₦airaland Forum

CHAPTER 23




The courtroom was getting empty. Erneto Aives staffs stopped by before they headed for the door. Some asked if anything could be done to get their CEO out of the mess.

Jide told them Richard was not guilty but refused to explain how. He told them to go home and pray that the truth unfolded itself. Most left without smiles and few left with smiles.

Lauren wondered how those few managed to smile.

She glanced at the few remaining in the courtroom, she wasn’t the only one without smiles, the woman sitting by her was without, the one Jide said called Richard to the crime scene.

Lauren wished she could hate her.

The woman rose. “I’m leaving, Jide.”
Jide offered a ride. She declined and stalked to the door. Lauren watched her and felt a speck of her pain.

“She should be very close to Richard,” Lauren said to Jide.

“Yes. I suppose she needs some time alone. I can imagine what she would be feeling.”

“How about you try talking to Rick’s wife. If she confesses and—”

“She wouldn’t. Rick’s lawyer said she shouldn’t be contacted.”

She gazed at the position where the wife sat for the hearing and tried to carve out the look on her face, the look when the charges against her husband were read.

“She might confess. She might.”

Jide looped a hand round her neck, faced her, and muttered. “Nobody likes prison. Getting her to confess would be impossible. Proving it is better and more possible than a confession.”

His dimple marks had completely disappeared. A meandered vein followed the edge of his head. The blood caged in them struggled for freedom.

“I would love to visit Richard,” she said.

“You are not in his visiting list.”

“Can’t you make it happen?”

“You’d come with me on my next visit.”

“That would be when?”

“Thursday. I’d pick you.”

Thursday was free. She could make it free.

“I want to go home, dad must have begun worrying.”

He removed hands from her neck. “If you touch the steering now, the police might ask for license.”

She unzipped her purse and brought out a license card.

“They would know the difference between a fake and a real,” he said.

“This is real.”

His eyes sharpened as he took it from her. “How?”

“I clocked eighteen last month.”

“You didn’t tell me, I would have tried a birthday present.”

“With all these going on, I wouldn’t want a present.”

She stood up and his eyes followed her up.

“You’ve grown tall,” he said. “Tall and beautiful.”

Every man said those to a woman, daddies told their daughters. It could mean nothing. It meant nothing.

“Thank you.”

“Drive safe.”

A tiny dimple formed on his cheek. There was no dimple, only an imagination. Sometimes, imaginations were good.

#


The High Court was larger than the Magistrate’s Court where the preliminary was heard. Everyone had seats and engaged in side talks. Richard was glad he didn’t have large ears to hear the talks.

Erneto Aives staffs dominated the first row.

He wished they could know how innocent he was, how innocent their CEO was. Abbe and Jide sat on the last row, carrying faces which were like a guilty verdict.

The white girl sat beside them, her white face now black, but not black enough to hide that she believed he shot the man.

Ezinne sat behind him, where his eyes couldn’t reach, and he wouldn’t turn to have a glimpse of her.

Everyone waited for the Her Ladyship, everyone except him. The woman best remained in her chambers or wherever she was.

The door behind the counter opened and Her Ladyship walked in. The court rose. Richard imagined the words that would be coming out from those rounded lips of hers.

She assumed bench and the court returned to the seats.

She studied a file on her desk. She raised head to Richard and drew the microphone closer to her mouth.

“You’re Mr Richard Djebah Fayemi?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Here with me is a copy of the indictment against you. Have you read a copy?” She sounded like the magistrate that heard the initial appearance and the preliminary, like every legal practitioner he had heard speak.

“Yes.”

“Have you and your attorney discussed it?”

“Yes.”

“I would read you the charges filed against you.” She bowed head to the file.

“The court, as it is under its jurisdiction, presents that the defendant, Richard Djebah Fayemi, a native of the State of Lagos, deliberately and feloniously attempt to murder the person of Bakare Obafemi Damijo, on the seventeenth day of August, in an unnamed cherry orchard, in direct violation and against the peace, amity, and dignity of the State and Country.” She raised head to him.

“Do you understand the charges read against you?”

“I do.”

“And do you understand that if convicted, you might be sentenced to eight years imprisonment?”

“I do.”

“Do you plead guilty or not guilty to the charge?”

Pleading guilty would bring up a chance to bargain, and that could lessen whatever cross that would be placed on him.

Most elites in the country gained freedom through plea bargains. A not guilty plea would only forward the case to trial, and trials never had good endings.

He turned to his lawyer who looked fixedly at him, and at his behind was Jide’s head, bowed to the desk.

Abbe’s eyes bored into his and in those eyes were the right words to utter. Richard fixed on Her Ladyship and stated the words to her. “Not guilty.”

The woman gazed at him. Her lips shook and moved. “Mr Richard Fayemi, based on your not guilty plea, your trial is set for December 6th, 10 A.M. All pre-trial matters must be filed before then.”

Richard stared at the woman. A male judge would have been better.

“Any motions?” she asked.

Mr Victor rose. “Yes, My Lady. The defence requests bail.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Victor, I cannot grant bail in this case.”

A male judge surely would have been better.

Her Ladyship closed her file. “Mr Fayemi, you are to remain in jail until the trial.”

A corporal marched to Richard, and Richard stretched his hands to the handcuffs.

He fixed eyes to the door as the corporal led him out of the courtroom. From one hell to another.

CHAPTER 22




Richard received the newspaper from his lawyer and read the peoples’ report. He clasped the paper’s edges.

Majority believed the police, and expected him to confess guilty in the arraignment. Some cursed and called him murderer.

They prayed he rot in jail and begged the EFCC not to spare him the way they did other elites in the country. God shouldn’t answer that prayer.

“We would plead not guilty at the arraignment,” Mr Victor said.

Richard raised eyes to his lawyer. “What if the judge finds me guilty?”

The lawyer stayed quiet.

“That’s possible, right? I might be found guilty.”

“Are you guilty?”

“No.” He laid the newspaper on the desk.

“Then don’t plead guilty. The best thing to say before the judge is the truth.

You’re not guilty, don’t lie before her. If you plead guilty, barely anything can render you not guilty. I don’t do plea bargains when my client is innocent.”

“The arraignment would be tried by a female judge?”

“Yes. She would hear the arraignment and the trial.”

The male magistrate at the preliminary didn’t favour. Females might see reasons not to jump into conclusions.

“She tries cases as male judges do. Her feminine nature will pose no advantage,” the lawyer said.

“I never expected any advantage,” Richard said. “Only the guilty needs advantage.” He wished that were true.

The lawyer lifted the newspaper. “Don’t mind what the people say. If you think of that, you might lose focus.”

“They believe I’m guilty.”

“That’s what we are trying to disprove.”
Confidence mingled with the man’s words, but doubts also had its place, even if it tried to hide.

“What about the ballistics result?”

The lawyer’s lids dropped and his flat lips rounded. “The tests have been performed and the results are with the FCID.”

Richard braced hands and pressed them against each other. “What was the result?”

“I’m not supposed to know. The state’s ballistician would announce it on trial.”
Not all lawyers were good liars.

“Lawyer-client relationship is a two way thing,” Richard said. “You tell me everything you know, and I tell you everything.”

The lawyer lowered head, and then raised it to him. “It was a match. The 9 mm bullet was analysed and found to have come from a Glock pistol that had your ID. The United States’ database said you purchased it 2011.”

