"The photo you are looking at, who is in it?" Mercy asked Phil suspiciously. Her eyes were on his clean-shaven hard cheekbones which were a proper fit with his large forehead. By merely staring at his muscular body shape and broad shoulders, she could sense an air of authority inside the office.
"This is my mother, silly. The photo was taken in 1997. This was just before I went to watch the soccer match between Zambia and South Africa."
"That is like fifteen years ago right?"
"Right. My mother was young and pretty as you can see. Where were you in 1997 if I may ask?"
Letting out a girlish giggle, Mercy replied, “I was in grade seven."
"I am sure the boys were already all over you even at that time."
She smiled and looked down, and Phil noticed the dimples which formed on her round chicks. Her pink painted lips were thin and her eyes were large. She had natural well-trimmed eyebrows. She wore a silky beige dress which Phil found arousing as it matched her light complexion.
"And did you then have any idea that you would end up working for the Zambia police?" Phil asked with a smile in return.
"Not really. I wanted to be a doctor. But my dad guided me into IT. And he is the one who organized this internship job for me."
"Your father was a tough politician."
They allowed a few seconds of silence to pass before Phil said, "By the way I was in grade eleven in 1997. I too had no intentions of being a cop. I wanted to be a soccer player like Kalusha Bwalya or Lucky Ms'iska. Now those two were my favorite wingers. They made me love watching soccer. But my mother- the beautiful lady in this picture- wouldn't accept my ambition. She wanted me to be an accountant instead."
Putting the photo down, Phil continued, "You see, my mother was a single mom. She struggled for every little crumb of bread we had. Anything we ever came across was a result of her sweat. She used to work for a family in Northmead as a maid. We were staying in Garden compound then. And despite the little money that we were living on, she made sure that I went to school. She forced me to do my school assignment."
Mercy held his glance and then slowly asked, "What about your father?"
"I never met him. But my mom told me that my father was the husband of the lady that she was working for as a maid. That is how she became pregnant with me. Father never married mom. He stuck with his wife. Instead the family fired mom from her job. After I was born she looked for another job as a maid. And so on."
Mercy nodded but said nothing. Phil pulled at his moustache.
"The decision to be a policeman was made just after the match between Zambia and South Africa in 1997. I know it sounds funny but it’s true. Mom had given me enough money for a ticket to watch Kalusha Bwalya live, but I decided to enter the stadium for free using illegal means so that I could use the money for something else," Phil said with a smile.
Then he continued, "But after climbing the fence and jumping in, a policeman saw and came running after me. I tried to run away but he caught me. Then he gave me one slap which made me fly to the ground. The slap made my head spin and I saw stars for a while. There and then my decision was made to be a cop. I wanted to be able to dish out such slaps as part of my job also. And so here I am."
Mercy let out a hearty laugh. Then she asked, "Did you even enjoy the game by the way?"
"Oh yes. Zambia assembled a very good side with players like Kalusha, Jonson, and Joel Bwalya. Then we had the giant Elijah Litana at the back alongside Wawa. In front we had Dennis Lota and Mwape Miti. It was exciting and we roared and cheered each time Zambia took possession."
"What about Lucky M’siska?"
"By that time he was no longer in the national team. His time had passed."
“And how did the South Africans play?”
“They were African champions when they came. But even then, we were not convinced that they could beat us. We all believed that their championship of 1996 was a mere fluke. They too knew what we thought and they appeared scared of us. But as the game progressed, they surprised us with their well co-ordinated passing style. They literally closed down Kalusha Bwalya. I think they put their captain Neil Tovey to do the job. It was a tough battle. Also, they added to their team a guy called Jerry Sikosana. That guy was literally released from jail in order to play against Zambia.”
“Really? Why was he in jail?”
“Armed robbery.”
Mercy shook her head and then asked, “How did he play?”
“He played very well. He was a master at dribbling and shooting at goal. He gave our defender, Aggrey Chiyangi a torrid time that day.”
"So what were the scores?"
"Zero-Zero."
Mercy put up a face of surprise and said, "But still you maintain ati it was a good Zambian team?"
"It was a good team. The only obstacle was that there were problems in the team between Kalusha Bwalya and Charles Musonda. In the end, Musonda never even played in that match. He said he had suddenly pulled a muscle and was no longer fit to play. So I think we played as a divided unit. That was the last time the national team heard of Charles Musonda. He had been a brilliant midfielder by world standards."
Just then the phone on Phil's desk rang. He picked it and said hello.
"Hello? Am I talking to Detective Officer Phil?" the caller said.
"Speaking," replied Phil.
"Alright, this is Ray from Pathology."
"Yes Ray, I was waiting for your call. What do you have for me?"
"I am done with the initial examination of the woman that we found this morning at the university ponds. We found heroin in her blood."
"Heroin? She died of heroin overdose?"
"So far that is what we have."
"Alright we shall involve the narcotics section in this investigation to tackle the drug angle. Am not surprised though, most prostitutes use drugs."
There was silence for five seconds before Ray asked, “Have you established her identity?"
"My team is working on it as we speak. I hope we can establish her identity today."
"Good luck."
"Thanks Ray. By the way when can I have the full autopsy report?"
"By end of day today. Or latest tomorrow morning."
"Alright. I will wait. Bye."
"Bye."
Phil let out a sigh.
Mercy asked, "Was that the pathologist guy? The shy light skinned guy?"
"Yes that's Ray. So you like him right?"
"Ah you also, I was only asking," said Mercy defensively.
"He says she died of drug overdose."
"Meaning she didn't drown?"
"She took the drug and then strayed into the pond in a state of intoxication. That's my speculation. Let's wait for the full report from Ray."
Mercy excused herself and then stood up to leave. Phil watched her as she walked out of his office, his eyes fixed on her youthful swinging hips and bottom. He sniffed longingly as her perfume filled the air.