SYNOPSIS

In the spirited setting of a Nigeria private secondary school's Christmas party in Lagos, the joyous occasion takes a dark turn when the man behind the Santa Claus costume, Mr. Vincent, is discovered dead in his changing room on December 22nd.
As the school is thrust into a web of deception, theft, and forbidden liaisons, a seasoned police detective steps into the labyrinth of secrets and deceit.

CHAPTER ONE THE FESTIVE PRELUDE



In the heart of Lagos, a sprawling city that pulsated with life and energy, nestled a vibrant community known as Igidah. It was a tapestry of sights and sounds, a living canvas painted in hues of diversity and interconnected stories. The air, thick with the fragrances of street food and the lively chatter of locals, hinted at a place where traditions and modernity danced in harmonious coexistence.

Igidah was not merely a neighborhood; it was a bustling microcosm of Lagos itself. Its streets, lined with vendors selling everything from colorful fabrics to tantalizing street food, echoed with the rhythm of everyday life. Narrow alleys led to hidden markets where the aroma of spices mingled with the melodies of street musicians, creating a symphony of urban existence.

At the heart of this spirited community stood a bastion of education, a beacon of aspiration known as God Bless My Own Secondary School, it had been around far longer than many other schools however it had passed multiple owners.
The school exuded an aura of pride and ambition. Its sturdy brick walls, adorned with vibrant murals depicting scenes of academic excellence and cultural diversity, stood as a testament to the institution's commitment to nurturing young minds.

The school was more than an educational institution; it was a hub of dreams, where students from various walks of life converged to carve out their destinies. God Bless My Own Secondary School was a name whispered with reverence, a promise of quality education and a stepping stone to brighter futures.

As the Christmas season approached, Igidah transformed into a canvas adorned with festive decorations. Streets twinkled with fairy lights, and the scent of freshly baked goods wafted through the air.
Shopkeepers adorned their storefronts with colorful ornaments, creating a kaleidoscope of holiday cheer that enveloped the entire community, the brutality of the economic woes were merely hushed into shelves of hope and dreams for the moment.

Amidst this festive backdrop, God Bless My Own Secondary School prepared for its annual Christmas party, a celebration that had remained constant even with the numerous changes in terms of owners it had over the years, the christmas party was like ice that covered the cake even though many had began to see through the money grabbing antics employed by many for such occasions, GOD BLESS MY OWN secondary school's party simply honored this old tradition as did the community.

The school's courtyard, usually a hub of academic pursuits, underwent a magical metamorphosis during the period, like the harmattan wind suddenly laying waste to the sun's effort to remind the community of it's heat. Decorative lights adorned every tree, casting a warm glow over the students and teachers bustling about. Colorful banners, bearing messages of joy and celebration, fluttered in the breeze, heralding the impending festivities.

The students, adorned in a kaleidoscope of traditional and modern attire, added to the vibrant tapestry of the scene. Laughter echoed through the corridors as teachers exchanged warm wishes, and the promise of a well-deserved break lingered in the air. The school's cultural diversity manifested in the array of holiday decorations, showcasing a melting pot of traditions that united the students in celebration.

A few students rehearsed, others jumped and played whilst many eagerly joined a few teachers and event organizers to set up designs at strategies places.

The highlights of the event would go from the invited comedian or comedians, a notorious magician who had over the years gained a gathering that conceived him to be a wizard of unrivaled powers to a songstress who many of the senior students would talk about with reverence after her performance, the many games and the celebrity of the event it self.

Usually described by a teacher to have sailed nine oceans and over ten mountains, from the the north pole itself with more gifts than a gift factory could produce for a year on a magical sleigh that defiled gravity and common sense, the celebrity known across the world from Iceland to Iraq, whose laughter could end wars and melt hearts, whose dance moves could beat the likes of Shakira and Beyonce and move even the angels in the heavens and whose acrobatic displays were the nightmare of professionals, whose disappearing powers were simply unnatural, Father Christmas himself.


TO BE CONTINUED.

CONT'D




As the sun tipped lower over a cloud, casting a warm glow over the festively adorned courtyard of God Bless My Own Secondary School, the anticipation among students and parents alike reached a crescendo.

The annual Christmas party promised an evening of laughter, magic, and musical enchantment. The buzz of excitement heightened as the event's emcee, a charismatic teacher named Mr. Johnson, a tall, lanky man unceremoniously called Dogo by the students and a few teachers, welcoming the eager audience with infectious enthusiasm.

The atmosphere crackled with the promise of laughter as the first highlight of the evening, the invited comedian, took the stage. The spotlight illuminated a figure with a mischievous grin, and within moments, raucous laughter echoed through the courtyard.

Jokes and anecdotes flowed seamlessly, casting a spell of joy over the audience. The comedian, a maestro of humor, wove tales that transcended generational gaps, leaving parents and students alike in fits of laughter usually the joke was aimed at one of the students or a teacher, hence the constant dread secretly by many who hoped not to be singled out.

Amidst the merriment, a hush fell over the audience as the notorious magician, known far and wide as the "Wizard of Wonder," stepped forward, he was known in the community as a deportee from abroad however he maintained racial injustice over his deportation and never said more and outside his brick layering and carpentry jobs occasionally he practiced magic so there he was Cloaked in mystery, his reputation preceded him, and whispers of his unparalleled illusions spread like wildfire among the students.

The magician, with a twinkle in his eye, began his performance, defying the laws of nature with tricks that left the audience in awe. Confetti and cards vanished into thin air, and materialized from nowhere, eliciting gasps of amazement from the captivated crowd.

Following the magician's act, the stage transformed into a realm of musical enchantment. A songstress, renowned for her soul-stirring performances, graced the platform. Her voice, a melodic cascade that resonated with emotion, captivated the hearts of all who listened. Senior students exchanged glances of reverence, acknowledging the songstress's prowess as she effortlessly traversed genres, weaving a tapestry of musical delight that embraced the diversity of the audience, even more was her body tight wear that provocatively caused more stir among the housewives than the female students.

One had quickly and openly complained about the risk of such performance to her marriage whilst the senior students especially the males cheered and spread whatever little change they had sought to hold on to for refreshment.

But as the music faded, the courtyard erupted into a carnival of games and festivities. Students engaged in spirited competitions, from sack races to three-legged races, their laughter blending harmoniously with the cheerful melodies playing in the background.

The air was charged with the infectious energy of youth, and the school's courtyard became a playground of joy.

Yet, amidst the jubilant atmosphere, the event's true celebrity remained shrouded in mystery. Whispers circled through the crowd as Mr. Johnson, the animated emcee, regaled the audience with tales of a legendary figure known across the globe. A character who, according to the teacher's vivid descriptions, had traversed nine oceans and over ten mountains, sailed from the North Pole with gifts galore on a magical sleigh that defied both gravity and common sense.

The celebrity in question was none other than Father Christmas himself, a mythical figure whose reputation extended far beyond the borders of Igidah. Described as a global sensation with the ability to end wars with laughter, melt hearts with a smile, and showcase acrobatic prowess that haunted the dreams of professionals, Father Christmas was an enigma wrapped in the magic of the holiday season.

As Mr. Johnson built the anticipation with his theatrical storytelling, the courtyard fell into a hushed anticipation. Even the harmattan breeze seemed to hold its breath as the magical moment approached. The stage lights dimmed, and a festive hush spread through the audience.

Then, as if summoned by the collective yearning of the crowd, the familiar sound of bells and trumpets echoed through the air as the gates swung open . A magical sleigh well done and painted by an artist on top a rusty wagon, adorned with twinkling lights connected by a hidden generator, appeared as if from thin air. The courtyard erupted in gasps of astonishment as the legendary figure of Father Christmas jumped and landed with an acrobatic display that threw the kids into a frenzy, his red suit aglow in the shimmering lights, his bag of endless surprises held up by his assistant, his trusty little elf man, a dwarf called Caesar.

The Father Christmas figure was well dressed and masked up and painted for realism even his pot belly would shame that of many politicians if it were to be a competition for it jiggled and moved with a sense of purpose and his hearty laugh and twinkling eyes, became the living embodiment of the holiday spirit.

The students, young and old, watched in awe as he performed feats that defied explanation. His dance moves rivaled the best in the world, and his acrobatic displays left the audience spellbound, he could dispel and out dance ten of the village masquerades, he could out-twerk even the best strip dancers in the world, he could without any care perform displays that raised hairs on skins.

To the children, he was more unreal than the wizard of wonders and as the trumpets and drums beat gloriously like a spell he had everyone in captive with his feats and soon began to cash in on the wads of money sprawled at him from every corner much to the disappointment of many performers.

for a little while the music stopped giving Mr Johnson a much needed break to get things back in order.

Father Christmas and his elf assistant were led to awaiting room to relax and prepare for the proper order of events, what a relief many parents thought seeing the calm that had quickly enveloped the children once again.

CONT'D



Slowly Mr. Johnson, the lively emcee, announced the arrival of Principal Maxwell. The audience, a sea of expectant faces, shifted their gaze toward the stage where the figure of authority emerged. Principal Maxwell, a man recently bestowed with the responsibilities of guiding the school's destiny, stepped forward with an air of assumed importance.

The principal, a figure of stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere, was a man of diminutive stature, his rotund belly preceding him like a harbinger of bureaucratic weight.

Clad in a meticulously tailored suit that seemed strained against the swell of his midsection, Principal Maxwell exuded an air of self-importance that bordered on arrogance and pride.

His head, bereft of hair and accentuating the pinkish hue of his fair complexion, glistened under the stage lights.

The crowd, initially buoyed by the holiday spirit, couldn't help but exchange furtive glances. The recent acquisition of the school by Principal Maxwell, a mere two years ago, had brought about a transformation that left lingering shadows in the hallways.

What was once a haven of academic excellence and communal growth had been shaken to its core under his stewardship and as if that was not enough even the spirits of the land seemed not to be in his favor for a laboratory project flagged off before his take over had grinded to a halt permanently when a laborer had fallen into a ditch and died, a tragedy that had been interpreted as anything but good.

In his opening speech, Principal Maxwell projected an illusion of confidence, his voice resonating through the courtyard. He spoke of his vision for the school, a vision that, despite its polished exterior, seemed to crumble under the weight of economic woes, dwindling standards and a management staff torn in two by his constant favoritism and nepotism. His words, carefully crafted to appease, masked the reality that hung heavy over the institution.

The economic downturn, Principal Maxwell explained, had cast its long, ominous shadow over the school's finances. The once-thriving institution found itself grappling with a budgetary crisis that manifested in the form of staff layoffs, disappearing extracurricular programs, and a palpable decline in the quality of education. The loss of seasoned teachers, driven away by budget cuts and dwindling morale, left voids that even the most passionate educators struggled to fill.

"But we never say never, God bless my own will continue to beam lights where many other schools can't, my dedication and passion can not be rivaled, we will triumph like soldiers on the battlefield, my soldiers will not surrender to failure " He revealed at a point like a failed motivator.

The courtyard, once a place of communal pride, now echoed with the whispers of discontent. The students, the very heartbeat of the school, felt the changes in the air over the last two years.

The vibrant tapestry of diversity that had characterized God Bless My Own Secondary School began to unravel, and the communal spirit dimmed like a flickering flame bringing to mind old suspicions and questions.

As Principal Maxwell spoke, his words painted a picture of a school haunted by economic woes and sinking standards, a far cry from the institution it once was. The audience, a captive congregation, listened with a mixture of resignation and frustration.

They had become unwitting spectators in the unraveling mystery of Principal Maxwell's tenure.

Yet, amid the somber tones of his speech, a shroud of mystery hung over the principal's recent acquisition of the school.

