All for the money
It was a terrible news. Dr Zungu was dead and all eyes were on his twenty-four-year-old wife. The frail old man was discovered dead along the narrow dirt road near his palatial mansion.
All the neighbours got a chance to peep into his well-furnished house with both envy and pity written on their faces. They knew it, Mrs Zungu married him for his money. How could it be love between the two?
Little Malian, the six-year-old neighbour, looked through her window and was fascinated by the yellow tapes with which the police surrounded the house.
She had only seen it on TV and was surprised that the police in Boma had it since the state police never seemed to have anything. He knew her father hated the police. It was easy to see his hatred after each strange "handshake" as he drove her to school.
"Daddy, why do you shake the policemen? Is it because your driving licence has expired?" Her innocent eyes widened as she looked on earnestly for an answer.
"Oh, that. How did you know my driver's licence had expired?"
"I overheard you talking to Mummy yesterday about renewing the licence. You said you did not want traffic police to disturb you along the road."
"What did I tell you about eavesdropping?"
"What is Eve's dropping, daddy?"
"Malian, it is called EAVESDROPPING, one word spelt E-A-V-E-D-R-O-P-P-I-N-G. It is when you listen to things to which you are not supposed to listen."
"Ok, daddy. It is a bad behaviour done by bad children. But I was not eavesdropping. I only overheard you and Mummy talking since your door was open."
Well, no one could have faulted such flawless logic. He smiled inwardly and continued driving. One day she would make a great lawyer.
"Daddy, Mrs Zigo said that Mrs Zungu was a gold digger. Is that why they are so wealthy?"
"Never mind what Mrs Zigo said. She says a lot of things."
Mrs Zigo the neighbourhood gossip had echoed the sentiments of many people living at Moon Crescent, a middle-income suburb of the town. The relationship between the good family doctor in his late seventies and the twenty-four-year-old former beauty queen was at first attributed to boredom and loneliness on the part of the doctor.
When they finally got married, the whole town attended en masse to catch a glimpse of the lady who they swore married him for his money. Their conviction was even more solidified when they got to know her past acquaintances and flings had been strings of rich old men and wealthy retired footballers. No one doubted for a second the marriage was for love. They all swore she was only in it for the money, while she patiently waited for the doctor's death to inherit all his money.
Dr Zungu's first marriage produced no children. His wife died in a freak accident in a big shopping mall parking lot ten years ago. A truck, parked carelessly in neutral, rolled off and pinned her against the wall. By the time anyone realised what had happened it was too late.
The new wife, when questioned by the police, displayed all the signs that you would get from someone who recently lost a loved one. But the detectives noticed something off, she has the air of someone that committed a crime. But the truth is, you cannot arrest someone based on instincts not backed by cold, hard, irrefutable facts. Even though their instincts pointed to her. They just have to wait for her to make a slip.
The man's death made her the sole heir since the previous marriage was a childless one. The detectives worked painstakingly looking for clues that will point them to the killer. Unfortunately, the search turned up empty.
Seated in a daze in the hall-sized sitting room was the recent widow. She showed the classic characteristic of someone in shock. She could be in shock or it could also be that she was a good actress. The sharp eyes of Detective Pato did not miss any details. It had scrutinised the hands and found no scratch marks or evidence of a struggle. They also took a swab of her hands to check for gunpowder residue.
The forensic team took the deceased away after they took loads of pictures. They had just finished the search of the area where the good doctor died. After hours of search, they found the bullet embedded on an old tree trunk, just a few meters from where the doctor died.
The investigators are looking for a murder weapon, so far nothing has been found. Whosoever shot the doctor, also went away with the weapon. If there's no weapon and no suspect, apart from the devastated wife, it appeared the death could be just another unsolved murder.
It was the second week of fruitless investigations, tips and reports flooded Boma police telephone line, which kept the investigators busy pursuing any lead that looked promising. They were all dead ends.
Meanwhile, back at the office, the phone rang for the umpteenth time, and the tired emergency responder picked.
"This is the police emergency number, how may I help you?"
"Hello Officer, I'd like to report a sighting of something that I saw," the shrill voice at the end whispered.
