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no one knows – that it is an unsolved crime? After all,
     it happened sixty years ago. It’s dead. They’re all dead.’
    ‘Ah yes,
mortua omnia
     resolvit
,’ said Tiger Singh. ‘And yet to the law an unsolved crime
     is never dead.’
    ‘It’s not unsolved as far as
     I’m concerned,’ said Mr Patel. ‘Full confession, case
     closed.’
    ‘
Alleged
confession, Patel.
     My money stays on the
femme fatale
.’
    ‘Did I hear “money”? Are
     we talking about a bet?’
    Tiger Singh held up a hand.
    ‘If I may say so, gentlemen, it seems
     to me as if this argument is going nowhere. Each side is simply maintaining a fixed
     position while trying to denigrate or ridicule the opposing view. And without further
     evidence a wager is out of the question – wagers demand proof. Now, Khan old chap,
     what’ll you have to drink?’
    ‘Bootleg liquor,’ said Mr Gopez.
     ‘That’s what
they
used to drink, you know. June Carberry’s
     husband used to brew it up at their place in Nyeri. Isn’t that right,
     Malik?’
    Mr Patel shook his head.
    ‘Yes, but that’s not what they
     were all drinking on the night of the murder. There may have been a war on but itwas champagne as usual at the Muthaiga Club – crates of it.
     Isn’t that right, Malik?’
    ‘Gentlemen,’ said Tiger Singh.
     ‘Will you please allow Mr Khan to tell me what he would like to drink?’
    ‘Yes, A.B., and stop interrupting poor
     Malik. He’s probably dying of thirst too.’
    ‘Better than being shot by a jealous
     lover.’
    Mr Malik cleared his throat.
    ‘If I may make a suggestion,
     Tiger.’
    All eyes turned towards him.
    ‘I’ve been thinking.
     You’re quite right, Tiger – this argument about the Erroll murder never seems to
     go anywhere. But on the other hand it does need settling once and for all, and
     I’ve just had an idea. What if we could do something here at the club?’
    ‘A re-enactment, you mean?’ said
     Mr Patel. ‘You know, I’ve always thought A.B. could make a very good Earl of
     Erroll. And I could be Broughton – but where, at such short notice, could I get hold of
     a loaded pistol?’
    ‘No, no, I was thinking of a sort of
     trial. Well, not a trial, exactly – more of a debate. Now that the lecture’s been
     cancelled, we could do it tomorrow.’
    ‘That’s what I said,’
     agreed Mr Gopez, reaching into his pocket.
    ‘He said debate, A.B., not a
     bet,’ said Mr Patel. ‘Pros and cons, all that kind of thing. Like at
     school.’
    ‘What exactly did you have in mind,
     Malik?’ said Tiger Singh.
    ‘That we stage a debate about the
     Erroll murder here at the club. A.B. and Patel each presents his case, the other is then
     allowed the right of reply. And there’ll bean adjudicator, of
     course – to keep things in order. Then a vote is taken, and the person who gets the most
     support is considered to have won the argument.’
    ‘What, no money?’ said Mr Gopez,
     removing his hand from his pocket.
    ‘No, A.B., no money. Perhaps you,
     Tiger, would –’
    ‘Would adjudicate? I’d be
     pleased to. Well, Patel, A.B. – what do you say?’
    ‘Broughton,’ said Mr Patel.
    ‘Diana,’ said Mr Gopez.
    ‘Then I take it,’ said Mr Malik,
     ‘that we are agreed. Now, I was wondering – would anyone like a game of
     billiards?’
    ‘Sounds great, Jack,’ said Harry
     Khan. ‘Speaking of whom, that’ll be a Mr Daniel’s on the rocks for me,
     please, Tiger. Make it a double.’

6
When thunder rumbles in the sky, the
     porcupine seeks shelter under the same tree as the leopard
    The Asadi Club, motto
Spero
     meliora
, has a proud history. As the registration certificate above the bar
     attests, it was founded in 1903 when Nairobi was little more than a few tin sheds beside
     the railway track. It was originally a social club for homesick immigrants to Nairobi of
     Indian descent, most of whom had arrived as indentured labourers to help the British
     build the ‘lunatic