Larry Good morning, weti sup nah.. no update? hope u are okay sha.

nice update

TWENTY-SIX

Tuned Johnson walked into the room like a calculating bear, but he requested permission to sit when he reached the seat. Daniel looked at the giant; the man wasn’t as intimidating as the first time the footballer encountered him over a week earlier. Although Johnson was no lesser in size as he initially was, but it appeared as though that dangerous streak in him had diminished. He looked more like a tamed bear now. Daniel wondered what could have possibly humbled the Goliath.

“Please sit down, Mr. Johnson.” Said Lot.

“Thank you.” Tuned said as he sat down. He brought out an inhaler. The men watched him twist the inhaler up one hairy nostril. Fascinating. He unplugged it with some difficulty, then sniffed, blinked, sneezed. He slid the inhaler into his breast-pocket. And because of his flu, he inhaled so expansively that he was putting his interrogators in danger of oxygen deprivation. “Sorry,” he apologized, smiling, “The household gave me catarrh.”

“I’ve got few questions to ask you about the murders that occurred last week.”

“It’s very horrible. Whoever killed those men has no conscience and he isn’t fit to live.” He regained his composure. “I’ll tell you anything that may help you catch the murderer. Although I think you are-are-I need the right expression for something that means enlarging something very small to something very large.”

‘Making a mountain out of a molehill?” Daniel suggested.

“Exactly! You’re both making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Why do you think so?” Lot asked.

Tunde shrugged, “Many of you are taking Jamal’s death too seriously.”

“What’s your full name, please?”

“Tunde Johnson Jr.”

“And your middle name is?”

“I was named after my father, I have no middle name.”

“How old are you, Mr. Johnson?”

“I’m forty-three.”

“Is Miss Remi Johnson your only daughter?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you married, Mr. Johnson?”

“I’m divorced.”

“With your daughter’s mother?”

“Yes.”

“Did you remarry?"

“No.”

“May I ask why?”

“The first marriage was a mistake, I don’t want to commit the same mistake twice. There was a lady—barely my daughter’s age—that showed, but she’s not my kind of woman.”

“Why is that?”

“Besides the fact that she’s too young for me, she has no body to withstand me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, she looks like a-like a-what is it that farmers put in their fields to frighten birds away?”

“A scarecrow?”

“Yes,” Tunde said, “She looks like a scarecrow. Not for me.”

“What kind of woman are you looking for?”

“I’m not exactly looking for any woman. But—” he slightly leaned towards his interviewer. “I’d prefer much older women, very mature. I am tired of young girls who talk only of clothes, recharge cards and hip-hop artistes and want to go to the most expensive clubs and restaurants and eat the most expensive foods. Yes, I’m interested in older women—even women older than Ruth, because, in a way, Ruth is still a kid. She’s a-she’s a—” he paused to ask, “If a man who plays around is called a womanizer, what do you call a woman who does the same thing? A manizer?”

“A flirt, and the word applies to both sexes.”

"Okay, Ruth is an incurable flirt. I once met another lady just like her—Tiwa. Tiwa is a sweet lady, funny and good racks of which I’d make a play at, but she’s married to a police sergeant, and who needs a trouble like that? So, naturally, I backed off.”

“You came all the way from Port Harcourt, is that right?”

“Right.”

"And what brought you here?”

“I came for my daughter.”

‘For your daughter? Can you kindly explain that?”

“I expect Mr. Famous here to have told you the reason behind my presence here.”

“I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth.”

Tuned glared at Lot, “Are you calling me a horse?”

“It’s an expression—figurative. I mean I’d like to hear you explain.”

“Okay, if that’s what you mean. My daughter, Remi, left Port Harcourt because she wanted to see her mother.”

“Did she tell you before leaving?”

“Weeks before she left, she told me that she wished to see her mother, but I told her that her mother didn’t wish to see her.”

“You mean she had never seen her mother?”

“Not since Ruth left her when she was only three years old. Ruth is not fit to be called a mother, she left her daughter without looking back. When Remi was still too young to understand anything, prior the divorce, Ruth always beat her for every infraction of her petite household rules, her laid-down standard of behavior and achievements. The beatings hadn’t been severe but they had been unbearably humiliating.”

“Do you have any idea why she did that?”

“And what idea would that be? What excuse would a mother give for neglecting her child?”

‘She could have her own reasons. Did she not fight for the child’s custody after the divorce?”