Richard hit his head with a fist. The lawyer held the fisted hand and prevented him from making a second hit. “This is merely another high profile case. High profile cases get solved.”

“You are a Christian?” Richard asked.
The lawyer released Richard’s hand. “I am.”

“What if this is a punishment from God.”

A curve arched a corner of the lawyer’s lips. “You are no criminal, God don’t punish the innocents.”

“God don’t punish the innocents, but he penances them for every sin they commit. This could be the penance for my sins.”

The lawyer did a chuckle. “You are not the first Christian in this kind of situation.”

“That changes nothing. I’m a Christian, a catholic.” He looked away from the lawyer.

“I’ve erred in some ways. God might be using this to make me atone for that. He’s using my sins against me.”

The lawyer sighed and drew a hand down his face. “Tomorrow is your arraignment. You don’t want to lose focus. God didn’t put you here, and you are not supposed to be here.”

“Then let him make the judge see the truth. I’m innocent.”

“Look, Mr Richard, you’re innocent, and we’d do our best to prove that.”

Richard covered his face with both hands and breathed into them. “You help me call a priest, I want to say confessions. I need to do that before the arraignment.”

“You can do that after the arraignment. They’ll be enough time.”

“No, I want to do it before.”
The lawyer tapped his head. “I’d find one.”

“Do you think the judge will allow bail?”

“We’d ask. She might allow, but it’d be expensive, it might run to about twenty million.”

Twenty million. Twenty million as bail for a crime he knew nothing about. The world was not fair. Nigeria was not fair.

“How’s Abbe?”

“She’s fine. She’d witness at the trial.”

“Hope she isn’t burdening herself too much.”

“I told her not to. I pray she adheres.”
God should answer that prayer.

Just4yhu:
so no update for us?

Sorry dear, I've been very busy lately.
Will do something today

stuff46:
Sometimes i wonder if Lauren is a teneger or adult in this story.

Great story, great shearer. Loving the twists.

She's quite exposed and outspoken.
I guess that's why.. But she's still a teenager

donvicky2007:
Op nice job very interesting story Keep it up. Love the storyline. [color=#000099][/color]

Yeah, it's very good. Some people are talented.

Missmossy:
Ezinne is evil!!!

Richard is just a victim no thanks to Abbe. Kudos Vonn.

Thank you mossy

Happy birthday Repomum Wishing you all of God's blessings.

#


Lauren studied the newspaper. Its version differed from what Jide had said over the phone. The newspaper’s version made Richard a criminal, and the evidences did no good.

She crossed legs and read the interview of the prosecuting attorney, where he stated that the reasons for the crime were not very clear, but the police suspect a personal vendetta or something related.

The prosecutor emphasized on how the big men in the nation escaped the hand of the law, and promised this would be an exception as the case would be treated with every of the nation’s law ethic.

Her dad stalked into the sitting room, inside his crimson towel.

“I believe you must be wondering why he would do such a thing. I was shocked myself when I heard the news,” he said.

She raised head to him. Shaving cream covered the short strands of hair on his chin. “How did he end up in such a mess?”

“I don’t know why he did it. Everyone is wondering that.”

“What if he is being misjudged?”

He pointed a finger to the newspaper.


“Can’t you see the evidences? The police found him with a firearm kit, which probably had the handgun that released the bullet found in the victim. Maybe he found a way to hide the gun from the police.”

He stalked closer to her. “Read the bottom, you’ll see the evidences the police gathered.”


“I’ve read it. I talked with Jide, and he said Richard is being misjudged.”


“Mr Jide is his friend and colleague, what do you expect him to say. The police found Richard’s bullets in the victim’s body, what other evidence could be clearer? If it were in Canada, he would have long been sentenced.”

“I can’t fathom why he would do it. I know a little of the man, he is principled, and he’s a Christian.”

“A Christian by name. Everyone is a Christian by name.”

She closed the newspaper and stared at Richard’s picture on the front page. He stared back at her. Audible words of “not guilty” voiced from his lips.

Dad positioned on the couch’s arm. The cream on his chin clustered and curled his beard in bunches. “What was he thinking?”

It was evident only she could hear Richard’s non-guilty words.

“He was found with a gun, Lau,” her dad muttered.

“You would hear the ballistics result on his trial. It sure would be a match.”

“It wouldn’t. It wouldn’t match. You’d see.”

“If it doesn’t, then the bullet came from a gun he borrowed or acquired illegally. But I believe he shot that man. He was found in the scene with a firearm kit. A handgun must be in one of those.”


“There could be other reasons to why he was in the scene with a gun. He might have been somehow framed. You know things like this, dad, you know it’s possible for there to be a mix-up somewhere.”

“You knew him very well?” dad asked.

“Richard is a friend.”

“I’d prefer you use the verb ‘was.’ Sometimes we don’t know what our friends could do.”

“But sometimes they deserve a little vouching.”


“Don’t tell me you can vouch anything for a man found with firearms in a crime scene and a bleeding man below him.”


“I knew him. It wouldn’t be easy believing all he is accused of.” She eyed the picture on the paper. “I’ll have another talk with Jide, he might know some things.”


“So many things lead people to do unspeakable things they themselves may not think they’d do, that won’t cause God to spare them. He makes it an obligation to see them suffer for their sins. When you’re older, you’d understand.”

She understood that, but still, Richard worth some assertion. She focused on the newspaper.

#


Mr Victor filled his portfolio with all kinds of papers. The big books, he pushed to an edge of the desk and the small ones went into the drawers.

“Mr Richard has a big trial awaiting him.” The lawyer gave them half eyes. The remainder extended to his drawers.

“Did he tell you anything about the victim holding a gun at the scene?” Jide asked.

The drawers became full. He closed them and dropped hands on his empty table. “I’m his lawyer. You don’t expect him to hide anything from me.”

“Do you think it’s true?” Abbe tried to find the answer in his face before he uttered it.


“The essence of court proceedings is to find out what is true and progress with the necessary admonishment. There’s nothing to back up my client’s words, but I do believe him.”

“You believe the victim was the casualty of a setup?” she asked.

“Mr Richard believed that to be the case. I’ll have to work with it in mind.”

“Have the victim been interrogated?” Jide entered.


“He’s in a very deplorable condition. However, some questionings were done, and it didn’t seem he concurred to what my client said. You heard the prosecuting attorney words at the preliminary, the victim concurred it was Richard who shot him.”

He raised his brows in a manner that said Bakare’s confession, made consciously or not, was a huge blow.

“Did Rick also tell you it’s his wife who shot the victim?” Jide asked.

“He told me on our first meet.”

“You’ve talked with the woman?”


“The police did that. They believe she is innocent, they have no case with her.


“What do you think? Do you see any atom of truth in what Richard says?”


“I’ve known Bakare for close to three months,” Abbe said, still trying to find logic in everything storming her head.


“Never had he done anything that would make me suspect him to be involved in a crime.”


“What about you, Mr Echem? You’ve known his wife for a good time. Do you think she would cold-bloodedly shoot someone?”


“I would never think so, but Rick said she did. He told you and Abbe, and also told Abbe to inform me, I think it’s something worth considering. And Richard is not a man that would utter a false statement against his wife.”


“Richard told me all this on our first meet, and I tend to believe such things as the truth. I ran some checks on Bakare Damijo and the woman and couldn’t find any connection. I found no criminal records on none.”

“If this is true, it’s hard to digest,” Abbe said.

“I knew Bakare and Richard’s wife. It’s difficult to picture them doing those claims.”


