by John Ukah
“You won’t find out if you don’t come,” she replied, laughing.
“Goodnight, Sunshine,” I said.
“Goodnight Philip,” she replied.
Actually, it was goodbye for us.
On the day she died, I woke up early and went to a gym close by, where I have been working out regularly since I came here. When I finished there that day, I went for a walk on the beach.
There were just as many tourists as there were locals, hanging out. Seaweed grew close to the shore and a dense thicket of trees lined the beach. I walked for a long time alone along the beach watching the deep blue sea, as it raced to shore on waves after waves. I was just about turning back, when I heard voices in the dense thicket.
“It is my turn now,” said a young voice, eagerly.
“Oh boy, this is good, oh!” drawled the first voice. I went closer and peered through the thick shrubs. I saw two young boys who couldn't have been more than 16 years old. They often ran errands for us at the Lodge. They were sniffing a white powder.
“Give me that!” I shouted at them, breaking through the shrubs with force and taking them by surprise. They were so startled that the one with the paper containing the powder dropped it. They were shaking with fright. I ignored them for the moment and picked up the paper. I saw the powder properly now. It was Megamix! A distinctive, crystalline white powder that looked like chicken feed.
“I know you very well. And you, too,” I said pointing at each of them one after the other, my eyes wide and wild. “You, your father is Diepriye Douglas, the tall fisherman with the long beard, and you, your mother is Ekamma, the woman who fries bean cakes by the roadside. I know you very well. If I ever catch you with this stuff again, I will tell your parents, then lock you in prison, before throwing away the keys into the Atlantic Ocean.” I could see from their trembling forms that I had put the fear of God in them.
“Please, sir!” they both pleaded. “Don’t tell our parents!”
“Then, promise me never to touch this thing, again.” I said.
They both promised and even swore to it.
“Who gave this shit to you?” I asked them.
“There is a man who comes around to sell it,” they said.
“Well if you ever see that crazy man again, run for your dear lives because he is trying to destroy you. And if I am around, just show him to me. Is that clear?”
They affirmed that it was clear.
“Now, disappear home!” I ordered and they took to their heels. As I stared at the powder inside the paper, I sadly remembered my own experiences. I wrapped up the paper and put it in my breast pocket.
I walked back and scanned the beach, trying to spot the Megamix peddler. I was expecting to catch the seller in the act. But they were so many people on the beach and he could be any one of those swimming or even relaxing on the sand.
When I got back to the Lodge, it was evening. I went up to my room and took a shower. It was about 8:00pm when I came down to watch TV. John and Tonye were the only ones around.
I stayed there till 9:30pm, then I went back to my room. The corridor was alive with a lot of foot traffic that night. At about 10:00pm, I heard footsteps that I thought, sounded like Maria’s own. There was the lightest of knocks on one of the doors. The door opened immediately and was quickly shut. I had tried to rush to my door to see the person, but the door had been shut even before I could bring out my head. Nagoth had also opened his door and was looking down the corridor. We stared at each other. I knew the same thoughts had occurred to him, that the footsteps were Maria’s. We went back in and shut our doors almost at the same time.
I put on my radio, and jazz music floated out of the speakers and enveloped me. It soothed me and I decided to take a nap, before going downstairs to see Maria as we had arranged. I must have been more tired than I thought, because ‘the short nap’ became a deep sleep. I woke up with a start at about 11. That was when I heard footsteps passing by my door. A door opened, the owner of the footsteps entered and the door shut.
I wondered if Maria was still waiting for me; I had overslept. I quickly dressed up. I was still in high spirits at the prospect of spending some time with her. I found myself whistling the jazz tune I had heard earlier, as I locked my door and made my way downstairs.
But when I raised my hand to knock on her door, I heard the sound of voices within the room. I heard a man’s voice, low and muffled. He seemed to be pleading or explaining something. Then, Maria replied. But I could not hear what they were saying. I finally knocked and the voices stopped.
“Maria!” I called out. “It is me, Philip.”
But there was no response.
“It’s Philip,” I said again.
But no-one answered me. I did not know what to make of it. Had she forgotten our earlier arrangement and invited another man to her room? Why did she refuse to answer me at all, when she knew I had heard her talking inside, merely moments before?
I felt very bad. I left and went back to my room, feeling very sorry for myself. There was no doubt that she was in and had heard me. Maybe, I had just been a back-up plan. I was playing second fiddle. It hurt.
I removed my clothes and flung them on a chair. I threw myself on the bed and it creaked. I tried to sleep but I could not. Then, I tried to read an unfinished novel. But it could not hold my interest. I did not want to think of Maria, yet I found my mind straying to her.
I swore and got up from the bed. I looked at the glass cabinet. A bottle of whisky beckoned invitingly to me. “What the hell!” I said and poured myself a drink.
