Early on the second day, Elias reached the storeroom before Pendo. Mzee Dotto, Mwangaza’s caretaker, was trying to open a cabinet left behind a stack of chalk boxes. Two keys refused to work; the third went in but would not turn until Dotto struck the door with his palm.
“This cabinet was forgotten during the renovation,” he said. “If you look for something inside, don’t blame the dust.”
Pendo arrived wearing gloves and carrying a list of files. “Ruth passed by. She says Joseph wants an update at ten.”
“We’ll give him an update on what we found, not the answer we wish for.”
The cabinet opened with the smell of damp paper and metal. Inside were delivery books, invoice folders, and letterheads tied with rubber bands. Elias photographed the arrangement before moving anything. Mzee Dotto stood in the doorway and said some of the files belonged to the year of the laboratory renovation.
Salma had sent Elias a photograph of the Kito Office Supplies delivery note. He searched the name in the index. It did not appear in the current-vendors folder, but it was in an old register with columns for *supplier, service, start, closure*. Two pen marks covered Kito’s line.
“This is it,” Pendo said.
They took out the first invoice. Its heading had a thin line beneath the logo, just as the notice PDF did. But the invoice itself was for printing examination papers and used an old town address. Elias placed the invoice beside the PDF. The similarity was a clue, not a verdict.
“We’ve found them,” Pendo said, excitement mixed with anger.
“We’ve found that an old template is similar. We haven’t found a person.”
Pendo fell silent. “But the sender’s number…”
“Is it in the record?”
They continued searching the delivery book. On the last page of the third year, a line showed that Kito had delivered letterheads to three departments. The phone number was written in faded ink. Its final four digits matched the number at the bottom of the PDF. The second digit was difficult to read.
Elias took a small magnifying glass from the storeroom drawer. Pendo photographed it with a ruler beside the page so that the size and position would not be misrepresented. Mzee Dotto remembered that the vendor had moved offices after the landlord changed the rent.
“Can we call them?”
“Not from the number in the notice. We’ll use the vendor registry or the address on the invoice.”
They found a procurement folder containing minutes from a meeting two years earlier. One page said Kito would not be added to the current-contacts list after the contract ended. There was no explanation of who had received the number afterward. Elias read the sentence twice.
Ruth appeared at the door. “You are doing an archaeological dig while people are waiting for the payment.”
“We found a historical record. Kito made letterheads in the past, but the contract was closed.”
“A closed vendor did not necessarily write the notice.”
“Right. That is why we have not said that.”
Ruth stepped inside and picked up the invoice. “It is similar.”
“Similar enough to request confirmation. Not enough to name anyone.”
Ruth exhaled hard. “Joseph will ask why we haven’t found the source.”
“We’ll tell him the source is still unknown, but we have a route to preserve and query through BEM.”
Pendo removed a contact sheet fastened to the folder. The same old number had a date beside it, followed by a note saying *call failed*. No one had added a new number. Elias recorded in the evidence log that the number was not a trusted vendor contact and that the supplier’s status required registry confirmation.
Mzee Dotto opened another box. Inside were old stamps, one bearing faded Kito lettering. Pendo wanted to photograph it up close, but Elias stopped him before he touched it without gloves. “We need to preserve it, not contaminate it.”
When they reached the finance room, Elias placed the invoice copies, the register page, and the PDF in three separate sleeves. He wrote their relationship: *old template; closed supplier; apparently reused contact; no attribution yet.* Then he sent Leah at BEM a query asking for vendor-registry confirmation through the helpdesk channel. There was no accusation and no promise of a refund.
Pendo looked at him. “If BEM says the number is old, what happens?”
“We add one fact. If it says it doesn’t know, we remain with unknown.”
Ruth sat on a plastic chair, this time without interrupting him. “You have become very strict about unknown.”
“Unknown is what stops us from naming someone who may know nothing,” Elias said. “But it also stops us from declaring the notice legitimate just because the logo looks familiar.”
They opened an old procurement email. In one attachment, Kito had requested payment for a completed invoice. There was no current number, but there was the name of the person who had received the delivery. Mzee Dotto remembered that person had moved to another town, and no one had the new contact details. Elias separated *vendor identity*, *contact identity*, and *document template* in a table. Pendo added a *confidence* column: the template was supported, the closed contract was confirmed, and the sender’s connection was unknown.
Ruth studied the table for a while. “If you write it this way, Joseph will think we have done very little.”
“He will see what we did and what has not yet been found. That is the difference between a report and a story.”
Leah replied to the ticket that BEM could not confirm business numbers through a phone call not supplied in the directory, but it would record the inquiry and continue an internal check of the notice channel. Elias did not push her to reveal anything. He thanked her, attached a copy of the PDF, and asked only for official confirmation. Pendo sorted the files by date and sealed the sleeve with tape bearing the file number.
As they left the storeroom, Ruth stopped Elias in the corridor. “I wanted the interviews to proceed. I didn’t know this question would become so large.”
“We still don’t know its size.”
“And if it is a misunderstanding?”
“Then the evidence will show us, and we will have left a way back.”
Ruth nodded, but she did not mention the override again. Elias returned to his desk carrying three copies and four questions. He closed the register, but on the final line of the vendor record was one word in red ink: CLOSED.
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