LarrySun:
Lol! Even from the first book, Lot was known to be the detective who never allowed grammatical errors to slide.

By the way, what's KMJ? Is it Killer of Malik Jamal?

Kmj stands for Kayemjay, a nairalander.

more more moreeee......

Oliver Twist thing..lol

nice one LS

WE WANT MORE!!!

The pleasant young man was still staring at him, the smile remained plastered on his face. He added, “My fans call me Ariel though.”

“Your fans? Are you a celebrity?”

“Not yet,” replied Ariel, “I write novels, albeit unpublished.”

“You are not a celebrity and your novels are still begging for publication, yet you say ‘your fans’.” Lot cocked his head to one side, apparently speculating whether a bolt had gone missing from the man’s machinery and the smile was only a gossamer thread still holding his sanity in place. Lot has met more psychos in his lifetime to know that insanity wasn’t only measured by the specks of dust on your clothes. And Lot was not slow to label anybody a straitjacket-fitted.

Ariel cleared all suspicions the detective might have of him by replying, “I have followers on the internet. Although not yet printed in hardcopies, my books are available to be read on my blog. You may check them out. I already have two of the novels posted there.”

Lot didn’t know why but he felt that it was very important he read what the man had written. Without wasting time he demanded the writer’s URL and bookmarked. Intending to read the stories at the slightest chance he got. As he bookmarked the page in his latest BlackBerry model, he also booked it in his brain; never to forget.

He noticed that the writer was genuinely glad when he promised to read his novel. In his glee, he took over the mantle of introducing the family members from Daniel. He introduced the members in his own humorous ways; he used animated qualities to describe every member present in the room.
Ruth Brown he described as the ostrich nursing a boil (Lot nodded in the affirmative at this metaphor), David Malik as the hummingbird without politesse (Lot frowned), Tunde Johnson as the meek bull (Lot hoisted his eyebrows aloft), Remi Johnson the swan made by the ostrich and the bull (Lot nodded in understanding), Esther the peacock with a broken wing (Lot shook his head). All these descriptions were whispered to Lot, as the speaker was certain that some hearers would gladly neuter him if he spoke aloud.

“And how would you describe yourself, son?” Lot asked.

“I’ve already introduced myself.” Replied Ariel, smiling.

“of course,” agreed Lot, “But not in the way you did others.”

Ariel smiled, “I’m not one to blow my own trumpet, especially when I already have people who would gladly blow it for me.”

At this time, Daniel had totally left the detective at the mercy of the writer. He was now seated beside Remi and speaking to her quietly. Lot noticed that the lady was frowning a great deal at almost every word coming from the mouth of her admirer. She occasionally replied him in a tone that matched the footballer’s solemn speech. Lot tried to listen but could catch no word between either of the duo. He gave up and ceased trying; he’d ask Daniel later. Lot had a way of making Daniel reveal even his darkest of secrets.
With steps full of confidence, Lot walked to the middle of the room and addressed all.

“I greet you all,” he began, “I mourn with you over the soul that was lost in the early hours of today. May the deceased’s gentle soul rest in peace.”

Only few people murmured “Amen.”

Lot continued, “As you’re all aware of the reason behind my presence here, I’m going to investigate the deceased’s murder. I’m sure you all agree with me that it’s murder; it can’t be suicide because a man committing suicide does not stab himself in the back, and accident is also out of it, because I can’t believe the kind of accident that can plunge a knife hilt-deep into a man’s back. So, let’s face the truth, Mr Malik was killed in cold, and his killer is among you.

"I understand that the family would be making preparations for burial and obituary, therefore, I’ll try to make my investigation as fast as possible so that the criminal may be brought to justice on time. The truth is, if there is a murderer, which I believe there is, the criminal may decide to commit another murder. I’m not trying to scare any one of you but this is the truth. Therefore, to avoid any chance of another murder, I’d like the full cooperation of every one of you as I begin my investigations. The investigations include the questioning if each one of you. Is there a room I can use temporarily for interviews?”

“You’ll have a room in the other building at the left hand side of the compound.” Said David with an air of authority. Being the first son of the deceased, he’s assumed himself the head of the family.

“Thank you,” said Lot, “We’ll use the room. In the meantime it would be helpful if you stayed here together until we have put some things in order.”

The maid came into the room, with her was an elderly bespectacled man. His apparel delight gave off his profession; the old man was dressed in a white gown, although he wore his carefully-pressed and starched medical attire under the gown; a white shirt over a black pair of trousers and shoes. A rainbow tie squeezed his neck. Poking from the chest pocket of the white gown were the tips of three ballpoint pens; a red, a blue and a black. This stationery inclusion added more fashion to his raiment.

“Aha, Doctor Bantu,” David bellowed, “I’ve been expecting you.”

“How do you do, Mr. Malik?” Bantu greeted. “My condolences for your sudden loss. Your father was a wonderful man, I wonder what he did wrong to deserve such harsh treatment.”

David nodded, “Thanks a lot, Doctor.,” He introduced, “This is Detective Lot, he’s investigating the case.”

