She doesn’t look very much like a lady anymore, not with the rabid wildness in her eyes and the wind throwing her hair in all directions. Perhaps, her incredible speed on her feet is explained by her lithe form but I’ll be betting the impetus is this amazing madness which has her in its grip.
She’s stumbles into a side street as she walks to the front door of a house where there’s a lone sixty watt bulb hanging on the porch. We see her banging on the door furiously as she resumes screaming. Although it’s almost midnight, a man who looks to be in his seventies rushes out without hesitation.
He opens the door and lets her in; it’s amazing he doesn’t think she’s dangerous enough to kill him or be up to some unspeakable evil. Maybe it’s not so amazing because I can see her eyes and if you can see it too, you would finally understand she’s not faking any of it. I fear I would do you a great injustice by trying to describe it.
“They’re trying to kill me”
she screams again, tugging at her hair while she simultaneously glances at the road.
she screams again, tugging at her hair while she simultaneously glances at the road.
It’s enough to make the old man shut the door. He’s old enough for the creases on his face to betray what he’s thinking,
“Who is trying to kill this girl?”
“is she going to be safe here?”
“Who is trying to kill this girl?”
“is she going to be safe here?”
He has the presence of mind to offer her a seat as he attempts to calm her down; it looks like it’s working because she finally stops screaming. For the moment, the old man is glad his wife is such a heavy sleeper.
If she were to witness this scene, she would undoubtedly throw the girl out without a second thought and start explaining to everyone who cared to listen how dangerous Lagos is and how people always come up with schemes to defraud you.
“Stay here, let me get my phone; whoever is after you, they won’t find you here but please don’t scream” the old man’s voice quivers with assurance and that honest sounding timbre only old men seem to possess.
He makes for the stairs to retrieve his phone from his drawer; he would definitely need to call the police but even as he ascends the stairs he’s thinking about how he doesn’t even know the number of the Nigerian Police Force.
By the time he comes downstairs with his phone in hand, her chair is empty. The girl is gone.
Wednesday August 13, 2014.
Bashiru immediately panics and it takes him a few seconds to decide what to do, Mohammed seems equally disturbed and by the time they have the presence of mind to go after her, any possibility of finding her is long gone.
With Bashiru at the steering wheel, they wander through various streets looking for signs of Lily. It’s been a little over five minutes and they aren’t having much luck till they spot an old man on the street.
Ordinarily, this little detail wouldn’t even seem strange but you must admit it’s been a strange evening. Bashiru slows down and pulls to a stop beside the man.
“Oga well done o, you see any girl for this side”
The man regards them with some suspicion and I suspect the wheels of his mind start grinding; he’s probably trying to decide if these are the men trying to kill her.
He reluctantly answers them; “I haven’t seen anyone”
Mohammed decides to chip in to try to put the man at ease; “We don’t mean any harm, she came over to my house and she’s been acting really crazy since she came and she just disappeared”.
The explanation seems to satisfy the old man, “I saw her, but she disappeared even before I could ask her what was wrong. I called the police a few minute ago”
Bashiru’s eyes immediately widen with fear and his outburst is rapid; “Oga, why you call police na? This matter never reach to dey call police”
He seems to eventually realize the futility of his protests as he rolls up the windows and drives off.
Monday August 18, 2014.
The elegance of the couple only serves to make their surroundings seem even shabbier than usual. Granted, it’s not even a clean place to begin with but their presence accentuates the grimness to an unbelievable degree.
The man at the counter is wearing a uniform that is as old as it is grimy and he seems uninterested in the couple although they’re standing just a few inches away from him. They’re separated only by the concrete counter with a tiled counter-top.
The man in the dirty uniform has a companion at the counter who is a tad cleaner than he is; she’s chewing gum loudly as she fiddles with a transistor radio.
In another life, the building was probably painted white before dirt and disregard rendered it this disjointed assortment of colours.
The couple stand for a minute or two before they decide to introduce themselves to the men at the counter.
“Good morning, we’re here to see the D.P.O” says the man. His voice is quite gentle and soothing. It’s the voice of a man of means.
The man at the counter whose name tag tells us he is Sergeant E.A Okon suddenly bursts into loud laughter and his companion, Sergeant O.A Udeh joins him. Their laughter is so in sync it feels like rehearsed.
“So, una no wan greet before because una no wan see D.P.O” Sergeant Okon admonishes them, Sergeant Udeh compliments this with an exaggerated hiss.
“Well, D.P.O is not yet on seat” He goes on as he mimics the man’s gentle voice.
“As you can see, we don’t have chairs so you can make yourselves comfortable outside” Sergeant Udeh adds.
The duo at the counter revert to their earlier duties and resume ignoring the couple. The couple do not seem perturbed as they maintain their standing position.
The woman eventually whips out her phone and as she begins to speak quietly over the phone, Sergeant Okon interrupts her in a loud voice “You cannot make calls inside here, please make your calls outside. This is a police station not a business centre!”
It’s the final straw and the couple make a beeline for the exit only to return a few minutes later with a man who has the blue uniform of seniority. He’s obviously the Divisional Police Officer.
Sergeant Okon and Udeh immediately abandon their previous preoccupations and snap to attention with backs as straight as ramrod,
“Morning Sir!”
they salute in unison.
“Morning Sir!”
they salute in unison.
As though they haven’t met the couple earlier, they turn to them and offer a polite greeting. The surprised look on the face of the man is nearly comical.
The D.P.O leads them into the place he calls his office but is in reality a cubicle which is slightly wider than a prison cell. He shows them to two weather beaten executive chairs.
The way and manner of his speech suggests he’s a no nonsense man who doesn’t waste a lot of time;
“Mr and Mrs Adegbenro, I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you but the looks on your faces tell me this isn’t a social call”
The man seems to weigh his words before speaking, “You come highly recommended Inspector Friday, a lot of your superiors seem to put absolute faith in you, I hope we would have no reason to doubt their high opinions”
The D.P.O seems to weigh their words carefully and a slight crease appears on his features. The man interprets his frown as a sign to keep speaking.
“Our daughter has been missing since Wednesday night and no one has any idea where she is. We’ve been in touch with her friends and neighbours to no avail. We’re convinced there’s some foul play involved”
The D.P.O leans in his chair for a few minutes and this time his words are far from friendly, “I want to believe you didn’t call my superiors because your daughter is missing.If that’s the case, simply file a missing persons report at the counter. This is the Criminal Investigative Division, we only investigate actual crimes, we don’t go around looking for people who haven’t even gone missing for a month”
There’s more steel in the man’s voice this time, “I know you do not usually do this, but like I said, I talked to your superiors, I can make this worth your while.”
Simultaneously we see him slide a cheque across the table, we cannot see the amount it’s made out for but it is enough to make the D.P.O’s demeanor change.
“So, where does your daughter stay and what does she do?”
The woman finally finds her voice and takes over.
Tuesday August 19, 2014.
The knock on the door startles Bashiru; he’s been on tenterhooks since Lily’s disappearance especially since nobody still seems to know where she is.
It’s not too early for visitors and one part of his mind tells him it can’t be anything good. “Who dey there?” he questions.
“Na me Lucky!” It’s his neighbour after all.
The moment he opens the door a fraction, his worst fears are confirmed. Standing behind Lucky are two plainclothes men who are obviously policemen.
One puts a foot to the door before he can even think of closing it, and he’s told he’s needed at the station for question.
They grip his arms tight enough to pursue any ideas of making a run for it from his mind and lead him to a waiting Peugeot 504.
...To Be Continue.
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