The next morning, Michael Tanui drove his whitewashed Ford pickup truck to Karen. He had picked up Preston from his house earlier. After navigating through Kilimani and Junction, they were close to Amara Restaurant, which was only fifteen minutes away. Michael had expected heavy traffic on the notorious two-way lane of Ngong Road, but he seemed to have gotten lucky today as the drive to Amara would have otherwise taken an hour longer.

As he overtook a slow-moving blue Rav4, Michael asked Preston about the blackmail text he had sent to Gary Wako. "What did it mean? 412?"

Preston was gazing out of the window, admiring the warm amber glow of the sun. As he turned to Michael, there was a twinkle in his eyes. He wore a navy blue sweater over a white shirt, which he paired with black khakis.

Preston responded, "412 was the room number where Diane had been treated at the hospital."

Michael nodded, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "Oh, I see. Now I get why he got spooked. It must have felt like his past demons have awakened."

"At least we got a response out of him." Preston noticed an open pack of Marlboros in the console area. He asked, "Do you smoke?"

"Once in a while," replied Michael, "I've been trying to quit, but the urge is always there. you know..like a thirst you can't quench. I hope I get through it eventually."

The truth was that Michael had recently returned to smoking heavily. To mask the smell of burnt tobacco, he kept an earthy, musky perfume in his glove compartment.

"I'd drink to that," said Preston.

As they drove, soft reggae beats rang from the CD player - a Bob Marley song - Redemption Song.

Preston moved his lips in sync with the lyrics:

Won't you help me sing
these songs of freedom

"Hey, Michael, do you ever think about Officer Edward?" Preston suddenly asked.

Michael briefly turned to him before settling his eyes back on the road. "Yes, I do... not as much as I wish I would..but yeah I do think about him. Edward was one of a kind. He was easy to be around, sensitive, and a little bossy, but he always had good intentions. Once, back when we were still partners in the General Crimes Department, Edward had this suspect in the interview room, some drug dealer we had caught in the busy slums of Kawangare. I was having trouble getting anything out of the suspect, I couldn't tell if he was telling the truth or just messing with my head. He had what one would call a spicy sense of humor. But when Edward took his turn to interrogate him, the boy caved. Until now, I never knew how he did it."

Preston added, "He was good at his job. You know, if he were still alive, he would've already solved this case."

"That's for certain. Preston, I don't know about you, but we need to catch these killers. It's no longer just about getting justice for Diane Rucho, but also for Edward and the doctor, and finding Gary Wako."

A few minutes later, Michael pulled his truck to a stop at a red metallic swing gate. There was a high illuminating signage next to the gate that lay on a bed of tufted lilac. The wording read "AMARA RESTAURANT."

A guard dressed in a black uniform came from a small guardhouse and swung the gate open. Michael roared the engine and began to drive down the asphalt skirted all around by trees. The restaurant came into view a minute later. A two-floored building with wood frame construction and concrete slab. The entryway exposed a truss structure. Low protective roof. The facade exterior was in grey veneer.

"Looks massive," said Michael as he closed in on the curb, pressing the gear firmly.

"I would say private. The kind of place where one would frivol around with a mistress" came Preston's response. He stepped out of the truck and pressed his hands against his khaki to remove visible wrinkles. 

The entrance of the building had two female receptionists. One of them appeared busy on a desktop, while the other was looking down at Michael and Preston as they walked in.

"Reservations?" asked the receptionist with bright brown eyes, full lips, and neatly held-back hair. Her name tag read Charity.

"No. We are police officers. We would like to speak with someone in charge here," Preston replied.

"Of course. Just a second," Charity said as she punched a number on a Cisco phone and held the receiver to her ear. "Hello... two police officers...um...I don't know...now...ohh. okay... we'll be there," she ended the call.

"Follow me," she said to them and started walking down the hallway.

