JIJI NDOGO: Where art thou, my dear Sophia?

My wife Sgt Sophia and I are attending a police conference at the Coast. One minute she was sitting right next to me, the next, she’s nowhere to be seen. Here’s where it gets a little weird for me.

Most of you would imagine all kinds of scenarios and go directly to panic mode: She was kidnapped or she slipped, fell and hurt herself. I think that, too, but something you might not know about Sophia is that she is a serial flirt. It doesn’t go anywhere (so far) because I think she does it just to get on my nerves.

So, here she is missing, and one of the scenarios in my head is that she’s gone away with some guy, most likely a hunk in uniform. Mombasa is supposed to be the Paris of Kenya, after all. The city of love.

Then I remember something. Sophia arrived at Jiji Ndogo as part of a witness protection programme because she exposed some bad cops. And now, we are in the midst of cops from all over the country. Some of those bad apples might be right here in Mombasa. Now I’m shaking in my boots. But first, I go back to our hotel room to make sure she’s not there “flirting” with some handsome superintendent.

She’s not there. What I find is a note:

Dear Makini,

Our man marriage is staling because you crossed words with another woman. I see us stuck between ending up dead or worse.

So, I have decided to leave fore ever.

Don’t look for me. Sophie.

I show the note to her father, Inspector Tembo, who also happens to be our boss.

“Oh my God!” he cries. “You finally managed to drive my daughter away. Couldn’t you be a better husband?”

“Sir,” I say, fighting not to get mad, “you don’t understand. It’s not like her to do this.”

“Why, because she loves you too much to leave you?”

“No, sir, the note. She’s a stickler for proper language. No way she would spell ‘fair’ as ‘fare’, or write ‘fore ever’.”

By now, we’ve attracted the attention of other inspectors.

One of them asks, “So, you’re saying someone else wrote this note?”

“No,” I say. “I recognise her handwriting. She did write the note.”

“Have you had a bit too much to drink, son? You’re not making sense at all.”

“She misspelled those words on purpose. She knew I’d know it when I saw the note.”

“You’re saying she knows you that well? I’ve been married for over 30 years and my wife can’t tell you my favourite soda.”

Tembo nods. “She does know him well. She once told me he owns only two moods: hungry and sleepy.”

“I see,” says the Inspector. “That means someone made her write the note. First, we get a roll call of all conference attendees. Even if everyone is accounted for, everyone is a suspect. In the meantime, Makini, look for any other clues that might lead us to the perps.”

“Yes, sir,” I say more enthusiastically than I should be. Investigations always raise the hairs on my nape.

The first thing I find is her lipstick between the bedsheets. It’s a clue, I just have to find out how.