The woman walked into the Ladies’ room, coomposed, looking behind her and slipped in, shutting the door firmly behind her. She glided over to the sofa at the centre of the room and placed her head in her hands. Her beautiful locks sheilding her face, as she began to whimper softly and then a little louder. Within minutes, she stops, patting her face down with an elegant handkerchief. Then she takes a moment to collect herself, rising up in determination and strides to the bank of mirrors above the beautiful long stone artistic sink. She stares at her reflection, pats on a little powder over her forehead, swathes some light blush over her high cheeks, then finishes off with a light kiss of lipstick. Expressionless, she examines her long black sequined gown, shifts her light scarf over her shoulders, sweeping her hair to one side. Satisfied, she picks her clutch purse and glides towards the door, pokes her head out and strides down the hall, back to the ballroom.
I shift awkwardly in my plastic seat, in the corner by the shower stalls. I know the woman. She does not know me. I wonder at what could have sent a strong woman like her, scampering away from the party to shed a few tears in private. She is successful, admired and beloved by many. Something has gone wrong and I am curious as to what just happened. Before I can raise my numb butt and checked the sink over, the door to the Ladies Room swings open and two women walk in. I assume my silent pose and watch.
‘Okay, look here, that woman is in trouble. I am teling you things are not going well for her and she has no one to turn to. Can’t you see how afraid she is?’ asks the short one.
‘Afraid of what? Mr. Handsome, her husband or his cronies? I just don’t get what you’re talking about,’ shoots back her taller friend, smirking but staring at her image in the large mirror.
‘Listen, I told you before. That man is up to something and whatever it is, it’s spooking our friend. She is acting a little out of character, keeping to herself and disclosing as little as possible to us. Something’s about to happen…’ she pipes up, in earnest, trying to catch her friend’s attention in the mirror.
‘I have a plan. Why don’t we order another bottle of her favourite red wine and get her talking? It’s the only thing we can do. Then we can try and find out what is really going on… and now that you mention it, that husband of hers has spent the evening chatting away with his friends and is completely indifferent and even dismissive with her tiday. Very odd. Plus, his friends are acting weird too, they keep glancing over at us! What is going on, this is so out of character, even for his strange husband-self!’ her voice pitches, as she puts her make-up back into her bag and turns to her friend. ‘Time to activate that plan. Let’s get to it!’
‘Finally! Let’s go,’ her voice trailing off, as they leave the room, heels clattering and their silk gowns swishing and swaying, as they sashay down the hall, back to the ballroom.
The room is quiet once more and as I get up to look over the designer sink and the rest of the room, my colleague walks in to relieve me. I thank her and rush out, heading towards our breakroom. I slip toward the doors of the ballroom and take a quick glance around the room, where the party of about fifty men and women are gathered. I see the two friends and the lady huddled together around a cocktail table, chatting away over their wine. I decide to keep an eye on them, from the adjacent end of the ballroom. I creep in, to the room divider doors and look through one of the slats. I hear the three friends, as they are closed to the room divider but on the other side. Watching with one eye and listening with one ear, I lean in and listen.
‘Okay girls, I’ll come clean,’ says the elegant lady. She leans in and speaks above a whisper. ‘Something spooked me about his behaviour over the past month. He is acting very distant and with disdain for me, with absolutely no reason for it. When I ask, he just laughs it off, telling me I am imagining things. It’s so hurtful and I am so scared that he is going through something I can’t quite make out and the worst thing is, he won’t tell me.’
The shame and frustration shows in her slumped shoulders and her two friends edge her into her seat. She stares into her wine glass and then back at her friends.
‘Soila, we are going to get through this… wait, did you say he started acting up a month ago?’ asked the taller one.
‘Yes, why?’ asks Soila, blinking slowly.
‘Oh wait! A month ago…was when we caught him with…’ the taller one’s voice trailing off, as she looks at the short one, clearly taken by surprise.
‘Caught him with who?!’ asks Soila, now desperate to get an answer.
‘Oh no! That’s what it could be…’ adds the shorter one. ‘Soila, we should have told you. Here goes. Last month, when we had the ladies’ golf event, he turned up at the Limuru Club with some young, curvy miss on his arm for the brunch. We thought it was nothing, since he claims she was his classmate. They are definitely not the same age, I thought but let it go.’
Soila’s face crinkles with this news but she remains quiet, possible too stunned to ask anything else.
‘Well, I did tell Reson the same woman has been seen driving him in his car to various functions around town. Which I did think strange. Since it was an open secret, we assumed you knew…’ quips Hawa.
Soila is livid. Her small hands form small fists, as Reson and Hawa watch helplessly. They tell her of the young woman showing up at events with her husband and on his arm every single time. More recently, the woman in question, wore a wedding band, very similar to Soila’s but with bigger diamonds and a matching bracelet. She now had a matching sports car, an apartment and had launched her business, all funded by Soila’s husband.
‘I found out everything you just shared. But there’s more,’ she offered, as the other two leaned in. ‘But this, we must keep between us and never ever share a word of what I am about to tell you!’
Reson and Hawa nod, looking at one another with concerned facial expressions and they lean in some more.
