• Stranger things happen when what seems too bizarre to be true is lent credence
In the last couple of weeks, things have taken a turn for the paranormal in Jiji Ndogo. It all started with the arrival of an undertaker by the apt name of Mort Ishan.
By his word, he had been headed to our neighbouring Jiji Kubwa when he lost his way and ended up in our quaint neck of the woods, only to discover that Sgt Sophia was the spitting image of one of his deceased clients.
According to Detective Gundua, he of the DCI, it appears Mort might not have been very honest about... well, everything.
“This is quite frankly the most bizarre case I’ve ever handled,” Gundua mutters with a shake of his head.
Sophia interrupts: “When you say Mort Ishan lied, what do you mean?”
“He said you resemble a corpse he embalmed, right?”
“He prefers to call them clients.”
“Doesn’t bloody matter, does it? Thing is, you do resemble said corpse. But that’s not the issue. Mr Mort Ishan lost the said body from his funeral home.”
“He lost it?” I ask. “How does one lose a dead body?”
“It happens more often than you might think, Sgt Makini. They might be dead, but at times it’s like they just up and walk right out of the morgue.”
Sophia wags a finger. “I’m not buying that. There has to be a better explanation than some fangled resurrection theory.”
“For one, bodies get stolen all the time. Sold to the black organ market mostly.”
She’s still not buying it. “A kidney or two might make sense, but entire bodies?”
Gundua smiles derisively. “It would be easier to take the body and operate elsewhere than set up a lab at the morgue, don’t you think?”
I almost laugh. It’s not usual to see my wife lose an argument. Any woman, actually. “That does make sense,” I add, relishing the moment and desiring a leg in.
If eyes were bullets, I’d have a couple holes in my face from Sophia. “Don’t get me started on you, Makini!” she hisses.
I step back. “Sorry, dear.”
Thankfully, she turns back to Gundua. “So why are you here, and what has a stolen body got to do with me?”
“Well, you might not be detectives and all, but you might have noticed that our Mr Mort Ishan is an odd sort of fella,” he says.
“Goes with the profession, I guess. You work all day with the dead, normal reasoning seeps right out of you.”
Detective Gundua paces as if the matter weighs heavily on his mind. “Needless to say, Mr Mort Ishan has been scratching his head bald, wondering what happened to the missing body. Somehow, he comes across your photo, and lo and behold, what’s he seeing?”
“The dead have come to life!” I shout before I can help myself. “It’s judgment day, all of a sudden.”
“Bollocks!” Sophia spits. “He of all people should know the dead stay dead.”
“He should,” Gundua agrees, “but like I said, people like Mort are in the habit of holding one-way conversations with their clients. Who knows what impossibilities are the norm to them? What I’m saying is, the undertaker came here looking for you specifically.”
Words tumble out of my mouth. “Surely he can’t believe my wife and his dead body…” I turn to Sophia. “You can’t be… I mean, you’re not…”
“I’m not dead, you idiot,” Sophia blurts and squares up to Gundua. “That said, why are you here?”
“Why? I’m on the trail of a dead body that, coincidentally, happens to have disappeared around the same time you came to Jiji Ndogo, Ms Sophia.”