A visitor to the headquarters that morning would have noticed a few remarkable things. He would have noticed that the lawn had been left untrimmed for a while. He would have noticed that the cops that were on duty that morning had not the slightest bit of punctuality in their makeup, save for two desk officers who looked like they would rather be at the headquarters than anywhere else in that town. He would definitely have noticed a fit looking biker cop drive into the parking lot, pause to stare at the untrimmed lawn in poorly concealed indignation and then proceed to walk down to the headquarters building itself.

Police deputy, Chet Baker, walked smartly to his cubicle at the police headquarters and began to arrange his desk for the day. He looked immaculately clean, dressed in a stripped, sapphire blue, crisp uniform and had a air around him that commanded immense respect.

He was of average height, with an average, straight-nosed cop face and average black, well-trimmed hair. His boots were squeaky clean and would have been considered new by anyone not on the force. Even if he was not an excellent cop, he certainly looked the part. But he was an excellent cop with an ambition to becoming Police Chief that nearly rivaled his skill.

He had an uncanny knack for unraveling crime, no matter how difficult the case was. It was common knowledge around the force and out of it that most of the cases solved by the Chief of Police were dropped at his feet by Detective Chet, as he was polarizingly referred to. The petty cases were overblown in the local media as part of the anti-crime facade of the corrupt police chief. The not-so-petty cases died a natural death. Just like the Millar case.

When Vasco Millar had been shot dead, Chet had worked himself into a right uptight state. He had gone over every little, whimsical detail of the case in his mind and was starting to piece the puzzle together when the Chief had ordered him in no uncertain terms to cease and desist. Chet strongly suspected that the order was a directive from Millar himself, which was all the more disconcerting in two ways.

The first was that it meant that the force was strongly influenced by him, strongly influenced enough that it would hurriedly hush up a very rare murder case of an influential personality. The second was that it was extremely unusual that Millar would put a hold on to investigations about the murder of his heir.

Nonetheless, he did stop probing into the case officially. But he never stopped investigating it personally. Even when that Langley person had been “convicted” of the murder and then locked up in a sanitorium after being declared mentally unfit by the sanitorium’s resident hack.

The shrill ringing of the desk telephone brought his mind that had been preoccupied with perusing different matters back to the reality of his office and its surroundings. He sighed a little and then frowned a little.

It was very unusual indeed that the desk at the headquarters received a call, moreso early in the morning. The townsfolk preferred to come directly to the headquarters to lodge their complaints about broken windows, a lousy neighbor, a threatening louse or other things that could have been taken care of domestically in an attempt to service their ego and ascribe an air of importance to themselves.

Within a minute, Kent and Rudd sprinted into his office without knocking, apprehension written in bold letters on the creases of their forehead. Kent and Rudd were the youngest in the force and were alike in many ways. They both had looked strangely alike, took immense pleasure in their job as desk officers and had no ambition asides being exactly what they were.

They also were not corrupted by the rot in the force or appealed to by a glut for money and that coupled with their unlimited access to vital information as desk officers made them a perfect fit as informants for Chet.

“Sir, I’m afraid we have a big problem” Kent said, speeding through his words as though anxious to say more.

“Chase Langley has broken out of the Sanitorium”.

Chet reacted has though he had accidentally sat on naked wiring. This was an unexpected twist that meant a lot of things. It was a thing to have a murder suspect locked up in a sanitorium and investigation into the murder hushed up. But when that suspect breaks out, that is an entirely different matter.

The whole town would be turned inside out in a thorough manhunt that would probably locate a sperm cell in an ejaculate. The hunt would last three days and if the suspect was still at large, the state troopers would move in. It was a situation alright.

“When was it reported? Give me the specifics.”

“The incident was reported a few minutes ago by the Sanitorium’s receptionist. The breakout occurred an hour ago. It makes you wonder why she’s just reporting it, doesn’t it? The breakout was successful anyway and there were no casualties. The medical attendant on duty was roughed up a little.”

Well, Chet thought, this was it. His one chance to bust this case wide open and seal his promotion. In the end, the state troopers would get involved inevitably. The trick was to present to them a nice and tidy solved case. He had three days.

