wowww..
just finished reading up to page 6.
i must commend ur work
it's a wonderful piece...i read Brand of Cain 2 years ago as a guest..
i bumped into this thread yesterday and i'm following it to the end...
weldone LarrySun...you are definitely going places

*now back to reading*

maputohq: Boss, your boy is learning. from you ooo...I luv ur show, I mean story.

Thank you, bro. I'm learning from you too.

Kingso23: not surprised, given the hanging threat of excluding her from the old man's will,..

You may soon be surprised, trust me. Thanks so much for following.

Flakeey: wowww..
just finished reading up to page 6.
i must commend ur work
it's a wonderful piece...i read Brand of Cain 2 years ago as a guest..
i bumped into this thread yesterday and i'm following it to the end...
weldone LarrySun...you are definitely going places

*now back to reading*

Oh, thanks a bunch, Flakeey. I'm glad you read The Brand of Cain. I hope you enjoyed reading it.

NINE

It was 2a.m that Wednesday morning on Christmas Day; most people would still be sleeping at this time, only those who were awake would be expected to be busy boxing up their presents which they would be delivering to friends, neighbours and well-wishers. But this was not a day or time for the Maliks to be putting gifts in cartons or remain asleep. The only sleeping member of the family was the deceased’s grandson, Christopher.
The powerful halogen bulb that was off all through the scream and the time of beholding the corpse was now switched on. The brilliant light glared on the ground beneath where the spectators stood and the deceased lay.

“How do we tell mother about this?” Ruth spoke for the first time.

“I suggest we don’t tell her now, she wouldn’t take it like we all did.” David replied her.

“Speak for yourself, brother,” Ariel said, “You don’t know how I’m taking it.”

“Of course, I do. You’re not grieving; none of us is.”

“We all grieve in different ways.” Esther chipped in.

“Yet, none of us is breaking down in tears after seeing father lying dead here. Only one of us here is the murderer but we all look guilty.”

“When will the police arrive?” Tunde Johnson asked Daniel famous.

“I don’t know,” The latter replied, “I’m only a stranger here, remember? It’s not my place to call the police. One of the family members can do that.”
“And which policeman would be foolish enough to answer you at this ungodly hour?” David demanded.

“I know of one or two officers that you can call, they wouldn’t mind coming immediately if you asked them. They're not foolish though.” Daniel replied.

David looked at him skeptically and asked, “Who are you exactly? A policeman?”

Daniel sighed, the past will always catch up with you. He answered, “I’m a footballer,” he paused, “But I was once a police officer.”

“I thought as much,” Daniel heard Ruth speak, “You had to be a policeman to be this dumb.”

“So, what do you suggest we do now?” David asked Daniel.

The footballer thought for a moment and said, “Let’s go and tell your mother what happened. Sooner or later, she’s going to know. We don’t want to regret keeping anything from her, do we?”

“Lady Macbeth won’t be pleased.” Tunde said under his breath. Fortunately for him, it was only Daniel who heard him.

“Are we just going to leave him here?” Anuli asked, evidently referring to the corpse.

“You heard the man, didn’t you?” David replied her harshly, “He is not to be touched. Besides, nobody will kill him again, the deed has been done already.”

“None of us is really safe,” said Anuli, “If there is a murderer among us, then nobody is safe. Our lives are in the hand of a killer among us. David, we must leave here as soon as possible.”

“No one is leaving,” said Ruth, “Not until the murderer has been fished out. Who knows, Anuli? The murderer could either be you or your husband.”

“How dare you?” Anuli spat back at her sister-in-law.

“No one should be accused of anything for now.” Daniel uttered, “Questions will be asked later and investigations will be made.”

“Can we please go inside? It’s cold out here, and I’m feeling sleepy already.” Ariel said.

As usual, David replied him with scorn, “You’re feeling sleepy? Your father is lying here dead and all you feel is drowsiness? Don’t you have a heart?”

“What do you expect me to do, brother?” Ariel questioned, “Join him in the netherworld just to show my grief? I know you were fond of him even after everything, but to me he wasn’t the best of fathers.”

“Let us all go in.” Daniel pleaded.