Questions had lingered in the minds of the community. Why had the previous administration, a beacon of educational excellence, given way to a man whose leadership seemed to sow the seeds of decline? Whispers of clandestine dealings and backdoor negotiations danced through the air, creating an undercurrent of suspicion.


Principal Maxwell, with a forced smile that barely concealed the weight of his decisions, left the stage amidst polite applause.

The courtyard, now tinged with an unspoken tension, awaited the next act in the unfolding drama. The holiday festivities, though ostensibly joyous, had cast a shadow that stretched beyond the twinkling lights and festive decorations—a shadow that hinted at a mystery yet to be unraveled within the walls of God Bless My Own Secondary School.

Many parents watched on suspiciously as he walked off the stage whilst others began to share their opinions and rumors quickly.

Somewhere in the school building was the trinity of the school's administration.

CONT'D



In the labyrinthine corridors of God Bless My Own Secondary School, away from the festive buzz of the courtyard, lay the inner sanctum—the trinity of the school's administration.

Mr. Martin Olawole, the vice principal, A young man in his late thirties, Mrs. Sheila, the astute bursar and fashionista of the school who had garnered another name from the school as "moniee" , and Mr. Petrol Davies, the head of the non-academic staff department, a retired vigilante leader whose face scar had spurned more legends amongst the students than anyone could think, found solace in the confines of their shared enclave.

The room, tucked away on the second floor, bore witness to the unspoken dynamics of power and discontent that thrived within its walls. As the door creaked open, revealing a humble space with aged wooden furniture and worn-out carpets, the trinity convened to discuss matters that lay beyond the prying eyes of the staff and students.

Mr. Martin Olawole, the vice principal, greeted the others with a weary smile. His well dyed and washed hair on top his meticulous attire conveyed an air of authority that seemed slightly worn around the edges. His eyes, though dulled by sleepless nights, hinted at a profound understanding of the intricate workings of the school.

Mrs. Sheila, the school's bursar, sat behind a cluttered desk, her sharp eyes adored with fake eyes lashes that seemed overly too big for her and a make up with confusing intentions, scanning financial reports and budgetary documents.

Her sleek demeanor and no-nonsense attitude made her an enigma among the staff.
Her role went beyond mere number-crunching; she held a key to the financial pulse of the institution and made no play about it even though this itself was her own curse; for she spent heavily on things many considered to be trivial and unnecessary like a D&G handbag worth 98,000.

Mr. Petrol Davies, a man with a name that carried the weight of irony, leaned against the doorframe, his sturdy frame exuding an air of quiet rebellion. As the head of the non-academic staff department, he witnessed the daily grind of the school's backbone—the janitors, security personnel, and other unsung heroes who kept the institution running.

The trinity gathered around a worn-out conference table, the surface of which bore the scars of countless deliberations. As they settled into their routine, the air buzzed with a blend of familiarity and unspoken discontent. The recent changes under Principal Maxwell's tenure had not gone unnoticed by this trio, and today's meeting held a sense of urgency.

Mr. Martin Olawole, adjusting his glasses, opened the discussion with a sigh.

"Can you just imagine the self acclaimed savior making a Martin Luther king speech in front of everyone like they don't know he is the devil in saint's clothing,"

"Leave him be, he assumes the PTA board will sing to his call for financial support next year, imagine the shock he will receive," Mrs. Sheila scoffed offloading a file more of expenditure documents on the table.

"The staff morale is at an all-time low, and the students are starting to feel the impact. We can't turn a blind eye to the decay within these walls, one of you better stand up and talk to him," Mr Davies added.

Mrs. Sheila, her eyes never leaving the financial reports before her, nodded in agreement.

"The budget cuts are affecting every department. We're losing qualified teachers, and the ones who remain are stretched thin, I will not agree to a salary pay cut again oh, I have high maintenance standards! "

Mr. Petrol Davies, crossing his arms, added his voice to the chorus of discontent.

"And what about Maxwell? Disappearing for over a week without a word and then the accident during his disappearance,"

Mr Davies eyes caught a glance from both oh them, there was silence that communicated something between the trio before they returned their glances.


"let's not talk about that again, the police are on it, for now it's Christmas, I hear the guy he got for the job is the same he got last year, the guy is unarguably good, the people love him!"

"Too bad we may not be able to afford him next year if nothing is done about our plummeting finances," Mrs Sheila revealed.

The banter among the three, a mixture of concern and shared frustration, intensified. Mrs. Sheila, with a wry smile, remarked.

Mr. Martin Olawole chuckled, "I wouldn't be surprised if he's found a hidden treasure trove at the North Pole like the Santa Claus guy, We could use a bit of that treasure here too, I want a solid gold bar for present!"


"you two could wish it all, the fact is that things are turning up ugly and next year we may not have a school standing, what worries me is that he knows this, anyway, poor man go always find a way to survive!"
Mr Davies concluded in pigeon English before taking his leave.

Somewhere outside he could hear the door behind him been locked.

"Those two, I wonder what is even up with them self, laslas Na who no dey bath well dey spray perfume pass " He thought to himself.

CONT'D



In the heart of the school, hidden away from the festive celebrations, was a modest changing room where the magic of Christmas was about to take an unexpected turn.

Mr. Vincent, a young man with a mischievous glint in his eye, stood surrounded by the elaborate costume of Father Christmas.

His accomplice, a dwarf named Titus, who masqueraded as the elf man, joined him in the clandestine room.

Vincent, a man of humble origins and an illiterate to boot, hailed from the vibrant Igbo tribe whose various trades drew him to the city of Lagos many years ago.

His attire, a mismatch of colors and textures, reflected a lack of concern for sartorial conventions. The costume of Father Christmas, with its plush red and white fabric, swallowed him whole, leaving only his eyes and the top of his head visible.

As the door creaked shut, sealing them away from the festivities, Vincent and Titus found themselves in a room filled with the smell of sweat and anticipation.

A dusty mirror, hanging precariously on the wall Ana a school calender that dated back 30 years hid in plain sight, reflected their unconventional duo—a towering Father Christmas and a diminutive elf with a pointed hat.

Vincent, his face obscured by the fluffy white beard of the costume, flashed a grin at Titus.

"Titus, oyah count that money way dem first spray us quick and bring that gin out from your bag?"

Titus, with a chuckle that echoed through the small room, replied handling him the gin bottle

"Vincent, my man, this is nothing short of genius, na God go bless Oga Benji way help us organize this gig, we never even collect proper pay, people Don spray us finish like this, Who would suspect that beneath this jolly exterior, we're counting crisp bills?"

The two unlikely conspirators settled onto an old wooden bench, their makeshift throne in the realm of costume changes. A bottle of gin, concealed in the folds of the Father Christmas costume, made its appearance. As the cap popped open, the room was filled with the sharp scent of whiskey.

Vincent took a swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand.

"Titus, my friend, this is the good stuff. We will need another bottle, you go go buy one more bottle if not performance fit drop oh, "

Titus, raising his face seemed bewildered.

"Eh watin you talk so, no nah! that thing na foreign made oh, one bottle per show na so we agree am nah, where I go see another bottle buy?"

Vincent frowned "come, stop the counting for now make you go find another bottle, if not I nor go fit perform well oh, you suppose know say this gin na e be like sugar for this palp way I dey drink, tell them to find you a shop nearby, you hear!"

"I hear eh, no shout like that abeg, No cheat me for the money oh, count everything and wait for me," Titus said impatiently before dawning his hat and taking his leave hurriedly.

"No worries before day finish, na big big money I go dey count personally,"

Mr Vincent locked the door and began to dismantle his costume systematically and hurriedly.

He soon got on his phone and dialed up someone.

"hello it's me , quickly come abeg, make we finalize discussion,"

The call ended quickly, he found a widow and peeped through, from a far a
he could see just about everybody and everything, even Titus who was close to the gate could be seen. He chuckled at his colleague's small nature from the height he watched him and returned back to the half empty bottle.

THE END OF CHAPTER ONE.

We can do so much for connecticut furniture outlets

WriterX:
CONT'D



In the labyrinthine corridors of God Bless My Own Secondary School, away from the festive buzz of the courtyard, lay the inner sanctum—the trinity of the school's administration.

Mr. Martin Olawole, the vice principal, A young man in his late thirties, Mrs. Sheila, the astute bursar and fashionista of the school who had garnered another name from the school as "moniee" , and Mr. Petrol Davies, the head of the non-academic staff department, a retired vigilante leader whose face scar had spurned more legends amongst the students than anyone could think, found solace in the confines of their shared enclave.

The room, tucked away on the second floor, bore witness to the unspoken dynamics of power and discontent that thrived within its walls. As the door creaked open, revealing a humble space with aged wooden furniture and worn-out carpets, the trinity convened to discuss matters that lay beyond the prying eyes of the staff and students.

Mr. Martin Olawole, the vice principal, greeted the others with a weary smile. His well dyed and washed hair on top his meticulous attire conveyed an air of authority that seemed slightly worn around the edges. His eyes, though dulled by sleepless nights, hinted at a profound understanding of the intricate workings of the school.

Mrs. Sheila, the school's bursar, sat behind a cluttered desk, her sharp eyes adored with fake eyes lashes that seemed overly too big for her and a make up with confusing intentions, scanning financial reports and budgetary documents.

Her sleek demeanor and no-nonsense attitude made her an enigma among the staff.
Her role went beyond mere number-crunching; she held a key to the financial pulse of the institution and made no play about it even though this itself was her own curse; for she spent heavily on things many considered to be trivial and unnecessary like a D&G handbag worth 98,000.

Mr. Petrol Davies, a man with a name that carried the weight of irony, leaned against the doorframe, his sturdy frame exuding an air of quiet rebellion. As the head of the non-academic staff department, he witnessed the daily grind of the school's backbone—the janitors, security personnel, and other unsung heroes who kept the institution running.

The trinity gathered around a worn-out conference table, the surface of which bore the scars of countless deliberations. As they settled into their routine, the air buzzed with a blend of familiarity and unspoken discontent. The recent changes under Principal Maxwell's tenure had not gone unnoticed by this trio, and today's meeting held a sense of urgency.

Mr. Martin Olawole, adjusting his glasses, opened the discussion with a sigh.

"Can you just imagine the self acclaimed savior making a Martin Luther king speech in front of everyone like they don't know he is the devil in saint's clothing,"

"Leave him be, he assumes the PTA board will sing to his call for financial support next year, imagine the shock he will receive," Mrs. Sheila scoffed offloading a file more of expenditure documents on the table.

"The staff morale is at an all-time low, and the students are starting to feel the impact. We can't turn a blind eye to the decay within these walls, one of you better stand up and talk to him," Mr Davies added.

Mrs. Sheila, her eyes never leaving the financial reports before her, nodded in agreement.

"The budget cuts are affecting every department. We're losing qualified teachers, and the ones who remain are stretched thin, I will not agree to a salary pay cut again oh, I have high maintenance standards! "

Mr. Petrol Davies, crossing his arms, added his voice to the chorus of discontent.

"And what about Maxwell? Disappearing for over a week without a word and then the accident during his disappearance,"

Mr Davies eyes caught a glance from both oh them, there was silence that communicated something between the trio before they returned their glances.


"let's not talk about that again, the police are on it, for now it's Christmas, I hear the guy he got for the job is the same he got last year, the guy is unarguably good, the people love him!"

"Too bad we may not be able to afford him next year if nothing is done about our plummeting finances," Mrs Sheila revealed.

The banter among the three, a mixture of concern and shared frustration, intensified. Mrs. Sheila, with a wry smile, remarked.

Mr. Martin Olawole chuckled, "I wouldn't be surprised if he's found a hidden treasure trove at the North Pole like the Santa Claus guy, We could use a bit of that treasure here too, I want a solid gold bar for present!"