Bantu opened his eyes very wide, “You don’t mean it!” he exclaimed, “You mean the same Detective Lot?"

David was lost he didn’t understand what prompted the medical practitioner’s sudden outburst. But he now looked at Lot with a different pair of eyes, like a disciple who’d just witnessed Christ’s miraculous healing for the first time. He realized that there was more to the big man than his body size.

“My God!” The doctor exclaimed again, “You are him!”

“ ‘He’ is a better grammar, doctor.” Lot replied.

“Yes,” answered Daniel Famous, “It’s the same Detective Lot in flesh, the one and only Collosus.”

“My God!” Bantu said, his eyes were still fixated when he added, “Nice making your acquaintance again, sir.” He extended his hand towards the detective.

Lot grabbed it firmly, “It’s a pleasure. But what do you mean by ‘again’?”

The doctor winced in agony at the pressure exerted on his hand, he quickly struggle to free himself of this painful compliment.

When he had had his freedom and the ache in his palm had subsided, he smiled sheepishly and said, “I was one of the doctors who did the autopsy of Elder Pious in 2002.”

“Elder Pious?” Lot had no idea about whom the man was talking about, “Who is Elder Pious?”

“You don’t remember? Elder Pious, the clergyman that was strangled in an Anglican church in Asokoro, Abuja. You investigated the case, remember? That was my first time of meeting you, sir.”

Lot recalled now, but he was not amused, “I remember now. That man who was strangled by a fellow priest over tithes, right?”

Nobody would have guessed that it was Deacon Kura who committed. I was one of the doctors who performed the post-mortem. It appeared as though the Elder was shot but he was already dead from strangulation before he was shot.” He turned to David, “Your father couldn’t have gotten a better detective to investigate his death.” As though the deceased himself had any selection or choice.

“I hope so.” Answered David.

“So, let’s put a stopper on the chit-chat and get down to bedrock.” Lot said, “Daniel, let’s go to the interrogation room. We’ve got a lot of things to find out.”

rapmike:

Kmj stands for Kayemjay, a nairalander.

Oh! Okay.

Flakeey: more more moreeee......

Oliver Twist thing..lol

nice one LS

Lol! This reminds me about Abigail Martins first boyfriend who wanted more.

oyestephen: WE WANT MORE!!!

I'm so sorry for the delay.

baba lot don. show make everybody wey know how Malik Jamal take die confess now o.

Larry, me dey wait seriously for another one o.
more grease.to your elbow

LarrySun:
Lol! This reminds me about Abigail Martins first boyfriend who wanted more.

oh yea yea..can u remind me the name of the guy? Richie Phillip or Ebenezer? *scratches head*

nice update sire...
i'm beginning to suspect this Remi...she appears suspicious or probably my imagination

*waiting for events to unfold*

Flakeey:

oh yea yea..can u remind me the name of the guy? Richie Phillip or Ebenezer? *scratches head*

Neither. It was Tolu.

Its been a while Mr Larrysun. How have you been?

TWELVE

In the days before civilization invaded Africa, the hours of the days were measured by the position of the sun on the firmament, or by the axis of shadows of a stick erected over a plain area. now, the shadow of the electricity pole that occupied a section of this plain was borne on its stem, the shadow standing erect as the pole itself. The position of the umbra was a midday significance. In fact, the chronometer placed the moment at just a few minutes after noon.

The body had finally been relieved of its restive state to take much more comfort in the cold steel walls of the reliable freezer of a mortuary. Adieu. The doctor had done all the cross-examinations required. His reports, however, were still awaiting submission by the presiding sleuth. The police officers, Moses Anuku and Ayo Festus had served as escorts to make certain the cadaver reached the morgue in one piece. This accompaniment was done not out of fondness for the man but of duty. If Jamal were alive to notice this he’d have felt like a state governor.

Currently, with the absence of the corpse and the entourages alike, Lot and Daniel were ushered into a room by David. Mice had once had a significant part of this other building to themselves, and birds had built nests on the front house’s lintels, they’d painted the stoops with their droppings. Everything about architecture in this compound was not unbefitting with the synonyms large, big, massive, titanic, gigantic. The room too was a large one; one, if built in the slums of the historical AJ city, would sleep twenty-nine adults and ninety nine babies. There were two windows, which were apparently too few for a room of such proportion. But because of the direction the room was placed, these embrasures offered sufficient oxygen to get its inhabitants breathing without much risk of suffocation. It was furnished with only a broad table and half a dozen stools. On the wall facing the entrance was a poster with a bolded phrase LOVE IS THE ANSWER. Daniel wondered what the question was. Adorning another side of the walls was a single poster of Goldie with her deep cleavage, bared belly and aggressively sparkling smile. She was powerfully intriguing. The room appeared to have been vacated very recently because the floor was noticeably neat, but the walls did not match that cleanliness. Therefore, the floor must have been stripped of its covering, either carpet or rug. David showed a commendable gesture of hospitality; he replaced three of the stools with an equal number of plastic chairs. This act of benevolence merely elicited a mumbled two-word appreciation from Lot. Everyone was a suspect. He never forgot that.