As they walked to the house, Daniel noticed that Remi was the only family member who hadn’t said anything since they came across the corpse. David led them all to Mother’s door. The raised white letters across the green background spelled out the name HANNAH as though the announcement should strike fear in the hearts of observers. It would help if the name was somewhat more threatening, Daniel thought. Nothing about the biblical nomenclature was remarkable, except that it could be spelled both forward and backward. Daniel didn’t for a moment imagine that he’d be entering the matriarch’s room in less than twenty-four hours after his arrival. This room was one of the sacred rooms in the house. And it would only take something as grave as murder before a crowd could gain entry into this apartment. The door was knocked and a woman’s voice commanded them to enter.

The room, Daniel reflected, was too grand for a blind woman. Neatness ruled here. The walls were painted cream and the ceiling white. There were two windows here; one viewed the front yard and the other showed the expanse of trees at the side of the building. There was a king-size bed with rumpled bed sheet; an evidence of being slept on. On a small table, a collection of antique perfume bottles sparkled. There were two single-seaters and one double-seater occupying the left side of the room. The right hand side of the room portrayed a giant television screen. It was turned off but the audio player under it was playing TY Bello’s Greenland. The volume was turned low so the music came smoothly but faintly, like a distant sound track behind a movie scene. Behind the large bed were two closed doors. Daniel presumed that one must lead to the restroom and the other the wardrobe. They could actually be leading to hallways too. The architect who drew the plan of this building must have been on something strong while working.
They found the old woman standing by her bed. It was hard to tell whether she had been standing there for long or she was just recently roused from sleep. Out of the few things Daniel knew was the fact that the human body was amazingly programmed. If any sensory organ lost its function, another or the rest worked twice as effective. Like the case of this sightless woman; if the sight was lost, the organ of hearing and of smell worked in increasingly effective ways. Most especially the ears, the cochlea responded to sound vibration with a faster rate. Sounds that would normally have escaped the hearing had the sight been intact would be sensed more distinctly when the eyes lost their functions.

With this theory, however, Daniel presumed that the woman would also have heard the scream of agony, particularly the sounds of footsteps along the corridors. The ambience of the room was cool, then he noticed that the air-conditioner was working; blowing steady oxygen.

The mistress was carefully dressed in pyjamas which revealed nothing prurient, and her face sported dark glasses. Daniel wondered if her eye sockets were just hollow spaces for her to have resorted to fostering spectacles all the time. Anuli excused herself to check on her infant.

“You’re awake, mother.” Ruth said, she moved towards the old lady and put her arm around her mother’s shoulders.

“What was that scream?” Hannah demanded immediately.

Everyone was silent. No one among them was prepared to be the bearer of bad news, since each one of them was not unaware of how kings kill the messengers of bad reports.

“Why are you all silent?” Hannah said, “It’s Jamal, isn’t it? He has been killed.”

“How did you know he was killed?” Tunde asked her, with a slight trace of accusation.

“Did that scream suggest merriment to you?” The blind woman shot back at him.

“We’re very sorry, Mrs. Malik. I-”

“keep your condolences to yourselves.” She replied immediately.

The messengers became silent again. They were all at loss about what to say next; no one could say anything meaning meaningful or helpful at the moment. Any word, no matter how sincerely put or meant, would have tasted as false as vinegar is bitter. Daniel searched everyone’s face, none of them appeared to be sorry, except Ruth who continued clinging to her mother. On Remi’s face he saw not pity but anger. The young woman was glaring at the old woman. He decided that there was really something suspicious about her now, even ever since the few discussions he had had with her in the room before the horrible scream.

“Can you all kindly leave my room now?” Hannah said, “I’d like to be left alone.”

Although she was not crying visibly, tears ran from beneath her glasses down her cheeks. Daniel felt so sorry for her that he nearly walked up and hugged her. But he knew that it would be the silliest thing of the century, he therefore restrained from embarrassing himself publicly in the private room.
In obeisance to the mistress’s request, they all filed towards the door, except Ruth who still remained by her mother’s side.

“Including you, Ruth.” Hannah affirmed.

“I want to stay with you.” Remi’s mother protested.

“I said I’d like to be left alone,” Hannah’s voice was strong, “Which part of the statement did you not understand?”

Reluctantly, Ruth followed the others out of the room. As they walked down the corridor they heard the door of Hannah’s room bang shut.

who killed jamal ? it obviously looks like remi but......

nice work bro

They’d once again retired to their various rooms. As he stepped into his own room, Daniel immediately bolted the door. He admitted it, he was scared. He was scared of a murderer stepping into his room and stabbing him while sleep took hold. Besides, David had warned everyone beforehand to bolt their doors. Prevention was better than protection. The two police officers had been called and they’d promised to come as soon as possible. The corpse had been covered up with a white wrapper provided by the maid, and all the doors leading out of the house had been securely bolted.