“She didn’t put up any fight. It was as if she was glad to be rid of the child. When I asked her about who gets custody she said, ‘keep her’ and left. Those, I believe, were her words, or an approximation thereof, minus a vulgarity or two, or three; if I got the vocabulary right, but if I got it wrong, pardon me for I always forget my grammar.”

‘How old is your daughter now?”

“Twenty—approaching twenty-one.”

“Did your daughter inform you before leaving Port Harcourt for Lagos?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“What did you think happened when you got home and could not find her?”

“I was worried at first, so I called her phone. She told me she was at a convention at the Redemption Camp. She said she would be spending a week.”

“And you didn’t think she was lying?”

“No, I didn’t. she’s a devout Redeemer, and I know about the annual December conventions that always hold in the Port Harcourt camp. I thought she was there in Port Harcourt and I could easily see her whenever I wanted to.”

“How did you find out that she came to Lagos instead?”

“Ask your sidekick.”

“I’m asking you.”

“He told me,” he pointed at famous, “He was the one who let me know that Remi didn’t attend any convention. He claimed to have met her in the bus when she was travelling to Lagos.”

“And he came rushing to tell you that your daughter was escaping?”

Daniel wanted to say something but Lot sharply cut him short with the word, “Keep your mouth shut, Famous!” he spoke the five simple words with the massive authority of the Almighty addressing Moses.

He turned to Johnson, “Is that what happened, Mr. Johnson? Famous here came rushing to tell you that your daughter had escaped to Lagos?"

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” replied Tunde, “According to him, she told him when he spoke with her in the bus that her father used to work on the Liberation Stadium where he plays football.”

“Why don’t you tell me the truth, Mr. Johnson?’ Lot asked in a gentle voice.

Tunde looked sharply at the detective, “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been lying all along. Just tell me the truth.”

“You must be out of your mind, Detective Lot.”

Daniel agreed with Johnson on that.

“Am I?”

“Ask your subordinate here if I’m lying.”

“Let’s leave my humble Famous out of it. Your terminological inexactitude is quite convincing, but not to me. Nothing passes me by. I think you are a pathological lawyer. You lie when you don’t have to. You would tell a lie even when you know your listener is aware of the truth. It’s as if you have an aversion to the truth about anything, no matter how benign. And from small fibs, mighty prevarications grow. I put it to you that you were aware of your daughter’s decision to leave Port Harcourt for Lagos, because you made her leave. You and your daughter are in it together. You gave her the address of your father-in-law for her to go there and spend the Christmas with him. But nobody was supposed to know about this for it must appear as if she came on her own volition. Am I right?”

Tunde’s face looked scared for a moment; then his eyes changed from panic to amazement. He regarded the detective with astonishment not unmingled with dread. “I admit, I’m a liar. I’ve lied all my life. Not because I enjoy doing it, but I have to lie if I want to survive. But I’m not lying now; all your accusations are wrong. Even if you were right, how could you possibly know that?”

“You gave yourself off in your explanation, Mr. Johnson. You said your daughter came to Lagos to look for her mother, but that’s wrong; she actually came to visit her rich grandfather.” Lot placed a sharp emphasis on the adjective denoting affluence. “You also said you knew about the annual December convention of the Redeemers that is always held in the Port Harcourt camp. The annual convention is neither held in December nor in Port Harcourt. It’s always held in September in Lagos. You hadn’t seen your father in a long time. Your plan was to have your daughter go to him and spend a week there so that the old man might become fond of her and probably include her in his will. But your ego must be protected, nobody had to know that you had anything to do with your daughter’s presence here. She must claim to have come by her own volition under the guise of searching for her mother. But every human is bound to make errors, she made a slip when she told the stranger she met in a bus that her father works in the same stadium where he plays football. She only said that just to keep discussion going. She was very careful not to give the stranger her name or phone number. She could easily have told the stranger a false name or a wrong number but she didn’t want to lie about herself to the young man with whom she was beginning to develop a liking. She said two things out of saying’s sake—that her father works in the stadium and she might probably marry him if they saw each other again. She thought she would never see the man again. She never thought for a moment that the man was so enamoured by her that he’d seek out her father.

