“It is lovely, isn’t it?” Gunilla says, fingering the necklace.
Bella thinks of telling her that what makes the necklace lovelier is its proud wearer, but she refrains, fearing it will seem crass to speak that way to a woman she hasn’t known for very long. Besides, what if Gunilla misinterprets this and thinks she is making a pass at her! So Bella says only, “Yes, it is lovely.”
“And you were with him when he bought it?”
“I was there.”
Bella recounts how he bargained with the Turkish jeweler but, failing to persuade him to lower the asking price, gave in even though Bella thought the necklaces cost too much and could be had for a quarter the price in Mogadiscio, where he was due to travel in a month. When she insisted she didn’t need it, he said, “I am buying two. The second is for a close friend in Nairobi.”
That was the first time in a long time that Bella thought he might be seeing someone. The news gladdened her heart, but she didn’t press him to give her the details, imagining that sooner or later he would tell her of his own volition. After all, she had gone to Istanbul a week ahead of him to spend several nights in the company of Humboldt, a liaison that she had never breathed a word to him about, nor had she mentioned her other two lovers.
But now it is Gunilla who is forthcoming, by a larger margin than Bella had ever expected. “We had plans afoot,” she says. “Serious ones!”
Bella pictures a wedding party — friends gathering, Salif serenely welcoming the guests, Dahaba ecstatic — and she, the groom’s sister, playing the role of host. “Tell me more about your plans,” she says.
“They were in a rather advanced stage.”
“A pity you didn’t let anyone know about them,” Bella says, as though to herself. Then she adds, “Why was that?”
Gunilla’s expression darkens as she enters this sad world where death now reigns and grabs whatever it wishes. She says, “Aar wanted to prepare Salif and Dahaba for the news. He was worried about what they would think, how they would behave toward me. He said they could be difficult when they chose to be. And there was the matter of Valerie — technically still his wife as they’d never divorced — to deal with. But he worried much less about Valerie. The children were uppermost in his mind; he wanted them to be happy; he wanted me to be happy; he wanted everyone to be happy. No rush, he kept saying. Everything will fall into place.”
Suddenly Gunilla looks bewildered, as if the world has become a mystery, as if death were all the more calamitous when it takes away someone with a plan. Bella remembers how Dahaba had called Aar’s death “unfair.” Why must death take away her father and not someone with no job, no life, and no love? Gunilla weeps gently, and when Bella goes around the table to console her, she cries harder. Bella hands Gunilla a tissue and the Swede wipes her tears dry. They sit in silence for an appropriate period of time and then resume sipping away at their coffee.
Then Gunilla’s mobile phone, which is in her bag, tinkles and she brings it out and reads the text to herself. “It is Godwin. He says he is just round the corner from the office.”
Gunilla pays for the coffees, apologizing to the waiter for not being able to order lunch, and they walk back to the office in some haste. Since Bella is with Gunilla, the security guards at the gate take only a cursory look at her passport and they are about to wave her through when another officer, evidently more zealous, makes her go through a more detailed check. Almost as soon as they get back to Gunilla’s office, the receptionist rings to inform her that the attorney is waiting. Gunilla says, “Let him come in, please.”
A knock on the door heralds the entry and then the imposing physical presence of Godwin Wamiru, who turns out to be a broad-shouldered, wide-jawed, long-limbed man. He is wearing a generously cut suit, his tie loose, his stride expansive and his self-regard high. He shakes hands with the attitude of a man on top of his game. Before he takes a seat, he says, “My name is Godwin Wamiru and I am a forensic expert in legal matters for the UN offices in Nairobi. One of the things I deal with is the complexities of wills when someone dies in UN employ. Now, let us get down to business so that we can wrap things up quickly for the sake of you and your family.”
He sits down, opens his briefcase with panache, and brings out a pile of papers, which he consults only once before he recites the facts known to all parties in the case: that Aar was killed while on a UN tour of duty in Mogadiscio, in circumstances that lead one to believe that terrorists murdered him in cold blood; that he is survived by two children, both in their teens, an estranged wife who has lately turned up and whose intentions have been unclear, and Bella, his sister, who is present here.
Gunilla raises her hand as if she were a pupil in a classroom. “If I may ask you a question?”
“Go ahead, please.”
“What’s the latest with Valerie? You told me that she had initiated a claim. What have you made of it?”
“It’s definitive,” he says. “She and the deceased were married out of community of property, and Valerie is not legally entitled to anything. End of story.”
“So it was all a lot of hot air and a waste of time?”
“All that I am prepared to say is that it was unwise on her part to pay those two lawyers,” Godwin Wamiru says. “She is not entitled to the dust from two of Aar’s shillings rubbed together.”
Bella likes this lawyer, who doesn’t sound like one. He has a severe, intelligent face, which he uses to great effect, and occasionally he raises his voice a touch for emphasis, as if to convince any skeptics. After he’s spoken, you feel there are no grounds that you can challenge him on.
Now he says, “I took the deposition myself, in the presence of Valerie’s attorneys. Here is the notarized document she signed, two copies of it, one for each of you. In her deposition, Valerie declares that she has withdrawn all claims and that the case is closed. In a codicil, she forfeits the right to make any further claims regarding the custody of the children.”
“Why has she withdrawn her case?”
“She is indigent, unable to pay her legal fees.”
Bella receives the information with mixed feelings: relief, because she has been worried about the effect that a drawn-out legal dispute might ultimately have on her relationship with the children on the one hand, and on Valerie’s relationship with the children on the other. Still, she wonders how Valerie’s concessions might have affected her. A lioness is at her most dangerous when injured.
Bella reads the deposition, made all the more satisfying because Valerie has signed it and was fingerprinted for it.
Gunilla says, “Out of curiosity, did Valerie and her attorney come into your office to have the document signed or did you go to her attorney’s?”
Godwin Wamiru says, “The woman is broke. She and her attorney came to me because he wanted to put a stop to the clock running and the bill mounting since she was in no position to pay what she already owes.”
“How does he intend to recoup what is owed to him?” asks Bella.