"you two could wish it all, the fact is that things are turning up ugly and next year we may not have a school standing, what worries me is that he knows this, anyway, poor man go always find a way to survive!"
Mr Davies concluded in pigeon English before taking his leave.

Somewhere outside he could hear the door behind him been locked.

"Those two, I wonder what is even up with them self, laslas Na who no dey bath well dey spray perfume pass " He thought to himself.

Alright let's get back to the murder mystery at hand, dear readers!

CHAPTER TWO UNEARTHING SECRETS


The courtyard of God Bless My Own Secondary School was soon transformed into a bustling carnival of anticipation.

This time, Long lines of students especially those in the Junior secondary school section who weren't so brave to face off with the multi dimensional being that was father Christmas for fear of been turned into a wrapped present or worse turned into an elf assistant , accompanied by their mothers, snaked through the courtyard, leading to a whimsically adorned canopy that now stood as the epicenter of festive excitement.

The air was thick with a concoction of emotions—excitement, curiosity, and a hint of trepidation.

Under the makeshift canopy, a red carpet unfurled like a path of dreams leading to a massive golden throne—a throne fit for the legendary Father Christmas.

Fluffy clouds of fake cotton snow adorned the surroundings, and twinkling lights adorned the edges of the canopy, casting a warm and festive glow.

Mothers, adorned in an array of colorful dresses and holiday-themed sweaters competitively to outlook the others clutched their children's hands with a mixture of excitement and mild anxiety and eyes that fought a silent war with the others.

The children, their eyes wide with wonder, clutched their ticket number as sold by the school which unknown to them determined the type of gift to be handed out to them.

Miss Celestine, a black, tall lady known to the students had dragged in dramatically, an even bigger bag loaded with what many believed to be more gifts recently manufactured from the godlike being, Father Christmas's toy making factory, the kids each filled with a wish list more extravagant than the last in their heads, watched with utter curiosity.

In the midst of the throng, Mr. Johnson, the ever-enthusiastic emcee, stood on a makeshift stage, a microphone in hand. His booming voice echoed through the courtyard, announcing the grand entrance of Father Christmas with a theatrical flair that rivaled a Broadway production.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! Gather 'round as we welcome the one, the only, the legendary, mythical, all dancing and all twerking, all laughing and all jovial Father Christmas!"

His announcements caused a stir amongst parents nevertheless it was met with a chorus of excited gasps and cheers from the children.

The long-awaited arrival of Father Christmas was heralded by the jingling of bells, a sound that seemed to transcend the boundaries of ordinary reality. From behind a festive curtain was rolled open for the grand entrance, but the rotund figure of Father Christmas never emerged, his red suit aglow with festive cheer was never seen.


Mr. Johnson, not one to let the moment pass without theatrical commentary, bellowed again,

"Behold, the bringer of gifts, the master of merriment, the one and only Father Christmas!" With a grand sweep of his arm, he gestured toward the raised curtains but yet a festive figure who was now anxiously been expected to perform some acrobatic display was nowhere near stood his golden throne.

The children, their anticipation reaching a fever pitch, disappointed and confused began to murmur and no sooner had the reality began to sink in deep did they hear a horrible and dreadful scream from a far off.

Something horrible had been discovered by the elf assistant and his blood curling scream had delivered the message to everyone within the school ground.

CONT'D




Somewhere In the bustling heart of Ogbasia area, Lagos state, Division 23 of the Nigeria Police Station stood as a stoic guardian against the ebb and flow of the city's chaotic pulse.

Surrounded by the hum of street vendors, the cacophony of traffic, and the vibrant tapestry of life, the station loomed with a sense of authority and, to some, apprehension.

The yellow and blue-bricked exterior of Division 23, weathered by the relentless Lagos sun, bore the scars of years spent witnessing the ephemerality of crime and justice.

A faded sign, bearing the emblem of the Nigerian Police, creaked occasionally in the wind, a testament to the passage of time and the unwavering commitment of those who served within its walls.

Under the shade of a gnarled mango tree far off the station's entrance, Detective Akin Oladele sat on a worn-out wooden stool, his keen eyes focused on the surroundings.

A man in his early forties, Akin exuded an air of quiet confidence, his salt-and-pepper hair adding a touch of maturity to his otherwise youthful countenance. Dressed in a neatly pressed police uniform, he epitomized the image of an upright officer who navigated the complex terrain of crime with unyielding integrity.

Leaning against his trusty motorcycle, a weather-beaten Nanfang with a history as colorful as the city itself, Akin dialed a number on his phone.

"Hello sir, it's me again, please sir, I feel that the last time we spoke you didn't quite understand my request, sir, I really need that job, my wife is expecting triplets in two months time, please sir, you should understand my need to work with your Governor aspirant as a personal... No, not at all sir, Sir you know how our work here is, I haven't been paid for the last two months, what is a man like me supposed to do? "

The conversation was hushed, his voice carrying a blend of sympathy, purpose and sincerity as he spoke. His eyes, vigilant and discerning, scanned the surroundings, a habit ingrained by years of solving mysteries in the labyrinthine streets of Lagos.


" Sir, I cannot have someone like you at that level and go begging, Adeshina, we have been friends longer than we became who we are today, think about the countless jobs I have done for you... Okay, okay sir, God will bless you, I will send them to you, thank you sir, thank you sir,"


The call had ended, the mango tree, its branches swaying lazily in the afternoon breeze, provided a semblance of respite from the relentless sun.

Akin, accustomed to the rhythm of the city, found solace in this small oasis. It was here, under the cool shade, that he often reflected on the challenges of his duty, contemplating the intricate puzzle of crime and his private life that unfolded daily.

Within the precinct, the station buzzed with a frenetic energy.

Officers moved with purpose, their uniforms a medley of colors against the backdrop of the red-bricked building.
The front desk, a hub of activity, witnessed a constant flow of individuals seeking justice or, in some cases, accountability. The air was thick with the scent of paperwork, ink, and the lingering echoes of stories yet to be told.

Behind the front desk, Sergeant Bello barked orders to the duty officers, his rotund figure a testament to years spent in the service.

He possessed a stern demeanor that masked a deep sense of duty, ensuring that the gears of justice, though at times rusty, continued to turn within Division 23.

In one corner, a young officer meticulously filed case reports, his brow furrowed in concentration. In another, a group of officers engaged in animated banter, sharing stories that ranged from the mundane to the bizarre.

The holding cells, hidden from public view, whispered with the echoes of those who had transgressed the boundaries of the law.

As Akin replaced his phone in his pocket , he rose from his makeshift seat under the mango tree.

The worn-out stool scraped against the gravel beneath, a sound that seemed to echo through the courtyard. Akin, with a purposeful stride, approached the entrance of Division 23, he managed a smile that seemed aesthetic to his profession.

The station, with its aura of authority, stood as a symbol of order in the midst of chaos.

Akin, the mystery-solving detective with a reputation for fairness and astuteness, embodied the spirit of justice that permeated the precinct.

As he crossed the threshold into the precinct, the bustling activities and the resonating energy of Division 23 enveloped him, signaling the beginning of yet another day in the ongoing saga of crime and justice in Lagos.

"Sir, the D. P. O has asked for your presence immediately," A young officer buzzed out of a corner to announce.

Akin sighed and exhaled sharply, HE had hoped he would get a chance to touch his flask momentarily and get something to eat before attending to anything or anyone, that idea would have to stall for now he concluded, he nodded and dismissed the younger officer.

He found his way across the labyrinthine of offices and passages, causally stopping to get a greeting, gist to an officer or visitor.

There was no doubt, the D. P. O had something important to say, usually anything else would have been discussed through the phone, he agreed as he stood and knocked on the D.P.O's office door.

CONT'D

He reached out and pulled the
door knob of the office occupied by the Divisional Police Officer (DPO), a figure known for his eccentricities and unwavering commitment to justice.

The door swung open to reveal a room that, despite its utilitarian function, bore traces of the DPO's unique personality. A well-worn desk, strewn with an assortment of paperwork and a few scattered coffee mugs, stood as the epicenter of the room.

The DPO himself, a man named Superintendent Babatunde Ayefele, was seated behind the desk, engrossed in a file.

"Ah, Akin! Come in, come in, the soon to be baba triplets, how is our wife? " boomed Superintendent ayefele, looking up with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

His rotund figure, encased in a slightly snug police uniform, seemed to radiate warmth and a hint of mischief.

Akin, with a nod of respect, entered the office. "Good afternoon, sir, wife is fine, she needs money and me at home most of the times anyway You wanted to see me?"

The DPO motioned for Akin to take a seat, his eyes twinkling with a mix of camaraderie and curiosity.

"Yes, Akin, have a seat. We've got an interesting one on our hands, it shock your shocker. Just got a report of a dead Father Christmas at a school's Christmas party in your old area, Igidah. The bizarre cases always find their way to us, don't they?"

Akin settled into the chair, his detective instincts kicking in as he absorbed the details.

"Dead Father Christmas, sir? That's certainly not something you hear every day, it's a once in year murder case. Any leads?"

Superintendent Okonkwo leaned back, his chair creaking in protest. "I see what you did there, Not yet, Akin. It just came in minutes ago. But I wanted you on this case, you stayed in Igidah, the police station there is understaff and inexperienced with murder cases, You've got a knack for untangling the weird and crazy ones."

Akin acknowledged the compliment with a modest nod. "I'll get right on it, sir. Any specifics about the location or witnesses, I know Igidah but not every area, "

The DPO handed Akin a file containing the preliminary details.

"It's a school called God Bless My Own Secondary School, Witnesses are a mix of students, teachers, and parents. They're all a bit shaken up. See what you can find, Akin. I've got a feeling this one is going to be a head-scratcher."

As Akin perused the file, Superintendent ayefele shifted the conversation to a more casual tone.

"You know, Akin, sometimes I think this city has a penchant for the absurd. Dead Father Christmas at a school party—what's next, a disappearing sleigh or a murdered masquerade?"

Akin couldn't help but chuckle at the DPO's irreverent humor. "You never know, sir. Lagos always keeps us on our toes."

The DPO, with a conspiratorial wink, leaned forward. "Speaking of toes, did you hear the one about the thief who stole a calendar? He got twelve months!"

Akin couldn't help but smile at the DPO's penchant for dad jokes. "Sir, you've got a gift for those one-liners, just don't tell it to some of the boys, we dey hungry oh for now, "

Superintendent ayefele chuckled heartily.

"Well, we need a bit of laughter in our line of work, Akin. Keeps the spirits up, especially when dealing with cases like this. Now, go on, crack the case and bring some sanity back to our city's Christmas festivities, before my wife refuses to send our kids to their school's Christmas party, "

Akin rose from his seat, file in hand. "I'll do my best, sir. And I'll make sure to keep an eye out for any disappearing sleighs too."

As Akin left the DPO's office, he couldn't help but appreciate the unique camaraderie he shared with Superintendent ayefele.

In the midst of the bizarre and sometimes grim world of criminal investigations, the DPO's lightheartedness served as a reminder that even in the face of the inexplicable, a good laugh could be a detective's most valuable asset. With a renewed sense of determination, Akin set out to unravel the mystery of the dead Father Christmas, knowing that the unpredictable streets of Lagos held secrets that only a detective with keen instincts and a touch of humor could uncover.

We are about to get into the thick of things, I will see you guys later for the drops.

Buckle up, I am back!

CONT'D



As the erring aftermath of the dead father Christmas began fiddling in the minds of most, the meeting room at God Bless My Own Secondary School hummed with a mixture of tension and curiosity.

Seated around a large rectangular table were the key figures in the school's administration—the trinity, Mr. Mathew, Mrs. Sheila and Mr. Davies sat apart amongst their colleagues.