I gulped it. A burning heat flowed from the pit of my stomach to the rest of my body. It felt good and I continued hitting the bottle until it was almost empty.
I felt strangely charged and elated, like I had suddenly found the elixir of life and nothing else mattered. Then, I saw something on the floor, under the chair where I had flung my clothes. It was the white paper containing the Megamix. I went over and picked it up for closer inspection. I was strongly tempted.
“Just this once,” said a voice in my head. It sounded like Bobby’s voice.
“No, never again!” I said, shaking my head.
“But why not?”
“Why should I?”
I could not make up my mind. I decided to finish the bottle, first. It would help me make up my mind. Then I saw Dr. Owolabi standing inside the room. He looked very disappointed.
“You have done great harm to yourself,” he kept saying and shaking his head.
I woke up to the chirping of birds outside, announcing the dawn of a new day. I had a headache that threatened to split my skull. I lay immobile on the bed, with my hand on my head. That was when I noticed something strange. I was wearing my shoes and clothes, which I could vaguely remember flinging on the chair the night before! But when did I dress up? Then, another thought occurred to me. Did I sniff the Megamix?
I got up despite my splitting headache and looked around for the white paper. It was on the ground but most of the contents were scattered about. Did I sniff it? I asked myself. My head was still throbbing. It was like a mad blacksmith had set up his forge inside my head.
When I got downstairs for breakfast, I was surprised to see that Maria was not around. She was a conspicuous figure at mealtimes, because of her liveliness. Her mother seemed baffled by this development and she left the table to go and check. That was the beginning of my nightmare.
I looked towards the bed and my eyes almost popped out of my head, when I saw Maria lying face upwards and with that knife buried into her chest. I knew immediately that she had been murdered. What I was not sure of, was who had murdered her.
I was confused, because I didn't know whether I had sniffed the Megamix or not. I didn't even know when I put on my clothes and pair of shoes. I had no idea whether I went back again to her room. But I know that if I sniffed the powder, the possibility that I killed Maria is very high. If I could attack Morgan with a bottle under the influence of dr
ugs, it is also possible that I may have been the one who attacked Maria with a knife. But, I also wonder about the man who was in her room when I knocked.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I MAKE A DISCOVERY
I was staring at Philip when he finished his story.
“Do you still have that powder, Philip? Can I have it?” I asked him.
He fumbled in his trouser pockets and gave it to me. He had gathered up all the tiny bits of powder on the floor of his room.
“Is this all?” I asked him.
“Yes, Mr. Simpson, that’s all,” he replied, meeting my gaze.
“Good,” I said, holding the white paper in my hand and looking at it with a lot of interest. “Do you have any recent fingernail scratches on you?”
“No,” he replied. “I’ve checked myself. There are none.”
“You know you have to be honest with me now, Philip.”
“That’s the truth, Mr. Simpson. There are no scratches on me.”
OK,” I said and got up. I retrieved my wallet from my back pocket. Then, I took out a business card. I handed it to Philip. “That’s the address of a medical laboratory in town. I want you to go down there right now and do a test. Tell them to find out for you if there are any traces of this powder in your system. Say that I sent you. The result will clear the air.”
“I can see what you mean, Mr. Simpson,” he said, looking at the card. “But will these policemen allow me out?”
“You won't know if you don't try,” I replied. “It is the only way we can know for sure, whether you sniffed the powder or not. You could under the influence of the alcohol you took, have put on your clothes and fallen asleep. Or you could have sniffed the powder and committed murder.”
“I’ll go to the lab right away,” he said getting to his feet.
I followed him outside to the corridor and locked my door. I knew if I sat inside even for another minute, someone else would come knocking, to pour out his stories of guilt or tears of innocence. But I had no time to waste. In matters like this, time was of essence. If someone else came, they would have to wait for me.
As we walked downstairs together, I was deep in thought. Now, as an ex-policeman who had put in 12 years, I was not carried away with Nagoth’s, Tonye’s or Philip’s story. The stories were neither here nor there, especially those of Nagoth and Philip. Either of them could have killed her and concocted the story they were telling me. Yet, both could be telling the truth, as their stories did not contradict each other. The whole truth was what I had to find out. The only truth I knew right now, was that I did not kill Maria Marshall.
I parted with Philip at the bottom of the stairs and watched him heading for the main door, when a batch of policemen intercepted and swarmed around him. I watched him get turned back. We were all under suspicion, I knew. They probably suspected that the culprit would try to run away.
I made my way to the room where Maria had died. It was painted in a light shade of blue. The furniture consisted of two armchairs, a chest of drawers, a coffee table and the bed, which was a good but silent witness to the murder. If only it could testify. A small lamp stood on a bedside stool. When I opened it, I found her clothes and shoes, which were quite many, arranged neatly by their colours. The darker shades were on the right and they lightened up gradually into the bright screaming colours on the left. I wondered if that said anything about her personality. A split one, perhaps?