“Listen to me carefully officers. We must find him. I repeat for the benefit of emphasis that he must be found. I do not care how you do it, what you do or do not do. I want that man found within forty-eight hours. Sew this town tight as a surgeon’s stitch and turn it inside out. He has an hour’s headstart. That is not enough for him to escape the town already. You have the entire force at your disposal. I’d see to it that the Chief does not restrict you. By all means, bring in Langley within forty-eight hours.”

“Very well, sir”

“You’re dismissed”

Chet drew a deep breath in a useful attempt to keep calm. He knew Langley. They had both served in the same platoon in the army before he had been redeployed to this town after the dissolution of their regiment..before Chase had been dishonorably dismissed and if Chase did not want to be found, he would not be found.

That did not worry him. He had no interest in finding Chase anyway. He was sure that Chase was at best a pawn in a grand scheme that had cost Vasco his life. The only worry he had was that Chase was at large and if he had the slightest interest in pursuing his involvement in the case to a logical conclusion, it was a big complication indeed. However, this was his big break and no one, not even Chase Langley, would stop him and if he tried to get involved in the investigation, well, that would be too bad for him.

For all purposes and intents, he needed to begin the investigation from where he should have a long time ago. He had to examine Vasco’s body. The body of a murder victim often offered the trained eye a logical explanation regarding who committed the murder and how it was committed. Yes indeed, he thought, that was a good start.

Reaching for his desk phone, he cleared his throat loudly and dialled the Chief of Police.



*********************************

The one orchestrated the murder of Vasco Millar woke up to a start after having had the same nightmare for the third time that week. But it was to the sound of his private phone that he did awake which meant that the caller had an access to the number and was aware that he would still be in bed.

“Yes?”, he questioned, feeling slightly annoyed yet maintaining an unruffled, expressionless look that would have passed for a parishioner receiving communion on a perfect, sunny Sunday morning.

“I’m afraid we have a problem”, the caller whispered in a muffled voice that revealed, in crystal clear terms, the identity of the caller to his receiver.

“With you, there always is a problem. What is it this time?”

“Langley has escaped”

The silence that followed was solid enough to butter up a toast.

“The police?”

“Well, they are making one heck of an effort to find him. The town is in an uproar.”

“Right. Listen carefully to me. You know better than I do that the police are going to try to find him within three days before the troopers move in. I’m clearing out before then. I want you to fix it so I have no problems. The first instruction you have from me is to handle the Langley situation. I have no doubt he is still in town. Don’t underestimate him. He’s a tough cookie that is smarter than he is tough.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll be in touch with further instructions”, the receiver said with a note of finality and hung up.

He considered his plans as he replaced the phone. Well, they would have to be fastracked. He was running out of patience with the delay anyway. The scheming and plotting and strategizing excited him more than anything..anything except the money and everything that came with it.

Now was his big break. Within three days, he would have more money than most people in the world and all of it to himself. All that money and the other incentive. Well, he was going to have it and no one would stand in his way. Not Langley, not even that hyperactive detective nor anyone else. Three days.



***************************



An old man walked into the pub and ordered a pint of beer. He was bald and wore a white moustache with a thin white scar at the end of it. He walked with a slight limp and wore a loosely fitting piece of white elderly clothing. He sat by the bar and nearly drank the beer at a gulp.

That man was Chase Langley. He had come into the pub to reflect and find accommodation. He had a job on his hands.

“Say, my dear young man”, he asked Cisco the Negro bartender in a groggy voice, “have you got a room to spare for an old fella to lay his head?”

Cisco liked the old man. He looked like a wandering war veteran who had breezed into town and was in search of accommodation. Well, he was going to get it. The streets were a mess and no place for any man, old or young, because of the manhunt for the escaped murderer. It was bad for business, folks had not come out to drink or eat.

“Fifty bucks a week with breakfast and dinner”, Cisco said, smiling at the old man. The man’s arms were quite muscular for his age; they were evident despite his loose outfit.

The old man paid up and Cisco walked him to one of the rooms, took his order for breakfast, handed him the keys and quietly shut the door behind him as he left the room.