Mr. Johnson, the affable and ever-enthusiastic event coordinator, fidgeted with a stack of papers in front of him. Miss Celestine, the stern-faced disciplinarian, surveyed the room with a gaze that could rival any seasoned principal.

Miss Olivia, the ambitious teacher with a penchant for the dramatic, tapped her pen impatiently on the table.

Mr. Mark, a seasoned educator with a penchant for sarcasm, reclined in his chair with an air of nonchalance. Miss Bunmi, the soft-spoken mathematics teacher, sat with an air of quiet contemplation.

The few other teachers present exchanged hushed whispers as they speculated about the reason for this impromptu gathering.

The atmosphere shifted as the door swung open, revealing a uniformed figure with a badge that identified him as Officer Akinde Julius from the Igidah Police Station of course he was not a stranger to most of them, his three kids were students in the school infact it had been his wife who had pulled the first emergency call through to the station before anyone else did.

The teachers straightened in their chairs, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern, he had called briefly for this meeting once he and his men had arrived on the scene some forty five minutes ago.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Officer Julius greeted, his voice projecting authority but tempered with a hint of empathy.

"I'm Officer Julius from the Igidah Police Station. I understand this is an unusual situation, and I appreciate your cooperation."

Mr. Johnson, always quick with a smile, attempted to ease the tension.

"Officer Julius, you have called us all here, what news do you have for us?"

Officer Julius nodded solemnly. "I'm here to brief you on the incident at your school—I know it's no longer news, we have a dead body lying in a pool of blood downstairs somewhere, I also know the rumors floating in most minds is a murder has been committed, this matter requires the attention of the police staying a bit longer to investigate and not just to move out the body. Before you worry too much, I want to assure you that we're here to investigate and resolve the issue as smoothly as possible."

Miss Celestine, her brows furrowed, spoke up with a sense of urgency. "You mean someone really killed father Christmas?"

Officer Julius glanced at his notes, choosing his words carefully. "He has an identity but yes let's say the shocking news is indeed true, he is dead The man here is Mr. Vincent Osunbhor, I understand this is both shocking and distressing, but we have a detective from Ogbasia on the way to handle the investigation, we have never handled a murder before, so we requested help"

The room fell into a heavy silence. The trinity and the other teachers exchanged looks of disbelief. Mr. Mark, with a dry chuckle, muttered, "Well, that's one way to make a Christmas party memorable."

Miss Olivia, her eyes wide with shock, interjected, "A death? But... but how? Father Christmas?"

Officer Julius, recognizing the gravity of the situation, continued, "I know this is difficult to process. The detective on his way is experienced and will lead the investigation. I urge you all to cooperate fully. These initial moments are crucial for gathering information." He paused and passed a glance across the meeting room, someone was missing.

" The principal, where is he? "

" He has locked himself in the bathroom, He still hasn't recovered from the sight, " The vice principal, Mr. Mathew replied with a stern note in his voice.

Mr. Johnson, attempting to maintain a semblance of control, spoke up. "Officer Julius, we appreciate your transparency. But what should we expect? How should we handle this?"

Officer Julius leaned against the table, his posture a mix of reassurance and authority.

"Firstly, I want to assure you once again that we are here to support you. The detective will ask questions, and we ask for your cooperation. It's essential not to speculate or spread information until the investigation is complete. Let the process unfold, and we'll do our best to bring clarity to this situation."

As the gravity of the situation sank in, the trinity and the other teachers nodded in reluctant agreement. Officer Julius concluded, "I'll be here to assist in any way I can. The detective from Ogbasia will arrive shortly. Please gather any relevant information or details that may aid the investigation. Thank you for your understanding."

With that, Officer Julius left the room, leaving the trinity and the teachers to grapple with the sudden turn of events. The air in the meeting room was thick with uncertainty as they contemplated the unfolding mystery that had cast a shadow over their school's Christmas festivities.

Outside the meeting room, the building crowd had began to dissipate systematically, the police had began to evacuate those who were deemed of no use in the case and sent straight to the exit gate.

CONT'D



Detective Akin Oladele steered his weather-beaten Nanfang to a stop near the entrance of God Bless My Own Secondary School.

The air was thick with a sense of foreboding, amplified by the murmur of concerned parents, anxious students, and the unmistakable scent of a community on edge.

Akin, his gaze concealed behind reflective sunglasses, took a moment to absorb the atmosphere before dismounting.

As he approached the gate where many were exiting the building, the voices of two children caught his attention.

Akin lingered, feigning interest in adjusting his motorcycle gear, as the youngsters animatedly recounted a tale of epic proportions. Their parents, eager to console and distract them from the unusual events unfolding inside, indulged in the imaginative storytelling.

"...And then, Father Christmas pulled out a magic cane and challenged the Wizard of Wonders to a duel for a second time !" exclaimed the younger of the two children, his eyes wide with excitement.

The older sibling, a girl with a mischievous glint in her eye, took over. "The Wizard tried to turn Father Christmas into a snowman, but Father Christmas dodged, and the snowman spell hit the elf instead! It was so funny!"

"But the wizard had a bigger plan, he hid a magical rabbit underneath the ground, it erupted beneath and swallowed father Christmas, whole!"

Akin couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. The children's vivid imaginations had transformed a somber event into a fantastical showdown between holiday icons.

Father Christmas and the Wizard of Wonders engaged in a whimsical battle, with magical candy canes and misfired spells and rabbits creating a spectacle worthy of a bedtime story.

The parents, despite the underlying tension, played along with encouraging smiles. One parent, catching Akin's eye, offered a wry grin. "Kids and their stories, right except this time, father Christmas is TRULY gone, I suppose."

Akin nodded, his thoughts drifting to the task at hand.

The children's laughter, a stark contrast to the grim reality he was about to confront, resonated in the air. It wasn't lost on him that, beneath the innocent tales of magical duels, a darker narrative awaited him within the confines of the school as explained by the parent.

As the children and their parents moved away, Akin continued through the gate, his footsteps echoing in the courtyard as police men saluted or nodded at him, He couldn't shake the feeling that this case would be different, not just because of the peculiar circumstances but also because it marked his second encounter with the grim aftermath of violence.

Despite his unofficial status as a detective, Akin had become intimately familiar with the intricacies of crime scenes, the weight of evidence, and the labyrinthine paths that investigations could take.

His first murder case, a baptism by fire into the harsh realities of his chosen profession, had left an indelible mark on his perspective.

Now, as he traversed the familiar setting of a school courtyard turned crime scene, Akin couldn't help but reflect on the dichotomy of the situation.

Father Christmas, the symbol of joy and generosity, juxtaposed against the harsh reality of a violent death. The irony hung in the air like an unspoken truth.

Akin approached the entrance, where Officer Julius had informed him the incident had taken place.

The festive decorations, once intended to evoke holiday cheer, now served as an eerie backdrop to the unfolding investigation. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenges ahead.

The children's imaginative tale lingered in his mind, a whimsical contrast to the impending gravity of his task. Father Christmas, the wizard, the magical duels—all part of an innocent narrative spun from the threads of childhood wonder. Akin, however, knew that the threads he would follow were darker, leading into the tapestry of an adult reality marred by violence and mystery.

With resolute steps, Detective Akin Oladele entered God Bless My Own Secondary School, ready to unravel the truth behind the whimsical facade and confront the shadows that lurked within the folds of a seemingly ordinary Christmas celebration.

CONT'D


"Welcome sir, good to have you on ground, sir" Officer Julius saluted and shook hands.

"So we are really here to investigate who did father Christmas in, what a day! Lead the way to the scene!"

Detective Akin Oladele followed Officer Akinde Julius through the labyrinthine corridors of God Bless My Own Secondary School.

The air seemed heavier as they approached the room where the festive celebration had taken a dark turn. Akinde Julius, with a casual familiarity that bespoke his experience with crime scenes, exchanged a few banter-filled words with Akin, attempting to lighten the somber atmosphere that clung to the school like an unwelcome shadow.

"Detective Akin," Julius began with a half-smile, " investigating a crime at a school is a bit like solving a puzzle with pieces missing. The kids might have seen things, but they're more likely to embellish than provide clear details, I hope you crack this case quick."

Akin acknowledged the seasoned officer with a nod. "I appreciate the heads up, Officer Julius. I've dealt with my fair share of mysteries, but each one has its own quirks."

The duo arrived at the door of the room in question. The festive decorations that adorned the hallway seemed to mock the grim reality that awaited them inside.

Akinde Julius gestured for Akin to enter first, and as the detective crossed the threshold, he was met with a scene that instantly intensified the gravity of the situation.

The room, once adorned with the trappings of a Christmas party, was now a tableau of macabre contrast. The vibrant colors of tinsel and twinkling lights clashed with the harsh reality of dried blood splatters. Akin surveyed the scene, taking in the details that would guide the course of the investigation.

Stab wounds marred the festive backdrop, the brutality of the act evident in the crimson stains that adorned the walls and floor.

The air held a metallic tang, a haunting reminder of the violence that had unfolded within those walls.

Akinde Julius, leaning against the doorframe, spoke in measured tones. "Looks like Father Christmas had an unwelcome visitor, and things took a dark turn. The body is over there."

Akin followed Julius's gaze, and his eyes settled on the lifeless form of a man dressed in the familiar red-and-white attire of Father Christmas.

The costume, once a symbol of joy and merriment, now seemed grotesque in its juxtaposition with the brutality of the crime.

The body lay sprawled on the floor, a chilling tableau frozen in time. Akin approached with a sense of grim determination, his gaze sweeping over the details that would reveal the story of the crime. The stab wounds sporadic and horrible to behold, painted a grim narrative of violence.

Dried blood, like an artist's stroke, adorned the walls in chaotic patterns. The room, once a sanctuary of celebration, had become a haunting canvas bearing witness to a crime that defied the spirit of the season.

The detective's attention was drawn to a trail of blood that meandered across the floor. It began near the entrance, a sinister precursor to the grim tableau within, and led to the point where Father Christmas had met his tragic end. The dried splatters seemed to echo a desperate struggle, a futile attempt to escape the clutches of an unseen assailant.

Akinde Julius, his voice a low murmur, added, "The blood trail suggests there was some movement. Father Christmas didn't go down without a fight. It's a messy scene, but I know you will piece it together."

Akin crouched beside the lifeless form, careful not to disturb the crime scene. The victim's eyes, frozen in a vacant stare, seemed to beseech an understanding that only an investigator could provide.

As the detective began to meticulously examine the surroundings, the gravity of the task at hand settled over the room like a shroud.

The festive decorations, now tainted witnesses to a crime, bore silent testimony to the cruelty that had shattered the joyous atmosphere of the Christmas celebration.

Detective Akin Oladele, guided by the evidence before him, prepared to unravel the intricacies of a mystery that had stained the season of goodwill with an indelible mark of tragedy. The room, once filled with the promise of merriment, now held secrets that only a diligent investigator could unveil, piece by agonizing piece.

Somewhere a bloodied broken gin bottle handle laid, the probable murder weapon yet the tell tale sign of a staged scene had crept into the detective's mind once he realized the dried blood trail could have been drag marks as well.

"come and give me a hand," Akin insisted, producing a pair of gloves and handing another to Julius.

They quickly exposed the mass of flesh and there it became even clearer the extent of the stab wounds.

"My God, there is a stab wound every where, this man must have been stabbed multiple times even after he had long lost his life," Julius was horrified.

For akin, his first clue had exposed itself to him, there were two varying sets of puncture wounds, one set seemed older and produced blood much dried than the other, from just a focused look, he could tell they were also deeper than the other set, it made him reaffirm the suspicion that there was at least two murder weapons, the one which killed the victim and the one used to cover up; the broken bottle head.