On her dressing table, which had a full-length mirror, were her handbag, keys and an assortment of cosmetics. But my interest lay in the chest of drawers. I searched methodically through the three drawers and found a lot of personal items, letters and papers but nothing that seemed to throw any light on the mystery of her murder.
I spent about five minutes searching the drawers. At times, I would hear footsteps which seemed to be coming to her room and I would hide myself in the closet. I knew the consequences would be dire if I was found snooping. But it was a risk I was willing to take, in order to get to the bottom of this brutal murder.
After failing to uncover anything useful, I decided to rest for a minute. I had thought that the answer to the entire case would be revealed to me, the second I opened the drawers. Yet, I had searched fruitlessly for the past five minutes. I moved to one of the armchairs and sank down heavily into it. I got a nasty shock! One of the legs of the armchair was shorter than the others. A piece had probably broken off sometime ago. The chair fell to one side. I quickly got up and moved over to the other chair. I sat down with more care this time; the chair was okay.
Just then, I heard footsteps, which stopped at the door. I knew the person was coming into the room. I dashed inside the closet and shut it. The person seemed to hesitate, then pushed open the door slowly. They were a man's steps. He entered the room quietly, almost as if on tiptoe. There was no sound in the room for almost a full minute after he entered, except for the ticking of my wristwatch, which seemed louder than usual. I felt in my heart that the person in the room was staring at the closet.
Then, I heard the sharp crackle of a police radio.
“We have a situation.”
“What is it?” asked the man in the room.
“We need you here, right now.”
“On my way,” he said and ran out of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I came out of the closet and thought frantically, keeping my eyes on the chest of drawers. Then, a memory came to me. When I was still in secondary school, I had a similar chest of drawers in my room. I had kept my English Textbook in the top drawer, but later, when I went to get the textbook, it had disappeared from the top of the drawer! I searched for it everywhere, including in the other two drawers, but I could not find it. My parents had concluded, of course, that I had lost it in school and I was covering up by insisting that I had kept it in the drawer. They had, after some time, bought another one for me.
After this, I had decided to change the position of some of the furniture in my room in order to give it a new look. But the chest of drawers was too heavy for me to move, alone. So, I took out the drawers with the items inside and kept them on the floor. And behold! I saw the textbook standing inside, at the back and bottom of the chest! There was a space behind each of the drawers and the textbook had fallen into this space, right down to the bottom.
I wondered if I was now facing a similar situation. Maria had been looking for a rat. She must have taken out all the drawers. I decided to do so, too.
An eerie sensation crawled up my spine, as I found myself looking at a black purse. It was like deja vu, except that the purse was now in the same position that my textbook had been, years ago. I took it out cautiously, noticing that it was bulky. I decided to escape with it to the privacy and safety of my room before attempting to discover the contents. I had a feeling deep within me, that I was on the brink of discovering something crucial. Something which Maria had also discovered and for which I felt, she had been killed.
I managed to get back to my room, without any hindrance. The policemen were still around. But as long as you did not attempt to go out, they did not bother with you.
As soon as I got to my room and locked the door, I emptied the contents of the black purse on my table.
On my table was a bundle of Naira notes secured with a green rubber band. Two short letters written to someone called Binta. The same person who simply signed as A.J, wrote both letters. The first letter read:
02.02.2012
My darling Binta,
My love for you grows in leaps and bounds. The fire of my affection for you burns so bright. I cannot help thinking of how lucky we are to find such love.
I will see you tonight my darling.
Yours forever,
A.J.
The second letter read:
13.02.2012
Binta,
Please, you must terminate the pregnancy. Stop being difficult and pig-headed. You have to consider my position, and the impact of this pregnancy on my reputation if it be
comes public knowledge.
Please use the =N=50,000.00 I gave you to terminate it immediately. Delay is dangerous. Keeping the pregnancy is totally out of the question. I will see you tonight to hear the good news that you have done it.
A.J
13.02.2012! That was the day that girl had committed suicide when I was last at the Lodge. The date was easy to remember, because she had been found the day after she died; the morning of Valentine's Day! But I thought her name was Fati? Something was fishy here. I shifted my gaze back to my table. Also on it, was a lab test result showing that Binta was two months pregnant. It was from the same medical laboratory, where I had directed Philip.
I counted the money after removing the green rubber band. It was exactly fifty thousand Naira in fifty Naira denominations.
Who was A.J? Maria had definitely known who A.J was. Binta and Fati were probably the same girl. And it was possible that she had remained obstinate by refusing to abort the pregnancy, so A.J had killed her when he visited her that night. And we had thought it was suicide. All along, we had thought that she had hung herself in her room. Had she instead been hanged? But the girl had left a suicide note! What if the letter been written by the killer, to make it look like suicide? Whatever the case, the first step now was to find out who A.J was.