Once alone, Chase sat on the bed in the room and went over his plan. If it worked, he would bust the case wide open whether Millar or the police wanted him to or not. He now knew Millar had shut him up in the sanitorium and accused him of the murder of his son. The first step was to find out why. He would, he owed himself that one.

He knew that he had three days before the state troopers would be called in. Before then, he had to solved the case, get paid for it and leave the town. His days at the Sanitorium had been an harrowing experience for him. He had no interest in petty crime and booze and women anymore. That kind of life had lost its appeal for him. He wanted to establish his own private detective agency and lead a responsible life for a change. He had three days to make that happen.

Whistling a tune under his breath uninterestedly, he began to consider his plan again as he patiently awaited breakfast.



******THE END OF BOOK ONE



Author’s Note: “I tell you, Isaac. You have a criminal mind. You should write crime sometime. The results would definitely surprise you.” – Adebanji Ogunlanwo (Rest in Peace. I miss you, man.)



I began writing “They come and go” without a clear idea of how the story would turn out. I just wanted to fulfill Banji’s lifelong dream of reading crime fiction that I wrote. Sadly, he never did.



I still do not know how this story will end. We have hit the 12000+ mark and Book 2 is just beginning. It would be around 12000+ too, bringing us to around 25000 words. I intend to complete it before the end of the year. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have so far. The real fun is just about to begin.



– Abraham Isaac Oluwatimilehin

Chase Langley woke up. He had no idea how long he had been out. The room looked neat and different. In reality, it didn’t look like a room. It looked like heaven. A heaven without the halo-wearing angels and the great throne of God. There was a serenity that pervaded the atmosphere. Everything looked white and calmingly sweet. Comfortable. A little too comfortable than he was used to.

He felt a strangely familiar sensation of freedom and touched his head. He was bald now. All his hair had been shaved. His clothing was also markedly different. He now wore a blue, round-necked shirt and a trouser of the same shade and color. He felt refreshingly empty. Free. Light. He instinctively had a strong hunch as to where he was. What he was. A sanitorium. A madhouse. A sanitorium. He was being treated for a mental illness..or a perceived appearance of it.

The realization did not shock him. He felt very calm indeed, calm enough to hear the thunderous silence in his head. He examined the room. It was empty, save for a feeding table and chair and his bed. He was cuffed to the metal bedpost and securely so. He tasked his memory with remembrance and found it equally clear and foggy..

He remembered blacking out in Lorenzo’s home. He had vague memories of waking up in this same room with different settings to it. Someone had once sent him flowers, or so he thought. He had memories of waking and feeling groggy and clammy, as though he were alive yet dead. He had memories of himself fighting to gain a sense of self-awareness before a recently familiar needle constantly snuffed the struggle out of him. He had memories of being fed constantly in his conscious unconsciousness. He particularly hated the scent some spice constantly added to his meals and how it always made him nearly puke every time but his vomit attempts eventually ended in bigger swallows.

He knew he was being held here against his own will. The handcuff said that expressly enough. He also knew whoever or whatever system was in the habit of keeping him as unconscious as possible had suffered a momentary setback; that there had been an unplanned lapse in the process that was constantly snuffing the air out of him. Big misstep, he thought to himself.

He knew had to get out wherever he was being held. Somehow, he didn’t think that getting out would be a problem. Soon enough, something or someone who knew their way around the place would attempt to put him to sleep again. They would fail and inadvertently be his exit ticket.

Feeling a little smug and content with himself, albeit alert and sensitively conscious, he lay down and waited.



*****************************************



Josh Riddle, 28, glanced at his wristwatch and nearly spat in disgust. He hated his job. He had missed his shift, again. Not that it mattered. He had missed it sometimes before. Never this late though. Doing the same thing over time and again, for the past three months, had to get dreary at some point. It had gotten dreary before now. But, he was exceptionally late for his shift this time. He was eight hours late. In reality, he had completely missed his shift.