But Daniel wasn’t satisfied yet; there was a murderer in the house and it would take someone much more intelligent and clever than Ayo Festus and Moses Anuku to fish out the killer. Although these two police officers had been promoted to the post of Director of Police in their various divisions, Daniel felt that neither of them was shrewd enough to tackle this murder case. It would take a very brilliant detective to take on this case and do justice to it. He knew of only one man who could do that. Only one man in the whole of the country was up to the task.

He so much wanted to go home by dawn – to go away from the strange family to meet his own family. Strangely, his thought drifted towards his biological father. He was missing him now, even though he had never known him. But he knew that his name was Sam Oliver, and he was a great man. He had never won a war, never made a law, never composed a music, never written a famous novel, but he was greater than any general, politician, scientist, composer or prize-winning novelist that ever lived. He was great because he was kind. He was great because he was humble, gentle, full of laughter. But his gentle life was cut short by a madman.

Daniel brought out his mobile phone and scrolled down to a particular number. He stared at the number for some time, trying to decide about what to say to him. It had been over three years since he’d last spoken to him. Daniel knew that the man he was about to call was retired and he might probably not come. But there was no harm in trying. He needed the man to come; a part of him needed him to come and unravel the mystery surrounding this strange family, and another part of him just wanted to see the man again and work with him once more. With the detective’s presence, Daniel knew that he’d feel much more comfortable in this house. He placed the call.

The phone rang but the call was not answered. Daniel placed the call again; another part of him fearing that the detective did not want to have anything to do with him anymore. It had been three years.

The phone continued ringing without answer, and at about the last second, the call was picked by a man with a husky voice.

“Hello,” The voice said.

“This is Daniel Famous.”

“I know. And to what fortunate circumstance am I to attribute the honour of a call from you this early morning?”

Knowing that he was talking to a man particularly difficult to understand, Daniel did not know if he should greet the detective or just report his reason for calling.

“What can I do for you?” The detective demanded, “Have you lost your tongue?”

Daniel smiled at this; he was not mistaken about whom he was calling.

“Are you in Lagos, sir?”

“What if I was?”

“We need your presence here.”

“Who has been killed?”

“A man, sir.”

“What kind of family is yours, really?”

“It’s not from my family. The killing is in another family, sir.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“It’s murder, sir.” Daniel replied, “You need to come and investigate the crime.”

“What makes you so sure it’s murder?”

“The victim was stabbed in the back, sir.”

“What’s the address?”

Daniel gave him.

“How much has been transferred?”

Daniel was dumbfounded, he’d forgotten that the detective would have to be paid before taking up a case.

“How much?” The detective asked again.

“Nothing has been transferred yet.”

The detective was silent a moment, “Then why are you calling me?”

“I-”

“I can’t come. I’m sorry.”

The call was terminated.

oyestephen: who killed jamal ? it obviously looks like remi but......

nice work bro

We shall know soon enough.

Thanks for following.

This work of urs is really fascinating..keep it up sire

nice update..

waiting for more

I just came to the and to comment. Good to have you back. Larry. No fail again ohhhh. Now let me go and feed my eyes

LarrySun:
“I-”

“I can’t come. I’m sorry.”

The call was terminated.

Bribery and Corruption!

Cencinho1: This work of urs is really fascinating..keep it up sire

Thank you, buddy.

Flakeey: nice update..

waiting for more

I wanted to update yesterday but ran into a technical problem.

Bless you, ma'am.

Afamdman: I just came to the and to comment. Good to have you back. Larry. No fail again ohhhh. Now let me go and feed my eyes

I promise. Scout's honour.

rapmike:
Bribery and Corruption!

Lol! I don't blame him; he wanted payment before service.

Mr larrysun stop that please I thought you have update ni when I saw your user Id as last comment. Pls don't comment again until you update ooo which kin thing

hmmmm...is someone thinking what i'm thinking?
David and Ariel received an anonymous call to go to their father's house for christmas.

who could that caller be? he might be the murderer here o

*fingers crossed*

LarrySun:
I wanted to update yesterday but ran into a technical problem.

