttered Dan, who was morose about his family’s impending return to the UK.
“I know,” Tilly said to him. “It sucks that you have to move. But you can still visit. BA flies almost daily between Heathrow and JKIA, right? Plus, you know you can always stay with us.”
“That’s not quite the same but thank you. We may take you up on the offer at some point. The kids are going to be depressed living in London after having places like Karura in easy reach.”
“I know,” Tilly said. “I can’t imagine life without access to nature. We’re spoiled by all this beauty. You know, I even love the rains.”
Dan snorted. “Please. No one loves the rains, but I agree on the rest.”
As they got close to the off-leash area, the dogs started to pull, excited to play. The area consisted of a big, flat clearing edged by an oval trail that looped around a large, grassy field. There were a few trees at either end, but it was mostly open and made for a perfect space for playing. The dogs loved to run and chase each other through there. They considered it as their private playground. Letting their dogs loose, the three of them stood back and watched. The sight of the dogs racing through the tall, wild grass never got old.
They kept talking as they walked along the trail. Tilly was about to share the details on her business model when they heard a wail. She broke into a run.
“What the hell is that noise?” Dan asked.
“It’s Simba,” Tilly shouted back to him.
Karura had snakes. Something else could have gotten to Simba, but snakes were Tilly’s big fear. Tilly needed to move fast. If Simba was bitten, there wouldn’t be time to waste. Her family’s first dog died from a snake bite. She swore she wouldn’t let that happen again. She would need to rush to the vet before the toxins could take hold. She was plotting the fastest way to the vet when she caught sight of Simba and hurried over to examine the dog. She was checking Simba for any signs of venom poisoning when something caught her eye. Surprised, she fell over backward from her squatted position. She got back up and went in for a better look.
She blinked a few times. Was she seeing things, or was that a foot in a running shoe? She peered closer and saw the entire body. It was a petite woman. Tilly scanned up the body toward the face and saw golden amber eyes that seemed to stare back at her. She gasped and then cringed in horror as the other dogs ran over and sniffed the body. Fighting back her gag reflex, she wished she had worked harder at the Leave It command with her own dogs. It wasn’t going to be easy to get their attention away from the body. Thankfully, she had brought along high-value treats—cheese and cut-up sausage that no dog could resist.
Except for Simba, Tilly was able to lure all of the dogs over to her. Simba, still wailing, refused to leave the body. She managed to put the dog on leash and, with a large amount of coaxing, pull her away from the body. She clipped a leash onto her other dog and turned to face her friends. She gestured for everyone else to stop from coming any closer.
“There’s something bad here. Call your dogs back to you and get them back on leash. Use your best treats to call them to you. You’ll need the good stuff because this is really bad.” She held the leashes tight in one hand and used the other to fish her phone out of her belt bag.
“What is it? What did they find?” Nadia asked as she got out her own treat bag.
Focused on her phone call, Tilly didn’t respond to her.
“Hi. My name is Tilly Fleming. I’m in the off-leash area at Sigiria. I found a body...I think I know who it is.”
#
Tilly waited for the Kenya Forest Service rangers and police to arrive on the scene. Nadia and Dan returned to the parking lot with all of the dogs, no doubt speaking with rangers on the way back. Nadia would drop off Lottie and Simba, allowing Tilly to speak with the authorities without having to manage two excited and stressed-out dogs. Simba, who could not stop crying and howling, was distraught. She refused to leave. Dan had to pick her up and carry her out of the off-leash area.
Completely alone in the field, Tilly kept watch. It wasn’t seven a.m. yet and most of Nairobi was fast asleep. Even though the forest was all but empty, she wanted to stand guard and make sure no one, be it human or animal, disturbed the body. After all, this was Zara. This was her friend.
The tall, straw-like grass scratched at her legs as she circled Zara. Once the rainy season arrived, this dry field would become marshy. Some years it completely flooded over, forming a shallow lake. Tilly looked up at the sky, thankful the rains had not started yet. Zara would have been at the bottom of a muddy pond. The way she was now was bad enough. Tilly shuddered as her mind flashed back to the dead frog at Hell’s Gate. Zara was lying more or less the same way, splayed out flat on her back.