Oh no, not again, the tired detective working the phone sighed. This could just be another bored child or a prankster disguising her voice with a voice-altering software. They have had quite a few of such pranksters call in with fake tips while fishing for information.
"Hello, where are you calling us from?" Detective Rogers replied in a professional voice.
"My room, near the window," came the raspy voice of the caller.
"Please, this is police emergency number, we do not like people making the line busy for others who may have genuine police needs."
"My name is Malian, my friends call me Mally. I live very close to Dr Zungu. I saw the big balloons go up after I heard the loud bang."
In the background, the detective could hear a voice, which sounded like the parents, "Who are you talking to on the phone?" He could hear the word, "The police, Daddy" whispered in reply.
"What did I tell you about calling up random strangers?" the voice continued.
Next, there was a shuffle and an adult voice came on the line, "Hello officer, sorry about that, it was my six-year daughter. They just taught them about emergency numbers today at school. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, she has an overactive imagination."
"No problem Sir, do you happen to be neighbours with the recently deceased Dr Zungu?" he inquired.
"Yes, that was a nasty piece of business. I hope you catch the killer."
"We are on it. Thank you, " and the line went dead.
The detective looked at the big clock in the office, it was 6 PM. That means that was the last call for the day.
This was the first murder in decades and the pressure from the Police Commissioner could be felt in all quarters. He wanted to be renominated, therefore the fate of that hanging in the balance if one of the high profile members of the community's murder cannot be solved.
The autopsy report revealed he was shot in the chest area, a single bullet straight through the heart.
The two detectives, Pato and Opa his colleague, were in a fast food joint eating a doughnut.
"You know the commissioner promised any detective that cracked the case an automatic promotion," Opa said in between mouthful.
"Yes, I already know that he desperately wants the nomination which comes up in two months," Pato hated politics, the constant running around appeasing people.
"I think Dr Zungu killed himself," Opa said, his eyes mischievous.
"Oh yes, he did. He shot himself."
"Thank you! I thought I was the only one that had thought of that," Opa said happily.
"I agree with you, he shot himself on the chest, died, and still somehow managed to get rid of the murder weapon so that the pretty wife could collect two million dollars of life insurance!"
"Oh," it dawned on Corporal Opa, that Detective Pato was being sarcastic.
"Seriously, you should consider that angle and stop looking for a phantom killer or an assassin hired by the pretty wife," he laughed again.
Pato was not surprised, this was a man who had worked in the police for more than ten years, he never crossed the rank of a corporal.
It was the third week of investigation when Pato encountered an unusual purchase by Dr Zungu. They were examining both his financial record and that of the wife for any unusual activity prior to his death.
The discovery was a receipt of $65 for helium made a month before his murder. It did not ring any bell, what caught his attention was a purchase of $32 for balloons, made three months by Dr Zungu. He remembered Detective Rogers mentioning a child that called in to inform the police of balloons.
Now, he was intrigued, even though he hated the idea, he wanted to search Dr Zungu's house.
He needed to know more about the doctor's behaviour. These days, all you need to know a man was his internet habit. He applied for a search warrant to search the man's house. The application was immediately denied. The judge was angry, they had searched the house before. Why should they have to go over it again? If they have any strong evidence, the judge encouraged them to bring it on.
Not deterred, he called a hacker he once did a favour by reducing his sentence to community service to help him get the doctor's internet browsing history.
The two-day wait seemed like an eternity. He was relaxing at home on Sunday when a beep on his phone signified a mail just dropped. He clicked on it and it was from the hacker. The subject was simple, The Result. He clicked on it and what he saw made his jaw dropped.
The good doctor had quite a fascination for suicide. Not just any suicide, but suicide that will look like murder. He saw his obsession with insurance, and how to beat it and make sure the next of kin got paid in the event of death. He saw an added bonus from the hacker, it was Dr Zungu's medical record, he has stage two cancer and had planned to go out on his terms, knowing how painful the end would be.
He scrolled further and it all now made sense.The little girl was right. There was a balloon after the bang. All he need do is find the balloon and he would have his murder weapon.
But, if he is to prove that the death is a suicide, the life insurance won't pay any claim. He struggled with this decision and decided to take another bottle of beer.
The End.
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