He was distracted by the thought of a group of old Germans he had seen in the morning, dressed up like hunters, convinced they were leaving in search of the great unknown continent, in one of the great safari parks, Masai Mara, Samburu or Tsavo, guided by a bunch of rascals dying with laughter under their servile gestures.
Fortunately the real game safaris had finished long ago; now these amateur hunters should be content to shoot with telescopic lenses instead of rifles. Tim Tutts decided to shake those absurd images out of his head and return to his reading, the only activity possible in the stifling heat and soporific calm.
Drowsily, the Nairobi detectives waited for a case to come their way; even just the search for a lost cow, or to spy on an unfaithful wife, would be welcome. Although one must say, in all truth, that in a country like Kenya, much blood has flowed over the theft of cattle or women. It would not be the first time that Tutts and his colleagues have had to put up with banal missions, a juicy murder case would from time to time fall into their hands, but those were glorious moments. In Africa when blood appears, there are smiles on some faces.
Only the faint sound of Curly's typewriter, the Somalian secretary, gave anything of animation to the summer siesta that had befallen Timothy Tutts & Team, Detectives, private investigators of Nairobi. "A common passion (justice), a mystic (truth), a collective mind (deduction)" was the extravagant, and fortunately long forgotten slogan which some advertising wizard had dreamed up for them.