by Femi Kayode
Folake’s face rises before me in the mirror. ‘Be careful.’ But she says it in a mocking tone.
‘I saw you!’ I want to shout at the image, but I don’t. Why am I questioning my motives for having a drink with a helpful friend who has done nothing to warrant suspicion?
Folake’s face in the mirror contorts and her lips form the words reminiscent of her goodbye to me: Psychobabble nonsense.
I hiss as I turn away. A drink is exactly what I need right now, I tell myself as I leave the room. Nothing more.
Salome is waiting. She rises from the bar and walks towards me with a smile.
‘Well, you clean up good.’
I feel my face heat up. ‘It’s the best I can do with no change of clothes.’
‘Who’re you changing for?’ She snorts. ‘Come and eat.’ She guides me towards one of the tables in the bar.
A place has been laid out, and I notice that some of the patrons, mostly white middle-aged men dressed in khaki and J. Crew shirts with short sleeves or sleeves rolled high up their arms, are looking at us.
‘Your friend says he’ll eat in his room. I sent it up,’ Salome says as we settle into our seats.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’m sure you have many questions …’
The fare is roasted chicken and thickly cut potato wedges with steamed vegetables on the side. The chicken is the most flavourful I’ve tasted in a while, and I’m famished, causing me to shamelessly talk between mouthfuls.
‘The first question is how you got us in here.’
‘Easy. The owner’s a client of our firm, an old friend who owes me a couple of favours. Besides, our law firm does a lot of conferences here, so we’re good customers. I just made a call.’
‘How did you know what was happening in Okriki?’
‘I asked my cousin to check up on you. You know, just to be sure you’re fine.’
‘You were checking up on me?’
‘Not the way you make it sound, Americana. I meant I was just making sure you’re okay.’
‘Well, thank you. So, who’s this cousin of yours?’
‘I believe you met him. He is the police inspector –’
A piece of drumstick pauses midway to my mouth.
‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘Nope. Mike is my first cousin.’
‘So, the Chief is …’
‘My uncle. My late mother’s eldest brother.’
I drop my fork.
‘You know he ordered the attack on my room, right?’
She waves an elegant hand dismissively. ‘He did no such thing. Eat your food. Trust me, if my uncle wanted you harmed in any way, he’d have done it the minute you set foot in that town.’
‘He told me to my face that I was not welcome in Okriki.’
‘The same thing I said to you when you told me why you were going to Okriki and here we are.’
‘You’re saying the Chief and Inspector Omereji didn’t know about what happened today at the hotel?’
‘Not before it happened. Certainly after it did,
they knew, but what could they do?’
‘Omereji could have arrested them!’
‘Calm down. Or I’ll stop talking.’
I take a deep breath. I look at her, then around me. In less than three hours, Salome had commandeered the whole hotel in my favour. It’s close to 11 p.m., and she’s here, welcoming me and being a most gracious hostess.
‘Yes, Philip Taiwo, you can trust me.’
As before, it’s like she can read my mind. I let out my breath and look at the food, then back at her. I start to eat again but my eyes are locked on her heavily kohled ones.
‘Okay, I’m listening.’
‘Wow. Aren’t we bossy?’
‘Salome …’ My voice carries a light warning.
‘Okay, okay. It’s simple. As soon as you told me what you were going to Okriki to do, I asked Mike to look out for you –’
‘More like spy on me.’ I know I sound ungracious, but I can’t help it.
‘Whatever. I knew your paths would cross anyway, but I wanted him to know you’re a friend.’
‘He didn’t treat me like one –’
‘What did you expect? Anyway, he did keep an eye out for you on more occasions than you know.’
‘My eternal gratitude to him.’
‘Sarcasm is quite unbecoming with an American accent …’
‘I need a drink.’ I signal to the barman who walks over as I push my half-eaten plate away.
‘A double Jack please.’
‘Madam?’
‘Courvoisier. Lots of ice.’