Tilly’s mind raced. Who could have done this? Why would anyone want to kill Zara? How could this have happened, and here of all places? It’s so safe now, not like it was ages ago. It’s fenced and gated at night. People come here all the time, she thought. Karura is a popular place. There are always people here. How could anyone get away with...Her train of thought came to a halt as she realized there were quiet periods in Karura—such as that very moment—that would be the perfect time for murder. The forest was almost empty and there weren’t many park rangers on patrol yet. If something were to happen to her as she waited, there would be no witnesses.
On edge, she kept waiting in the relative quiet of the forest. Thirty minutes passed and no one came to the off-leash area, not even an early morning jogger or cyclist. Another ten minutes passed. The sudden snap of tree branches broke the silence and sent a chill up her spine. She turned to see green-clad forest rangers and uniformed police officers coming toward her. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
“Over here,” she called out, waving both arms. “She’s over here.”
“Mrs. Fleming,” a tall, lean Kenyan man in a suit called over to her. “Come out to the path. Our team, along with the forest rangers, will secure the area and examine the body.”
Tilly did as she was told and walked over to the man.
“Did you touch the body at all,” asked a uniformed police officer as he began to cordon off the field.
Tilly’s throat suddenly dried, making it difficult to talk. She shook her head no. She swallowed a few times before attempting to speak. “No, sir. I only looked. Some of the dogs sniffed around her, but I don’t think they did much other than that.”
“You say you know the victim?” the man in the suit asked her.
Tilly nodded.
“We will go to the Gigiri police station as it’s the closest. We can take your formal statement there. In the meantime, you can answer a few questions as we walk to the car park.”
“Okay,” she managed.
“I’m Inspector Simon Mutua. I will manage the investigation along with my boss, Chief Inspector Omondi. You will meet him at the station. He’s waiting for us there.”
“Okay.” Tilly felt foolish giving meek, one-word replies, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“You found the body this morning?”
Tilly nodded.
“How many of you saw the body?”
“Only me. The dogs found her, and I ran after the dogs. My friends stayed on the path.”
“I see,” he said, taking notes as they followed the path back to the park entrance. “Tell me, how do you know the victim?”
“I met her last year on safari in the Mara. We became friends.”
“I see. You knew her well?”
“Well enough, I suppose. We’re not always spending time together, but we socialize. I was with her in Naivasha for a weekend not long ago.”
“When was that?”
Tilly thought for a moment. “About a month ago.”
“Here we are. We can get further details once we’re at the station,” he said as they reached the parking lot.
On a normal Saturday at eight a.m., the lot would usually be at least half full. Today, it was near empty. Armed forest rangers blocked the gate, the only entrance to and exit from the lot, and turned away people trying to enter the forest. The only vehicles in the parking area were the police cars and her Defender.
“I assume that is your vehicle?” Mutua asked, pointing at Tilly’s Defender.
“Yes.”
“It’s a beauty.” He walked around it, admiring it from all angles and jotting a few notes. “What year was it made?”
“It’s a 2015 model.”
“One of the last of the original Defenders. She’s beautiful.”
The car talk put Tilly at ease. She started to relax. She could relate to the inspector. He was a fellow Defender enthusiast.
“It is. Land Rover stopped making them three years ago in 2016,” she said. “They wanted to totally revamp it. I hear they’re going to start testing the new model later this year.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I heard that too. They’re going to do the tests here in Kenya, I believe. Is this color custom? It must be. I love the blue.”
“It was, in fact. I had the boot custom cushioned too, for the dogs.”
“It’s a very nice vehicle,” said Mutua after examining its full exterior. “All right. Please, kindly follow me back to the Gigiri station. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve been living in Gigiri for almost ten years. I can follow you. No problem.”
#
The interview at the police station was short. They took down Tilly’s personal information and her statement about finding Zara. The inspectors asked when the Naivasha girls’ weekend happened, which was in late February. They asked when she last saw Zara, which was at her party. Other than that, she wasn’t able to offer anything useful to the inspectors. They asked her questions about Zara and about their relationship. Tilly was embarrassed at how little she knew.