He looked across from where he was lying and smiled at the sight beside him. Karen, his fiance, had sprawled out on the bed and was drawing in her breath in soft, barely audible snores that sounded just like an angelic choral to his hearing. She was just pretty, nothing like a T.V glamour girl or like an over-photoshopped prototypical model. She was pretty in the average, comfortable way. The way he liked. She loved him. Sometimes, it scared him the way she loved. It was fierce, passionate and left him drained with every dose yet craving for more of it. Just like whenever they made love. The waves of passion that swept through them both could probably generate electricity. The last sessions were particularly vociferous and had left him so drained that he had overslept and consequently missed his shift. He didn’t mind. He would probably miss a lot more shifts in the future if they stayed engaged and that suited him just fine.

“Morning Brahma”

She was awake and smiling up at him, the sweetest thing walking God’s green earth. He reached out and kissed her forehead, watching her face break into a dimpled blush.

“Morning sweets. Slept well?”

“Sound as a baby. You’re up already. Bundle of positive energy, aren’t you”, she playfully enquired, teasing the tip of his nose with her little finger.

“Oh, yea. I need to get on the road as soon as I can. I missed last night’s shift”

She frowned.

“But I shan’t be long, sweets. I need sort out a thing or two and I shall be back before you know it.”

“It’s just a little past the fourth hour of the morning. Be safe, will you?”

“Sure”, Josh said, half yawning. He was already getting into his things while taking a pause every few seconds to stare at Karen. She looked disturbed. He did not blame her, he was disturbed himself. But his work was sensitive and things could look awkward come daylight if he did not do the needful.

He gently brushed Karen’s lips with his and made for the door, whispering a soft “love you” to her before assuming a sense of businesslike urgency in his exit.

“Your work..I suppose it is important that you do not miss a beat?”

“Yes”, slightly raising his shoulders and giving himself an air of importance before speaking again. “Mr Millar is an important and a wealthy client. He likes to think that his business is handled as seriously as is humanly possible.”

Karen’s eyes fluttered a little. She shifted uneasily and reconditioned her voice to a something of a mild, firm throaty bass as though she intended to soothe him with it.

“But why does Millar keep that psychopath at Crystal Santorium? It is already common knowledge that he is unstable and that he murdered Vasco and two of his friends. It is a small town and we all would sleep a little more soundly at night knowing that horrible person was as far away from us as possible.”

“You slept fine last night”, Josh quipped, flashing a sneering smile across his face and then wiping it off at the speed of light with a glance at the look on Karen’s face.

“It’s nothing, really. I doubt that Mr. Millar would like the bad publicity that would ensue from the whole affair it went public with court proceedings and all. Even if the murders are prosecuted, the court would only do what he is doing now, send the Chase guy to a sanitorium. Millar isn’t exactly young anymore. Losing his wife and only child is enough grief without having to deal with the prying eyes of the press. I believe the situation is best kept as it is for now.”

“But he could escape.”

“He’s chained and asleep nearly all the time. The guards at the sanitorium have rifles for any emergency. Unless he is released, no, I do not suppose that he can escape.”

Karen attempted to speak again but Josh quickly put a finger to her lips and kissed her forehead. He hated working at a sanitorium. He wanted to make enough money, get married to Karen and fund himself through medical school at some point. As he walked out of the room, the silence that followed was heavy enough for him to detect the slightest of auditory vibrations and he heard it clearly when she whispered under her breath,

“Be safe.”



**********************************************



Chase kept as still as he could in the hours that followed his initial awakening but he started to get a little restless as time passed. He knew for a certainty that there had been an incident resulting in him not being sedated and it was starting to worry him a little.

He wondered about Lorenzo. It was likely that he knew he was being held as a prisoner in a madhouse wherever he was in and was already making plans to secure his release. There was also the possibility that he was very far away from Lorenzo and his business. He had made so many enemies he could not be sure who was coming for his head. Maybe one of the men he had conned in the past had decided to fix him. But the more he considered that possibility, the less sense it made. Anyone who wanted to get even with him would do so quickly and make a good job of it. But, he had not been killed yet; neither had he suffered any form of torture up until that time. In truth, asides from being cuffed and caged, he had been kept in a perfectly normal condition.