The barman walks away, and Salome continues. ‘So, he was the one that found out what those boys did to you and your colleague’s rooms.’
‘And he didn’t round them up as any law-abiding officer should have done?’
‘You’re misjudging him.’
‘He’s hiding something,’ I insist. ‘That whole town is in collusion, including your uncle,’ I hiss, all my anger coming back as I recall the state of my hotel room just hours ago and how violated I felt.
Our drinks arrive. I grab my whiskey and down it in one go.
‘Philip Taiwo, don’t make me regret helping you.’
‘Then tell me why you’re helping me.’
‘Because you’re doing the right thing. The parents of those boys deserve to know what really happened.’
‘Is that it?’
‘What other reason could there be?’
‘Perhaps the same reason the Inspector was transferred back to Okriki to keep an eye on the investigation, to make sure that nothing that will damage the town further is discovered.’
‘So, I’m helping you just to influence your research?’ She is derisive, but yet there’s a curve to her lips that makes me think she is laughing at me. ‘It is research, right?’
‘What else can I think?’ The lightness in my head is swift and sudden. I realise too late that I should have ordered a beer.
She drains her glass and reaches for her phone, tapping it and putting it to her ear.
‘Come to the front.’ She hangs up and looks at me. ‘It’s okay to be suspicious of me, Philip, but I suggest you pick your battles. I saved your ass today. Yours and your friend’s. Why would I do that? Ask yourself that question before you start throwing accusations around.’
She stands and I am forced to look up at her beautiful face.
‘My mother’s people are not bad people,’ she says, looking down at me. ‘They’re not good either. They are just humans. What they did is inexcusable in a world that makes sense. But you’ve been here long enough to see that very little makes sense in this part of the world. Not lately, at least. But I like the idea of knowing why what led us all here, happened. Perhaps if you can find some explanation for that madness, I can bear to look at my people again without shame. That’s why I’m helping you.’
She walks away before I can say anything.
AN EXPECTED ACCIDENT
Chika opens the door at my frantic knocking, rubbing his eyes.
‘What is it? Are you okay?’
My answer is to press the voice recording on my phone.
‘Hello, Dr Taiwo. It’s me. Tom Ikime. We found Godwin dead in his room yesterday. A really sad development. I’ll call you again in the morning.’
‘Shit,’ Chika says, sleep wiped off his face.
‘We have to go to the university.’
‘What time is it?’
I check the cell phone. ‘8:17.’
‘I’ll get dressed right away.’
I rush back to my room and jump into the shower.
Godwin is dead and, given my interview with Tamuno yesterday, this is not just a sad development but a major setback. Coming after the vandalisation of our rooms, I am suddenly overwhelmed with all the dead ends this case is presenting. I hate feeling out of control, and events are happening around me that seem to have little relation to my purpose in
Okriki, but are impacting on it anyway.
My feeling of despair stays with me as I dress in the previous day’s clothes and head into the elevator to meet Chika at the lobby.
‘What if it doesn’t add up?’ I ask, as soon as Chika and I are en route to Okriki.
‘What?’
‘All of it. Everything we know about this case, what if everything doesn’t add up because it isn’t supposed to?’
‘Where’s this coming from?’
‘Don’t mind me.’ I look out of the window, reluctant to burden Chika with my insecurities.
‘Is it because of Godwin’s death? But you and I saw where the boy was headed …’
‘Yes, I know, but that doesn’t make it easier to accept. Perhaps it’s a sign –’
‘That everything won’t add up?’
‘A sign that the whole Okriki Three matter was just another example of the random violence that happens everywhere in this country.’
‘Even after what that Tamuno boy told us?’
‘Yes. Godwin might have lied about knowing Kevin, he might have called out for help if he felt attacked by Bona and Winston, but he did not instruct the people of Okriki to torture and kill those boys. That’s on them.’
‘That may be true, but isn’t that what you’re here to do? To make sense of what everybody considers senseless?’