Bless you, ma'am.

oops

amen
*waiting patiently*

TEN

Murderers do not usually give their victims notice. This one death which, however terrible that last second of appalled realization, comes mercifully unburdened with anticipatory terror. It was on these grounds that the famed detective took it upon himself to investigate the crime voluntarily. Contrary to his usual style, Detective Lot didn’t travel in his own vehicle this morning; he sat comfortably at the backseat of a taxi. He was alone in the car save for the driver who was busily but silently articulating the automatic vehicle. Lot was grateful for the driver’s taciturn characteristic. He wasn’t like most garrulous drivers Lot had encountered in the past. He needed time to think now, and silence was one of the factors required for the intellectual task.
He was reading a copy of The Punch he’d purchased a couple of minutes ago at a newspapers stand near the entrance of the car-park. Occasionally, he glanced through the glass of a window of the car at the world beyond. For a fine morning in late December, it was surprisingly chilly; dawn had broken clear and the driver flipped down the visor to keep the sun out of his eyes. Lot was an incurable smoker, he dragged his wheezing lungs through cigarettes at a rate of a pack a day for thirty-five years; he’d decided for a moment to impose upon himself some token abstinence during the journey that lay ahead of him. When they approached the traffic, having carefully perused the column of 'houses to let,' and the column of 'kidnapped child,' and then the two columns of 'wives and apprentices runaway,' he turned the newspaper in his hand to the back page and started on the crossword, his mind registering nothing at all on the first three of the clues across. But on the fourth, a hint of a grin formed around his hairy mouth as he looked down again at the extraordinary apposite words: ‘With malice afterthought? (6)’. He quickly wrote ‘murder’, and with more and more letters henceforth making their horizontal and vertical roads into the diagram-grid, the puzzle was finished well before reading. Very many times, crossword puzzles not only always drew much sweat from his forehead. Sudokus were sometimes more challenging. All in all, these puzzles were juvenile for Lot’s mind, but the detective liked solving them – they always allowed him brief moments of the freedom of the mind.

Having successfully tackled the crosswords and Sudokus alike, Lot leaned as far as his legs would allow in the backseat. He looked out the window again; there was a police car parked at the side of the other lane. ‘To protect and to serve’ went the slogan lettered on the side of the black vehicle. Every day, people laughed and scorned or ignored it. “Serve?” Who knew what that meant? But protecting people was something else. If you cared, like Lot used to do when he was still in service, if people got hurt because you or your partner, or the police in general wasn’t up to the demand of protection put on it, you hurt too. Real bad. Nobody knew it and you didn’t talk about it. Except to yourself or maybe to the face in the bottom of a bottle when you tried to forget about it. This was the bedrock behind Lot’s decision to answer his callings by becoming a homicide detective. His avocation lay in defending the victims who were not in much position to defend themselves.

He peeked at his gold encrusted wristwatch, 8:15a.m., he felt like time was running out. Hours had gone by since he received the call. And the traffic jam was not helping a bit. Out of boredom, he lit a cigarette to pass the time. He decided that he’d abstained from smoking long enough. Curiously enough, he felt relaxed as he took puffs and, without success, attempted to blow a smoke ring. As he sucked one to the hilt, he lit another from the consumed one. By the time the taxi reached the street of his location, Lot was already smoking his sixth stick. The driver, who didn’t favour cigarette odours gave series of coughs to signal his irritation and discomfort, but the detective appeared not to notice this expectoration. But the driver was not in a good position to make any audible complaint, his passenger had been overly generous. Few passengers could pay thrice as much as the normal fare for the distance they needed to cover. So, the least he could do in return for his passenger’s generosity was to endure this fumigation.

They finally arrived at the destination a few minutes before nine. The driver breathed a sigh of relief when Lot finally got off the taxi; the interior of the car was practically filled with smoke so the driver had to wind down all the windows to allow ventilation take the place of pollution. Soon, he drove away feeling happy with his payment.

Lot walked to the gate and was almost instantly admitted into the compound with the automatic opening of the large gate. As he walked down the compound, there was no one who came around to welcome him. He brought out a sheet of packet from his pocket. The paper was where he had written the address which Daniel had given him; he checked it to know if he was really in the right place. The note on the paper confirmed that he was not mistaken. As he walked closer to the main building, Lot noticed a figure covered in white cloth on the ground, it was the corpse of the man who was reported to have been stabbed. A section of the cover was jutted upward because of the knife still embedded on the back of the deceased. Lot instantly knew that this was going to be one puzzle more complicated than any crossword or Sudoku. This was going to require a large part of his intellectual capability.

