₦airaland Forum

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Fixgoo: I need help, is the plot stupid or has it been done?
Where do I set it? I'm thinking lagos but I haven't been there in a long time, I could also set it in Benin.
Are there ways I could regularize the plot to a Nigerian level? like does Nigeria has an espionage / secret agency?
Should I set it in present or in the future?

please help me out nairalanders.

The plot is great, really. Using a nuclear device made during the Biafra war is perfect; just make sure it isn't going to induce tribalism.

I'll prefer you use Lagos, you can bring Kunle's origin from Benin but all the actions should be in Lagos.

As a matter of fact, you'll find that there are numerous secret agencies in Nigeria if you dig deep in your research. You can even create a fictitious secret agency.

Setting it in the present would be better...there are bound to be economic, environmental and technological errors if you set in the future.

I want to write one too. Oya: The Storm Returns. It's an inspiration from Redmosquito's Sango: The Return of Lightning.

The book will be solely dedicated to Redmosquito. I don't know when I'll start yet because I'm still busy writing my third book.

Wow! Nice concept. With good storytelling skill, it's going to be a hit.

I love the plot!

Marcela04: ha, who is Abel Malik again? I only no of Abel Cain. Larry, wat of Mark? Ride on

Something spectacular happened to Mark when he was escaping with the money.

Flakeey: now i'm lost

Abel Malik?

Dis LarrySun will not burst my brain o
ehen isorait

Lol! You'll soon understand.

ezeigbo194: bros shwn that tin Oo na like ballon break Oo

pricelesslove: yes oo larry pls connect me. but u dey confuse me oo.sorry for the ban

Er...I'd need to see your picture first.

Beretta92: Larry,who was that fearless young guy that was caught up in a bank robbery?

That was Mark, a very strange guy indeed.

barbiesparkz: Kudos to you LarrySun...

Had to join nairaland just to comment on your story.

You're doing a great job.

* Back to ghostmode*

Oh! You're so sweet. Thanks ma'am.

SIXTEEN

The deceased Jamal Malik, who had journeyed to that undiscovered country from whose borne no traveller returns, was considered a rich man but his burial was uneventful; although his death had spread like forest fire all across the states of the nation that mourners poured in like sands in an hourglass. December twenty-seventh had been set aside for his interment. The Maliks had strongly insisted that the detective and his supposed sidekick were never to make any investigation on this day, as inquiries might stir some hornets’ nests which might lead into another reason not to put the deceased under the dust. Lot agreed to this request albeit begrudgingly but insisted to be present at the interment, alongside Daniel Famous, and that in the course of the investigations after burial, if anything which required another cross-examination of the body sufficed, the corpse would certainly be exhumed. The family members acquiesced to this, trusting so much that exhumation was unlikely.

The second corpse, however, whose identity was yet fully confirmed, still occupied a particular section of the cold comfort of a mosque – a breathless sleeper in a mortuary. The name Abel Malik were the only words of the landpersons whom Daniel had questioned earlier before today, and no other person had stepped forward to confirm that the corpse was truly a Malik – this was one of Lot’s utmost priorities; finding out the identity of this bearded corpse. The doctor had extracted the bullet lodged in his skull, but the gun wasn’t found yet. The whole of the house where the corpse was found had been turned inside out in the search for the weapon but without success. The only thing of consequence that was found in one of the rooms was the photograph of a dark-skinned lady with a charming smile. The picture was confirmed by the elderly couple to be the wife of the deceased.

The burial of Jamal Malik went on as planned. Four black limousines were driven down the street in honour of his personality. The long vehicles were supposed to bear the family members as they made their ways to the local cemetery, but it was only Hannah who occupied just one of these vehicles; the rest of the family preferred walking behind the first limo which was the hearse. Although rich the Maliks were, they still had to hire limos for Jamal’s burial. Besides, Jamal was considered by his children to be stingy with his money during his lifetimes, David – the eldest son – found no reason to buy four expensive cars just because ethics demanded that the rich deceased should be buried in a grand fashion. Already, the price of the casket they purchased was enough to cause most financial houses to go bankrupt. The price alone was enough to had one more aircraft to the Maliks’ airline company – Zabmus Airways.