He drew his attention for a moment to a puddle of whitish substance that seemed odd and nauseating.

Julius caught the detective's attention and quickly explained.

"That was the principal, I don't know what really happened but the head of the non academic staff explained that the principal and others had come to see the body but the principal could not hold himself so he vomited and almost passed out too so he was quickly rushed out of the scene, you know everyone has a way they react to these things,"

The explanation made sense to the seasoned detective, indeed everyone did have a different coping mechanism for such a sight.

Nothing else at the moment raised any suspicion apart from a sack or two that laid sparingly around.

" They said, his friend and assistant was the one who first saw him, where is he?" Akin asked, scribbling all the information he could gather in a note.

"I have one of my men with him in a class room down the passage, he has been inconsolable, but he will talk to you that I am sure of,"

"Get someone to take pictures of the entire scene, nothing should be left out, you may want to supervise it so that the body can be taken away immediately,"


This was a brutal murder committed with great intent, he must have counted at least thirty two stab wounds and defensive wounds to his hands and face, there were so many questions he needed answers to and he was certain he would get them.

CONT'D



Detective Akin Oladele approached the shaken figure of Titus, the dwarf who had served as the elf assistant to the ill-fated Father Christmas.

Titus, visibly distressed, sat on a wooden chair in a corner of the room, his gaze fixed on the floor as though trying to avoid the haunting images etched into his memory.

"Titus, have this, I got the boys to get it for you" Akin began, stretching a can of water to the dwarf in a calm and reassuring tone,

"I'm Detective Akin Oladele. I know this is difficult, but I need you to help me understand what happened. Can you walk me through the events leading up to the discovery of Father Christmas?"

Titus looked up, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sorrow and fear. He nodded, steeling himself to recount the harrowing moments that had unfolded.

"I-I was there, you know, helping Father Christmas with his costume and all." He lied having remembered counting the money which he had now tucked somewhere inside his underwear, a meager eight thousand naira.

"It was supposed to be a fun day, We were supposed to wait while the canopy stand for gift sharing and photo taking was been taken set, whilst we shared a a bottle of gin and discussed strategies, just like old times however the gin as we discovered wouldn't be enough for our operation," Titus paused, his voice shaky as he caught the dead on attention akin paid to him.

" you see, been father Christmas is not easy in these parts, the job is a once in a year job, Vincent manages to put a very good and display, E dey do am reach ground but eh e get where food and drinks dey do support for the work, so he asked me to get another bottle although I be dey think am say one bottle go dey enough he insisted that I look for another which I had no option than to go find, we had a bit of time so We were in no rush, " He paused again, this time, shaken to the grim realization once more.

Akin, understanding the need to proceed with care, encouraged him to continue. "Take your time, Titus. Continue, I need to know everything."

Titus took a deep breath, his small shoulders visibly trembling. "Father Christmas, he... he asked me to fetch another bottle of gin from the storage room. Said he wanted to keep the festivities going. I went, you know, didn't think much of it. When I came back, though..."

His voice trailed off, and Akin sensed the weight of the unsaid words. "What did you find when you returned, Titus?"

Titus swallowed hard, his eyes welling with tears. "I found him. Father Christmas. On the floor, covered in blood. It was like a nightmare. I never expected... I never thought..."

Akin placed a comforting hand on Titus's shoulder. "I can only imagine how difficult this is for you, Titus. Did you see anyone else around when you discovered Father Christmas?"

Titus shook his head. "No, Detective. It was just me. I screamed, you know, for help. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Father Christmas was... gone."

Akin continued with gentle persistence, "Did you notice anything unusual before you left to get the bottle of gin? Any sounds, movements, or anything out of the ordinary?"

Titus strained to recall, his brow furrowed in concentration. "No, Detective. It was all normal. Laughter, music, the usual party stuff. Nothing that would make me think something like this would happen."

Akin nodded, acknowledging Titus's account. "I appreciate your cooperation, Titus. I know this is a lot to take in. If you remember anything else, no matter how small, please let me know. It could be crucial to the investigation."

As Akin rose to leave, Titus, his voice barely above a whisper, added, "Father Christmas... he didn't deserve this. My guy no deserve to die like meat way dem butcher for shop, We were just trying to bring some joy to the kids and make some money, you know?"

Akin, pausing at the doorway, offered a solemn nod. "I understand, Titus. We'll do everything we can to find out what happened here tonight. I still need you to stay around though, find a way to contact his family, his body will be deposited at the police station or let them contact the station, you Take some time, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out."

With those words, Detective Akin Oladele left Titus to grapple with the aftermath of a festive celebration turned tragedy.

As he ventured deeper into the investigation, the gravity of the situation became increasingly apparent, and the quest for answers took on a renewed urgency.

The room, once filled with the promise of joy and laughter, now echoed with the somber echoes of a mystery that demanded resolution, the gin bottle story didn't really make any sense though he knew titus was telling the truth to some extent ; enough to get him off whatever list he had going on in his head.

CONT'D



Detective Akin Oladele exited the room, leaving Titus to gather his composure in the aftermath of the grim discovery.

As he stepped into the hallway, Officer Akinde Julius awaited him with a solemn expression.

"Detective Akin," Julius began, "the body is on its way to the station, we will get in touch with the family and then move it to a hospital for further examination."

Akin nodded, his mind already racing with thoughts about the next steps in the investigation.

"Good. We need to gather as much information as possible. I need to get the time line of events correct, I think I am beginning to get a good feel of the case already, "

Julius shook his head. "Okay sir, The pictures sir, I will have them sent to you if you are in need, One of the boys who did photography before joining the force was assigned, you will be impressed with his work. "

Akin's gaze shifted to the festive decorations that adorned the corridor, now tainted by the tragedy that had unfolded.

"Oh very good, We need to know who had access to the building during the party. Any staff, performers, or guests could be potential witnesses or suspects. Get me a list of everyone who was here, I take it that the building must have been restricted to just a secluded few since it was the base of Operations for the party?"

" Spot on sir, yes, it is why we have green lighted the exit of the school children and parents already, I will do that right away, "

Julius acknowledged the directive and headed off to compile the necessary information.

Meanwhile, Akin retraced his steps back to the scene of the crime. The room, now eerily quiet, bore the marks of the festive celebration turned nightmare.

As he entered, Akin noticed the dried blood splatters and the remnants of the Christmas decorations that seemed to mock the tragedy that had unfolded even without the body The room still held the weight of the unsolved mystery, and Akin was determined to unravel its layers.

His meticulous examination of the crime scene yielded little new information.

The stab wounds, the blood trail, and the haunting stillness of the room offered glimpses into the violence that had occurred, but the motive and the identity of the assailant remained elusive however he was certain of one thing now, the killer was still very much on ground, it made no sense to have tried to cover up the real murder weapon if the murderer was bent on escaping the scene, a dummy murder weapon on the scene had made a clear note of that.

Returning to the hallway, Akin encountered Julius, who had gathered the list of individuals present at the party. Akin scanned the names, mentally noting the staff, performers, and guests who had been in the vicinity during the incident, the list was impressive, over fifty three staff members graced the list.

"Officer Julius, I need you to get everyone together for a brief meeting. We need to gather information and establish a timeline of events leading up to the discovery of Father Christmas. I'll join you shortly after I speak with Titus, something I forgot to mention to the elf."

Julius scoffed at the remark and nodded in understanding and set off to round up the individuals on the list. Akin, his mind focused on the task at hand, made his way to where the Titus was once again, who seemed surprised to see him so quickly.

" Was there any personal artifacts, I mean possession or items you have off him that was on the scene, wallet, phone etc?"

Titus made an effort to think. "Yes sir, his little phone, There is this small phone of his he recently got, I didn't see it although I don't know if he brought it here in the first place, I can't tell,"

The conclusion was not as appealing as the detective had hoped it would be however it did manage to get a place on his note.

" kindly help me find out from someone back home, If they can find out the whereabouts of the phone,"


Akin acknowledged the information and then disappeared down the passages to join Officer Julius for the gathering of potential witnesses and suspects.

The room buzzed with a subdued energy as staff, performers, and guests assembled, their faces reflecting a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Officer Julius, standing at the front, called the meeting to order as Detective Akin Oladele prepared to address the somber assembly.

As the room hushed, Akin began, "My name Is Detective Akin and I am the leaf detective on this case, I know this is a distressing situation, and I appreciate your cooperation. I here to gather information that will aid my investigation. Please bear with us as while I work through this difficult time, we are all tired and anxious, it is normal, once you are done questioned, you may request to take your heave provided I see no need of keeping you around, thank you once again, "

With those words, the crowd was dispersed and the tone was set.

Good morning, it's day three and it's a good day to be alive and well and reading.

CONT'D



Detective Akin Oladele, armed with the list of individuals present at the ill-fated Christmas party, followed Officer Akinde Julius to the small investigation room they had set up within the school premises.

The room, devoid of festive decorations, served as a stark contrast to the events that had transpired just hours ago.

As Akin settled into the makeshift investigative space, he couldn't help but marvel at the historical twist that Officer Julius had shared. "Do you know this place used to be a small bank in the late '40s? It's quite a transformation you know, this school holds a place in the heart of the community "

Julius, sipping from a bottle of water , nodded. "Yes, Detective. The various owners have managed to secure the space after the bank closed down. Convenient, considering the building already had secure rooms and ample space. Makes it easier for us to set up shop during situations like this."

Akin scanned the room, the echoes of its past as a bank mingling with the urgency of the present investigation. "Good foresight on the part of the school. It'll make our work a bit more efficient."

Julius, ever pragmatic, added, "Efficiency is what you need right now."

With that, Akin turned his attention to the list of individuals present at the party. The names ranged from staff members to performers and guests, each potentially holding a piece of the puzzle. He began reviewing the list, noting any details that stood out.

"Let's start with the performers," Akin suggested. "The songstress you mentioned earlier, Julius, what's her name?"

Julius consulted a note he had in hand. "Her name is Melody Joy. She's gained quite a following over the years, she is from this community as well, and today was supposed to be a highlight for her. Unfortunately, it turned into something else however she has clearly asked to allowed to leave on time, claimed she had other business to attend to, "

Akin nodded, contemplating the implications of interviewing the songstress first. "Melody Joy, huh? Let's get her in here. If she's eager to get back home, we'll prioritize her interview. She might have seen or heard something crucial."

As Julius made arrangements to bring in Melody Joy for questioning, Akin continued perusing the list.

The names of staff members and other performers blurred together, forming a tapestry of potential witnesses and suspects. He marked a few names that caught his attention, individuals who might have had proximity to the crime scene or a motive to harm Father Christmas.

Minutes later, Melody Joy entered the room, her demeanor a mix of exhaustion and anxiety. Akin gestured for her to take a seat, and she obliged, her eyes betraying the weight of the day's events.

"Miss Joy," Akin began, adopting a calm and reassuring tone, "I appreciate your cooperation. I know this is a difficult time. We'll try to make this as brief as possible."

Melody nodded, her gaze fixed on the table. Akin proceeded with a series of questions, aiming to understand her movements during the party, any interactions she might have had, and whether she observed anything unusual, her alibi was airtight which eased the detective's concern over her quickly.

As the interview unfolded, Melody Joy recounted the day's events from her perspective, her voice occasionally wavering as she navigated the memories of a celebration gone awry.

"... I was on phone discussing with my manager when we heard the scream, it's quite unfortunate, who knew what else could have happened today?" She explained.

Akin, attentive to the nuances of her responses, probed for details that could shed light on the mystery.

" so let me get this straight, the waiting room for father Christmas was quite different from the other performers, so you guys never had the opportunity to see or talk with him in the first place?"

