Twenty-two nations. Forty-seven billion dollars. One locked door on the fourteenth floor.
When forensic financial auditor Amara Wanjiku arrives at Nairobi's Meridian Grand, she's expecting a tedious week of spreadsheets, freesias, and diplomatic small talk. The African Trade and Infrastructure Capital Assembly is set to sign the largest infrastructure compact in the continent's history in forty-eight hours, and her only job is to verify the numbers behind it.
By the second morning, one of the senior delegates is dead in a sealed suite seven doors down from her own.
The hotel insists it's impossible. The cameras insist it's impossible. The electronic lock logs insist it's impossible. But somewhere in four hundred and twelve pages of financial schedules, a single anomalous clause is waiting for someone patient enough to notice it - and Amara notices things for a living.
Paired with the quietly formidable DI Otieno Mwangi, Amara works her way through a labyrinth of shell companies, vanishing transfers, and guests who all have the wrong alibis for the right reasons. What began in a Geneva hotel room three weeks earlier - with a woman, a glass of Chablis, and a folded floor plan - is about to collide with a room full of finance ministers and a killer who has planned every detail except the auditor in Suite 1408.
Elegant, propulsive, and precisely constructed, The Last Delegate is a contemporary locked-room mystery in the tradition of Anthony Horowitz and Donna Leon - set against the jacaranda-lined boulevards of Nairobi and the polished marble of international power. A story where the weapon isn't the knife or the bottle, but a clause on page seventy-eight, and where the sharpest instrument in the room is a woman with a notebook who simply won't stop asking where the money went.
Perfect for readers of: The Thursday Murder Club, Magpie Murders, The Appeal, and anyone who believes the best detective in any room is usually the one nobody notices until it's too late.