“Bakare was something more than a friend to you, wasn’t he?” Mr Victor asked.


“Yes.” There was no point searching for a vague answer. “He had proposed to me.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Abbe. This may be hard on—”


“It’s not hard. I’m glued to finding out the truth just as you. I called Richard to the crime scene, I put him in this.”


“Don’t let that trouble you, or make you get too involved, Richard wouldn’t want that, and I too, wouldn’t. There are reasons.” He paused.

His look lengthened into a stare. “In criminal cases investigations, when the police are faced with two probable possibilities, a vivid and a vague one, they often go for the first."

They were taught that in the training. And it usually happens that the vivid is the right one.


Here, the vivid is Richard shot that man, and that’s what the police are trying to prove.


“You called the police and drew their attention to the crime scene, they know that.
You also claimed you called the victim and the manner in which he responded made you suspect something was happening, but remember, nothing resembling a phone was found with the victim.
It must have been taken away from him before the police arrived, perhaps, to prevent the police from discovering the calls made in framing him, but that’s just an assumption, or preferably, an allegation, which is invalid.
Very soon, the police will question you. They will ask you how you acquired the knowledge of the happenings at the scene, even after you’ve already told them.
They would ask you many things you’ve previously explained to them and those repetitions could make you miss words, especially if you see it as a responsibility to rescue the defendant."


“The last thing you’d want to happen is to be misunderstood, to be misinterpreted, and that could happen when you begin talking too much. You might end up in police custody screaming and cursing.
It usually ends that way, especially for women so desperate to free someone.
You didn’t put Richard there, don’t ever think you did, and don’t ever think it’s your responsibility to bring him out. It’s not yours, it’s mine. If I need you, I’ll contact you.
When the police approach you to talk, no matter how friendly they might seem, don’t say a word without your attorney present, if you don’t have one, I could fill that gap. No one would lay hands on you if you refuse to respond.
The police wouldn’t try that.” He tapped the desk with a pen. “I’d need you to testify at trial. You can do that?”

“I will.”

“I’ll ask the questions, all you need say is the right and true answers. You may and will be cross-examined, stick to the truth and try not to fidget. The judge is watching.”

Being a witness did not seem an easy thing. It was not. The lawyer just indirectly told her that.

“Has Maeve ever visited Rick?” Jide asked the lawyer.

“No. Richard removed her from his visiting list.”

CHAPTER 21





Abbe supported her chin with both fists and gazed at the table. The police guard had promised Richard would arrive two o’clock. It was thirteen minutes past two, and no sign of him.

Droplets did not form at her brow unlike her previous visits which had her in the room without power, leaving her to manage the heat.

She imagined how the cells would be, how Richard’s cell would be. She had formerly tasted cell and could make a guess, but hers was only for three days.

Richard had spent two weeks. A week in a place like jail was not something near good.

Footsteps thudded nearer. The door opened and Richard stepped in. No handcuff rounded his wrists. His trousers had the lines of new clothing.

He sat on the other side of the table and took his palms across his face, wiping the gloom he had carried. With all the days in prison, traces of his perfume fragrance however clung to his skin.

She thought of a word to say, one that would depict what she had in mind. “I’m sorry for your stay here,” she said.

That was all she could think of, even if it would not please him. With his condition, scarcely anything would be pleasing.

“You’re sorry? What are you sorry for?”

He said the expected words and they scathed her earholes. The guilt should not be stolen from her, or shared with her.

“How is your health?” he asked.

No words pleased someone who had seen the sands of jail. A good health answer would do him no good than the truth.

She reached for her trouser pocket and brought out a pen, “I picked this from the officer’s table on my last visit. I’ll drop it back on my way out.”
He thumbed a bulged pimple at his brow.

She tried not to look at the way it bulged out. “What about the antidepressants?” he asked.

“I don’t take them anymore. They do nothing.”

The pricking that occurred anytime she talked about her disorder did not raid her this time. They should talk about the disorder, as long as it kept him talking.

He sniffed and touched his nose with a handkerchief. “What about the book I gave you?”

“I’ve read your book. I’m reading it for the second time. I read at least a page everyday before I go to bed.”

“Does it help?”

“It’s better than the antidepressants.”

“The doctors who wrote it did a good job.”

They did a very bad job. Any other book from him would have same effect. “How are you doing, Rick?”

“I’m not good. Jail’s not good. I hate it, but I don’t regret what brought me in.”

She shut eyes, and opened them to see a clear him. “What if you don’t get out?”

“I will. It might take long, but I will. How’s your friend, the victim?”

“I haven’t seen him for long. The doctors don’t allow anyone have contact with him.”

“That’s expected.” He sniffed. “Who is he to you?”

She thought of any reply, and scrutinized his face for what could suit. Nothing could. “He is a friend.”

He ran a hand over the table’s edge. “I never knew you had male friends.”

Other words hid between those. It was better not to find them. “I knew him from the gallery. Several times, he had come to buy paintings. We knew each other better and became friends.”

“You trust him?”

“Sorry?”

“You trust this friend of yours?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Do you believe that sometimes trust fails?”

“Everything fails.”

“You were at the preliminary hearing. You must have heard when the prosecutor said the victim consented to the claim that I shot him.”

“If he consented, then the interrogators might have a way to make him do. Those people can make someone say anything.
Bakare is a sick man who doesn’t know what he’s saying. When recovered, he would dispute the claim of you shooting him.”

Richard shook head negatively. “I once told you what transpired at the scene. I told you I saw this friend of yours with a gun. I wasn’t lying or joking when I said it.”

She inhaled some of the hot air and allowed it burn the lines of her nostrils.

“There were two men there, Rick. You could be mistaking.”

“I know what I saw. Don’t put too much trust in him, that’s all I wish you do.”

She took gaze to the table. A gun did not fit into Bakare’s hands. An image like that could not form in her head. “How then did he end up the victim?”

“He was framed, and is the only explanation. Those who framed him aren’t saints, and neither is he. What job does he do?”

“He runs a computer store.”

Richard touched his nose with a handkerchief. “I saw everything clearly. My scope is highly magnified. I saw both men and the woman who shot your friend.”

He sounded sure and truthful as ever. Of course, he could not lie, he could only be mistaking.

“It was Ezinne who shot your man,” he said.

“What did you say?” She fixed on him if he would repeat those words again.

“Ezinne was the woman who shot your friend.”

He had been seeing things. Very bad.
Two weeks in prison was enough to cause so many seeings and thinkings.

“Richard, Ezinne is your wife. It wouldn’t be good to say such of her.” She paused. “You should try having rests more often.”

His eyes reduced to a thin line and a streak of displeasure crossed his black circles. “You think I’m sick in the head?”

“No, no, I’m not saying that. I’m—”

“I get it. It’s not easy to believe.” His eyes became normal, or near normal.

“Wait till you hear the case in court.”

“Rick, Richard, I—”

“You think I’d accuse my wife of something I’m not sure about?”

“Not that. Look at it from the right angle. There’s no connection.”

“Whether you deem it true or not, help me convey the information to Jide. I couldn’t get myself to tell him on his last visit, and I wouldn’t want him to first hear it in court.”

Blood flocked in his eyes, circling his eyeballs. Those very eyes were now bloody red. “I believe you,” she said.

“You don’t, and don’t say you do. That’s lying.” He looked at the wall clock above her head and rose.

“Visiting hours is almost over. I should leave. I wouldn’t want an officer’s warning.” He aimed for the door.