‘And I am saying I don’t think I can.’
‘Please don’t let Godwin’s death make you doubt the progress you’re making. See how far we’ve come since you arrived. How much we now know …’
To what end? I want to ask but we are now at the military police checkpoint, so I say nothing. Chika slows, but we are waved past, and one of the heavily armed soldiers actually smiles at us.
‘We’ve become regulars,’ Chika says, as he picks up speed and waves back at the soldiers.
‘It’s a good thing?’
‘You could say so. It just means the next time they won’t need to ask before I give them something.’
Maybe everything’s not so senseless, after all. On the one hand, proactively bribing armed soldiers to pass through a public road might come across as corrupt but on the other, the people who pay have accepted this as the modus operandi. There’s clearly some kind of honour amongst thieves. The armed soldier acknowledges our past encounters by letting us through without fuss, and Chika will honour this by proactively offering a bribe the next time we drive through the checkpoint. There is a method to this madness.
We drive straight to the Registrar’s office at TSU only to find he has left a message for us with his secretary that he’s at the morgue of the teaching hospital. I’m about to ask for directions but Chika says he knows it and we are back in the car driving towards the North Campus.
‘The hospital is not on campus?’
‘It’s in another town. TSU is made up of three big campuses. We’re coming from the East Campus that has the Humanities and Arts department. The West Campus is Engineering, and the North is Medical Sciences.’
‘Is the North Campus far?’
‘No, it’s in the middle of another town called Apamor, and we should be there in about thirty minutes if I take the short route.’
I nod and reach for my ringing phone. It’s Ikime.
‘We’re on our way,’ I say.
‘The Senate has called an emergency meeting and I have to attend. I’ve asked Dr Okaro to assist you. She’s the Chief Coroner and Head of Pathology.’
‘You’re sure you can’t wait for us?’ Even as I ask this, I feel relieved. Ikime’s role as part of the spin machine of the university might impede some of the questions I plan to ask the coroner.
‘I’m sorry, Dr Taiwo. But I assure you I’ve requested Dr Okaro to be as cooperative as possible. You can call my office if you still want to see me. I’ll make time.’
I tell him I understand and thank him for letting me know about Godwin. But my mind is still on what all this means so I am silent for the rest of the trip.
The teaching hospital is a huge multi-storey complex. We stop by the entrance to Casualty and ask for directions to Pathology. When we enter, the first thing that strikes me is how similar morgues all over the world are: sterile, silent and sad.
‘Dr Okaro’s expecting you,’ the uniformed receptionist says after we introduce ourselves. She reaches for the receiver of a telephone straight out of the eighties. ‘Please, have a seat.’
We sit on a hard bench in front of her. She smiles at us as she drops the receiver back down. ‘She’ll be with you now.’
Some students in white overalls are coming in from outside, smiling and chatting amongst themselves in a manner that seems out of place with the sombreness of a morgue. They disappear through double doors, from where a crisp-looking woman emerges moments later. She’s not wearing make-up, her hair is pulled back in corn rows. She is wearing a pair of bifocals and I can make out a simple print dress under her pristine white lab coat.
‘Dr Taiwo?’ she says when she reaches us.
Chika and I stand.
‘I’m Dr Taiwo, and this is my colleague, Chika Makuochi.’
‘I am Dr Ngozi Okaro. The Registrar informs me that you’re interested in the body that was brought in yesterday.’
She speaks matter-of-factly and seems to demand the same. Just as I am about to give a rehearsed speech as to the nature of my interest, she gestures that we should follow her.
She continues to speak as she walks us through the double doors. ‘I must say this is highly unusual. Normally, we only entertain this level of interest from family members and the police. Ikime told me you’re none of these.’
‘We’re not,’ I confirm.
‘Nonetheless, I serve here at the behest of the university, and if the Registrar thinks I should answer your questions, I will.’ She stops and faces us. ‘Have either of you seen a dead body before?’