One of Lot’s three university degrees was in philosophy; consequently, he had taken numerous logic courses. He remembered one class that, in part, had dealt with the logic of mazes. When these three-dimensional puzzles were designed by educated mathematicians or logicians who drew upon all their learned cunning to deceive, the result was usually a labyrinth that few would find their way through in a timely manner, and from which a certain percentage of frustrated challengers had to be rescued by guides. On the other hand, when the maze was designed by anyone other than a mathematician or a logician – by ordinary folk, that is – these more mundane maze makers followed a stultifying predictable pattern, because the design flowed from instinct rather than from intelligent planning; evidently, embedded in every human psyche was an affinity for a basic pattern that rarely failed to be asserted in the designing of a maze. Perhaps this building his intelligent sight was beholding was the pattern of the network of caves and tunnels in which the first extended family of mankind had dwelled, under the aegis of red bricks and stones; perhaps the man of that earliest of all homes had been imprinted in our genes, and represented comfort and security. Lot had spent a considerable large amount of time brooding on the subject. Philosophy was such an interesting course.
His mind pondered about the reason behind Daniel’s involvement in this mess, considering the fact that the young footballer’s home was not very far away from here. A part of him told him that Daniel was not here for the noblest of purposes. Daniel Famous, he reflected, could only be here for one of two reasons; either in his own strange belief in stopping something bad from happening or searching only for what was never lost but also never found yet, Love. The former, Lot supposed, was quite understandable but the latter was simply ridiculous.

Approaching the figure behind the sheet, Lot saw two men emerge from the house. He recognized them; Moses and Ayo. The albino looked darker than the last time he’d seen him. And Ayo, the dark-skinned one, was more muscular now. Both men were discussing as they came out of the building. At first, the man could not recognize Lot when they saw him. And when they did, they could not mask their excitement. By the way they looked, Lot could tell that they were relieved at his presence here. To them, the case was already a hard nut to crack. They approached him with beaming smiles. They bowed when they reached him.

“You’re welcome, sir.” Ayo greeted.

“We thought you’d not come.” The albino added.

“How did you get here?” Lot demanded of them.

“We came by the summons of Daniel Famous.” Replied Moses.

“Where’s he now?”

“He’s inside having a discussion with one of the family members. He’ll come out anytime soon.”

“I suppose that’s the victim, right?” Lot asked, pointing at the white sheet behind the two police officers.

They looked behind them to confirm where the detective’s finger was pointing before they nodded in assent.

“That is the landlord of this property.” Ayo informed.

Lot walked past the two men and bent over the white sheet. Moses and Ayo stood aside as they watched the detective. For a few moments, however, Lot was more than reluctant to pull back the covering. His dark eyebrows contracted to a frown as he mentally traced the odd configuration of the bulge beneath the sheet. Surely the body had to be on its belly, but the protrusion of the hilt was sideways; it was not upright. The body was lying on its side. Lot expected his suspicion to be false as he pulled back the sheet. It was true; the body was lying on its side. It could have been supine if not for the knife embedded in the back. After only a few seconds, he replaced the sheet and stood up.

He asked the police officers, “Did you check the corpse when you arrived?”
“We only raised up the cover to see,” Moses replied, “Just to know who had been murdered. We didn’t touch the body at all.”

“What position was he when you checked him?” “He was dead, of course.” Ayo replied.

Lot scowled at him and said, “I’ll ask the question again, and I’ll oblige you to use your thinking faculty before you reply. What position was he when you checked him?”

“He was lying on his face.” Moses replied.

Lot turned to Ayo and asked, “Is that true?”

The officer nodded, “Yes, he was lying faced-down when we checked him.”

“Kindly check him again.” Lot mildly ordered. There was about the detective nothing of the quality called Nonsense.

The men obeyed him. They gasped in shock at what they saw.

‘I swear this man was lying faced-down when we last checked him.” Ayo swore.

“When did you arrive here?” Lot asked.

“Around seven o’ clock, sir.” Moses answered.

“And when did you check the corpse?”

“About thirty minutes after our arrival, sir.”

“Did you check him after then?”

“No.” Both officers replied in chorus.

“Then between half past seven and nine o’ clock, someone meddled with the corpse. Do you have any idea whom that person might be?”