“Imagine the rage you felt when a strange man approached you to tell you about your daughter’s journey to Lagos. After seriously warning her not to reveal her intention to anyone. And worse, she told the stranger where you work. This could forfeit your plan, whatever the plan was. You decided that Remi would not be able to keep her mouth shut so you had to go to Lagos. You masked your anger well by hugging Daniel for ‘telling you your daughter’s whereabouts’. You made him follow you to Lagos so that Remi could see for herself the error she’d made. That was why you slapped her in front of the stranger, isn’t it? You slapped her for slipping up.”

Now this is getting serious... But I know Johnson didn't kill Jamal.

Hmmm, this Lot na crook o! Any normal person would think Remi left on her own. Still following bumper to bumper.

HisMajesty1: Now this is getting serious... But I know Johnson didn't kill Jamal.

I see that many head would roll in these saga.

Lot is detailed to the letters.

RCCG annual convention holds every 2nd week in August and December in lagos/ibadan expressway, ogun state. FYI

nice one

I just can't get enough.

Larry, MORE!!!

[quote
author=Flakeey]RCCG annual convention holds every 2nd week in August and
December in lagos/ibadan expressway, ogun state. FYI

nice one[/quote]hehehe

This is getting more interesting

This last update too make sense I just have to comment. Thumbs up BRO!

nice work larrynice work larrynice work larry

Daniel could hardly believe what the detective just said, the revelation astounded him as much as if he’d learned the earth was flat. He stared at Lot with open-mouthed awe. His hopes about Remi were slowly crumbling as he realized that he was more or less being used by the lady and her insane father. He was only a pawn that allowed himself be pushed easily; he was a mere catalyst in an intricate plan. He felt like strangling the man, but he knew he could not do it even if the man allowed him; the neck was both thicker and larger than the capacity of his two hands. He felt an even hotter anger towards the man’s daughter. No wonder the girl had publicly denied him at the dinner table, as if he was a nobody. It saddened him to realize that his struggle to reunite with Remi was only a goose chase. He held his cool nonetheless. Everything happened for a reason. Wasn’t that what the detective always said? Everything happened for a reason?

“I learnt a new word yesterday and I’m going to use it,” said Tunde, “Your concatenation of theories is impressive. So, what are you going to do now? Arrest me? On what basis are you going to place the arrest?” Out came the inhaler again. Into the other nostril this time. Sniff. Blink. Sneeze.

Lot tsk-tsked, “You’re smarter than that. I can arrest you based on mere conjectures. I’m only here to catch the murderer of Jamal Malik and Abel Malik, and if you’re the criminal I won’t hesitate to get you arrested.”

“You know, people in the house, almost everybody believes I killed Jamal.”

“Did you?”

“Not too loud,” Tunde said, “The walls have eyes.”

“Ears.” Lot said.

“What?”

“The walls have ears.”

“That is so?” Johnson said, puzzled, “Then what has eyes?”

The detective shrugged, “Potatoes. Needles. N*pples. Anything.” He knew that Tunde’s intellectual pursuits wasn’t a crash course in remedial grammar. “Did you kill Jamal?”

Tuned smiled, the smile worried Daniel; it was the smile Mr. Johnson gave when he threatened to cut off his arm and flog him with it.

“What do you think?” Tunde asked Lot, “Do you also believe that?”

“I don’t believe anything without circumstantial evidence, Mr. Johnson. If you killed him, all I have to do is to gather enough evidence that’ll hold that you’re guilty of the crime in a court of law.”

“What if you don’t find the evidence?”

“That’s very unlikely, you don’t commit murder without leaving evidence behind, no matter how infinitesimal or trivial.”

“What if the evidence points to the wrong person?”

“That is what happens when the wrong person wasn’t entirely forthcoming in the first place. I think you understand what I mean, Mr. Johnson.”

Tunde raised his two hands in mock surrender, “Absolutely.”

“Was your relationship with the deceased close?”

“Which of the deceased?”

“Which one were you close with?”

“Neither. Jamal wasn’t one of my favourite people; the man was a type I thoroughly detest. I don’t mind his being pretty. It wasn’t that; he couldn’t help it. I do dislike his being both pretty and brainless.”

“And Abel?”

“I don’t even know him. Ruth told me about him a long time ago. He appeared to have gone missing and they were looking for him.”

“Did they find him?”

“They never did. Ruth was very devastated over her lost brother. That was one of the few moments I saw Ruth at her weakest. I hadn’t married her then, we were only dating.”

Lot frowned and said, “Didn’t his parents search for him or something?”