I’m as taken aback by her sudden stop as I am by the abruptness of her question.
‘I have,’ Chika answers flatly.
‘You?’ She’s looking at me above the rim of her glasses.
‘It’s not a problem.’
‘That doesn’t answer my question.’
I don’t bother to confirm that I’m one of those who find being around the dead disconcerting. Viewing dead bodies doesn’t bother me as much as that they remind me of my own mortality. In that sense, it never gets easier.
Dr Okaro shrugs and opens a door, motioning for us to enter. The stench of chloroform hits us inside the small room where six bodies lie on metal stretchers, covered in threadbare white cloth, their bare feet poking out from under the sheets. There are no tags on their big toes, just numbers written with black markers on the soles of both feet.
Dr Okaro navigates around the dead and stops in front of one. Without ceremony, she lifts the white cloth off, revealing Godwin’s still face. My mind races to the last time I saw him. Agitated. Manic even. The antithesis of this still form. There are no marks on his gaunt face, no sign of blunt trauma.
‘Time of death?’ I ask.
‘We estimate between 7 and 8 p.m. yesterday. He was DOA when they took him to the hospital.’
I make a note to ask for the report to see if any resuscitation efforts could have tampered with an accurate diagnosis of the cause of death.
‘Cause of death?’
‘Smoke inhalation. Most likely accidental.’
‘How do we know?’ I ask.
Her answer is to pull the cloth down further and the sight of the massive burns on Godwin’s right side is enough to make the uninitiated gag. I quickly look at Chika. His face is inscrutable.
‘He was right-handed,’ Dr Okaro says. ‘From the intensity of the burn, we think he was smoking and must have fallen asleep. The cigarette must have fallen from his fingers on to the mattress. See his fingers? Third-degree burns led to charring. And the right side of his torso has the same degree of burn …’
‘There was a fire?’
�
��It was the smoke from his room that alerted the students. They broke down the door after banging for a long time.’
‘So, no fire?’
‘Slow burn,’ Dr Okaro says. ‘I suspect it’s the type of mattress. All the burn is around the hand and his right side. See here.’ She points to Godwin’s hand, which is so badly burnt that you can see the blackened bone matter through the charred fingers.
‘He slept through that kind of pain?’ This is the first time Chika has spoken since we came in, his voice calm and neutral.
‘We can assume he took a soporific whose effect was further exacerbated by alcohol intake.’
‘Toxicology?’ I ask.
‘I sent samples to the lab as is routine, but the parents are coming to collect the body soon. We can’t do more tests if they don’t give their consent.’
‘Even if we suspect foul play?’ I am surprised, as an autopsy should be compulsory in such circumstances.
‘Do we, Dr Taiwo?’ Dr Okaro looks at me, her eyes daring me to tell her how to do her job.
I make my tone more conciliatory. ‘It just seems to me that we must do everything to rule out foul play before concluding that it is an accidental death, especially given the victim’s history.’
‘It is the victim’s history of drug use that corroborates the diagnosis of accidental death.’
‘Without toxicology, we are just guessing.’
Dr Okaro points at the terrible burns on Godwin’s body. ‘The only explanation for anyone to die like that is accidental.’
‘Toxicology will certainly give a more conclusive diagnosis as to how the accident happened,’ I challenge further. ‘At the very least, I think we should confirm if the victim died before inhaling smoke or after.’
She cocks a brow at this. ‘I can’t open him up without his parents’ permission. That’s the law.’
‘I understand, but at least we can find out what kind of drugs would induce such deep slumber.’
Dr Okaro is silent as she looks from Godwin’s body and back at me. I press on.
‘Surely you would like to know, if only for academic interest?’
I suspect Dr Okaro is not one to walk away from a challenge. She reaches in her lab coat pocket and passes her cell phone to me across the body of Godwin Emefele.
‘Your number,’ she says. ‘If I find anything of interest, I’ll ask Ikime to let me know if it’s all right to tell you.’