Free The Fall of Saints by Wanjiku wa Ngugi Page B

its smell, the smell of Zack, and in it, I felt at one with him. I put my hands in the pockets, like he usually did, and walked like he usually did, hands in the coat pockets. My right hand felt some paper. I pulled it out. It had “Mark” scribbled on it and then crossed out.
    “Honey?” I heard Zack calling as he opened the door and entered.
    Were I not so upset, I would have appreciated the fun in the situation: me standing there, dressed like him! But I was seething with anger, so I just stood there looking at him, not knowing where to start.
    “So . . . Mark, huh?” I grunted, throwing the tiny piece of paper at him.
    It floated in the air briefly and then landed at his feet. He stood still. He seemed afraid—well, more confused. Then he bent down and picked it up and read it. I didn’t want to scream and shout, but I came close. I could feel myself shaking. “What’s going on between you and Mark?” I asked coldly.
    He didn’t say anything but put his briefcase down and wiped his forehead with his forearm. It may have been caused by his slow reaction, but something inside me broke.
    “Zack, you must tell me everything. About the gunman who once threatened you at the club, about your relationship with Melinda, about Alaska Enterprises. Do you understand? Everything! That is, if you want this marriage to survive. And don’t take me as completely ignorant. No, Zack. You are making a mistake, a big mistake, to underestimate me. I know that Edward and Palmer was retained by Kasla.”
    He stood there, almost frozen. He walked toward the kitchen. I followed him. He pulled out a kitchen chair and slumped in it. He pointed at another chair and mumbled for me to sit. I did, not because I wanted to but because I was feeling weak in the knees. I had to be strong.
    “Let’s talk,” he said. “I was going to bring up much of what you just raised later on, but now is as good a time as any. You have to believe me. That gunman. I honestly don’t know him. I had never seen him before or since. I just took his gun-toting craziness as case of mistaken identity. As for the agency and our law firm, we are a big enterprise with many branches. Not all the lawyers in a firm know each and every case, because most cases don’t go beyond the letter-writing stage. I told you I would get to the bottom of this. I only recently—actually, the day of your accident—learned that the agency had retained my firm. One letter from the firm, with all the weight our name carries, was enough to make the state desist. Which means it was not a case that generated much talk in the office. I am still looking into it. That and the whole Kasla saga.”
    Zack came across as sincere and forthright. There wasn’t much more I could ask. Ben had given me so little, and Wainaina had not come up with anything extra from Kenya. Besides, I didn’t want to rant about Ben. Let me keep my sources to myself, I resolved.
    “About Mark,” he continued. “I have been thinking hard about Mark, but I don’t know, I really don’t know. I think you might have been right.”
    “Why? What made you see the light?” I said as I leaned back, feeling a twinge of excitement. I couldn’t help enjoying a little sense of superiority. “Better repent late than never,” I told him.
    “I am not sure about repenting,” Zack responded. “But here it is: Mark would like me to join his venture. You know how he talks big. He did it at our wedding, remember? At first the proposal looked clean, you know, from a legal point of view.”He looked at me and, seeing my slightly puzzled face, said, “Maybe I should start from the beginning. Mark would like me to be his business partner. He first approached me last year. He wants me to come in as the legal secretary for this multimillion-dollar landscaping company to be based in the big cities of Africa: Cairo, Lagos, Johannesburg, Nairobi. Yes, in Nairobi. But I don’t know, something doesn’t ring right. Landscaping in