Later that day, Phil sat in his office on the first floor at Central police station. It was unusually hot on this April morning, and the air conditioning unit in his office was not functioning. Not that it ever did. Even though it was only 9 o'clock in the morning, Phil could feel sweat underneath his armpits.
"Let us quickly run through this together because the boss wants me to see him afterwards. I need your full attention on this one," started Phil as he addressed Nawa seated opposite him across his ageing desk. Dusty red and blue folders, a black desk phone and a half drank glass of water occupied the desk. On Phil's right side in the corner of the office stood a silver filing cabinet made of aluminum. Next to the cabinet was a forgotten pot of withering flowers.
"What we have on our hands is a suspected suicide case. We don't know who she is and when it happened. Ray is currently doing the autopsy and he will tell us what he will find. But we must find out who she is as soon as possible. For that we don't need his report. How do you suggest we approach this?"
Nawa cleared his throat and then said, “Obviously the first thing we need to do is to question the students and workers at the campus. By now, her fellow students must be aware of what has happened. The story is all over campus as we speak."
"Alright carry on. You may take the Corolla plus one more cop to assist you. I will sign the approval. Let us meet in the afternoon so that you update me. Is that understood?"
"Yes bwana it is clear. Which Corolla should we take? The blue one or white one?"
"The white one."
"That one has a faulty indicator on the right side sir. Also it makes noise when turning."
"It’s the better of the two vehicles my friend. We have only two in our section and yes they are both in need of serious fixing. As for the blue one, it even has no brakes. You need to press hard to find the clutch. Take your pick."
Nawa nodded and then stood up.
“One more thing,” Phil said. “No tempers out there in the field like last time.”
Nawa then left the office with the key.
Phil then walked out of his office, turned left and followed the corridor to the end. He then scaled the stairs. Once on the floor above he went right and knocked on the first door. A female voice said come in. He entered.
"Is Fat Albert in?" Phil asked the secretary who fought unsuccessfully to hide her smile. She said, “The CID Commanding Officer is in. You may enter, sir."
Phil walked across the room and then opened the door without knocking. He let himself inside.
Commanding Officer Mwenda shot a stare at him and then continued reading the Post newspaper. Phil stood in the middle of the office awkwardly, all the while looking at Mwenda's face. He noted that Mwenda had added at least a pound more on his huge frame. His big tummy apparently was the reason Mwenda never tied his jacket buttons. Phil pulled at his thick moustache nervously as he waited.
"Sit down Phil," Mwenda said at last. Phil did so. Folding his newspaper at last, Mwenda told Phil to be coming as soon as he was called, to be knocking as soon as he reached the office, to be entering as soon as he was allowed in.
"Is that understood?" Mwenda asked in his hoarse voice.
"Understood sir."
"I am proceeding on leave next week. I intend to take a holiday. It’s been long since I last rested. Is that clear?"
"Where are you taking your holiday sir?" Phil asked, trying to hide his joy at the pending absence of Mwenda.
"I am going to my village. I haven’t been there since my mother passed away. They might start thinking that I don’t have respect for them, not knowing that it is tough to get time off work here in town."
"I agree with you completely sir."
"I will leave you in charge here, is that clear? I shall sign the Delegation of Authority form on my last day. And it’s imperative that the city of Lusaka remains quiet. Otherwise someone on top may cancel my leave. Is that clear?"
"I understand sir."
"How far are we on those vehicle criminals?" asked Mwenda finally loosening his necktie. He then wiped sweat off his face with his fat hand.
"We still haven't apprehended them sir. We are following some leads which are hopefully taking us to the big fish. An informer alerted us of a garage in Makeni area which strips stolen vehicles into parts which they then sell as spares at a huge profit. We intend to storm it as soon as we put together our logistics."
"How reliable is the source of that information?"
"He is someone who has assisted us with real leads in the past investigations. He helped us track down those foreign car thieves three years ago."
Mwenda nodded. He then took a sip from a glass of water.
"Any other investigations that you are pursuing?"
Phil explained to Mwenda the events of that morning at the university. Mwenda listened attentively without interrupting.
"How did the report reach us?" he asked at last.
"We received an anonymous call at around 06 30 o'clock and I led the team to pick the body."
"Do we know who she is?"
"Not yet sir. But as we speak my team is on the ground to establish her identity. We strongly suspect that she is one of the local prostitutes from those nearby compounds."
"Good. But this clearly is suicide, isn't it?"
"I am certain that it is, sir."
"In that case, establish her identity quickly and inform her relatives, then close the case. It is not in my tradition to commit resources into investigating a suicide case. That is misuse of public resources. I would rather we concentrate more on the vehicle criminals using the Makeni garage lead. That one sounds promising for our careers. The case of a hule who kills herself adds nothing of value to us."
Mwenda then reopened the newspaper and continued reading. From experience Phil knew that their conversation was over. He excused himself and left Mwenda's office.
He walked all the way back to his office with an unusual air of enthusiasm. He smiled as he entered his office.
"Next week, Acting CID Commanding Officer. In two years, what?" He said to himself as he threw a fist in the air. He sat down and then opened the second drawer of his desk. From there he took out his photo album.