Everyone was dressed in the usual black attires associated with burials. Black was donned right from the family members to the well-wishers and down to the trumpeters who continued blowing eulogies and swaying to their music as if this was not a burial but a birthday, where they instead ought to be singing songs relatively with either suras or canticles of lachrymose outpourings. Even some of the well-wishers could be seen singing alongside the merry trumpeters. The subsequent procession to the cemetery was so lengthy that some people had to park a mile away and trek.
Lot and Daniel followed this procession without much interest. In fact, Lot was disgusted at the prospect of witnessing yet another full body to be immersed in the earth, and with time nature would take its toll; the body would begin to rot, the priceless casket would shatter and insects would feast on the remains. Lot had sworn never to be buried like this, he’d rather give himself up for cremation than having whatever species of crawling insects fattening up on his body. He looked at his own protruded belly and shuddered. Never! No worm or millipede or cockroach or whatever will ever feast on me!

As they followed behind the family who followed the first limousine, Lot thought it was kind of silly the family had to hire a hearse to carry Jamal kilometres down the city in the first place. He felt that they could rather have put wheels under the expensive coffin, like they have on suitcases and travelling bags, and that would have worked just as well. He later felt that it wasn’t his headache, the Maliks had more than enough money to throw about senselessly like a pair of drunken sailors. He looked at Daniel who was walking quietly beside him. The young policeman he’d encountered three years earlier had turned out more mature and quite full of grace and humility. He’d come here simply because of Daniel. When the footballer had called him that early morning he’d rejoiced at hearing the young man’s voice after three years. He’d terminated the call on the basis that no payment for his service was arranged beforehand, but he’d been worried thereafter that Daniel might probably have landed himself in some amount of burdensome ventures. Even now, currently, Lot wasn’t very sure if Daniel hadn’t caused the trouble already, or wouldn’t later on in the course of the investigation. One thing was quite certain though, Daniel would always be a great help to him in the investigation – he’d proved it before and he would prove it; he was quite sure about that. This had already been justified when Daniel broke the Shakespearean quote. Yes, Daniel was a total klutz at investigations but he was a way better sidekick. If working on this case for free was because of Daniel, then it was worth it, Lot decided without regret whatsoever.

Lot had never investigated any case for free before, but he made an exception because it was his beloved Daniel who requested his service. As a rule, Lot had always made sure that his payments were fully made before venturing into any investigation. And his money, he admitted, was a whooping sum. He’d never investigated the poor, and he never hoped to. This rule he’d just broken, however, was going to be his first and last. He’d broken this one only because he felt a sense of responsibility over Daniel. He knew that the young man’s father was deceased, and Lot loved him so much that he considered Daniel the son he never had.

Daniel quietly closed the door of the death-house behind and stepped out onto the pavement. The house immediately opposite him was number 17, and was reflecting vaguely on the vagaries of those responsible for the numbering of street houses when he noticed that this particular house was exactly similar to the one he’d just exited. The doors, roofs, windows, lintels, louvres – everything the same. Even the curtains within seemed alike. A part of him wondered if the door of the house opposite was also unlocked and another man who looked exactly like the bearded one lay dead – shot through the head too. It was very much unlikely, but not improbable. He walked towards the front door of this opposite building, just out of curiosity.
He did not knock at first. The immediate thing he did was turn the knob, but the door didn’t budge. As he knocked, he felt like one of those evangelists who were willing to sell Bibles and useless encyclopaedias if you were crazy enough to open your door to them. He knocked three times before the door was opened by an elderly wife and his wife. The couple was looking at him questioningly.

“Good afternoon,” Daniel greeted, ‘I am Officer Daniel Famous of the Area G Police Station.”
With this falsehood, he hoped that the couple would not demand to see his identification card, because he’d have nothing to show, and they might see through his lie.

