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|Story Time With Chief Agbo by obidirector(m): 10:02pm On Mar 16, 2018|
Bad Fate: The Audition.
The cool evening breeze maintained a calm atmosphere as I tiptoed into her house; I didn't want the neighbours seeing me. Amebo! They talk a lot, not minding their business. The estate was quite from the time I gained entrance into the premises, I guess all the families decided to answer the bed calls early today.
I knew she'd be inside waiting for me. We had fixed an appointment after we had lunch at Chicken Republic this afternoon. Although, she called to remind me of my coming over tonight, she sounded unlike her. She was insisting I come earlier than we planned. This woman don't even care that I'm a student, I should be reading my book at this time. If not for poverty, would I have known her? Shoutout to all the sugar mummy websites. Imagine the risk I'm taking, that website paired me to this woman; the wife of a Navy officer. I reached the door and wanted to knock but desisted. I went over to check the garage for Mr. Lincoln's car.
Mr. Lincoln Aniachebe is a top rank Navy officer, the husband of the old lady whom I babysit whenever he's not at home. Well, he is rarely at home, his wife said he is always at sea doing one or twos, leaving Mrs. Lincoln at home lonely and sad. Well, I'm here now and will continue to do his job for him since he has obviously forgotten how to take care of a lady. A fine lady for that matter.
I peeped into the garage and in there was the Avensis Mrs. Lincoln had acquired few months ago. The car I drive around campus most times. This particular car had lured so many slay queens into spending some time in the other room with me. *Whisper* "Make sure no to tell Mrs. Lincoln." Some overfed dogs barked from the opposite house. I hate dogs, they ain't my thing so I ignored them, but it was a sign. It was a warning which I didn't heed to.
I knocked and there was no response. I knocked again. Someone corked a rifle behind me, I turned in both fright and utmost surprise and there stood Mr. Lincoln with a gun in his hands. Ah! All the veins in my body froze, blood ceased to circulate in my body and I just stood still. I knew I was dead already.
"Hands up kid," he said calmly, I guess he didn't want to wake the neighbours up. "So you're the bloody civilian who has been sleeping with my wife?".
"Ehm, Ehm..." I stammered in response. I didn't know what to say.
"Actually, it's not a question. Now get into that house."
I attempted to walk, but my legs were stuck to the ground; they couldn't carry me. I started saying my last prayer.
"Get into the house, let's have dinner; we've been expecting you."
*Follow The Link To Read The Full Story On My Facebook Timeline *
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#StoryTimeWithChiefAgbo Continues Every Tuesday And Friday. I will continue posting subsequent episodes here.
Thanks For Reading.
|Re: Story Time With Chief Agbo by obidirector(m): 2:52am On Mar 21, 2018|
I arrived late at the crime scene, so unethical of a professional investigative journalist. The police was already locking down the perimeter of the scene as the ambulance left with the lifeless body of a man whom I came to know as Uncle Jack.
From the on-lookers, I got to know that the man, Uncle Jack, was stabbed by his teenage nephew who had lived with them since his childhood. I classified it as "rumours" because from all my years as a journalist, I rarely attributed weight to any information gotten from mere on-lookers or a passer-by, anyone not directly involved with the the issue at hand. However, it was necessary as it lays a foundation to what I might encounter in divulging the real incident, the behind the scenes, etcetera.
There was nothing more tangible to gather from the crime scene, so I just took some pictures and left for the police station; I wanted to be present when the suspect is interrogated. As I was leaving, I saw Mr. Kalu, he was my rival, a gluton who wanted to be the only news reporters in town. However, he knew it was not possible. He snared at me, but since he doesn't bite, I focused on my job as that might bite.
I arrived at the police station and everywhere was rowdy, many reporters clustered the whole place. Camera's clicked and shot repeatedly when the suspect was brought out from the counter to be paraded before the newsmen and the general public. The boy was so innocent looking that no one will ever believe that he could stab a man the age of Uncle Jack. I knew this was not a case of blaming the devil. The devil was innocent here; well, most probably innocent.
"Why did you kill your uncle?"
"Are you a cultist?"
"What did he do to you?"
"What is an accident?"
"Do you want to inherit his properties?" all these questions descended on him and more were still loading....
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