CHAPTER SEVEN
It wasn't in his nature to let something go. If anything as a child, he wasn't able to make many friends because of that character. Frank could behave like a dog with a bone when an issue crossed his mind. He was a criminal's worst nightmare when he began his never ending interrogations and suspicious gazes. He was the kind of man that would find a needle in a haystack.
The deaths in the estate had put the police under scrutiny. They looked incompetent. Poorly skilled. The rumors going around were that the killers had to have connections in the police. The public didn't trust the armed men and women in the khaki uniform. To make matters worse the opposition political analysts were using the predicament to blame the presiding government for the failure in security. They went as far as demanding that the government ought to hire help from foreign agencies like the CIA. Pressure was mounting from different political arenas ending on Frank's shoulders.
The inspector general went as far as contacting the already stressed Frank to demand that there be a development in the case sooner rather than later. Otherwise the former's job was in jeopardy. Frank tried explaining that the Elvis' death was not in any way connected to that of the murdered women. There was no way that the "serial killer" would change his technique in such a way. He maintained his theory that this murder had to have been committed by another culprit.
However his boss too was relentless in his beliefs.
'At the moment all those murders are connected till you get the evidence that says otherwise. I can't go around causing more panic by making people think that there are two or more murderers in that estate. Find out what's happening in that God forsaken place ASAP. If the situation calls for it, pin the case on someone as you try to do your job."
The inspector commanded and hang up leaving Frank with two cases instead of one.
Frank decided to study the people of Bulenga. He was sure that someone in the neighborhood knew something about the murder of Elvis. If not Elvis then about the other murders. People don't die in gruesome ways and there was no information about it from anywhere. It didn't make sense to presume that the unnecessary murders and Elvis were the same. The only option he could come up with was to go undercover. Study that estate; see what is going on. He had to go so deep as uncovering the secrets of the people in that estate.
He borrowed a car from his distant cousin the cost of hire to be covered by the police off course. He went downtown to the fresh produce section and packed them in the car, ready for distribution. He spent each day in a white Corrolla parading as a vegetable sales man in the estate. He parked every morning in a different location where he could view the comings and goings of people in the estate. He made the usual sales; carrots, tomatoes, onions, oranges, mangoes and pineapples.
Officer Frank studied the people of Bulenga and came to the conclusion that it was the kind of Utopia everyone dreamt about. Very many people worked hard as termites to reside in such a place. Some got mortgages for such utopia. However Frank was a man from a small town. He preferred the quiet tranquil life the village offered.
The estate was clean and quiet with lovely people or they pretended to be lovely. Twice a week the garbage company offered cleaning services to the people in the estate. They swept and picked any garbage from the many tarmac roads that led to the various houses in Bulenga. These roads were all marked while security cameras graced the gates and corners. The air smelt fresher compared to the other areas.
Most house had a guard while others employed security companies like Securitex that gave guns to it's personnel. A few homes owned by government employees like the Minister of Health and a High court judge had security from provided by the state.
Houses were well constructed with modern architecture. Streets clean with landmarks. The air fresh as though the heavenly beings spent most of their time purifying it specifically for the residents.
A few houses were not inhabited and so were some plots of land. Frank sooner discovered that for him to be able to afford a three bedroomed house he had to sell a kidney, the liver and heart. There was no way he could ever afford any property in this estate on a cop's salary. Maybe in his next life.
The husbands worked with major companies and held great positions.
Some worked with government entities while others owned the companies they worked for. They drove big costly cars while some had smartly dressed drivers.
They wore expensive Armani suits or some other relevant brand. Young husbands workout in the gym located in the trading center as the old ones proudly carried their bellies gained from a life of junk. While others had potbellies that could have fooled one in thinking that they were heavily pregnant.
The wives were beautiful and dressed in stylish clothes and had expensive weaves. Basically looked in such away that he could never imagine his wife appearing.
They talked in gentle voices as though they were all of the same breed. Some jogged in the morning while others in the evening dressed in their sexy workout clothes and Addidas sneakers. Most looked like they barely ate food and if they did it was indeed green. These woman made it seem like they had achieved all their dreams through their marriages. They were always eager to tell him whose wife they were and where their great husband's worked and what else they owned. Most of the wives were members of the health club found in the trading center. Over the weekend, Frank discovered that the many of the wives met at the club and gossiped endlessly.
The people talked to their neighbors with a lot of respect and held their hands as they walked on the clean estate streets. A few of the wives left everyday to go to work while the majority stayed home.
Their children went to fancy schools and spoke through their noses as though they were British. The children behaved like those on some television shows Frank watchers whenever he got some free time. Their parents thought it was beneath them so their children didn't speak their mother tongues. Anything African or Ugandan wasn't part of their way of life. To the world they seemed more white than the British. They were actually Ugandans. Some Basoga, Baganda, Banyankole, Acholis or another of the many tribes in Uganda.
Their maids looked happy and did their jobs with a smile. They bought vegetables every morning from the undercover officer and talked to him as though he was one of them.