“What can we do for you, officer?” the husband asked, “Are we under arrest? What did we do wrong?”

Daniel gave a dry smile in a bid to reassure them, but the smile was not working, “You did nothing wrong. I’m only here to confirm something of utmost importance from you. I’ll be off your neck as soon as possible.”

The wife smiled now, “We’ll gladly co-operate with the country’s finest – The Nigeria Police.”

These were sweet people. Hearing that he was a police officer didn’t make them treat him with contempt. They weren’t like those citizens who hated the police so much that they’d rather cut off their lips than kiss a policeman. But he still rejoiced at the fact that he truly wasn’t a policeman anymore. For in this country, by crucifying a policeman, every hardware store in the streets would be sold out of nails.

“You are cute, officer.” The elderly woman added.

For the first time, Daniel did not blush. He only smiled contentedly. “Right, I notice that this house and that one exactly opposite are similar to each other. These are the only houses in the street that are alike, I just want to know if you know who owns the house.”

“We own it,” the elderly man replied, smiling proudly and drawing his wife closer.

‘Really?” Daniel was surprised, “Do you live there too?”

It was the wife who spoke this time, as though they were taking their speeches in turns. She said, “When we bought this land in 1972, we desired two plots of land. Our aim was to buy this plot and the next one beside us, but someone else had already purchased the pieces of lands on either sides of us.”

The husband took up the explanation, “All the pieces of land had already been bought except this one and the one opposite. So, we bought the two plots. It was the same time we built both houses. We used the same plan for both.”

It was the wife’s turn, “We live here and lease that one out. Four sets of people have lived in that particular apartment in the front since we built the house. The first set built their own house and relocated.”

“The second set evacuated when they could not pay up their rents.” Said the husband.

“The third was a bachelor who died from thunderbolt. He slept with another man’s wife.” Wife.

“The fourth was a married man who was jailed for handling and spending counterfeit currency. The wife could neither cater for the children nor pay the rents, so she vacated for her hometown.” Husband.

“We became tired of leasing out the house. We decided to leave it and prepare it for the return of our son living in America. He’s been living there for over twenty years now, he told us he’ll be returning next year – July, to be precise.” The wife commented.

The husband continued, “But two weeks ago, a man approached us. He was standing exactly where you are right now—”

“Honey,” The wife said, “Shouldn’t we invite the young man in?”

“Oh, my bad!” the man chastised himself, ‘Please do come in.”

“It’s okay, really,” Daniel replied, “I’d rather stay out here. I’m waiting for my colleagues. Please continue, you were talking about a strange man who approached you.”

But it was the woman who continued, and Daniel could not help but wonder they were really a couple or the Siamese.

“He made us an offer impossible to refuse.” Said the wife.

“What offer was that?” asked Daniel.

“He requested to live in that apartment for two months at most,” replied the masculine better-half, “He paid in cash; an amount which should cover up a two-year lease. And he promised to be out before the end of January. We couldn’t resist such offer.”

“What name did he give you?”

“I can’t remember, I was busy counting the money, we needed the fund so badly at the time.” The man replied.

“I remember,” said the wife, “He calls himself Mr. Malik – Mr. Abel Malik.”

“Abel Malik? Are you sure?” Daniel asked, visibly astonished.

‘I’m very certain. That what he calls himself.”

‘Would you recognize him if you saw him?”

“Of course, we would. Except if he’s clean-shaven now, he was fully bearded when he approached us that morning.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“We didn’t always see him much,” replied the woman, “He stays indoors most of the time, and his wife comes and goes. I wonder what they’re there to do for just two months. Those lots look very suspicious to me.”

“I don’t care about their motive for letting our house, as long as they’re not messing up the rooms.” The husband spoke in a matter-of-fact manner.

Daniel asked the couple a couple of other questions. Why did the man decide to rent their house among all other houses there? How should they know? He’d better ask the man himself. Had Abel any visitor? No, except his wifey. Was there ever any suspicious-looking strangers, any people associated with Abel, hereabout? We were busy with each other, if you know what I mean.