The two men shook their heads.

“You reply when I’m talking to you, not shake your heads like mannikins. I want to believe that I’m not talking to a pair of dolls.”

“We don’t know who that person might be, sir.”

Then, right at that moment, Daniel came out. He was looking weary and there were rings at the sides of his eyes due to lack of sleep. When he saw the detective, he smiled warmly. And had Daniel been able to observe more closely at that moment he might have seen that in the deep shadows of Lot’s rather cold strong eyes there floated some reminiscences of an almost joyful satisfaction.

I was here.More updates pls.

I read brand of Cain as a guest. i must confess that u so goodest if there is anything like that. well done.

bigsholly: Mr larrysun stop that please I thought you have update ni when I saw your user Id as last comment. Pls don't comment again until you update ooo which kin thing

Lol! Thanks dear. I will update soon.

Flakeey: hmmmm...is someone thinking what i'm thinking?
David and Ariel received an anonymous call to go to their father's house for christmas.

who could that caller be? he might be the murderer here o

*fingers crossed*

That's true. It might, but...

Beretta92: I was here.More updates pls.

Thanks for following, Beretta. It's good to have you back.

pricelesslove: I read brand of Cain as a guest. i must confess that u so goodest if there is anything like that. well done.

Thanks a lot, Princess. I'm glad you liked the story.

Daniel was closer to the detective than either Moses or Ayo, so he had the audacity to extend his hand towards Lot for a shake. The pressure with which the gumshoe grabbed his hand matched the snapping of a mousetrap. Daniel winced painfully, and he masked this agony in vain. He nearly cursed himself for extending the hand in the first place. He’d forgotten that the detective’s palms were as firm as Bash Ali's jaw. Naturally, he’d have preferred a hug; for he’d missed Lot too much for just an agony-inducing hand-vibration. But it was too late for embrace. The two men momentarily stood staring at each other, taking brief moments to reminisce on their previous adventure.

Like eating a delicious cuisine, Daniel took his time to savour the delectable presence of the detective. Lot had grown quite bigger within the past three rainy seasons he had seen him. The gumshoe had gathered almost twice the calories he’d proudly fostered three years earlier. He was now considerably large, his shoulders appeared to possess the ability to tear steel doors off their hinges. The bulk of the belly was now straining along the circumference of the belt; a tremendous belly it was, which alone would have held up his pair of trousers, but cautious man that Lot was, he wore a belt to suspend the loops. What particularly fascinated Daniel most about the great man was his face. It was covered in hair. The hair on his head, although greying, was enough for a parliament of owls to seek refuge. His eyebrows were so thick that a house painter would favour them over his brushes, if given a chance to swap. Then the beards and moustache were something else themselves. The detective’s face was so hairy that all Daniel could see were two blinking eyes, and this left the young footballer wondering how Lot lit his cigarettes without setting his face on fire. And if the beards caught fire, what a wildfire that would be!

In addition, the detective favoured thick socks and heavy shoes in which he waddled like a duck. All in all, to Daniel, Lot had a face strong and noble enough to be stamped in profile on ancient coins long ago out of circulation. Sometimes he seemed to be but an actor playing the role of a detective. Although if it was a performance, then it was of an award-winning calibre. At fifty-seven, he gave the impression that he was far wiser than his years, easily commanding respect and fear. There was something of a psychologist and something of a priest in him – qualities everyone in his possession needed but few possessed. He was a rare person who enjoyed having power but did not abuse it, who exercised authority with good judgement and compassion, and he’d been a detective for almost twenty years without a hint of ineptitude or inefficiency in his profession. He now worked privately.

Both men had different tastes in things. Daniel was obsessed with football but Lot never really followed sports much because he had an acute sense of time slipping away and a reluctance to use his precious hours in too many passive activities. Daniel liked Nigerian Hip Hop songs while Lot preferred contemporary African songs. Daniel had no interest in politics but Lot was a PDP aficionado. In foreign movies, Lot’s guilty pleasure was in following every movie that starred Denzel Washington, while Daniel took fancy in watching the immortal Jackie Chan. But still, both men always stood immobile whenever and wherever the national anthem was being sung.

Realizing that the detective was beginning to glare at him for staring too long, he managed to speak, “I thought you’d never come.”