She watched him leave with his blood-filled eyes.

There could have been a way to make him leave with something close to a smile and not bloody eyes. He deserved that from her.

Jail was the worst thing that could happen to someone, and he never would have experienced it had he not known her.
She left the room and made for the station’s reception.

She brought out the pen from her jean pocket, signed out, and left the pen on the table.

She called a taxi and requested a ride to Erneto Aives.

The taxi stopped some distance from the “no parking” signboard. She trekked to the gate.

She thought of asking the gatemen if Jide Echem was in, but they might kill any stranger that disrupted their chattering.

She opened the reception’s door, and the conditioned air froze her skin. Nearly everyone dressed like their CEO. One of her paintings hung beside Richard’s picture, one of those she sold to Jide.

The receptionist’s perfume reeked of wet alyssum, and more of it rained from his armpit when he stretched a hand to the right, indicating the road to Jide’s office.

Jide’s title gleamed at the third door.
She knocked and opened. A woman welcomed her and made a phone call to Jide.

Abbe pushed Jide’s door gently and opened. He raised head to her and greeted good evening. When last was there a good evening?

“I thought you must have closed,” she said.

“I close by four.”

She glanced at the clock above him. It was almost four. “I went to see Richard today.”

He pressed a button on his keyboard and raised eyes back to her. “How is he?”

“Not very good.”
His cheeks flattened, and then a furrow surfaced on them. “I don’t know how this will end.”

“Richard wanted me to tell you some things, things like Bakare was framed and shot by Ezinne. He said Bakare was with a gun at the orchard.”

Jide jutted head forward. “Richard told you this?”

“I don’t know what made him say those things.”

The light from the screen darkened Jide’s already-dark face. “How can an armed person end up the victim?”

“I don’t know what to think. Richard was serious when saying it and bits of anger crawled in when he found doubts in me.”

He moved a finger on his touchpad and closed the laptop. “We will go talk to his lawyer. I think the firm would still be open.”

“You think he would tell his lawyer those?”

“We should learn what the lawyer knows.”

He unwrapped his suit from his couch’s backrest and covered himself with it.

“The last time I talked with Richard, he mentioned nothing of what you just said.”

“On our first talk after his arrest, he said something about Bakare holding a gun at the orchard.”

“You told the lawyer?”

“Rick must have told him, and it probably isn’t true.”

He turned face away from her. “What do you think is true?” His voice jerked her.

“Do you think he would be behind those bars if truth exists?”

“I thought he told you.”
He bowed head and tapped the table.

“I’m just hearing about that. Please, say anything you hear, truth or not.” He rose and lifted his briefcase from the table. “I pray we meet the lawyer there.”

They entered his Toyota and started for the firm. It was a long drive to the firm, but with Jide’s speed, they could save a substantial time.

#

It was a preliminary hearing. The courtroom was not packed the manner it usually was at trials. Ezinne was glad she sat at the last pew, the perfect spot to avoid any unnecessary eye contact with Richard.

Richard didn’t seem someone who had spent a night in jail. His skin was still bronze-chocolate as though the jailers bathed him.

She imagined how his cell would be, possibly the best in the facility. He was the CEO of Erneto Aives.

The magistrate assumed bench in full regalia and the officers stood in place.

One of them stood at Ezinne’s front and caused her a half view of the podium. She signalled him to leave her view.

“May the state call its first witness,” the magistrate said.

The prosecuting attorney, Rashid Momoh, rose.

The previous day, he spoke in TV, saying he fully believed Rick shot the victim and caused him a permanent paralysis.

He had promised to fight the case to the end as though he was the only factor that determined if one stayed in jail. He alone was too small to keep a man like Rick in jail.

“The state calls DSP Bayo Yetunde,” the prosecuting attorney said.

The DSP was led into the witness box. He positioned the microphone closer to his mouth and began explaining how his team saw Richard at an old building’s landing with a firearm kit that contained a rifle and other ammunitions.

He explained a bleeding Bakare lying on the turf some distance below Richard.

“Any eye witnesses?” the judge asked.

“No,” the prosecuting attorney said, “but we were able to sap little information from the victim. He was able to give us some nods and headshakes.”

Bakare was lucky to have survived the shot. The hole in his back would be worth seeing. That would remain there for life. They now both had holes that would remain for life.

“The victim nodded to the defendant shooting him at a point-blank range,” the prosecuting attorney said.

The bastard still had the sense to think before responding. If she had put the shot in his head, he wouldn’t have had that.

“Thank you, Mr Momoh. Any question, Mr Victor?”

“No, sir.”

“Any motions?”

“Yes, sir.” He rose. “The defence requests bail.”

“Denied.”

Richard’s attorney adjusted his suspenders. “Okay, sir. That would be all.”

He returned to his pad and jotted down some things, behaving like those lawyers who believed the defence should refrain from arguments in preliminaries.
Good strategy, but he should have said something that would reveal how Rick found himself in the scene, and stop playing too skilful. His skilfulness would not win Rick out. Rick would win himself out.

The magistrate would have allowed bail.

It would shorten Rick’s incarceration, and would spare them a time to talk, time for him to explain his presence at the orchard, and she would explain why she did what she did, whatever the outcome might be.

“Thank you, Mr Victor.” The magistrate focused on the spectators. “The court finds enough evidence to hold the defendant, Mr Richard Fayemi, for action by the Lagos State district judge. He shall hereby remain in custody. Court’s adjourned.” The magistrate rose, and his clerk carried his file from the table.

Richard rose and gave his hands to the handcuffs.

Ezinne shifted eyes until he was led out of the door. What brought him to the orchard?

He twisted head to her and pointed his heavy eyes through the window.

She blinked hers away. So many things were engraved between his lids. She would tackle them when he comes home.

A hand rested on her back. It was Jide Echem. No iota of smile adhered to his face, neither was a scowl. Rick had not informed him of what happened at the orchard.

“Kèdú? How’s everything?” he asked.

“Ódì mmá. Things would be fine.”

“Yes, they would.”

The klep girl approached. She never smiled, and the unevenness in her teeth did no good.

“Abbe, we haven’t seen for long.”

A small extension occurred at her lips’ edge, the kind she always carried. “I once came to the house, I didn’t meet you.”

“I was probably at work. I now head a supermarket.”

“Rick told me. It’s good to hear.”

“How’s your gallery?”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for the happenings.”

“It’s a tragedy Rick fell a victim.” She held her purse. “I should head home. It’s been a jagged day.”

Richard’s lawyer strode for the door. The scowl on his face pointed to her. Richard must have told this one what happened in the orchard.

“Goodbye,” she told Abbe and turned to Echem.

“kà ómésíá.” She tucked her purse under her armpit and made for the door.

She tried driving without thinking, but the lonely roads weren’t helping. She thought of her babies, her twins. Hurting Bakare did not stop their haunt.

Neither did it blur the image of the doctor’s blades tearing them apart. She knew it wouldn’t, but nonetheless, the bullet was not wasted.

As she never would be able to use her womb again, so would the bastard never be able to use his legs again.

CHAPTER 20





Ezinne filed the red paint off her toenails until the nails almost whitened. She gathered the scraps into a paper and left them at a corner of the room.

She lay beside her pillow and tightened herself against it; that was all she could do, the pillow still carried Richard’s scent.

Five days had gone and no word from him, no mention of his name except from the reporters whom pile up lies on him.