Daniel spoke to them both, “Would you please follow me?”

“Where to?” the couple asked in unison.

“To your house,” answered Daniel, “I need you to identify the man there.”

The couple shared glances, debating with their eyes whether to follow the police officer or ask him to go to hell. Deciding that there was no harm behind the policeman’s request, the couple followed Daniel.

Famous led them to the house opposite. He saw the look of terror on both humans’ faces when he showed them the body. The wife was stronger, she composed herself in time. But the husband was shivering violently and seemed to be at the tethers of losing his equilibrium.

“Is this the man who approached you?” Daniel asked.

The couple nodded in unison.

“Yes, yes, he was.” The husband replied.

“And you said he had a wife?”

“Yes, he had. Although we don’t know her name but she was carrying a baby and also had a wedding ring on her finger.” He now looked suspiciously at Daniel, “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Daniel replied, “I suppose someone else did. Did you notice any strange behavior in the man?”

“Everything about him was strange. Just this morning, Christmas day, he went to pray in the mosque.”

“What is strange about that?”

“How many people named Abel worship in the mosque on Christmas day?”

The Mrs. spoke this time, “And last Sunday, I saw him returning from church.”

‘Thanks a lot,” Daniel thanked them both. “I’m very sorry that this happened in your house.”

“It’s okay,” the husband said, waving his hand. He’d apparently regained himself, ‘This isn’t the first time someone would die in this room.”

The wife continued, smiling, ‘We already told you that someone has died here before; a bachelor who crowed like a rooster after sleeping with another man’s wife.”

Daniel decided that he’d never live in this house even if it were gifted to him. He felt that even the couple reeked of evil, the earlier he had nothing to do with them the better.

The husband noticed the playing cards splattered on the table by the corpse and said, “What is it with all the cards? Did he die playing a game or what?”

Common sense had it that no information about a murder case should be leaked to an outsider of the law. Besides, Daniel knew no answer to the questions so he kept his tongue.

It was Mrs. Weird who replied Mr. Weird, “He probably died playing a game with his murderer. Perhaps his death resulted from invoking his opponent’s anger by winning the game. I wonder why the killer left only these cards behind. Why did he leave with the remaining deck in the first place?”

“How did you know he left with the other cards?” Daniel asked Lady Weird.

“I used to play this game a lot,” she stopped herself when she realized that her explanation was self-incriminatory. She added so firmly, “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Daniel stared at her, “Why would you think I’m thinking that?”

That question was left hanging because Moses and Ayo stepped right into the house. With them was the doctor who attended to Jamal.

Without waiting for permission or acknowledging the presence of Daniel and the house owners, the medical practitioner began working on the corpse, Anuku and Festus stood guard on either side of him as he poked some parts of the body. It took him fifteen minutes to conclude his autopsy. He stood straight and walked into the inner rooms, evidently considering himself a brief detective. Then he came out and walked towards Daniel, saying, “The fridge is empty, and there is an overflowing garbage of unwashed dishes in the sink. The man obviously lived on fast food, we can easily assume what he ate before his demise.” He looked around disgustedly, “This apartment isn’t a mess, it’s downright filthy.” He turned to Daniel again and asked, “Did you find the murder weapon?”

“No.”

“Okay, we’re going to move him now. There is an ambulance outside, you can come with us in it.”

“There’s an ambulance outside? I didn’t hear the siren.”

“We didn’t use the siren, there was no cause to. We weren’t carrying any patient, or any corpse for that matter.”

Momentarily, Moses and Ayo carried the detritus remains of the man named Abel Malik into the vehicle outside. When they were done, both Daniel and the doctor went out of the house to the vehicle. The doctor now noticed the presence of the couple, he demanded their identity from Daniel but Lot’s sidekick did not give him an answer. He only jumped into the ambulance.