Lot spoke only when their host had retreated from the room and was out of earshot.

“Now tell me about all that brought you here.” He said to his subordinate.

Daniel knew that there was no reason to lie for the detective would easily see through his lie. In a way, Daniel felt that the detective considered even him a suspect. Lying would only make things worse. So, he inhaled deeply, and when he exhaled, he let out everything of consequence he could recall; from his first meeting with the formidable Remi Johnson to his plan to reunite with her. The bone-cracking long journey and the night of the murder. He said everything in careful detail. Occasionally reversing his narratives to fill up the void he had left behind. Lot did not interrupt; he asked no question and gave no reliable sign of interest. At times, he leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, so still and so lacking in expression that he might have been asleep. At other times, his features once again seemed as hard as mortared stone, and he made eye contacts of such discomfiting intensity that Daniel thought he was only talking to the air.

When he was done, the look his superior gave him was not the one he’d tack in his album of fond memories. It was the kind of look one would give a well-dressed man who suddenly decided to walk on his head to work.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Daniel asked Lot.

“Like what?"

“Like I’m an idi*t.”

“Of course, you are. I’ve known that already a long time ago.” Lot replied, “I just never thought you were this silly.”

Daniel was appalled, “Why would you say that?”

“Because you didn’t tell me about the dog.”

“What dog?”

“The caged dog. That large Alsatian, you didn’t tell me about it. You’ve merely shown me the skeleton of this affair, and I am not a wizard. I must know what has been done and what has been overlooked.”

Daniel was trying hard to understand what the detective was talking about but he was not succeeding. “What do you expect me to tell you about a dog? I’m not a veterinary doctor, remember?”

“Did the dog not bark at you when you entered this compound the first time yesterday?”

“It barked,” Daniel agreed, “I can remember how scared I was when it threatened to break loose of its cage and make me a meal.”

“Of course it’d bark maniacally at you. It made an exception in my case; it only made a deep growling sound.”

“Does the dog know you or what?”

Lot shook his head.

“Then why didn’t it bark at you?” Daniel wanted to know.

“I communicated with it.”

“You what?” By this time what little doubt Daniel might have entertained at his superior’s sanity was finally put to rest. He had no choice but to conclude him stricken with lunacy.

“I made a sign that would keep almost every dog from barking at you, regardless of your familiarity with the retriever. Only very few people know this trick.”

“Do you mind teaching me this trick?”

“Maybe later. Let’s come back to the night of the crime. You said you were in your room when the crime was committed, right?”

“Right.”

“What exactly were you doing at the time Jamal was killed?”

Daniel reflected and decided to keep from telling the detective everything he witnessed at the time; he deliberately left out the part where he caught Remi running across the bend. The lady herself did not see him, so he saw no reason to indulge in giving her up to the unpredictable gumshoe. Besides, he also knew Lot well to know that the conclusion he might draw would not be favourable to him, most especially to Remi.

“I was lying on the bed when I heard the scream.” At least, he was not entirely lying.

“Jamal’s scream?”

Daniel nodded yes.

“How did the scream sound?”

“It was terrible. It was like a soul screaming right from the pits of hell. The remembrance still gives me the creeps.”

The door was opened and the maid came in carrying a tray containing four teacups and a jug of tea. Beside the jug and cups were new teaspoons and a box of St. Louis sugar. Without asking for permission she detoured around the large table between Lot and Daniel and deposited the beverage.

“Courtesy of Mr. David Malik. He asked me to make you some tea.” She said pleasantly.

“Thanks a lot, madam.” Daniel said and added, “Tell Mr. Malik we really appreciate his kind gesture.”

“Will do that.” She replied and turned to go.

When she reached the door Lot asked, “Miss—what is your name?”

“My name is Gladys.”

“That’s a sweet name. I just need to ask you the name of that cute dog you caged there.”

“Her name is Trinity.”

“Thank you, Gladys.”

“I’m glad to be of help.” The maid smiled and walked out of the room.
After her departure, Daniel reached for the tea but Lot slapped his hand away.

“May your gluttony never be your end, dear Famous.”

|What again?” the frustrated Daniel asked, “You think the tea is poisoned?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“That’s ridiculous! Why would David want to poison us?”

“Did you leave your brain behind in Port Harcourt? I can think of more than one reason why he’d want to have us deleted. Like Old Chima said, this job calls for stepping on a lot of toes. I’m less concerned about getting poisoned by David than by Gladys.”

“The maid?”

Lot nodded.

“You’re impossible, sir,” Daniel said, “I wonder when you’ll stop suspecting innocent people. Perhaps when Tuface turns a pope or when I’m able to foretell the correct numbers of next week’s winning lottery, start fire with the power of my mind, and teleport to the Bakassi peninsular to have a plate of sizzling shawarma.”

“Funny, but not funny.” Lot reached for the mug, poured the tea and gulped it down.

Daniel, who thought he’d reached the peak of aghastness concerning the detective, was easily startled at the investigator’s art. A small glistening pink animal poked its head out of the detective’s beard. Daniel leaned forward fascinated until he realized that the pink animal was the man’s tongue. It slid back and forth between lips no doubt best left unrevealed. The detective apparently enjoyed the drink.