She knew Zara had housemates, but Tilly had never met any of them, nor had she been to Zara’s house. She hadn’t met any of Zara’s other friends. She didn’t know where Zara worked, other than that it was at one of the UN agencies. It might have been WFP, or UNDP, or another one of the UN acronyms, she thought. She wasn’t sure how long Zara had been in Nairobi and guessed that it had been about a year. She could guess at Zara’s age, but she didn’t know for sure.
As she made the five-minute drive to her home from the station, she realized how little she knew about any of her friends in Nairobi. She knew John well—they had been friends for over a decade and had met before she and Dave moved to Kenya. There were five or six other people she knew well. These were other expats who were in Kenya long term. However, most people simply passed through Nairobi, leaving after four or five years at most. The embassy people left every two or three years. Since so many people were transient, Tilly often didn’t bother to learn the details.
The specifics rarely ever matter, she thought as she drove through the compound gate and into her driveway. Her social circle was like a revolving door. People drifted in and out all the time. We’re quick to make friends and take advantage of the short amount of time together. We rarely ever get all the details in the rush of it all. She could cut herself some slack on what she did and didn’t know about them.
Then something occurred to her. There was one constant about the Nairobi expat bubble. Everyone was connected.
Should I have said something about Curt?
#
Later that night, all the outdoor lights were off in Tilly’s compound. Inside, every single curtain was drawn and only a few dimmed lamps were turned on. It was early April, and despite predictions of drought, the rains had started. Right on cue, as on every first night of every rainy season, the termites were out, flying and mating in a frenzy. They were attracted to light and would swarm around any source they found. The relative darkness, plus having two dogs that loved to eat the flying insects, served as a barrier from a termite invasion inside the house.
Tilly sat sideways on the couch with her legs stretched out, trying to unwind. She found the darkness relaxing, but that feeling was negated by the thought of all the termite wings, shed after mating, that would need to be swept up in the morning. It was not a one-person job and she and the boys would work with Caroline to clean it all up tomorrow. She took in a breath and let out a long sigh. She needed to turn off her brain.
Dave had opened a bottle of Spier Chenin Blanc. This was not the may-as-well-be-medicinal wine Tilly drank after calls with her mother. This was her favorite, South African white wine. Usually, they only drank it on special occasions. Tonight, they brought it out for a different reason.
“To Zara,” Dave said. He raised his glass.
“To Zara. She didn’t deserve this.”
“I can’t believe this. We just saw her. She was right here, at our house.”
“I know. I was going to get in touch with her after Pauline got a little more sorted.”
“She’s still out, by the way.”
“Who? Oh, right. Pauline. She was going to go get some stuff from her house. I’ll need to tell her about Zara when she gets back.”
Tilly shifted uncomfortably. She thought about Curt and Zara. She thought about the comment Pauline made yesterday about hiding a body. She remembered John’s warning about both Curt and Pauline. He said Curt was shady and that she should also stay clear of Pauline. She thought about how, as with Zara, she didn’t know many details of Pauline’s life either. Could Pauline have done this? Tilly shook her head. She’s not a murderer. I know that much. She looked at Dave. She knew he understood her concern.
“She had nothing to do with it,” he assured her. “They’ll rule her out quickly.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“This wasn’t someone hoping he, or she, could secretly dump a body in Karura like before. You know, before Wangari Maathai fought to get it protected and all cleaned up...You said Zara was right in the middle of the off-leash dog area?” Dave got up from the armchair to pour them both more wine as he reasoned out loud. “It’s big, open, and level ground. It’s not a hiding place. Whoever did this wanted her found—Jesus, it’s a good thing she was found before the rains started. That field floods. She would have been sunken deep into the muck.
“My point is that this was a criminal’s message. It was a planned hit. Nothing about this screams of a jealous spouse.”
“What screams of a jealous spouse?” Pauline walked into the room.
Tilly choked on her wine but quickly recovered. She waved a hand to the other armchair, signaling Pauline to sit. Dave fetched a glass for Pauline. He gave it a large pour and handed it to her.
“Here, you’re going to need this.”