Nobody knew the truth. Nobody knew why he was at the orchard with a gun. Neither did they know what brought him there.

How did he find himself in such a mess? He possibly couldn’t have followed her, and even if he did, he wouldn’t do that holding a gun.

Time would unfold the mystery. She squeezed the pillow and tasted his scent while she yet can.

It might take long before she sees him, but she would, it was certain. He would walk himself out of the mess. He was the CEO of Erneto Aives.

The crackling of the gate prevented her eyes from closing. She peered through the window. Two police officers were talking with the gateman.

Time for questioning had come. She rubbed eyes and rose from the bed. She swaggered to the wardrobe and changed from her see-through.

The doorbell rang on her way down the stairs. She eased to the door and opened for them. One of them held a folder.

“Good afternoon, madam.”

“Good afternoon.”

“You are Mrs Fayemi?”

“I am.”

“We would want to talk with you concerning your husband.”

“You can come in.” She gestured them in.

They settled on the two-seated sofa.

“You must have heard about your husband’s case,” he said, setting his folder on a stool.

“It’s all in the news.” She seated on the adjacent sofa.

He opened the folder and brought out a sheet stapled with a pen. “We would ask you some questions. We plead for your cooperation.”

“I’m willing to cooperate.”

He swallowed a cough and brought out a warrant from his breast pocket. “My colleague here would be searching the house.”

“It’s okay. You are free to.”

The colleague rose and strode to an edge of the sitting room from where he began his search.

“Your husband is accused of attempted murder. Do you believe he can do something like that?”

“I don’t. We courted for more than a year and have been married for some time now, I would vouch for him.”

“Have you ever encountered the name, Bakare Damijo?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

He raised some sheets in the folder and fished out a photograph. “Have you ever seen this man?”

She held the photograph and drew it closer to her eyes. It was the bastard. “I haven’t.”

She laid it on the stool.
He scrawled something on his sheet, and returned eyes to her. “What were your whereabouts on Saturday, August 17th?”

“I was here at morning, my shop at noon, and back here at evening.”

“At about 3 P.M., where were you?”

“The shop.”

“Do you have any alibi?”

“I work alone, but if you are looking for customers with whom I worked with at that time, you may check my record book and contact them. But excuse me, will these questions help fish out the man who framed my husband?”

“You think your husband was framed?” the officer asked.

“I said I don’t believe he would do such a thing, so it’s either he was framed, or the police are making some mistake.”

“Who do you think would possibly frame him?”

“I don’t know any of his enemies, but he must have some. Men like him don’t live without enemies.”

“He was found with a gun, and the bullet that penetrated the victim matched with a gun belonging to him.”

“No one knows how calculative his enemy was. Richard won’t point a gun at someone with cold hands.”

“I’d need to see your record book.”

“Then come to my shop tomorrow. And as I asked, how would that affect my husband?”

“Let the police do their job.”

She picked the officer’s pen. “Where can I write my shop’s address?”

“Write it here.” He touched the top of his sheet.

She scribbled the address down. “I’d give any help I can, but please you should bear in mind my husband is innocent.”

“Thank you, madam.” He closed the folder. “When my colleague is done, we’d leave.”

Soon, he began tapping foot on the floor. “The preliminary is on Thursday. Would you be present?”

“Why would I miss it.”

The preliminary should have been waived. It did nothing but prolong the trial process, thus, prolonging Rick’s time in jail. His attorney ought to know that.

“Do you know what brought my husband to the scene?”

“No, madam. There are lots of sayings. No one knows the lies and truths. That’s why the police investigate.”

“You’re saying the police have no clue of his motive for being in the scene?”

“No one knows what led him there.”

She ended her questions. It wouldn’t be wise asking too much.

The second officer arrived. “I found nothing, sir.”

“You searched everywhere? The house is big.”

“I searched everywhere except the outside.”

He stood up. “We’d go check outside.”

“No problem.”

The officers stepped out of the room and she bolted the door. They would leave after they’ve found nothing.

She stared at Richard’s photo at a top corner of the wall.

What explanation would she give when he was out? There was none but the truth.

He also had explanations to give, explanations she doubted would be understandable, same way he wouldn’t understand what he saw her do or why she did it, same way he wouldn’t understand why she had no regrets other than the bullet did not pass through the bastard’s skull.

One thing was certain: No matter her explanation, Richard would yet file for divorce.

That was not unexpected, except that it came earlier than its time—the time he would find out there would be no birth child, and scream at her for not informing him before the marriage, as though he would have married her had he known.

The divorce would come, and after that, she would try law school and see where life leads. And Bakare… God, please send him to hell. She placed the pillow behind her head.

She returned eyes to Richard’s photo. His influence and affluence would win him out of jail.

Just4yhu:
abeg madam, be babe oo abi d (f) for my name don waka ni? tiffannyj help oo

Lol.... No mind me
Sleep tinz

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV!!!!
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!

The End

#


Richard was led into the conference room. His eyes crossed with his lawyer’s. The man had stern eyes, which a lawyer should not have.

Jide recommended him; he should be good enough. Richard made for the table. He sat opposite the man, and they held gaze.

“Let’s do proper introductions,” the lawyer said. “I’m Mr Victor Bamidele, and I’ll be handling your case.” He stretched hand for a shake.

Richard received the hand. The lawyer’s palm scratched the edge of his. Richard held the hand firmly and allowed the scratch. “Richard Fayemi.”

“The CEO of Erneto Aives,” the lawyer said.

“Yes.” Everyone knew who he was, which wasn’t so much good.

“I presume you’re aware you shouldn’t hide any detail from me, no matter how trivial you think it is.”

“I know that.”

The lawyer’s lips remained merged for some time before words fell out. “How was your initial appearance?”

“It went expected. The magistrate appointed a public defender.”

“Any talk about bail?”

“The magistrate said bail cannot be granted.”

The lawyer rested hands on the table and huffed. “Did you commit the crime you’re accused of?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I was found at the scene.”

“I read the file the police compiled. They accuse you of shooting an unarmed man.”

“I didn’t shoot him.” Richard checked the lawyer’s eyes to see if the man believes. The eyes couldn’t be read.

“I trust you are saying the truth, but the police don’t. I spoke with your friend, Mr Echem. He gave me a little review. You seem to be in a tight nook.”

“Not as tight as it seems, there is evidence?”

“What evidence? The phone call of the woman, Abbe?”

“Her testimony would serve as good evidence. Another thing is the police would not see any reason why I would shoot a man.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be enough, but the woman would be helpful. That orchard belonged to the victim. It is a land, and so many violence occur based on land issues, the police might take that as the reason you shot the man, and in the real sense, the judiciary doesn’t need the reasons for a crime committed before it takes actions.”

The lawyer unfastened his shirt’s first button. “Tell me all that happened at the scene, and how you ended up handcuffed.”

“When I received the call from the woman that her friend was in danger, I learned the crime scene was closer to my domain than the nearest police station, I would be able to drive there faster than the police. I brought out a registered gun which I know how to use, and drove to the scene. I positioned on a staircase landing, scoped the place and found two men engaging in something I would guess a crime deal.

One held a gun, and suspicious bags lay on the ground. Soon after that, a woman appeared at the ground and shot one of the men, the same man who held a gun. Abbe’s man.”

“Would you be able to recognize the woman or the other man, who I believe was the woman’s accomplice if you see them elsewhere?”

“The woman is my wife.”