“Now who is being gluttonous?” Daniel asked, grimacing.

“It’s not gluttony, it’s protection.” Lot answered, wiping his bearded mouth.

D9ty7: Its been a while Mr Larrysun. How have you been?

Hello, my brother! How are you? Where have you been? I'm still interested in that project if you can still bring it up.

Bless you, sir.

you are doing a great job

expecting more updates...

can't wait for the misery to unravel

LarrySun:
...After her departure, Daniel reached for the tea but Lot slapped his hand away.

“May your gluttony never be your end, dear Famous.”

What again?” the frustrated Daniel asked, “You think the tea is poisoned?”

“That’s a possibility.”

... Lot reached for the mug, poured the tea and gulped it down.

Daniel, who thought he’d reached the peak of aghastness concerning the detective, was easily startled at the investigator’s art. A small glistening pink animal poked its head out of the detective’s beard. Daniel leaned forward fascinated until he realized that the pink animal was the man’s tongue.

..."Now who is being gluttonous?” Daniel asked, grimacing.

“It’s not gluttony, it’s protection.” Lot answered, wiping his bearded mouth.

Now here's what I love about your stories - your apt description and subtle sense of humour.

Welldone!

“I made a sign that would keep almost every dog from barking at you, regardless of your familiarity with the retriever. Only very few people know this trick.”

Would you mind teaching us this "dog-taming" trick?

“Protection indeed,” Daniel spat, “Who protects himself by drinking poison?”

“I didn’t say I was protecting myself.”

“Whatever you are talking about now?”

“Did it ever occur to your tiny, tiny brain that I’d rather have the poison kill me than watching you drink it and die? It is better to have one person die of poisoning than two. I realise that having me die from the poison is the only way to stop you from drinking.”

Daniel’s eyes opened a little bit wider than normal, “You’re kidding me, right?” He wasn’t sure if Lot was messing with his head or being serious. But he knew the detective was one who didn’t always make unnecessary jokes. He watched in awe as Lot poured himself another cup and drank. With the way the detective swallowed as he drank, Daniel supposed that the tea must have been deliciously rich. He found himself swallowing saliva.

So much for poison! He wanted to reach out and drink from the goblet of uncertainty but he still had reservation about that tea; the liquid could really contain poison. And Lot could really be having a death-wish. Come to think of it, the man volunteered to investigate this case for free, Lot didn’t always do anything for free, he was definitely sure about that. He watched Lot pour the third cup.

Without drinking, the detective placed the cup of tea on the table. This was not helping a bit, for Daniel could not take his eyes away from the steaming, cold beverage. Lot placed his briefcase on the table, opened it and came out with a sheet of paper. Daniel recognized the sheet as the one the detective had extracted from the corpse’s pocket. Lot placed the paper on the table and pushed it across to Daniel.

“Read that and tell me what you think about it.”

Daniel picked up the paper, dragged his eyes off the tea and looked at what he was holding. He said to Lot immediately, “This one is burnt in half. I’ll need the other half before I can make any sense of what is written on it.”

“I don’t have the other half, that is how I found it. Just read the half as it is.”

“It won’t make any sense.”

“Just read it.” Lot snapped.

The first thing Daniel did was count the lines on the paper. They were twenty-five. The sheet of paper was unarguably a full foolscap carefully burnt in half. Why the person who did it would perform the act in the first place totally eluded him. He noticed that the detective was studying his face curiously, so he began to read the insensible text. As he read, he tried to acquire the habit of thinking – something he had never done much before.

I don’t want to ramble too---
it is at this moment impera---
may quite be a chance that---
you read this note; because---
my life is somehow being th---

I should have called, really---
isn’t as hushed as it initially---
may linger behind these stult---
words that come out of my m---
new line from which we ca---
privacy; a safe-house well pa---
compound and we can freely---
the walls grow unnecessary ea---
you will notice when you see---
day between midday and 2---
when you call, I shall be wai---
I expect that the other partie---
of the truth over there. But V---
the truth – we have to act---

I really hope the plan wor---

After this, Daniel noticed that the next lines appeared to be a quote of some sorts. He felt like he knew this one but his mind could still not place its origin. He read on:

*In the beginning*

There is a tid---
In the affairs---
Which, taken a---
Leads on to f---

He read these twenty-five lines all over again, trying to connect the missing links, but as much as he tried, he could not. However, his mind continued to bring him back to the last five lines. The only complete line among the twenty-five was the twenty-first; the one bearing an asterisk:

*In the beginning*

These were the first three words of the Bible:

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth

Although the remaining four lines were incomplete, Daniel felt like line twenty-one was inappropriate to its successors. He held the paper like a feather in his hand and looked at the detective’s eyes.

“It makes no sense, sir.” He told the detective.

Lot nodded, shutting his eyes. When he opened those hard eyes, he said, “I’ve got to complete it for the note to make sense.”

“And how do you plan on doing that? Through divine intervention?”