"of course not, most of us don't even need a waiting room although considering..." she paused, her eyes lit up with thoughts.

"Although what, Miss Joy,"

"Last year, guess what happened, there was a bit of an issue, Father Christmas's elf assistant got into an argument with the wizard of wonders and Father Christmas's intervention turned it to a little scuffle, they were up to their fists, thankfully Oga Benji settled the issue, " She claimed.

This was incredible detail, Akin noted, scribbling facts into his little note book as he remembered the little kids tale about a battle between the two performers, perhaps it wasn't all kids talk after all.

" The magician huh? Oga Benji, who is he?"

"He is a Dj and a show organizer, if you own an establishment in Igidah and you want performers, Oga Benji arranges everything, We are all here because of him, he is a good man though, he ensures we are taken care of at all events," She became weary for a moment, it was clear she had thought of the impact of the incident once again and shuddered at it.

"So I take it that every performer here is from the community and you guys know each other, I mean outside of this line of work?" Akin asked again.

"Some, not all of us and it's not like we go around holding hands, Titus is a popular amongst the betting shops, his closest friend is Vincent... Oh my, That's Vincent, isn't it, father Christmas is actually Vincent under the costume, oh Jesus," She shook her head out of sympathy.

" You didn't know? "

" I didn't go see the body at first , I don't like such sight, what a pity, Vincent is a hustler in the community , he does a lot of small jobs here and there, that's all I know yet I don't know why anyone would want to kill him, " She admitted

" Thank you Miss Joy, you can go, you can tell the officer to let you go home, Just drop your number just in case, I want to reach out to you, " Akin waved her off.

Meanwhile, Officer Julius monitored the proceedings, ready to assist if needed. The room, now a makeshift interrogation space, held the collective weight of the investigation.

Akin's goal was clear—to extract information that would inch them closer to the truth behind Father Christmas's tragic demise.

CONT'D


As Detective Akin Oladele meticulously reviewed his notes, attempting to piece together the puzzle of the ill-fated Christmas party, a familiar name caught his attention. Among the staff members and performers, one name stood out—Miss Olivia.

Akin glanced up from his notes, and there she was, standing before him with an expression of recognition and excitement. Olivia, a familiar face from years past, had once lived across the hall from his apartment when he resided in Igidah.

Time had transformed the young neighbor into an adult, but the reunion sparked a sense of nostalgia.

"Oga Police officer Akin!" Olivia exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with genuine enthusiasm. "Is it really you?"

Akin, a small smile playing on his lips, rose from his seat to greet her. "small Olivia, it's been years! How have you been?"

Olivia extended a warm handshake, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and delight. "hah, Oga akin, I am no longer small oh, I'm good, Detective. Life has its twists and turns, but here I am, working at the school you happen to be investigating . Who would have thought we'd meet again under these circumstances?"

Akin chuckled, acknowledging the irony of the situation.

"Fate has a way of bringing people together, doesn't it? How did you end up here?"

Olivia took a seat, ready to share her story. "After you moved out, I continued my studies but then my mom got sick, with my siblings to feed, I had to halt my education and pursue a career and eventually joined the school staff here. It's been an interesting journey. Now, with all this happening, it feels like I've stepped into a mystery novel, oh the twists and turns of such perils, "

Akin nodded, a sense of camaraderie emerging from their shared history, Olivia was a smart girl who wanted to ask questions about everything whilst she was small, unlike many she was never afraid of him been a police officer and never once saw him as a stranger, certainly she had a lot to offer and most importantly it was certain she wasn't going to be his suspect.

"Well, Olivia, your perspective could be valuable. We're trying to piece together what happened during the party. Any information you can provide might be crucial."

Olivia, now shifting into a more serious demeanor, began recounting her movements during the Christmas party. She detailed her interactions with colleagues, the performances she had witnessed, and the general atmosphere of the event.

" It's strange but I doubt many would be able to say much, it's like a wedding party for us the staff, our eyes nor dey dey everywhere, trying to manage the kids is already a hectic job for us, imagine our shock when we heard father Christmas had been killed in his room, " She concluded for a moment.


"It is really making not making any sense at this point, I had high hope the wizard would provide some details but he turned up as clueless as many here, is there anything else, anything at all that you must have heard or seen or anything out of the ordinary, " Akin persisted.

" Well I don't know how important this may be to you, infact it is a different story self but Oga akin, there was an robbery here in the school six days ago, a huge sum was stolen in the process here, " She announced.

This wasn't what the seasoned detective was hoping for but he had reached out into the dark of the matter and grabbed unto something.

" really, tell me more, "

" well Oga akin, it went like this, someone or some persons came into the school and opened the school's vault and made away with the money in it, the head of security gave a report to the police, you can ask your police friends and Mr Davies but there is other gist, " She whispered.

" what other gist?" He scoffed, there was no doubt, cheap gossip was expected and to be taken lightly.

" Our principal was not around when it happened, I mean he hadn't been in school for that time period, nobody knows where he went to or what happened, he simply disappeared and reappeared after the incident, many people think it's all connected shall," She replied.

As she spoke, Akin noted the information, grateful for her willingness to assist in the investigation.

As the interview progressed, the room echoed with a blend of professionalism and an underlying sense of connection. Akin, guided by the pursuit of truth, navigated the complexities of the investigation with an old acquaintance by his side, there were new yet unconnected details that had emerged, he was at least grateful for.


He got his list and circled two names, Mr Davies and Mr. Maxwell, they had shot up his list by this new revelation however he had deemed it fit to see Julius, if there was such a case and it was reported, then the police would have filed it, he agreed.

CHAPTER 2 ENDED

CHAPTER THREE LOST AND FOUND



Detective Akin Oladele's brow furrowed as he delved deeper into the information regarding a robbery that had taken place a week ago, resulting in the theft of a substantial amount—1.2 million—from the school's vault, Olivia had opened a can of worms that seemed more interesting than the murder at hand, perhaps his gut feeling over a connection here was worth investigating.

The revelation cast a shadow over the ongoing investigation, adding a layer of complexity to the mystery surrounding Father Christmas's tragic demise.

Akin, holding the details in his hands, approached Officer Akinde Julius, a mix of frustration and determination etched on his face.

"officer Julius, we've got a significant issue here. There was a robbery a week ago, and 1.2 million was stolen from the school's vault. Why wasn't this reported sooner and I know you said the main building used to be a bank but who keeps such huge amount in a possible old and worn out vault, I need information!"

Julius, visibly uneasy, met Akin's gaze and sighed.

"Detective, I have to apologize. It was a case of unfortunate negligence on our part. An officer from our branch failed to register the matter promptly and subsequently we let it slip, kidnappings, robberies happen often, no one has the patience or skill set to investigate for long, It's an oversight that shouldn't have happened, we could have reported it at least ."

Akin, though frustrated by the lapse, understood the complexities of police work.

"Negligence like this can jeopardize an investigation. We need all the information we can get, especially if there is any connection to what happened today,"

"Sir, you think there might be a connection, how so?" Julius enquired, curiosity etched on his forehead.

"I don't know officer Julius, A robbery and a murder within seven days is no mere coincidence, we just need to trace out the dots to make out the line, here?"

Julius, taking responsibility, explained, "I am sorry once again, I will call in the officer who attended to the case, whatever information you need sir, we will do our best to provide, " Julius reassured the detective.

"I need those photos, send them to my mobile and inform me when the officer arrives, I want to speak with him directly, is that understood?" Julius agreed quickly, He had let a moment bruised his ego.


Julius, determined to make amends, affirmed, "I'll expedite the process, Detective. We can't afford any more oversights. We need to get to the bottom of this, and I'm committed to assisting in every way I can."


"Please see to what I have just asked, Get me the principal... No, don't worry, I will go see him, I heard he has been unwell since the sight of the body, I want to know what he knows,"

With that, Akin and Julius embarked on the dual investigation, unraveling the threads of the robbery from a week ago.

CONT'D


The principal arrived at the makeshift interrogation room like a widow to a mourning site.

Detective Akin Oladele fixed his gaze on Principal Maxwell as the interrogation room's harsh light cast shadows across the man's inscrutable features.

The room, stripped of any semblance of festivity, now served as the stage for a confrontation between the detective and the enigmatic school principal.

Principal Maxwell, a portly figure with thinning hair and a potbelly that seemed to amplify the air of secrecy around him, sat in the hard-backed chair.

His eyes, guarded and evasive, betrayed a reluctance to delve into the unsettling depths of the questions that hung in the air.

Akin leaned forward, his expression unwavering, as he initiated the probing. "Principal Maxwell, I'm Detective Akin Oladele as earlier introduced, I've been informed about the robbery that took place a week ago, resulting in the theft of 1.2 million from the school's vault. Care to shed some light on that?"

Maxwell, though caught off guard, attempted to maintain an air of nonchalance. "what has that got to do with this, Detective, look, these are troubling times for the school. I assure you we're cooperating fully with the investigation. However, I must emphasize that I have little to offer concerning the alleged robbery and this murder, look at me, I am still shaken by both events you know, "

Akin, a seasoned investigator, sensed the evasion in Maxwell's response. "Alleged, Principal? There's clear evidence of a significant sum missing from the vault. I need the details. What happened, and how was the money stolen?"

Maxwell, a master of obfuscation, leaned back in his chair, attempting to project an air of innocence. "Detective, I'm as perplexed as you are. The school has been a victim of criminal activity, and I assure you, we are doing everything in our power to rectify the situation, see to even ease your worries, I was not even around, my vice and the security head should be here in this room but again, don't you think you're over stretching this thing, What has the robbery got to do with the murder, are you saying whoever took the money came back to kill father Christmas? "

Akin's eyes narrowed, the scent of deception hanging in the air. "listen, relax, this is just information gathering, anything and everything is welcomed but I find it hard to believe that the head of the school is oblivious to the details of such a substantial theft. Are you suggesting that this is a mere coincidence, happening a week before the Christmas party?"

Maxwell's composure wavered, and a bead of sweat formed on his forehead. "Detective, the timing is indeed unfortunate, but I can't provide the specifics you're seeking. The vault was compromised, and the money disappeared. That's all I know, listen, I am feeling a bit unwell, why don't my deputy take over, let me go home and go rest, today has been a horrible day I tell you" He bemoaned helplessly.

Akin, undeterred, pressed further. "You expect me to believe that a substantial sum goes missing from the school's vault, and you have no information on how it happened? What about security measures? Who has access to the vault, did anyone bother to pressure the police to keep up with the investigation, did anyone do that, 1.2 million goes missing and everyone behaves like it's just another day, come on!"

Maxwell hesitated, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

"The vault is not as secured as many may think it is, it's been refurbished over the years and certain trusted staff members have access to it, my vice principal, the bursar and Mr Davies, It's part of the administrative process. As for the specifics, I can't elaborate further at this time,"

Akin, growing more suspicious, shifted gears. "Let's talk about today When did you first become aware of the situation with Father Christmas? What did you see when you arrived at the scene?"

Maxwell, now on even shakier ground, stammered, "I, uh, received a call about the commotion during the party, I was in my office then and by the time I arrived the scene was chaotic. Father Christmas was already... gone. It was a shocking sight, Detective."

Maxwell, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead, struggled to maintain composure. "I, uh, didn't specifically check the vault at that moment. My focus was on the unfolding tragedy, of course I saw no connection between the events, The vault's security is a matter for our internal investigations, I am sure you understand."

Akin, unsatisfied with Maxwell's responses, leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the principal. "Principal Maxwell, you can't expect me to believe that you have no knowledge of a significant theft from the school's vault and that you were oblivious to anything unusual tonight. Your demeanor suggests otherwise. I strongly advise you to reconsider your cooperation with this investigation."