“I didn’t want to come,” he lied, “I am hiding out from the decoration crew that had promised to put up trees and stuff in my house today. They all wear this stupid Santa hats, and every time they see you they shout, ‘Merry Christmas!’ grinning like lunatics. Besides, I recently solved a case and I need another one to make me forget it. The case was another sad little one; brought another sniveling, cheating husband to ground like the big bad hero I am. I had made couple of bales by ruining a family with pictures of Daddy grunting in the backseat of their Mercedes with a woman who didn’t look anything like Mommy at all. I hope never to take up such ridiculous case again!" He paused and continued, "Besides, if you were left alone, I figured you’d complicate the crime committed here instead of solving it. However, I must tell you that you’ve got the spirit of catching the least obvious clues, although I’ll still admit that you’re too dumb to notice this gift you have.”

“Oh, thank you, sir.” He smiled, he knew the detective’s polite vocabulary too much to take umbrage. Every of Lot’s praise always somehow came with a price.

“So, what have you done about the situation?” Lot demanded, “Or have you been engaging yourself in some less admirable ventures?”

“Less admirable ventures like what, sir?”

“Like falling in love again. What new crochet has possessed your excitable brain?’

“Is it wrong to fall in love?”

“I didn’t say that, but don’t tell me you’re in love again.” Lot placed a prominent emphasis on the word again. “Besides, what in heaven’s name brought you to this ranch? Were you shot out of a cannon and landed here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“When will your story ever be short?” Lot commented wearily, “So, what better things have you done besides calling those two layers of eggs?”

Daniel chuckled inwardly; he wondered what would become of a world where humans of the masculine proportionate resorted to the deposition of ovoid materials right from the region of their depletive sphincters. He’d rather not linger in such a world.

“Remember what you did in the former case,” explained Daniel, “after telling me that you’d not be coming I took it upon myself to investigate the case --”
Lot sighed.

“-- with the assistance of the lay-- with the assistance of Moses and Ayo. But before their arrival, after you terminated the call, right in the middle of the night when all the family members had retreated to their rooms, I stole out of the house to check the corpse again. I searched every pocket on him just to find anything that could serve as a clue, a mobile phone perhaps.”

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing. I found nothing on the corpse.”

“What position was the corpse lying when you searched it?”

“The position he was the first time we saw him; he was lying on his belly.”

“What position did you leave him?”

“The same position I found him.”

Lot nodded his head, smiling. Then he walked out on Daniel towards the corpse and dipped his hand in its pocket. When he extracted his hand he came up with a folded sheet of foolscap paper. When he straightened it he realized that the paper had been burnt in half. On the paper were some pieces of writing which would make better sense if the other half of the burnt paper was in handy. Lot searched the two other pockets without much success.

Daniel, on the other hand, was open-mouthed, and evidently surprised at the detective’s discovery. He swore that the paper was not on the corpse when he searched it.

“You’ve got a lot to tell me, Daniel.” Lot declared.

Daniel instantly brought to oral expression what he hoped would be. He said excitedly, “Does this mean we are going to solve the case together, you and me?”

Lot stared at him a short moment and shook his head, “That’s ungrammatical! It’s You and I!” he thundered.

A detective that finds falling in love as a waste of time, yet finds time to correct a grammatical blunder while solving a case. What a character!

Nice one Larry, na to wait for KMJ now.

Intresting I am suspecting someone to be the murderer ooo but I don't want to spoil the show let me just keep quite and watch how it will unfold. Thanks larrysun for the nice update now you have make me to marry my phone checking for update always

rapmike: A detective that finds falling in love as a waste of time, yet finds time to correct a grammatical blunder while solving a case. What a character!

Nice one Larry, na to wait for KMJ now.

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?

bigsholly: Intresting I am suspecting someone to be the murderer ooo but I don't want to spoil the show let me just keep quite and watch how it will unfold. Thanks larrysun for the nice update now you have make me to marry my phone checking for update always

But your suspect might actually be innocent. I'll update presently.

ELEVEN

After detective Lot’s discovery of the half-burnt note, he demanded to know every member of the house. He was led by the footballer through corridors and finally into the very large living room where everybody was seated, absent only the mistress – Mrs Hannah Malik. Daniel explained to Lot that this woman was without sight, this explained her decision to always keep to herself.

To Daniel’s utter surprise, none of the family members appeared to recognize the man he’d brought in. They all regarded Lot as they’d previously regarded Daniel when he stepped, for the first time, into the room too. They all looked without interest at the detective for a short moment before diverting their gazes back to Daniel, their eyes demanding an explanation.