“Through using the brain,” Lot replied sharply, “Try that some time, it works wonders.” Lot expected himself to get the work done in fifteen minutes as soon as he started deciphering the content of the note, because that was the average time required any simple code of this nature which was devised by anyone lacking in significant education in any branch of higher symbolism; by comparison, more ingeniously composed required days, weeks, even months to penetrate.

“Thanks for the advice, sir.”

“You’re forgetting something very important, dear Famous.”

“Please remind me, sir.”

“This note is the link to everything. Trust me on that. Without this note, I’m afraid the murder would never be solved. Resurrect Sherlock Holmes and he won’t be able to solve this case without connecting the dots in the note first.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Turn your attention to the note you are holding and read line 20.”

Daniel did as he was told; he turned his gaze to the burnt paper, counted the lines and stopped at number 20. He saw what he did not notice earlier; it was the line immediately before the biblical three words he’d pondered over moments ago. He read line twenty out loud:

“I really hope the plan works.”

“ ‘out well’ “ Lot added, “ ‘I really hope the plan works out well’. I can bet my life’s saving that that was what the writer wrote.”

“And that’s the link?” Daniel asked, apparently not impressed yet at the detective’s discovery. Of course, anyone could guess out that particular line. It was straightforward enough.

“That line shows that Jamal’s death was carefully planned. And the plan lies in what is written here. I’m going to find out everything, Famous.”

“Do you know who wrote the note?”

“Nobody can know that until this note is cracked. As a matter of fact, cracking it may not even reveal the identity of the writer. The person who scribbled this note left no forwarding address, and no subscription.”

“It could easily have been written by Mr. Jamal Malik himself.”

“Or by his murderer. We’d only be speculating if we wasted more time arguing about who held the pen. Don’t you think we’ve got some people to question?”

“Who are we questioning first?”

“The maid.”

:Should I go and call her now?”

“Please do.”

Daniel rose. When he reached the door, Lot called him, “Famous.”

“Yes?”

“When you bring her you’re going to ask the questions.”

Daniel was visibly surprised, “Why me? Isn’t that your job?”

“I want to concentrate on deciphering the note while you work.”

alizenbohr:

Now here's what I love about your stories - your apt description and subtle sense of humour.

Welldone!

Thanks a lot, bro. Just trying to chip in a few humour here and there; no matter how morbid some may seem.

alizenbohr:
Would you mind teaching us this "dog-taming" trick?

I'll remember to ask Detective Lot anytime he takes another stroll around my imagination.

u are so creative. more ink to ur pen

Flakeey: you are doing a great job

expecting more updates...

can't wait for the misery to unravel

Thanks Flake, update will come later today.

pricelesslove: u are so creative. more ink to ur pen

Thanks a bunch, Priceless. God bless you, ma'am.

THIRTEEN

Gladys Simon was the maid of the house, and she gathered much weight than every member of the house. She was a fantastically large person; nearly as round as she was tall. Bosoms the size of pillows, fine hulking shoulders, a neck made to burst restraining collars, and the square but proud face of a fattened bull. A whale of a woman. There was no other word to describe her; a great, big, cheesy-looking woman, wallowing in fat. Double, treble, quadruple layers of neck which slept on each other like puppies. Her head was a massive representation of Titanic’s hull. Her clothes featured short sleeves and her exposed arms were as big as those of a bodybuilder, although without muscle definition – immense, smooth, black. Her hands were also enormous; great, big, fat hands with great, big, fat, shapeless fingers.

When Gladys was still nothing but a flat-chested seven-year-old adolescent, she had always admired ladies of prominent jigglers. Then she had come across an article in an old magazine about enlarging your breasts through the power of positive thinking. Since then she had fallen asleep most nights picturing herself with massive hooters. The author of the article was probably full of poop, but Gladys’ positive thoughts began to manifest a year later, and she continued dozing herself to a massive C-cup. She continued growing in style and kind. Every time she checked herself in a mirror, she smiled contentedly. Soon, the positive manifestation became a horror when other parts of her body began to increase tremendously. Even till this moment, her two gigantic mountains were still erupting. She had once taken a moment to wonder what would have become the fate of humanity if she had dwelt on the power of negative thinking.

She was horrible, Daniel thought. A great, black, creased, slobbering mass of fat was her face. And set in it were two rather desperate small eyes. Very shrewd eyes looking on the world; appraising it, appraising Daniel. Not appraising Lot, he noticed. He believed Lot was here by command, by appointment’ however he would like to put it. And Daniel felt comfortable thinking it in the former. Lot had been here out of curiosity but partly at his behest, so he surmised that the detective’s presence was manifested under his own command. He kept this to himself, for he knew that he had no one to kid but self.

It was at him that Gladys was looking, as if she were seeing him just for the first time. As if a fascinating bump had grown at the tip of his nose and Gladys could do nothing but stare. After a moment, her eyes wondered about the room without curiosity. She looked back at him, summing him up again. All these were what Daniel should be doing – appraising suspects with his eyes, but alas, the boot was on the other leg! He noticed that Lot did not bother to even take a sneak-peek at them. The older man appeared to be entirely devoted to the burnt piece of paper he was critically studying; and he was jotting something in a notepad beside him. That moment, neither Gladys nor Daniel existed to Lot.