The lawyer’s eyes stood erect and the holes of his nose expanded. “Your wife?”

“Yes. We got married this year, April 6th.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“I don’t know. She haven’t visited, and I’ve not called her.”

“You put her in your visiting list?”

“I did. I would like to have a confrontational chat with her.”

“Do the police know about this?”

“No, that’s why I have you. I hope you’d convey all the information they need to them.”

“What about your Echem, does he know?”

“No, neither does Abbe.”

“They would know in court.”

Richard did a deep inhale. He would sit in court and be tried for what he knew nothing about. He would sit in a court, face a judge, and be addressed like a criminal. After that, what’s next?

“There might not be a trial if the preliminary goes well,” the lawyer said.

“The bullet found from the victim was a 9 mm, a handgun bullet, there was no way it would have come from your rifle, so you have an edge. However, the police believe you might have possessed a handgun, which you probably disposed on the sound of sirens.”

“Didn’t they search the scene?”

“They did and found no handgun, but they still consider the possibility of you getting rid of it. You are their closest suspect, and this is a high profile case.

They can’t throw their only suspect away, they would do anything to keep you on their suspect list, even if you are the CEO of Erneto Aives.”

He supported his forehead with a palm and remained like that for a while before removing the hand. “Can you think of any reason your wife would do such a thing?”

“I can’t think of any. I wouldn’t believe if told by anyone.”

The lawyer stared at his briefcase on the table. “What about the other man, have you seen him before?”

“No.”

“Do you think your wife will agree to all you’ve said?”

“I don’t know that. She shot a man. I don’t know the things she can do.”

“I would convey this information to the police and request she be interrogated. I may try a private detective. Truth be told, I doubt if she would agree to the accusation. She must have heard about your case in the news, and since she has not been here, I can very well say she has no intention of suffering for her actions.
If that’s the situation, then we have a very big case before us, but thanks to the FCID, they would help in simplifying it. The case might not be twisted as it seems.”

“What is the FCID up to?”

“They got the bullet from the victim’s body and are running ballistics on it.

There is no efficient crime lab in the country, so they furthered it overseas to find a gun match. You’re like a figure, the police are taking your case a little serious than normal.”

Richard’s heart exploded and shredded into fragments. “A gun match?”

“Yes, there’s a way they do it.”

Richard shut lids and held them tightly. He covered face with his hands and sucked in the scorching air.

“That’s supposed to be good news,” the lawyer said.

“I saw the gun my wife used. I think it belonged to me.”

The lawyer’s face narrowed, his cheeks lessened like a needled balloon.

“It’s a pistol, a Glock,” Richard said. “It’s registered. I bought it in Los Angeles.”
The lawyer’s face grew thinner, fixed on the table. “The ballistics result would be out in a week.”

His words rewound in Richard’s head. In a week, he would become a criminal, charged with attempted murder. “So what can be done?”

The lawyer remained mute, but his lips curled into words, sharp and clear words. Prayer and hope. Those were the only thing that could save him.

“What about the phone-call evidence, how far can you go with that?” Richard asked.

“We would need more than Abbe’s phone call evidence to prove your innocence, and it wouldn’t take time before the police find something to counter that. If your wife could admit guilty, you’d be a free man, but if she doesn’t, then we’d have work to do. If the victim survives, there might be a chance, he might point out who shot him, but that chance is very thin. If he does that, he would risk being exposed of the crime deal he supposedly engaged in, and that could lead to a term in jail. No one likes jail.”

Richard passed his palms round his head and rested them behind the head. “I never saw this.”

“You took a very big risk going to the crime scene. You’d have stayed at home, and leave the police to handle it.”

That’s true, so true, he would have stayed at home. Going to the scene wasn’t the wisest thing.

“Who is Abbe to you?”

“She’s a friend. She lived in my house for a short time.”

“Right now she’s our only witness. I wish we could have more. Your preliminary hearing is set on next week Thursday. That would determine if the case is strong enough to go to trial. In the preliminary, we talk less and listen to what the state has against us.”

“What’s the essence? When the bullet matches my gun, I would be found guilty, won’t I? Guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”

“You are not so sure the gun belongs to you. You peered through a scope.”

“I would recognize any of my firearms with closed eyes.”

The lawyer patted Richard’s hand.

“You’re not guilty, and I would prove it
to the Judge.”

What if you can’t? Richard wanted to ask. He bored into the lawyer. “Please do.”

The lawyer spoke after some seconds of doing nothing. “Prepare yourself for the preliminary hearing. It’s only for few minutes. Magistrates don’t waste time on it.”

“I thought the judge would be the one on bench.”

“The judge would only hold the trial, if there would be one.”

Yes, there would be one. “Can you speed up the whole trial process?”

“I’m doing my best. Some inmates wait for more than a year before they are tried. You’re lucky because of your status. Your trial might tread a fast lane.”

Nothing was lucky about that. If his status was so important to the state, they should see the believability in his words.

“Do you think the magistrate would grant bail?”

“Bail is seldom granted in attempted murder cases. I’ve not heard of any. I’d request though. The magistrate might see reasons to grant.”

The lawyer opened his briefcase and brought out a sheet and a pen. He gave them to Richard. Richard read the sheet. It was his fees. Nine hundred thousand.

He was the CEO of Erneto Aives; any lawyer would want to take advantage.

“Nine hundred is too expensive.”

“Your case is expensive, and I don’t believe you would want to stay in here for years. Some people have been awaiting trial for over a decade. Your status won’t be enough to speed up your trial process to less than a year. I would have to give some money to the right people. Call it anything, but it’s something that has to be done.”

Richard held the pen and signed, signed to money going into thin air.

“You could bargain for a better cell, they have good cells for able prisoners, especially those in remand. It’s expensive. I think about four thousand per day.”

“I have bargained. I would be taken to the new cell tomorrow, but still, it’s a cell, no matter how refined it is.”

The lawyer arranged his sheet in his briefcase and closed it. “I’ll come see you again early next week.” He stood up and strode out.

Richard stalked out of the room and met the warder who directed him to his cell.

He thought of the lawyer’s words. There was no hope of cutting short the days in this hellhole. Either he or his wife would have a place in it.

He was not willing, and his wife certainly was not. No one liked jail. It smelt like decayed debris.

#



He rose from the bed and staggered to the cell railings.

The rails rattled as he held them with both hands and streaks of brown dust appeared on his palms. The opposite cell had four inmates in it unlike his solo self.

The overpopulation in most of the cells was enough to kill those in remand before their trials. He dusted the rust off his palms and staggered to the bed.

His body needed to stretch to its fullest, but he couldn’t get himself to lie on the mattress. Sitting on it was hard, let alone lying.

He sat and stared at the floor, at the broken rubber tiles that housed lines of old sands, and then thought of where Ezinne would presently be—probably at the house, waiting for his arrival.

Where did she get the heart to shoot a man and why did she do it?

If the man dies, her life would be useless, the rest of it would be spent in jail, in this jail, where several hours in remand was like a thousand days in hell, and if the man doesn’t die, she wouldn’t still escape jail.

Richard tried picturing the hatred that clung to her face the point she shot the man, a hatred he had never seen in her, a hatred he never thought would find a place in such a face. Who was that second man and what were in those bags?

The railings opened. An officer stood by it. “Someone is here to see you.”

He rose and followed the officer to the visitor’s room. The officer showed him the room and departed. The police guard front of the room budged from the door.

Richard opened and stepped in.

