On their way to Tassia, Preston Arina pondered over something

"Do you ever think that Diane Rucho was not the type of person that everyone thought she was?"

Michael was focused on driving and only hit the brakes when pedestrians crossed the three-lane Mombasa Road. "Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Well, everyone is adamant about saying how sweet she was and how she had no flaws, except for the lady at Arttcafe," Preston explained.

"She didn't particularly say Diane Rucho was a bad person," Michael argued.

"But she did imply that Diane was not an honest person. Think about it, who would fake sickness just to get a gig at another restaurant?" Preston questioned.

"You heard that the pay at Amara Restaurant was good. Maybe she needed the money," Michael suggested.

Preston replied, "For what exactly? She lived in a one-bedroom house, didn't have a family, and didn't have any responsibilities."

"Preston, people need money for various reasons, not just for family responsibilities," Michael said.

"Well, whatever her motivation was for working at Amara Restaurant, I think we need to be open-minded to the fact that Diane may not have been an angel," Preston said.

Michael asked, "Do you want me to look into her past to learn more about her?"

"No, you work on locating Gary Wako. I'll do that," Preston replied.

"Do you suspect that Gary Wako may have been one of the guests that Diane attended to at the restaurant?" Preston asked.

"From the very moment Mrs Emma mentioned special guests, I knew Gary Wako must have been there. He was a manager back then, and Dillers Co Ltd, still being the company that it is today, Gary must have been treated with high regard, enough to be placed at the special tables. Maybe the story about him finding Diane along the roadside may be valid," Michael said.

"I don't know. Something about it doesn't sit right. It seems too coincidental," Preston added.

Michael turned onto Tassia Road after leaving Mombasa Road. They soon passed the Artcafe where Diane worked. Gerald Rucho had informed them that Big Ted worked at a Garage Auto Spares outlet a few miles from the café. However, there were multiple Garage Auto spare outlets along the road, making it difficult to locate the right one.

As Michael pulled the truck to the curb, he remarked, "I should have known this wouldn't be easy."

The smell of diesel and gasoline in the air was overwhelming, and Preston's nose began to hurt. "When has anything ever been easy? I pity the people who live in this area. The air quality is shitty."

At the first outlet they visited, they were told that nobody by the name of Big Ted had worked there ten years ago.

In the second outlet, a short, balding man claimed he had heard of someone named Ted, but didn't know anyone by the name of Big Ted. He then laughed and said, "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. My ten-year-old nephew is named Ted," revealing his brown, chipped teeth.

Michael resisted the urge to swing his palm onto the man's face.

The third outlet they came across, was smaller in size and had only a few products on its shelves. The name Baraka Spares was written on its chipped metallic awning, swinging as drafts of wind blew at it. A man in a black cap was behind the grilled counter, staring down at a magazine. When Preston cleared his throat, the man raised his eyes and met theirs. He had sharp, large eyes, hollow cheekbones, a long face with acne breakouts, was tall at around 6'7, and had broad shoulders. Bulging arms drew out from the dirty blue overall he was dressed in, which made Michael figure that the man worked out. He placed him at around thirty-five.

"How can I assist you?" the man said in a rough voice.

"We are police officers from the Nairobi County Police Station. We wanted to ask you a few questions," Preston replied.

The man looked at their clothing and noticed that neither Preston nor Michael was dressed in uniform.

"Identification?" the man asked.

Preston produced a badge from his pocket and flashed it in the man's face.

"What do you want to know?"

"Do you know a man named Big Ted?"

"Why do you ask?"

"We need to speak to him concerning a murder investigation."

"I see."

"Do you know him?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"He used to work here."

"Used to?"

"Yes."

"Where can we find him?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean?" Preston asked.

"Look, when I started working here, Big Ted had already been fired by my old man. All I heard was that he left town."

"Where did he move to?"

"I don't know," the man said, his lips curled in irritation.

"When did you start working here?"

"Almost eight years ago."

"Do you happen to know Big Ted's real name?"

"How would I know? I barely knew the guy."

"And your name?"

"What?"

"What's your name?"

"How does that concern you?"

"You tell me?" Preston stared back at him, visibly irritated.

"Brian Thou. That's my name."

"Can we speak to your old man?"

"If you can speak to a corpse, then be my guest."

Upon returning to the truck, Michael couldn't contain his laughter. "Well, that went easy," he said.

Preston watched the outlet from the windscreen. The man had gone back to staring at his magazine.

"He was lying," Preston replied.

"About which part?"

"I don't know. Just a gut feeling."

Preston arrived in Nakuru Town at around 4 P.M. He went to a toy store and bought a cozy shopping cart and a Pokemon adventure builder - Pikachu Beach Splash. When he arrived at his ex-wife's door, the sun was already setting. He knocked twice and then the door swung open. Clara peered at him over her wide glasses, one arm on her waist, the other holding onto the door frame. She was wearing a black maxi dress with open sleeves at the shoulders. Her long raven-black hair was held up in a messy bun. Preston noticed that the skin underneath her eyes looked tired.

"Took you long, huh?" she said.

"Figured I'd make you happy."

"Yeah, yeah. Not funny."

As he stepped over the threshold, Kai, their dog, ran to him, wagging his tail in excitement. He lunged his two thin feet on his thigh, nuzzling his face onto him for a second longer. Preston reached out his hand and gently petted him on the chest. "How's you little buddy?" he said.

Kai responded by cocking his head to the right, pulling his long ears back, and wagging his tail.

Kai was a pale tan greyhound. He was almost ten years old now, taller, more muscular, and slim build. Preston remembered they had gotten the puppy back when Clara was still pregnant.

Soon, Kai walked out bored and ran to the living room. Preston followed, catching the smell of something cooking - fermented porridge. In the living room, Jaden was seated on the large carpeted floor with his back to Preston, working on a piece of cardboard. Kai was splayed out next to him, his long chin on the floor. The TV was on, playing a kid's show.

When Preston called out his name, Jaden turned to look at him.

"Daddy?" He leaped to his feet and ran to him.

Preston bent down and carried him to his chest. Jaden placed his hands around his neck and snuggled tightly.

"I missed you, Daddy," he said.

"I missed you too, darling."

Preston lowered him to the floor and now caught a good glimpse of the cardboard mess. "What are you working on?" he asked.

"Making a house," Jaden responded proudly. His brown eyes were bright with excitement.

"Here, let me help you with that," Preston said, bending down to the floor.