The walls along the hallway were in neutral colors of brown, tan, and black, creating a warm feeling. They walked past the half-filled dining area, which had pristine wooden furniture and pastel-coloured walls. There was a sweet aroma of chai in the air. Michael understood why one would want to dine here; the place was exquisite.

Charity led Michael and Preston to an office located near the lavatory. She knocked on the door, opened it when she received a response, then excused herself and left.

Inside, they found a lady sitting behind a wide wooden desk. When she noticed them, she stood up and flashed a smile that revealed her neat white teeth. She had a friendly and approachable look, with average facial features, and Michael estimated her age to be around thirty or thirty-two. The office was quite small, and there was barely enough space for all three of them. Boxes were stacked in one corner, making the room feel even more cramped. The desk was a mess, with piles of files, receipts, and an open notebook scattered all over it. The grilled window let in just enough light to make out the scribbles on the notebook–budget notes, list of names.

"Officers? Emma Ruto, Head of Staff," said the lady as she introduced herself and stretched her hand for a handshake. "What can I do for you?"

After shaking hands with Preston, Michael also shook her hand. Her hand was firm, yet soft.

They took a seat on the metallic chairs across from her desk.

"We are officers from the Nairobi County Police Department. We are investigating the murder of Diane Rucho. I am aware that the day before her murder she was here. Did you know Diane Rucho?" said Preston.

Michael noticed a quick flutter in her eyes, which made her uncomfortable. He wondered why.

"Yes, I did know Diane. We worked together as waiters ten years ago. It's sad what happened to her. She was an amazing person. The world is truly an evil place. I'm sorry, but I don't like to talk about her," replied Emma.

"Why is that, Emma?" asked Preston.

"It's Mrs. Emma," she sharply interrupted. However, Michael noticed that she wasn't wearing a ring.

"Of course, my apologies," said Preston.

Preston repeated his question.

"I now have a five-year-old girl, and I worry about her a lot. I would hate for what happened to Diane to happen to her," Emma replied.

Michael wondered if there was something the Chief of Staff knew that they didn't know.

"You said you worked as waiters with her. Is there anything about that night that you might remember that would be important for the case? Who was she serving that night?" asked Preston.

"Well, ten years is a long time. I obviously can't remember many details. The only thing I know is that that night Diane was serving the special tables and she was ecstatic because the pay would be hefty."

"Special? Like special guests?" asked Michael.

"Yes. Big people. Politicians. Businessmen. Influential people. You know...the kind that had large pockets."

Politicians. Preston suddenly remembered Martin Otieno's choice of words. High Jingo.

Preston reached for his phone and pressed it forward to Emma's face. "Was this man among those she was serving?"

Mrs. Emma Ruto shook her head. "I don't know. We were serving different tables. I never got to see her guests. Who is that though?"

"Gary Wako. Does the name mean anything to you?"

"No. I'm sorry. I don't know him. Maybe he was among the guests she was serving, or maybe not. I don't know. Do you think he had something to do with her shooting?"

"We still don't have a suspect. We are talking to anyone who was seen with her in the days leading to her murder."

She leaned forward, clasping her hands onto the desk. "If that is the case, then you should also be talking to her boyfriend. He was here that night. I know so because after having served her tables, Diane came to me and said that she would step outside for a little while. Her boyfriend was waiting for her in the parking lot. That was the last time I ever saw her."

"Do you have evidence to corroborate this?" asked Preston.

"No. Her words are all I have. Look, as much as I would like to help with the investigation, I would also appreciate it if you kept the restaurant out of the loop. We do not want any publicity right now, especially one where there is murder involved. If you don't mind, I have a lot to do," she added.

Back in the car, Preston asked Michael, "What do you think about Emma?"

"Reminds me a lot of the drug dealer. Can't tell if she was messing with our minds or not. And that reference to her daughter not ending up the same as Diane, I don't think it was necessary unless she knew about the assault and maybe even witnessed it."

"Exactly my thoughts. What I don't doubt is the boyfriend part. I think it's time we looked for this 'Big Ted.' Do you mind going to Kibera Station a bit later?"