Not knowing from where to begin, Daniel started by asking: “How old are you, Miss--?”

“I’m thirty-five this year.”

But she looked fifty-five, Daniel thought.

The lady caught him staring this time and took offence, “Did you call me here only to stare or to ask questions? Maybe I should turn my back at you since it seems like my chest is not allowing you to concentrate.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry, madam. Please forgive me. But it wasn’t your chest I was looking at.”

“The name is Gladys. Gladys Simon, not ‘madam’.”

“Right,” He was a complete flux about interrogative procedures. He tried to recall how Lot had questioned his first suspect who had mounted the first rung of the interrogatory ladder three years prior at the Martins’ manse. All he could come up to say next was:

“For how long have you been working in this house?”

“It’s been about four years now. I came a year after the driver.”

“And where is the driver now?”

“He left for his hometown four days ago. The landlord himself discharged him with two other women; the cleaner and the cook.”

“Why were you not discharged?”

“He wanted me to wait and prepare the meals for the family. He said I could take my own break after the festive seasons.”

“Are you the cook too?”

“I oversee the activities of the other women. I do their works when they’re absent; just like now, someone has to take care of the house. Even when Esther was still in secondary school and the other two women had not been employed, I was the housekeeper; Mrs. Jamal needed my help, considering her situation.”

Daniel now realized that there was not really a definite method of interrogation, coercion aside. Ask random questions and the suspect’s reply would spur another question. Of course, there was no method but there were usually some tricks experienced interrogators use force out words out of non-responsive suspects’ mouths. He considered himself lucky that the maid was at least cooperative in her replies. If otherwise, he’d be completely at a loss about what to do and Lot would not be patting him on the back for his result.

He asked, “Was Mrs. Malik blind before you began working here?”

She nodded, “She was.”

“Do you know if she was born blind?” he asked the question suddenly. He looked at Lot to see if the question jolted him, but the detective seemed not to be hearing his words. Lot was totally engrossed in deciphering the content of the note. The frown lines on the older man’s forehead were tautly drawn that veins projected hence.

Daniel turned his attention to the maid for a reply, but he caught Gladys looking at him as if he’d just wetted himself.

“I’m not in the best position to answer such question, Mr. Famous,” she replied, “If you are so curious about knowing that, you My ask the concerned subject yourself. I’m sure she’ll give you a befitting reply.”

“You said you’ve been here four years, you must have heard something about the cause of her blindness.”

“I told you, I don’t know. Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you. It’s not my place to answer such question. I’m only a maid here.”

“Okay,” Daniel sighed, “Are you married?”

Gladys glared at him, “I don’t know why that is any of your business, mister.”
“Just answer the question, please. And the name is Daniel, not ‘mister’.”

“The question is inconsequential to the murder of Mr. Jamal Malik.”

“We decide what is and what is not consequential to the case of Mr. Malik’s demise. And I didn’t tell you Mr. Malik’s death was murder; what made you say it was murder?"

She rolled her eyes up into her head, as if to say that the only place she was going to find common sense was inside her own skull. “If stabbing someone to death in the back isn’t murder to you, I wonder what is.”

The lady, he agreed, was smarter than he gave her credit for. She knew her ways about answering questions without putting her own thick neck in the fence.

“Let’s come back to my initial question. Are you married, madam?”

She took her time before answering the question, “No, I’m not married. I’ve never been married.”

“Why is that?”

“Because men are so vain,” she looked at him squarely in the eyes, “A woman has to make just a single mistake and she’ll be regarded cheap. And some silly men will only see your thigh as the extension of their armchairs. But when men act promiscuously they’re always regarded heroes by their comrades. No, I’ll never get married.” She spoke determinedly.

Daniel wanted to convince her otherwise but he knew arguing with the big woman would seem awkward and unprofessional. So, he asked, “Do you have any child, Miss Simon? A son or daughter?”

“Seeing what some children can do to their parents has robbed me of the desire to breed. I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

“Why would I be upset by your decision to remain a celibate?”

The woman shook her head from left to right twice, “You’re not the sweetest spice in the stew.”

Daniel was ashamed of himself. It was Lot alone who knew about his gullibility, now this woman was a new discoverer.

“How many children did Mr. and Mrs. Jamal have?”

“They’re four, as far as I know. The eldest is Mrs. Ruth Brown, followed by Mr. David Malik, then Mr. Gabriel, finally Miss Esther Malik. Two ladies, two men.”

“Thank you,” said he, “Now, what can you tell me about your boss’s death?”
“Nothing, I don’t know anything.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I am sure.”

“Where were you last night?”

“I was in my room, of course.”

“What were you doing in your room? Sleeping?”

“Yes, sleeping, until the brief power failure.”

“So, you lay awake there in the darkness?”