‘I received a call earlier today, from a former colleague in the insurance firm, where I used to work. He shared that Roba, my husband, had taken out an insurance policy for half a million dollars on that Tracy girl. Naturally, I told him he couldn’t have, as they are neither married, nor related… that’s when the call got interesting…’ she whispered tersely, her steely eyes boring into those of her two closest friends. Every few minutes they would gasp and click their tongues in disapproval. She told them of the fake wedding he arranged and led Tracy to believe they had become man and wife. A whole two years, then Soila found out. She hired a private detective to firm up her findings.
A month ago, the detective produced documentary evidence of a plot to kill Tracy, to recover the $250,000 he invested in her. Roba had taken out an insurance policy of $500, 000, then hired a man to kill her at a public event, in the next sixty days. The detective had furnished Soila with copies of text messages from a new and secret number Roba was using. All the details lay clear, for Soila to see. The detective had pieced his plans and motives together, gathering enough evidence for Soila’s next move.
Soila’s insurance friend secretly sent her proof of other similar insurance policies for three other previous women in Roba’s life. All of them had died within four years of meeting him and falling for his fake love and monetary traps, setting them up with homes and businesses. The first woman died mysteriously, leaving behind a four-year old son. The son was placed in a children’s home under strange circumstances and has never been found by his other extended family members, who are still looking for him. The second woman died just after two years, apparently a hit-and-run. The last one was a health and fitness trainer, who suddenly was diagnosed with cancer but actually died from a slow poisoning, in a private hospital.
The detective then contacted a woman professional who would make Soila disappear and begin a new life elsewhere. He furnished her with the details and urged her to act quickly and avoid any chance of Roba finding her out. Soila was wide eyed at this point, only her hands trembled a little, as she spoke slowly and with emphasis on every word.
The two friends scanned the room for Roba, trying not to make it obvious. Hawa walks over to one of his three friends, Joka who mentions Roba went off to his office for some documents. Hawa reports back to the table, telling Soila that Roba has left.
Soila tells them she is leaving tonight for good. She has no idea what time but it should be soon, while Roba is preoccupied with a false emergency at work. Hawa and Reson are stunned but promise to keep her secret. They hatch a plan to play the part of distraught friends, thereafter. Soila calls her driver to meet her outside in the next five minutes. Reson and Hawa walk her out and plan their own exit, to keep their own future alibis. There are brief tears; they compose themselves and leave separately.
Soila sits in the back of the long Mercedes Benz, as the car pulls away from the club. She pulls out her mobile phone, reading her text messages for the signal from the professional disappearer. She has paid $ 5,000 already and another $ 5,000 once she is safe in her new home, with a new identity. She steels herself, then pulls out the small bottle of perfume from her purse. With her mobile phone in her other hand, she searches for the message, signalling her next line of action. Then the text message appears; spray and so she does, sending the ‘perfume’ into the chauffer’s compartment and waits a minute or two, as he slowly steers the car into the gate. The guards come running and she exits the vehicle and asks them to help her chauffeur. Within another 20 seconds, a car pulls up with a driver and what appears to private security. Soila is put into the back seat, as the security men engage the club guards, as they speed away.
They drive for what seems to be endless hours into the night. The sun is up land is dry on either side of the road, with small shrubs and tree-lined hills in the distant. It must be late morning, as the near midday heat seeps into the back of the Land Rover. Soila and her new driver arrive at the edge of a small town, then they take a sharp turn onto a long and dusty road, along a low barbed wire fence. Two hours later, they descend onto a homestead on a farm, complete with a water-drawing windmill and a creeper on the walls of the house. The house is built of old, roughly hewn stone, with wooden sides and an old tin roof. There are two other cottages on either side. The Land Rover rolls to a stop and her driver pulls off their cap, as they exit the vehicle. The driver then turns to Soila, as her curls cascade over her shoulders and onto her t-shirt. It was Hawa all along!
The main door to the farmhouse opens and a woman in a long dress with a longer apron and headscarf motions them inside. The woman keeps her back to Hawa and Soila, as they walk in apprehensively. There’s a cake baking away in the oven and the woman scoops some stew onto two plates for them. She turns and places the plates before them on the farmhouse kitchen table. The room is a little dark and they can’t quite make out her features. Then she motions them to the table, pulling her scarf away from her face and head. It’s Reson and she screeches with glee. They embrace and linger for a while, tears flowing freely.
These three women had hired me and posted me to a fake cleaner’s job the club. Reson had approached me at the local police station and asked me to keep watch over her friend at various functions, at the club and Soila’s and Roba’s home, as a stand-in waitress, cook or cleaner. I was careful to come up with disguises for each venue and a carefully tailored back-story. Hawa and I worked closely together for years. She had earned her fifteen years of disappearing people, especially women fleeing from dangerous partners. I worked with her privately and also professionally. This was our special project and here I was to welcome them as their new cook-cum-special protection officer. I watched them and smiled with pride.
We had set up Roba’s files for release with the press. Supporting documents had been filed with police detectives and the Department for Criminal Investigation. The arrest had taken place overnight, as Roba rushed to meet with the insurance agent over anticipated payouts of past policies. He had no idea he had been set up!
As they sit to eat, Soila offers up a prayer of thanksgiving for the meal, friendship and their great escape. They talk over the meal animatedly, making plans for their new and hidden future, thankful to have escaped Kenya’s most wanted criminal who lives in plain sight. The chatter, laughter and planning goes on late into the night. Their first night of freedom and their new beginning. We are disappeared and free!
Short Stories & Poems by WarmBreezeBliss 