“This is Detective Lot, he’ll be investigating this case.” Daniel told them.
“Who gave you the authority to bring a detective here?” asked Ruth, not without a note of very obvious rudeness. “Who do you think you are? My father’s illegitimate child?”

“Are you not interested in knowing who killed father?” David asked his sister.
“Of course, I do,” replied she, “But this sewage disposal here is taking things far beyond his jurisdiction. Who needs a lousy detective when we can find out the murderer among ourselves?”

Lot being a man particularly proud of his status, did not smile at the adjective the prissy-mouthed dame used to qualify him. He reacted to the lady’s serenade of bleats and asked, “And how do you suppose to do that.”

“Do what?” Ruth asked back, harshly of course.

He had thought as much, a shallow brook babbles the loudest. “How do you suppose to catch the murderer?”

“What a question!” neighed Ruth, “After some serious tortures inflicted on us all by the police, the criminal would have no choice but to confess.”

This reply caused Lot more than a millimetre rise of the eyebrows. He paused and said, “I don’t mean to be rude, madam, but what just came out of your mouth is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Someone may choke to death on hearing such an asinine idea.”

Ruth glared at him, she wanted to reply but stopped herself just when her mouth was about to open. Perhaps something in her told her told her that she would not win in the battle if she engaged in oral expletives with the big man. Hence both her hatred and admiration for the gumshoe. She still could not stop glaring at the man whose interest was already directed towards something much more interesting. She hated private investigators more than she hated poison.

Tunde turned to face Daniel and asked, “Who’s him?”

“ ‘He’,” Lot corrected, “ ‘Who is he?’. My name is Lot. I’m a private investigator.”

Lot could not but notice how his sidekick watched another fair lady sitting at the extreme furniture in the room. He sighed. When will the ninny ever learn, He thought disgusted, that beauty is dangerous? You don’t fall in love for beauty alone if there is no brain. However, brain itself could be a vice if all it contained were crimes. He’s seen many great men fall because they’d allowed themselves manipulated by hot ladies of Delilah descents. Of course, everything hot must surely scald. And this latest fancy of Daniel’s brought to him memories of stories like Samson and Delilah, Adam and Eve, and some of the Greek gods who were silly enough to put their lives in the hands of the fair opposite sex. He shook his head, slightly in anger and slightly in amusement, at the fate of Daniel who would never stop falling for ladies who were potential suspects in murder cases.

His gaze left Remi and now settled on Esther whose beauty he appreciated better. This one - with her deep cleavage, bared belly, and aggressively sparkling smile – was powerfully intriguing. But the smile unnerved Lot, it was too sincere. The smile was one that could have charmed a snake into a mood of benign companionship. Her beauty was so generous that the poverty of language was unable to express its due praise. This particular beauty was one borne neither of suspicion nor of simmering temperature or icy coldness. This was beauty most innocently graceful. This gracious woman, this enchanting lady, brought him flood of recollections that seemed to drown him in self-pity, in a tide of irreparable loss that had afflicted him years past. This captivation took him so totally that he was oblivious of his surroundings. He didn’t come out of his revelry until a palm was extended towards him.

“Nice meeting you, detective.”

The man was smiling warmly at him, a pleasant-looking young man of about Daniel’s age.

“Nice meeting you, Mr -” he trailed off, expecting the young man to fill up the void.

“Gabriel,” the man replied, “Gabriel Malik.”

Lot studied Gabriel. There was a quality about this person standing before him that Lot at once noticed; it was a quality of repose, of quiet watchfulness, his movements were deliberate. Even his eyes had that deliberate faculty, and his voice was not raised. Lot hadn’t noticed Gabriel in the room. The young man was smiling broadly, and he appeared to be studying Lot too. He was dressed simply in a checkered brown shirt and black jeans trousers but he looked stunning. Unlike Lot who sported a considerable thicket on his scalp, Gabriel was not only mildly afro-styled but also clean shaven. Lot was beginning to like the man but he reminded himself that it was unethical for a detective to have any attachment with any suspect at a crime scene. That was what he’d been trying to teach the ridiculous Daniel who never seemed to be learning anything in the least. Lot nearly questioned why he’d travelled all the way from the comforts of his own bed to investigate a crime with a rather impossible sidekick. And to worsen the situation, he was rendering a free service! Goodness!