When the doctor had seated himself in the vehicle, Daniel asked him, “Doctor, what have you found out about the corpse?”

Bantu smiled and replied, “His eyes are open. That implies he died quickly, but I’d rather tell the detective all what I know in person. You’re only a messenger.”

It was obvious that both men hated each other.

pweeeetychi: I haven't dated any writer before, or u have any cute writer u want to give me?

Sorry for the ban, and why are they banning you sef?

Lol! There is an abundance of cute writers in Nairaland.

I don't know why I was banned o! Maybe spambot envies me.

ezeigbo194: if smtin swell too much eh dey break Oo just saying

Lol! It can only break if I was shot in the head.

rapmike: Larry, well done! Seems like we may not meet Abel until the end of this story, though he will dropping useful hints.

Larry, abeg no vex oh, how far with that my book stuff? Na only Prologue and Chapter One I don see,thanks for your contributions on them.

I'm so sorry. I've been so busy typing, editing someone else's works and all. I promise edit one more chapter today. Expect my mail tonight.

Bless you, sir.

Iaz93: OMG! Larry, welcome back. Just seeing this now. Apology accepted.

I'm far behind, I need to read up and catch up with you guys.

Finally!!!

Wow! It's good to have you back, Iaz. You are highly welcome.

Happy birthday, bro. I wish you the best things in life. Your well shall never run dry, and the Lord shall grant you abundant inspirations.

God bless you, sir.

rapmike: Larry, see advert!

Yeah, she stood for what she wanted. I so love that about her.

pricelesslove: thank God i dont have a boyfriend. pls i need a writer to come and ask me out ooooo. because i like romantic guys. i broke up with my boyfriend because he is not romantic, he is just after sex. O God i need i very romantic guy.

I can link you up with one, if you don't mind.

Essyydiamond: he definitely will think u r a crime suspect

Lol! Exactly!

pweeeetychi: Seriously?, i never knew writers are romantic, you'll be making larry and other male writers feel..................

My larry, i thought u said u'll update last night what happend nah

Have you ever dated a writer before?

I was last night and the night before.

Flakeey: haaaa
elpiroski yaff killed me

Me too! Lol!

elpiroski: @Flakeey
Due to your above reasons, I plead to officially handover Larrysun to you.

P.S Na just for this thread o.

Flakeey: hmmmm, how do i answer this question? let me try

for you to be a writer, it starts with desire
writers/poets have formular for good romance hence appears in their writing styles
the way they describe events in their write - ups,
they make sure their writings ar emotionally satisfying
they know how to get the attention of their readers/fans
the secrets and tricks they learn to make their writing irresistible to publishers/readers

all these apply to their love lives regardless of the writer's genre..weather he is a faithful guy or playboy, the moments will always be romantic.

i once dated a poet and he really knew how to calm me down with his choice of words when i was angry
he would recite poems to me, send lovely write ups etc

one of my friends is married to a writer and she is really enjoying the man, fun to be with and never a dull moment

*still my opinion*
i hope i tried...i'm not good at writing..somebori help me

Wow! You're a good observer of characters. Wow! I pray you marry one of us. We're lovely people.

ezeigbo194: no make larrysun head swell Ooo just saying

It is swelling a lot. Lol!

Flakeey: haaa
u are in love with Lot? chaiiiiii..OYO
that detective doesn't believe in love
he is only good at crime investigations
leave the old man and fall in love with Ariel, the writer...writers are loving and romantic *myOpinion*

Lol! My head is swelling with pride. Lol!

Yes, I'd advise her to go for either Ariel or Daniel.

ezeigbo194: Bros abeg update sharply

I'm so sorry, I was banned.

Adinije: Na wa for the spambot o! Mail mod abeg.

I've done that and the ban has been lifted. I just hope it doesn't happen again. I was so frustrated last night. I'll update presently.

pricelesslove: Larry u dey confuse person oooo. but guy which planet did u come from? because the way u write is so different. WELL DONE.

Lol! Thank you ma'am.