It wasn’t Jide. It was Abbe. Jide never shut his mouth. She rose and raised eyeballs at him. “Richard, why did you go to the scene?”

“Nothing to worry about. It’s a meagre mix-up.”

“You said you were sending another team of police there. You never said you were going there.”

He sat on a wooden chair. “I won’t spend more than two days here, everything would soon be resolved. How is your friend?”

She shook head and touched her mouth with a thumb. “He’s in the hospital.” She sat down and fixed on the table.

“Was it that man? That shot man?”

“Yes. I dialled his number. A policeman responded and said he was shot.”

“What’s his condition?”

“Bad from the little I saw. The doctors in the hospital did not let me have full access to the room.”

Richard passed a hand through his hair, and the strands poked his palm.

“I explained to an officer it was I who contacted you,” Abbe said. “I showed him the time of call on my phone. It agreed with the time on yours. They are holding my phone as evidence.”

“Thanks, but you shouldn’t get too involved. My lawyer would handle it from here.”

The skin circling her eyes crumpled into folds.

“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t get involved. You think I’m okay seeing you here? Or do you expect me to fold hands and do nothing. You’re here because I phoned you, which I regret ever doing.”

“I chose to drive to the scene, and I’m glad I did. If I didn’t, there might be no knowledge of what really happened. The doers left before the police could gain a glimpse. I’m the only witness. I saw the whole thing. Your friend was shot by a woman.”

He paused and prepared his next words. “I’m sorry to say, your friend might have been involved in a deal, a crime deal.”

She angled head and the crumple of her face doubled. “Crime deal?”

“I’m not sure about it. I’m just speculating, there—”

“You are wrong.”

“Yes I might be.” It was not good news to her. “I might be wrong.” He tapped fingers on the table. “How did you gain access? I believe Jide must have tried visiting but wasn’t allowed.”

“Jide is outside the station. We came together. It was hard convincing the policemen to allow the visit. They ended up permitting no more than one of us. I insisted on coming. Jide previously went to a law firm to hire a lawyer, but I doubt there would be much need for one, the police seemed to believe me when I explained your innocence.”

“There’s always need for a lawyer.”

“What actually went on in the scene?”

Her voice lowered. “My friend sounded scared on the phone. That was why I reckoned something was wrong. What happened at the orchard?”

She wouldn’t want to hear what happened.

She wouldn’t want to believe her friend or whoever he was to her was engaged in something bad and was probably framed. She wouldn’t want to know the identity of the woman who shot her friend.

“I peered through a scope, so I didn’t see much and I heard nothing except the gunshot. There were three persons in the scene: two men and a woman whom later appeared.

“One of the men held a gun while having a conversation with the other. Shortly, the woman appeared and fired your friend. I’m sorry, I had my gun pointed, but lost focus the time she shot him. I couldn’t pin her down.”

“The victim’s name is Bakare.” Her lids sagged. “He is a friend. That orchard is his. I pray he survives.”

“I’m guessing he was shot either in the head or the back. The back would bring more chances of survival.”

“But why did you go there? You endangered yourself. You could have been shot.”

“I didn’t go unarmed. I’m trained to use guns.”

“That’s no excuse. What do you think would have happened if—”

“Nothing happened, and I got information. It was a gain.”

“I’m glad nothing happened, but I would have preferred you never went.”

“I’m sorry for disappointing.”

She stared at the table as though studying the written jargons on it. “We will see when this is over.” She rose.

“I’m sorry for your friend’s condition, I pray he doesn’t die and recovers speedily.”

“I pray so.”

She walked past the door. He stretched ears for her fading footsteps. They slowly departed from his ears.

CHAPTER 19





The officer loosened the handcuffs and gazed into Richard. His gaze spiked Richard’s eyes and the subsequent pain filled his entire self.

They were the only ones in the room and sat at opposite sides of the desk. A tape recorder stood atop the desk.

“I’d like to ask you some questions,” the officer said.

“I didn’t shoot that man.”

“Just answer the questions, the ones you want to. You have your rights. You have the right to remain silent, anything said can be brought up and used against you in the court of law, but you should know that there might be some costs for silence.”

“What is it you want to ask?”

“Before we begin, I would want you to read this and sign.” He shifted a paper and a pen to Richard.

Richard didn’t bother reading and signed. It was the Miranda rights.

The officer pressed a button on the tape’s recorder.

“The recorder is on. Today is Saturday, August 17, 4:27 P.M.”

Richard nodded.

“What is your full name?”

“Richard Djebah Fayemi.”

“Address?”

“13th Avenue, Lander Close, GRA.”

“Who do you live with?”

“My wife.”

“Any children?”

“No.”

“What’s your present occupation?”

“I’m the CEO of Erneto Aives.”

“Have you ever met a Bakare Damijo?”

“No.”

“Mr Richard, where were you at about 3:35 P.M. earlier today?”

“I’m not answering any more questions without the presence of my lawyer.”

“You are sure about that?”

“I am, and I would want a phone call.”

The officer pressed the recorder’s button and its digits disappeared. “You have a maximum of three calls.”

“I’ll be needing just one.”

“There is a payphone at that cubicle.” He looked at the cubicle behind the window.
“You can make your call there.”

Richard walked out of the room. A constable followed him to the cubicle.

The constable allowed some space.
Richard dialled Jide. A ring came through and Jide picked.

“Something’s happened, Jide.”

“What’s it?” His voice carried sleep marks.

“I’m at a police station.”

“Police station?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Doing what?”

“Something happened. I found myself here.”

“What happened?” The sleep marks disappeared from his voice.

Richard told him all that happened but the part of his wife being the woman that shot the victim. It wasn’t yet time to start giving out that information. Not even to Jide.

“That’s bad.”

“Worse than you think, but it would be sorted out.”

“There should be something to show the truth. Abbe would bear witness she phoned you, and there would be many evidences to support that.”

“Yes, there will be, but I want to make the process faster, I can’t afford to spend the night here. I would need a good lawyer. I want you to find a very good one.”

“Are the police dumb, was there not evidence that the victim was not alone at the scene. Were there no footprints or anything resembling that?”

“The ground is covered with grass, I doubt if the police could find anything as good as a print, and they probably were not encouraged to check thoroughly seeing the circumstance.”

Jide groaned. “Bad situation,” he said.

“Any need for a lawyer? I would try contacting Abbe. She would explain to the police.”

“Police matters don’t wind up easy as that, and don’t contact Abbe, at least for now. She should be worried about her friend. I don’t want to add to her worries. The right person to contact first would be a lawyer.”

“What about Erneto’s lawyer?”

“I need someone new, a defence lawyer, but if you can’t find someone in the next twenty-four hours, then reach the company’s lawyer.”

“Okay. I’m on my way to the station. I’d be there very soon.” A screech sounded from his end.

“I doubt if the police would allow you contact me.”

“I would try a talk.”

Richard disconnected. The constable approached him.

Skimpledawg:
Damn!!! Now dz is wah we term in naija home videos as 'ghen ghen ghen'



Tori bad gan. Nice work sisi Vonn

Awww dear.... This is actually what happens when you watch too much nollywood...

labaski:
#in yemi alade's voice# this one nah gobe original gobe..ride on madam Vonn.. tell ur friend he's doing a real good job.

Thank you sis.
I actually talked with him, he still thinks he didnt really hit it with the story. Its all good, so far its still his.

princessadeola:
Short of words

No ma'am..... You don't have to be.
Even if it means more proteins for the words to grow taller, I have soyabeans

dammygoody:
Update madam Vonn...