Maxwell, now visibly flustered, attempted to regain control. "Detective, I assure you, I am fully cooperative. If there's anything I can do to assist, I'm more than willing. The school's reputation is at stake, and we must get to the bottom of these unfortunate events."

Akin, taking note of Maxwell's discomfort, issued a warning. "I'll be keeping a close eye on this so called school's internal investigations, Principal. Anything that hinders the progress of this case will not be taken lightly. The truth will surface, and it's in your best interest to be transparent from this point forward."

As Akin rose to leave the room, leaving Principal Maxwell in a state of unease, the air hung heavy with unanswered questions. The dance of deception had only just begun, and the enigma surrounding the school's shadows deepened with each passing moment, principal maxwell's attitude gave the classic suspect's vibe that was hard to ignore.

He drew a question mark alongside the principal's name and wrote down.
"ANY MOTIVE?"

CONT'D


Detective Akin Oladele stepped out of the stifling interrogation ROOM, the time was far speeding into the evening.

the weight of unanswered questions hanging in the air. As he made his way to the makeshift investigation area, he could sense the palpable tension that had settled among the gathered staff, performers, and guests.

The Christmas party had transformed into a scene of suspense and unease.

Outside, the school grounds buzzed with a mix of anxious murmurs and frustrated demands from those held for questioning.

Restlessness pervaded the air, and Akin knew he couldn't keep them detained indefinitely. He took a moment to assess the situation, contemplating the delicate balance between maintaining order and pursuing the truth.

Akin decided to take a brief water break, acknowledging the need to gather his thoughts amid the escalating tension. He found a quiet corner near a tree, away from the prying eyes and ears, and took a swig from his water bottle.

The harmattan air carried a peculiar weight, as if it held the secrets of the school within its invisible folds.

As Akin observed the restless crowd, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more transpiring behind the scenes.

The principal, Maxwell, had convened a private meeting with his staff without the knowledge or presence of the police. It raised a red flag in Akin's mind. What discussions were taking place in those closed-door conversations?

In the midst of his contemplation, Akin's attention was drawn to a familiar figure—a dwarf named Titus. The same Titus who had been in the changing room with Mr. Vincent earlier in the evening. The same Titus who had witnessed the aftermath of Father Christmas's demise.

Titus, appearing somewhat on edge, attempted to slip away discreetly, his diminutive stature making it challenging for him to go unnoticed. Akin, sensing an opportunity to unravel more of the mystery, intercepted Titus before he could vanish into the night.

"Titus," Akin called out, his tone a mixture of authority and curiosity. "I'd like a word with you. What's going on?"

Titus, caught off guard, fidgeted nervously. "Detective, I... I was just going home. I've cooperated enough, haven't I?"

Akin regarded Titus with a knowing gaze. "Cooperation is a two-way street, my friend. I've got questions, and I suspect you've got answers. What's happening in that private meeting the principal is holding with his staff, you know something ? And why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

Titus hesitated, glancing around as if assessing whether the shadows held any potential eavesdroppers. After a moment, he sighed, relenting to the persistent detective. "Fine, Detective. There's something strange going on. The principal called a meeting to discuss... well, I don't know. It was hush-hush. But it felt like they were planning something, something big, the principal has asked them to call on the people and the media outside, they have agreed to do so in hopes of forcing your hands to let them go, "

Akin's interest deepened. "I wouldn't blame them but I wish they could see the need for this,"

Titus lowered his voice, leaning in as if sharing a forbidden secret. " that's not all sir, I also overheard snippets of their conversation. It's about the money—both from the robbery and the funds for the party. There's talk, the principal asked that no one gives out any more information about the robbery, But I don't know the details, Detective, I swear, me, I have seen and heard alot, I also have a family, you know ."

Akin, now more determined than ever, patted Titus on the shoulder. "I understand, you are free to go like I said earlier on but Keep your ears open, Titus. If you hear anything else, anything that might help me solve this puzzle, let me know. The truth has a way of surfacing, and I intend to uncover every hidden corner of it."

Titus nodded, a mix of fear and uncertainty in his eyes.

Akin released him, watching as the dwarf scurried away outside the school gates.

The intricate web of secrets within the school had yet to be fully unveiled, and Akin couldn't shake the feeling that the most revealing threads were still waiting to be unraveled.

CONT'D



Detective Akin Oladele, seeking a momentary respite from the enigma that unfolded within the school's walls, retreated to a secluded spot, his eyes glancing over the building. .

The dry air held a stillness that contrasted sharply with the chaos he was unraveling within the school.

Just as he settled into the solitude, the ringing of his phone pierced the quietude.

Akin, with a raised eyebrow, fished the device from his pocket, a sense of anticipation in his gaze. The caller ID displayed an unfamiliar number, but curiosity prompted him to answer.

"Detective Akin Oladele," he announced, the tone of his voice laced with professionalism.

A gravelly voice on the other end responded, "Detective, good evening. My name is Barrister Williams. I'm calling to inform you that your application to join the governor's security convoy detail has been accepted, I take it a friend of yours in high pace this morning, pushed your details over to our desk, "

Akin's initial surprise gave way to a sense of accomplishment. The opportunity to be part of such a prestigious assignment was an honor.
"Thank you for the information. I appreciate the opportunity."

The caller however, continued in a manner that dampened Akin's enthusiasm.

"There's a small matter, Detective. A formality, if you will. A token of appreciation to facilitate the smooth processing of your application."

Akin's brow furrowed. "Token of appreciation? What are you talking about?"

The gravelly voice revealed a less savory side. "Well, you see, Detective, these things require a bit of, shall we say, lubrication. Your application is in good standing, you have everything to right up to the medal but, you know, it needs to move swiftly through the necessary channels. A monetary gesture to the appropriate authority, and your spot in the convoy is guaranteed."

Akin, a staunch believer in the integrity of his profession, felt a bitter taste in his mouth. "Monetary gesture? You're asking for a bribe?"

The caller chuckled, a disconcerting sound over the phone. "Let's call it what it is, Detective. A contribution to the system. A means to ensure your success. The amount is a mere 250,000 naira. A small price for a promising career, I am very sure you already know what your mates were earning as part of the exiting administration, 220,000 a month compared to that peanut change of 120,000 you earn, "

Akin's disappointment morphed into frustration. "I won't be a part of any corrupt dealings. I've served the force with honor, and I won't compromise my principles, I am sorry, it can't be negotiated, "

The caller hissed vehemently, unmoved, adopted a corresponding tone

"Detective, you're young and idealistic. But the world doesn't operate on ideals alone. Opportunities like this don't come every day. A wise man recognizes the chances he's given, your friend has done the needful to push your name to my desk, your file is here, I send you a deposit account and you send in your little gift and I do the rest or I dump your file in the waste bin next to me, your choice but it will be a shame though if you miss such, your friend said you have an expecting wife, isn't her and your children's future worth dropping the burden of honesty and integrity for, this is an offer of a lifetime! "

Akin, pleading for understanding, responded,

"I appreciate the offer, but I can't afford that amount right now. I have a family, and my wife is expecting triplets in the next few months. I can't divert funds for such purposes."

The gravelly voice on the other end remained unyielding. "Detective, the choice is yours. Opportunities slip away, and one must seize them while they can. Consider it an investment in your future. But time is of the essence."

Before Akin could further plead his case or protest against the unjust demand, the call abruptly ended. The screen of his phone illuminated with the disheartening message: Call Ended.

Akin, staring at the device in his hand, felt a surge of frustration. The system, riddled with corruption, had now extended its reach even into the opportunities meant for dedicated officers. He couldn't shake the sense of disillusionment that settled over him, such had been his personal battle, this had held him from been a seasoned and validated detective which would have changed his fortune long ago.

His wife's expecting triplets, a family to provide for, and the very system he swore to uphold had thrust him into a moral dilemma.

The weight of the moment, combined with the ongoing mystery within the school, bore down on Akin, leaving him at the crossroads of duty and personal struggle.

In the silence, Detective Akin Oladele, a man committed to justice, faced a choice that echoed the harsh realities of a system tainted by corruption.

The shadows deepened around him, both within the walls of the school and in the broader landscape of his professional aspirations.

He cast his eyes upon a bird who seemed to have defiled gravity and stood still in the air for a moment, it made no sense to him yet it had greatly relieved him of the stress of view thinking things, who knows, this case might change his fortune.

Calling it a day for now, see you soon dear readers.

CONT'D



Detective Akin Oladele, burdened by the weight of the dual mysteries unfolding within the school and the moral dilemma presented by a corrupt system, returned to the interrogation room with a sense of weariness etched across his features.

The dim light flickered overhead as he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

As he settled into the room, the door creaked open, revealing the figure of Miss Olivia.

Her eyes, filled with a mix of concern and empathy, met Akin's tired gaze. She approached him with a gentle demeanor, acknowledging the toll the night had taken on the detective.

"Detective Oladele," Olivia began, her voice soft yet sincere. "I couldn't help but notice the weight on your shoulders. It's been a long night, and I can only imagine the challenges you're facing, the case is a shocker, isn't it? "

Akin, appreciating the genuine concern in Olivia's eyes, offered a subtle nod. "It's been a night of revelations, Miss Olivia. Mysteries within mysteries, and the lines between right and wrong becoming increasingly blurred, professionally and personally, "

Olivia took a seat across from Akin, her expression mirroring a desire to understand. "Detective, we're all caught up in something unexpected, But beyond the investigations, beyond the chaos, there's a person beneath the badge. What's on your mind? You seem burdened."

Akin, usually guarded about his personal life, felt a rare inclination to share. He sighed, his gaze drifting momentarily. "It's more than just the cases, Miss Olivia. I received a call earlier—a call that shed light on the corrupt underbelly of the system I've dedicated my life to. They wanted a bribe for a position I should have earned through merit."

Olivia's eyes widened in genuine surprise, her empathy deepening. "That's... That's truly disheartening, Detective. I can't imagine how frustrating that must be for you. It's a harsh reality many officers face, the corruption within the system eating away at the principles we believe in."

Akin nodded, appreciating Olivia's understanding.

"I've always believed in doing things the right way, upholding justice. But today, it feels like I'm at a crossroads, torn between my principles and the harsh realities of the world we navigate."

Olivia placed a reassuring hand on Akin's shoulder.

"Detective, it's okay to feel conflicted. The system may be broken, but your dedication to justice is a beacon of hope. Don't let the darkness around you dim that light. Your wife, your family—they're counting on you, and your principles matter."

Akin's gaze met Olivia's, her words resonating with a sincerity that transcended the confines of the investigation room. "I appreciate your words, Miss Olivia. It's just... sometimes, the road ahead seems uncertain, and the weight of responsibility feels overwhelming."

Olivia offered a comforting smile. "We all have our moments of doubt, Detective. But don't forget the impact you can have, the lives you can change. You're not alone in this, and you have people who believe in you, both within and beyond these walls."

Akin, finding solace in Olivia's encouragement, nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Miss Olivia. Your words mean more than you know. It's a reminder that even in the darkest of nights, there can be a glimmer of hope now back to the case, I heard your principal is making moves on me, " he chuckled.

"He is a sissy, nothing to trouble yourself over, he is talking, maybe apprehensive, maybe he knows a lot more he is letting on, who knows with Mr. Maxwell, he is a strange one around the school," Olivia concluded.

"How so, you think he is hiding something like what?" Akin continued.

Olivia thought carefully for a moment "Look Mr. Maxwell took over this school from the former owners like two years ago, Usually there is the outstanding tradition of eduction pioneers within the community who has at one point or another taken charge, Mr. Maxwell was a male nurse who struck gold during the covid era, got his other investments up and purchased the school, zero education interest, many of the current employees have worked with over two to three past school owners, one of them is the trio, Mr. Mathew, Mr. Davies and Mrs. Sheila, they say both were putting funds together back then to purchase the school from the previous owners before maxwell came along," Olivia revealed.