“No, I’m afraid of the dark. As soon as the lights went off I quickly jumped out of my bed to reach for a match and candle. The lights came back on not long after I lit the candle. But I didn’t blow out the candle though, I was scared the power would go off again. Power is never trusted in this part of the state.”

“Then what happened next?”

“I was lying on the bed thinking when I heard a horrible scream. Oh, it was like a soul under torture. I pray never to hear such a scream again in my life!” she shuddered in disgust.

“Continue please.”

“I was shocked. My health has never been good; I’m nursing asthma and high blood pressure. So, I stayed rooted for some few seconds or minutes, I can’t calculate. Everything happened fast. When I recovered from the shock, I heard the sounds of footsteps approach the side of my window. I was afraid it was the screamer, or worse, the man who had caused the horrible scream of another. As the fast steps came closer, I backed away from the window and pressed my body in fright against the wall opposite. I’d have melted into the wall if it were humanly possible.”

“Go on.” Daniel urged.

“Then the figure ran past my window.”

“Who was the person?”

“I don’t know.”

“A man or woman?”

“I don’t know! The light was on in my room and the night beyond the window was quite dark. If you don’t know, I’m also near-sighted. I only saw the silhouette of the runner. I guess someone with better vision would have seen the runner more clearly.”

“You’re near-sighted yet you’re not wearing glasses.”

“I don’t need glasses to see close objects. I don’t need to wear glasses to see you and the detective because you’re both close to me, I can see you clearly. Besides, I hate wearing glasses anyway, the invention always makes me feel like Piggy.”

“Who is Piggy?”

“Haven’t you read Golding’s Lord of the Flies?”

“No, I haven’t. is Piggy a character in the novel?”

“Yes, he was a masculine and younger version of me. His pair of glasses was broken and he got killed because his sight was impaired. Near-sighted people are prone to more accidents than their far-sighted brethren.”

“Then what happened after the figure ran past your window?”

“I rushed out of the room into the corridor. I saw people running towards the main door.”

“Can you at least guess the identity of the runner?”

“The runner could be anybody, it could even be you.”

“It wasn’t me,” Daniel assured her, smiling humourlessly.

“Well, one thing I’m certain about is that the runner is either the murderer of Mr. Malik or he knows the identity of the killer. You’ve got to find out who the runner was.”

“What makes you think the runner is a ‘he’?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said ‘…or he knows the identity of the killer’. Why do you think it’s a ‘he’?”

“I’m sorry, I use ‘he’ when I don’t know the gender of whom I am talking about. Don’t you know that, Mr. Famous? By the way, why is it that you’re the one asking the questions here?”

“As you can see, the detective is quite busy. He gave me the liberty to ask the questions.”

“But you’re also a suspect, doesn’t he know that?”

“I’m sure he knows, but he trusts me implicitly.”

“Madam,” Lot suddenly intruded in the conversation, “I’ll like you to do something, that’s if you don’t mind.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“It’s simple. Just pour yourself a cup of tea.”

Gladys scoffed, “You think I poisoned it, don’t you?”

Lot nodded, “The thought crossed my mind, yes. You made the tea, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. But I didn’t put poison in it.” She looked at Lot’s half-empty cup and added, “Why did you drink the tea if you believed that I poisoned it?”

“The tea was too good to pass.”

“Well, I didn’t poison the tea!”

“Then you won’t mind having a sip from your wonderfully-brewed beverage.”

“You’re impossible, detective. Do you know that?” she took a cup, poured herself the tea and drank. She reached to pour the second but Lot held her hand.

“That’s enough,” Lot said, smiling, “The first cup has convinced me enough.”

Nawa for detective Lot ooo. tea wey him don drink from na he na him think say dem poison. he is very funny. btw well done Larry.

whoaaaaa
dis update is soo good

i'm very sure Det. Lot heard every word from the interrogation, he might just pretended he didn't listen.
i remembered how Lot interrogated dat old soldier gateman in Brand of Cain..lol

tnx Larry...when are we getting d next update?
don't keep us waitig for too long, biko

LarrySun:
“Haven’t you read Golding’s Lord of the Flies?”

“No, I haven’t. is Piggy a character in the novel?”

Lord of the Flies
I still remember how those English kids became savages on that island...
… still remember Simon's meeting with the 'lord of the flies'

Following still. You've got a fan in me.

...







Am I to say something?.

Daniel watched all these with fascination, he actually caught the detective wink at the woman before he returned his attention to the note he was decoding, leaving he and the woman to the interview in process.

But Daniel was out of questions to ask now.

The maid seemed to sense it too and said, “”In the absence of any other question, can I leave now? I’ve got some dishes to clean in the kitchen.”

His question came suddenly, “No, not yet. You saw the weapon used on Mr. Malik.”

“A knife.”

“Do you recognize the knife?”

“Why would I recognize it?”

“You’d recognize the knife if it was taken from the kitchen.”

“I only saw the handle; the rest of the knife was embedded in Mr. Malik’s spine already.”

“You should have recognized the handle if it belonged in the kitchen.”

“I’ve never seen the knife before.”

“Are you very sure about that?”

“I’m certain.”

“I’m surprised, really.”

