A dead prostitute. A detective with baggage, enemies and a charming sidekick. A twisting plot, breathless conclusion. We've been here before surely? Well no, because this is Nairobi, memories of the US Embassy bomb still fresh, in the grip of a violent election, tribal and racial rivalries erupting. Add child trafficking and female genital mutilation and things are different. Not your usual whodunit, but one I needed to get to the bottom of.
A casual observer might consider the occupants of the silver Toyota Land Cruiser a strange assembly: two smart young men in front, the passenger dreadlocked; a gaunt, ashen Maasai and an elderly white man in the back seat, and, hunched on the jump seat in the rear, looking out through the glass, a ragged street boy taking his first ever ride in a car.
But there are no casual observers on the street tonight: no disinterested parties, no innocent bystanders.
They pass groups of men - and some boys - headed, it seems for Uhuru Park. They walk purposefully, lithe limbs swinging. And something - sticks, or clubs, or pangas - bouncing at their sides.