This was however news, where it fit in the grand scheme of things was however a distant revelation.

" So not many people like him, " Akin asked.

" Not many you say? The man knows next to nothing about running the school, He is arrogant, obnoxious and weird, he is been found stalking a few young female teachers self, he doesn't have a family as well, he is a loner, thank God for the trio, they run the school, Mr. Maxwell really is nothing but a figurehead, "
Olivia nodded, driving home her point as the detective dissected the information provided.

" What's the relationship between the vice principal and the principal like? "

" Cats and dogs, Snake and mongoose, Tinubu and Obi, they have had a lot of clashes in the past but they also know how to work it out especially when the public is involved but we the staff know what's up, " Olivia insisted.

" Sir, Officer Julius has sent for you, he says Mr. Davies has agreed to open the safe so you can take a look at it for yourself, "

An officer had broken the conversation, Miss Olivia nodded satisfactorily, it was her cue to leave.

"Oga detective, I will see you around, be careful about Mr. Davies, he isn't as friendly as he looks and will try to intimidate you if you give him a chance, he is a smart one who knows a lot about you guys and how you work, retired police officer and vigilante head, "

She warned disappearing into the corridors outside.

CONT'D


The vault was at the heart of the school building, it whispered of bygone eras when the establishment had served a different purpose—a bank.

Despite the passage of time, its sturdy presence endured, a testament to the architectural resilience of the past. The room, a repository of secrets and safeguarded treasures, retained an air of antiquity that lent an undeniable mystique to its surroundings.

The heavy, iron-clad door, adorned with an intricate yet faded design, creaked as it swung open, revealing the dimly lit chamber within. The walls, constructed from solid stone, bore the marks of decades, each crack and weathered surface telling a silent tale of the building's evolution.

The vault door itself, though tarnished by the passage of years, exuded an imposing presence, a guardian of the treasures and mysteries hidden behind its formidable exterior.

Rows of shelves, laden with dusty ledgers and forgotten artifacts, lined the vault's interior. The remnants of a bygone banking era were scattered throughout—antique deposit boxes, each bearing the insignia of a once-thriving financial institution. A layer of dust, like a time-worn blanket, cloaked these remnants in an undisturbed slumber.

The vault's ceiling, supported by weathered beams, hinted at the architectural grandeur of yesteryear. Dim light filtered through the small, grilled windows, casting ephemeral shadows that danced across the room's time-worn features.

The air, thick with the weight of history, held within it the echoes of a time when this very space had echoed with the clinking of coins and the hushed conversations of bankers.

Detective Akin Oladele following the distant echoes of raised voices that punctuated the air.

As he approached, the source of the commotion became evident—a heated exchange between Officer Julius Akinde and Mr. Petro Davies, the head of the non-academic staff department.

The vault, a place of secrets and, as recent events revealed, stolen treasures, had become the stage for this clash of personalities.

Davies, a burly figure with a scowl etched permanently on his face, stood with an air of intimidation. His stature, enhanced by the years spent in law enforcement, demanded attention. Despite his retired status, the aura of authority clung to him like a shadow.

A worn-out jacket adorned his broad shoulders, and his eyes bore the weight of experiences that seemed to have chiseled away any semblance of warmth.

Akin approached the scene, a frown deepening on his brow as he observed the tension playing out before him. Julius Akinde, recognizing the detective, nodded in acknowledgment, signaling for a brief pause in the confrontation.

"What's going on here?" Akin queried, his gaze shifting between the two figures.

Davies, unyielding in his demeanor, responded with a gruff tone, "This man here thinks he can waltz in and start poking around without permission. I won't have it."

Akinde, maintaining his composure, interjected, "Detective, I merely asked for the vault itself to be opened, he refused even after admitting it is empty, what's the fuss over an empty vault?"

Akin, eyeing Davies with a critical gaze, addressed the retired officer directly. "Mr. Davies, we're investigating a serious crime here, and I need full cooperation. No one is exempt from questioning or scrutiny or following orders, retired officer or not."

Davies, unimpressed, crossed his arms defiantly. "I've given my fair share to this community, and I won't be treated like a common criminal. If you want answers, ask the right questions and show some respect, Detective or not, there are rules to these things, "

Akin, feeling the tension escalate, pressed further. "Respect is earned, Mr. Davies. If you have nothing to hide, there shouldn't be a problem answering a few questions. We're trying to get to the bottom of a murder and this robbery seems to be in the thick of things , and your cooperation is crucial."

Davies, however, remained obstinate, his gaze narrowing at Akin. "I've got nothing to hide, but I won't be interrogated or ordered around like some rookie. You better watch your tone, Detective."

Akinde, sensing the potential for a more heated exchange, stepped in diplomatically. "Gentlemen, let's focus on the task at hand. Mr. Davies, once again, Detective Oladele is here to help us get to the truth. Cooperation is in everyone's best interest."

Akin, though dissatisfied with Davies' evasiveness, nodded in agreement with Akinde.

Davies, grumbling under his breath, reluctantly agreed.

The atmosphere, however, remained charged with tension as Akin began his inquiries. The vault, a repository of secrets and potential clues, held the key to unraveling the mysteries that plagued the school. In this unlikely standoff between a detective, a retired officer, and the custodian of the vault, the quest for truth continued, navigating the tumultuous currents of conflicting personalities and hidden agendas.

Mr. Davies opened the vault under watchful eyes, the scene seemed to be from a heist movie as the vault roared slowly away revealing an empty steel compartment enough to fit in the nation's budget money.

"Thank you for your cooperation, can you give us a minute?" Akin requested.

"A minute and nothing more, this is the school's sacred ground," He said before walking out.

"How on earth does a thief steal over 1.2 million in the year 2005 from a vault yet old but still. Would rival any Commercial bank's vault, it makes no sense!" officer Julius let out.

Akin smiled with an added nod to drive home the satisfaction of his colleague's statement, that question was the million dollar question that could Unravel the entire case or cases.

" How is your man who handled the robbery case coming, I need him, I need very detail concerning that robbery and I have to go see someone for a moment, this is getting interesting by the minute," Akin revealed.

CONT'D



Somewhere in the building,Mr. Matthew and Mrs. Sheila found a momentary sanctuary away from prying eyes.

The recent events had cast a shadow over the once-joyful atmosphere of the school, and the principal's agitation only fueled their shared concerns.

Mrs. Sheila, a vision of composed elegance, her voice hushed to a confidential murmur, addressed Mr. Matthew with a glance laden with both urgency and anxiety.

"Matthew, we can't stay. The principal's erratic behavior and the tragedies that have befallen the school—they're a stain are hindering our plans. We need to do. Something before it's too late."

Mr. Matthew, a man of calculated ambition, nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting the weight of their shared predicament.

"Sheila, you're right. This place is becoming a sinking ship, and we can't afford to go down with it. Our plans to buy the school seem more like a pipe dream now, which parent would want to send their kids to a school with two deaths on it's hands,"

Mrs. Sheila, her demeanor tinged with frustration, replied,

"The principal's incompetence has cost us dearly. First, the robbery, and now this murder. Our dreams of turning this school into a profitable venture are slipping away, why did that good for nothing man ever walk into our lives in the first place, we should have bought this place outrightly,"

Mr. Matthew, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of exasperation, whispered,

"Well, it wasn't any of our fault was it? We need to act fast. Our involvement in the robbery was supposed to be a discreet operation, not a series of disasters."

Mrs. Sheila, her gaze steely with determination, suggested,

"keep your voice down for God's sake, Let's expedite our plans to buy the school. We can use the chaos as a bargaining chip, negotiate a lower price. Once we own it, we can distance ourselves from the principal's mismanagement, give or take, a little bit of rebranding, change of staff and name and we could be on our way once more, I am very sure that idiot would do anything to sell off this property now , "

Mr. Matthew, though skeptical, saw the logic in Sheila's proposal.

"It's a risky move, we would be having all eyes on us, but given the circumstances, it might be our only option. We'll have to tread carefully, ensuring we're not implicated in the ongoing investigation,"

As they strategized in the clandestine confines of the restroom, their alliance strengthened by shared interests and a common desire to escape the fallout, Mrs. Sheila and Mr. Matthew faced the harsh reality that their aspirations for the school had become entangled in a web of unforeseen calamities.

CONT'D


The principal, unknowingly bearing the brunt of their blame, stood as both an obstacle and an unwitting accomplice in their quest for control and financial gain.

In the dim glow of the restroom's light, their whispered conversations hinted at a clandestine partnership forged in the crucible of desperation and ambition before a sharp knock hushed everything to abrupt silence and shock.

"who is it?" Mrs. Sheila's stern voice managed to break the ice.

"Detective Akin, If it is okay for a moment I would like to speak with you now,"

Mrs. Sheila passed a stare to Mr. Matthew who tried to maintain his composure and anonymity in the room.

"I know where the interrogation room is, I will join you in a couple of minutes," She said.

"It's okay, I can wait out here, it's only for a moment I want to see you, " the detective insisted much to the discomfort of Mr Mathew.

"You shouldn't wait, it may take a while, you see I am on my period, just started shortly, probably sure you don't have to wait, I need to change and all,"

"Oh, eh, I am sorry - I mean, no problem madam, I will go wait for you,"

They listened to the rushed footsteps of the detective and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Nothing gets a man much confused and hesitant about anything like a woman talking about menstruation," She walked up to a mirror and watched how quickly Mr. Matthew disappeared from the room.

"men!" she thought to herself, she produced a make up kit and began the delicately process of beautifying herself once again.

END OF CHAPTER 3

See you guys by noon time.

CHAPTER FOUR INTO THE SHADOWS



As Detective Akin Oladele sat in the interrogation room, the atmosphere thick with the weight of the unfolding mysteries, the door creaked open, revealing the entrance of Mrs. Sheila. Her presence, marked by an air of sophistication and a meticulously maintained composure, contrasted sharply with the investigative tension that permeated the room.

Mrs. Sheila, dressed in attire that bespoke both elegance and affluence, entered with a measured stride.

Her eyes, sharp and calculating, met Akin's gaze with an unwavering confidence.

The subtle rustle of her expensive fabric echoed through the room as she took a seat, her demeanor betraying little emotion.

Akin, ever observant, acknowledged Mrs. Sheila with a nod.

"Good evening, Mrs. Sheila. Thank you for joining us. I trust you understand the gravity of the situation we're dealing with."

Mrs. Sheila, maintaining a composed facade, replied with a polite inclination of her head.

"Good evening, Detective. I'm aware of the seriousness of the matter at hand. I'm here to assist in any way I can."

Akin, leaning forward, initiated the questioning.

"Let's start with the recent events—the robbery and the murder of the man in the Father Christmas costume. Can you provide any information that might be relevant to our investigation?"

Mrs. Sheila, her gaze unwavering, responded with a well-practiced calmness. "Certainly, Detective. Regarding the robberies, I can confirm that there was a robbery, we all came in the next morning to get Mr. Davies report, I was present during the incidents but guess who wasn't around, Principal Maxwell was absent during those times, a whole week, "

Akin, sensing a potential diversion, pressed further. "And how do you explain Principal Maxwell's absence? Do you find it suspicious?"

Mrs. Sheila, her expression unyielding, asserted,

"Detective, I'm not one to speculate, but it's worth noting that as the leader of this institution, Principal Maxwell should bear the responsibility for the security lapses that allowed these incidents to occur. His absence during crucial moments raises questions about his commitment to the safety of the school besides it won't be the first time, an employer has with intent sabotaged there own establishment just to punish someone else,"