Sir Dammy, I'm still seriously seriously suspicious....
Two nights in a row!!

Just4yhu:
vonn ! vonn ! vonn ! pls come update nah or u won dey starve person?

No vex sir.
Gimme a lil time.

dammygoody:
No night meeting oo ...biko...
I'm a good boy.

Lol

dammygoody:
Wow!!!!!
Speechless......

Oga Dammy, your night meeting don start?

#


Trees tops swayed over the tall fence, which was too high to jump. Richard strode left. Nothing resembled a gate or an entrance.

There was a building, a dilapidated two-storey building with an external staircase. He scurried to the stairs, climbed and settled on the landing.

God gave him a good view of the orchard and a fair portion of the clean wind, which carried faint voices with it. Two distant figures stood in the orchard.

He placed his case on the landing, brought out his scope and peered through. Two men stood close, discussing.

There were no arguments or anything resembling that. One held a handgun, but it wasn’t pointed at the other.

Two bags lay on the ground.
The man without a gun opened a bag and said something.

It was a deal. Most likely a crime deal, but not the expected. The two men talked and dealt like criminals.

Neither of them could be Abbe’s friend. Her friend might only be a victim in the hide.

The police could take care of the situation. They should. He stopped scoping and fixed his scope in the case.

A blast of gunshot hit his ears, causing him to grab his scope and peer again.

Holy Jesus. Someone was down on the floor, and a young woman held a gun.

He mounted his scope to his rifle and peered, peered and peered again. How could that be possible?

The woman was… his wife. The woman who just shot someone was his wife, was Ezinne.

He positioned the scope firm to his eyes. It was his woman. She was spitting out words to the bleeding man.

Richard sat on the floor and passed hands through his hair. What just happened?

Sirens began from a distance. He looked at the three figures in the orchard and held his scope again.

That woman was his wife, on her everyday blue top.

The Ezinne he married had a man on the ground covered with blood. She positioned the pistol as if for another shot.

The man with her snatched the pistol and also snatched the one with the bleeding man.

He grabbed the bags from the ground and said something to her, which was followed by them fleeing out of the orchard.

The sirens became more audible.

Richard sat there, staring at his firearm kit, and unfolding all that happened the last minute. His wife definitely took his Glock pistol and his silencer.

Raindrops began hitting his head. He returned eyes to the orchard and turned them away at the sight of the shot man rolling in blood.

Did… his wife do that?
Footsteps multiplied towards him, and a shout emerged.

“Don’t move. Don’t touch the gun. Hands up.”

Oh.… He covered face with palms and breathed into them.

“I said hands up. I need to see your hands above your head.” Two more officers joined. They aimed their Berettas at him.

He raised his hands. Saturdays were never good.

“It’s not above your head. I said I need to see them above your head.”

He raised them above his head. An officer strode to him, dipped hands in his pocket and brought out his mobile phone and keys.

The officer clutched his wrists with a handcuff. Richard tightened fist and shut eyes.

“You’re under arrest, and you’re coming with us.”

He opened eyes and turned to the orchard.

Two officers rushed the bleeding man into a wagon, and the others examined the scene. An officer shouldered his firearm kit.

He followed the officers’ lead. The surroundings now had countable number of persons who gawked as he headed to the police wagon.

He stepped into the backseat and was accompanied by an officer. The wagon shuddered and moved.

The rains came in full force and gushed down the side window.

#


Immediately his phone beeped, he snatched it from the sofa. It was the text, containing the location: An orchard in Burma, two or three junctions after the Agro Industry.

He hurried to his room and pulled his wardrobe open, shoved his clothes to an edge and drew out his firearm kit.

He shoved out his rifle and rummaged for his Glock pistol, digging hands into every corner.

Not finding the pistol, he stopped searching and shouldered his rifle, and then dashed to his Pathfinder. The gateman wasted no time in opening the gate.

His Pathfinder managed the bumps on the road and reached the Agro industry safely.

He sped past the first junction after the industry and swerved into the second.

He scanned for anything resembling an orchard, but found silence instead, treading on the damped grass and leaving its prints atop—the only thing worthy to be called a print.

Before attempting the third junction, he opted to try few more drives.

Some distance further led him to the sight of a fence with wavering treetops protruding from its height.

The orchard.

He doubled speed and parked beside the fence. Birds chirped and leaves slashed within the fence.

Chirping of birds had never been a sign of danger. The police might have done their work and gone. Or they might have not. They were never fast enough.

He examined the ground for police tyre prints. The grasses didn’t help.

#


Ezinne remained behind the cornered cherry tree. No other vantage could be better.

She watched her man on the turf trying to lure Bakare out. Time had elapsed and the coward had not yet showed himself.

He ought to have appeared fifteen minutes ago and everything supposed to have been over.

She eyed her wristwatch. Bakare always did the unexpected, cowardly or cunningly.

Whatever way he chose to operate, she would send him to where he belonged—the fieriest pit of hell.

A minute passed. She peeked to her man. His face had grown thin, bowed to his phone screen with fingers on the phone buttons, probably calling the coward.

The coward finally showed himself, but not the way he should. He tiptoed behind her man and when he got close, clutched her man’s neck with an arm.

He said something into her man’s ear and brought out the gun hidden in her man’s waist. How did he manage to see the gun?

Bakare freed him and said something inaudible. She strained ears to get any word.

“What were you thinking?” he asked, rounding her man and scrutinizing him.

“This place belongs to me. You think you can play games with me? I was here twenty minutes before you arrived. I saw you check and crack your gun.” He whirled the gun round a finger.

“What’re you doing here with a gun?” Her ears became too short to hear the other things he said.

She reached for the pistol tucked in her trouser and stroked its surface. She glanced at Bakare, who hovered around her man.

She eyed her gun and dipped a finger in the muzzle—the perfect nose to breathe out the wind of death to a man deserving worse.

A shoot from her vantage might be a miss, and the gun meant for backup was in the coward’s hands, glued to it as he hovered round her man. He wouldn’t hover around forever.

Some strings of her braid swirled to the wind. She pushed them back and tied properly.

Her man spoke, audible enough. “What do you expect? This is a deal. I hold guns in my deals. It’s my ethic.”

“What kind of ethic is that?” Bakare cursed him. “I don’t hold guns and don’t deal with people that hold guns.”

“Everyone in this trade hold guns.”

“I can understand that, but what I don’t understand is cracking a gun at the place of meet. I saw you crack this gun.”

He whirled it round his finger. “What else could it mean? I don’t play games, and I hate people playing games with me.”

“All right I’m sorry. The gun is in your hands. Now go get me my thing. I want to be out of here.”

“Why would I trade with you?”

“Because you’ve been paid half, and I have the remaining here.”

Bakare said something too faint for her ears to pick. His pitch rose.

“I’ll give you your thing, but not because of the money. I can have it repaid. I’ll give you because of the third party involved—the woman. She shouldn’t suffer from your sloppiness, but…” His voice ceased.

Ezinne stretched ears further and gained more of his bass. “Wait here,” he told her man.

“Don’t move. Remember I’m the man with the gun, and I beg you not to dare me.”

He stepped backwards, not letting eyes totally go off her man. She tried securing an eye contact with her man but refrained.

Any eye contact with him could be risky and now wasn’t the time for risks.

Bakare stalked back to the turf, holding the bag of rubbish.