“Why?”

“I thought I heard you say you were short-sighted.”

“That’s true. I am.”

“I remember that the night we rushed to the door you weren’t wearing your glasses.”

“I told you I don’t like wearing glasses.”

“Though short-sighted you are but you were able to identify the handle of the knife as the one not from the kitchen. In that dark night? Come on. As much as I would like to believe you, the defense isn’t plausible enough.”

“I shall not be entrapped by your word games. I didn’t say I identified the knife that night.”

Daniel was visibly baffled, “How do you mean?”

“I mean I saw the knife early this morning.”

“How is that possible? The body was covered and the policemen were watching over the corpse all the while.”

“I saw it before the police arrived.”
“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not. After we discovered and body and retired to our various rooms thereafter, I could not sleep; I kept thinking about the corpse and who would be so cold-blooded to stab Mr. Malik to death.”

“Go on.”

“Then something which happened after the horrible scream repeated itself.”

“Are you saying that there was another dash across your window?”

“Dawn was already approaching when it happened again. The figure’s identity eluded me again. Hoping to catch the person this time, I put on my glasses and came out of my room. I went out through one of the back doors and tried to follow the runner back to the front of the building where the corpse lay.”

“Did you find that particular door locked or otherwise?”

“Otherwise; it was unlocked. I believe the runner unlocked it. I didn’t find the runner when I reached the front of the house but the position I found the body was not how it was left; the sheet we used to cover it had been flung off and the body appeared to have been turned. Dead people have the right to be handled with care, at least. I went to the body and covered it with the sheet. That was how I had a close view of the knife. It isn’t the kind of knife I use in the kitchen. From the way the handle glimmered under the moon, I think the knife is new. It has never been used before, except, of course, on Mr. Malik.”

“You seem to know much about knives.”

“My grandfather was a retired soldier, he taught me a lot about weapons before his death. He was very fond of me; I took after him in stature, if you know what I mean.”

“What can you say about Mr. Malik?”

“Say about him?”

“What kind of man was he? How would you describe him from your own perspective?”

“He was quite a wonderful man. And he loved his wife more than anything. I’ve never seen anyone loved someone as much as he did his wife. The fact that she was sightless didn’t in any way diminish the great love he had for her. He literally worshipped her. I hope more of our men can learn how to love like he did.”

“What about his wife? Did you love him as much as he loved her?”

“I’m not sure. The woman is blind and helpless. But I suppose she must have loved him too. Her blindness makes her irritable and easily-angered. But Mr. Malik was the most patient and enduring man I have ever seen.”

“Did you like him?”

Gladys shrugged, “I respected him. He could be a little frightening at times, a little impatient. If he gave an instruction he didn’t like to have to repeat it. He was very efficient himself and he expected it in others. But he was very fair, very considerate.”

“Thanks a lot, Miss Simon. You’ve been such a great help. You shall be summoned if we need to ask you some more questions. You can leave now.”

The fat lady stood with effort and left the room."

Daniel turned to Lot, beaming, “How did I perform?”

Lot took his eyes off the book before him and replied, “You did great. I’m impressed.”

“She said—”

“You don’t need to educate me on what she said; I heard everything you two discussed. I couldn’t have put those questions any better. Well done, Famous.”

“I thought you weren’t listening to us; I thought you were particularly devoted to deciphering the content of the note.”

“The note took me only ten minutes to crack. I was stalling because the lady seemed to be more comfortable answering your question, except for some very few situations where she threatened to disagree with your mental capabilities. Besides that, you asked the questions near-perfectly.”

“So, how about the note? You said you have connected the missing dots. I still don’t see how that can be possible.”

“Of course, it’s possible; but I’ve not connected all the dots, as you put it. I only cracked a fraction of the note.”

“I don’t understand. You said moments ago that you’ve decoded the content of the note.”

“I only succeeded in deciphering the first twenty lines. The last five defy all logic; these ones appeared to have been culled from a certain poem or so. As much as I tried to break them, I was stumped.”

“Can I see the ones you’ve broken?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“We need to question someone else first.”

“Who?”

“The doctor. Call in Doctor Bantu.”

“Yes, sir.”

But before Daniel went out, he made sure he drank two cups from the tea.”

pricelesslove: Nawa for detective Lot ooo. tea wey him don drink from na he na him think say dem poison. he is very funny. btw well done Larry.

The detective can be quite weird if he puts his mind to it.

Thanks ma'am.

Flakeey: whoaaaaa
dis update is soo good

i'm very sure Det. Lot heard every word from the interrogation, he might just pretended he didn't listen.

And it turns out you were right.

Flakeey: i remembered how Lot interrogated dat old soldier gateman in Brand of Cain..lol

That man gave Lot a tough time. Lol! They didn't like each other much.

Bless you, ma'am.

alizenbohr:
Lord of the Flies

I still remember how those English kids became savages on that island...
…still remember Simon's meeting with the 'lord of the flies'

Following still. You've got a fan in me.

Thank you, sir. You seem to have read widely.

maputohq: ...







Am I to say something?.

I think so. Just say anything.