“Yes, they tried to find him. They made it like a search for the missing heir. The tabloids loved it for a while. There were some wild reports but nothing concrete. Some said Abel travelled out of the country, some said he was living in a village somewhere. Some said he was dead. Whatever. They never found him.”

“Did you hear about the burglar that attacked the family about twenty years ago?”

Tuned looked surprised, “A burglar? What did he steal? Did the burglar kidnapped Abel or what?”

“Ruth didn’t tell you about that?”

“No, she didn’t. nobody tells me anything about this family, they never consider me a member of the family.”

“Do you think Ruth was glad to meet her daughter after fifteen years?”

“If she was, I don’t think she showed it.”

“Who sued for divorce between you two?”

“I did. She was glad to accept the divorce. She believed she deserved someone better than me. But Ruth’s sexuality is insatiable. She can never be sexually or morally satisfied. She will always believe she’s better off than any man she meets. Of course, I see that she still has her beauty, but that won’t last forever. And in the end, she will only settle with just any man, not someone who loves her or she loves.”

“Do you love her?”

Tuned gave a short laugh, “I don’t see how that is any of your business, Detective.” The inhaler appeared again, but he didn’t use it. Just fondled it. It looked like an oversized bullet.

“This investigation has made it my business. But you may refuse to answer the question though.”

Tunde shrugged, “What the hell, I’ve got nothing to lose by answering you,” he said, “I thought she was someone I could love until I realized her insatiable libido. She cannot stay faithful with one man. Loving a lady like that is a sin. Loving her is like loving a snake; no matter how much love you give a snake, it will still strike you with venom. That is Ruth for you. You don’t ask her out unless you are prepared to sell your house, hock your car and empty your bank account.”

“If you asked me I’d say both of you were a perfect match.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, I don’t believe in promiscuity. If I did, I wouldn’t have divorced her. Besides, I’m done with ladies; they’ll only give you heartaches in the end. You may think me a misogynist but I’m not. I’d just rather remain on the safer side of the road.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Johnson.”

“Don’t thank me yet, just make your investigation snappy, I need to get out of this cage today. My job is awaiting me in Port Harcourt. I can’t remain in this house for long; this place is a hotbed of gossip. Gossip permeates the very air as if by a mysterious process of osmosis. I would like to go home as soon as possible.”

“I’ll try my best,” replied Lot, “Although the correct construction is ‘I should like to go home’.”

After Tunde’s departure, Lot said to Daniel, “I’m not interested in any post-interview discussion now. Call in our last guest.”

Daniel Famous went out to summon Remi Johnson.

ezeigbo194:

What is the problem

Nothing, sir.

Iaz93: Larry, GIVE ME MORE!!!

Oliver Iaz Twist. Lol!

Queenxstar: Oooops, I finally caught up.

Larry I don't know what to say to you.

Wow! Thanks a bunch, Queen.

Please say something o.

Adinije: Daniel and women. That guy suppose study womanology

That's his weakness.

drsolob2:
You can say that again,he is a chronic womanizer

He's not a womanizer o!

pricelesslove: Larry Good morning, weti sup nah.. no update? hope u are okay sha.

Thank you, Princess. I'm good. Hope you're doing fine too.

Flakeey: nice update

Thank you, Flake.

HisMajesty1: Now this is getting serious... But I know Johnson didn't kill Jamal.

He may not be entirely innocent.

Adinije: Hmmm, this Lot na crook o! Any normal person would think Remi left on her own. Still following bumper to bumper.

He's a weird man.

Larry i troway salute oooo, abeg you too much

drsolob2:
I see that many head would roll in these saga.

Two heads have already been bounced.

Queenxstar: Lot is detailed to the letters.

He tried to put two and two together and got a freaking one!

Flakeey: RCCG annual convention holds every 2nd week in August and December in lagos/ibadan expressway, ogun state. FYI

nice one

Yes, that's true. But I wasn't talking about RCCG; I was talking about a fictional church.

ezeigbo194: This is getting more interesting

And the criminal is about to be caught.

Talk2david1: This last update too make sense I just have to comment. Thumbs up BRO!

Thank you, my brother.

manuel80: nice work larrynice work larrynice work larry

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. LOL!

pricelesslove: Larry i troway salute oooo, abeg you too much

Thanks a lot, dear.

Gan! Gan!! Gan!!! Gan!!!!