He was still brooding over the thought when he heard voices, one, male and the other, female. He knew the moment he had been waiting for was finally upon him. He sat up without much consideration, he swung into action…



************************************



Josh flashed his identification tag at the sleepy-eyed security guard on duty who saluted him as he opened the door and walked into the sanitorium’s reception hall. There were usually a lot more than one security personnel on guard duty during the day but there was only one at night. All of the patients were put to sleep at night and it was hard to find any security personnel willing to handle night shifts in such a small town. Most were tucked up in bed with their family or stone-drunk in a pub or holed up with a dame or something of the sort.

Pamela, the sanitorium receptionist flashed a knowing wink at him as he walked in. Josh fascinated her. Anything in trouser pants fascinated her actually, but Josh was a special case. Men, married and otherwise, went for her in a big way the moment she flashed a little skin at them. But Josh was different. It amused her, his indifference to her constant advances, even irritated her somewhat. However, it did not sweat her at all. She constantly reassured herself that someday, somehow, she would get him.

Josh strolled up to Pamela as she winked at him and exchanged pleasantries with her. Walking away, he heaved a little sigh. She was everyone’s screw and more importantly, she was the boss’ screw. It would not do for her to have him set up in a perfect position for blackmail. He hated his job but needed the money that came with it and the fact that she knew that he had missed his shift made him uneasy indeed.

He entered his cubicle and drew a mild sedative dosage into a disposable syringe, fitted a needle cap on its bore and picked up a bunch of keys. Then, he walked down the adjacent corridor until he got to the room where the patient he had been managing for the past three months resided. It was not much of a management though. His job was to moderately sedate at reasonable time intervals.

The scene that greeted his eyes stopped him in his strides and drew an instinctive, impulsive reaction..



********************************



Chase heard the door open and slightly adjusted his focus to see a man of average height stop at the door and then run into the room. He was lying on the floor of the room, his right limb hanging from the handcuff attached to the bed rails. As the man came rushing at him, he swung a punch aiming at his jaw and it connected like clockwork. The man went down as though he had been pole-axed.

He searched him with his free hand and found a bunch of keys, one of which looked like cuff lock. He tried it and the cuff came off with a click. Rubbing his wrists, he quietly sneaked out of the room. It did not take him a long time to locate the entrance but doing so presented a slight complication. There was no way of getting to it without passing through a reception where a lady who look like she was at a loss for what to do was seated.

He damned the consequences and made straight for the door. The lady glanced at him and winked but other than that, she showed no sign that she knew he was on the escape. He got to the door and opened it; breathing in the cold, damp air. He stepped out of the building and threw a glance at security man who was having a nap just by the door.

He was free again..for the present.



************************************

Pamela entered the room where the patient who had escaped the sanitorium had been held. Josh lay on the floor, apparently knocked out cold. She shrugged in indifference and made for the door. But just as she reached to open the door, a thought flashed through her mind and she afforded herself a smile that sent warmth and wild passion gushing through her.

She fastened the door shut, returned to Josh and set about amusing herself.

CHAPTER THREE

Chase had not been out for more than twenty minutes when he stirred and became aware of himself again. His head hurt like hell. He made no attempt to move yet, uncertain about what the assailant might have done to his unconscious body and not wanting to move anything broken. He felt around his body with his hands, trying to note any region that would elicit pain on touch but he felt fine; nearly fine anyway, his head was throbbing with pain. He reached for the back of his head with his fingers and felt a soft, small lump there as well as a jolt of white-hot pain that filled his mouth with a lot of words his mother would not have been proud of. He took a deep breath and helped himself to his feet. He made a quick study of the environment and in less than three seconds, he realized that something had gone very, very wrong.
He was back in the room, lying on the floor of it. The room had been cleared and cleaned of vomit and blood and more shockingly, the body of Matt had been moved. In fact, the room looked as though Matt had strolled in to take a nap and was just about waking up from it.
Matt dying was not an issue. He owed creditors, was a wreck and probably would not last long if he was thrown in jail. Lorenzo had assured him of the total cooperation of the police. It would have been a matter of getting in touch with the local police chief and reporting the details of the incident and leaving the police force to take care of the body. But there was no body and that could very well be the principal ingredient in the recipe for a number of very awkward scenarios that the police might not be able to ignore, no matter how deep they were in Lorenzo's fat pocket.
He decided to return to the hotel. He walked gingerly out of the room, taking good care so he did not move his head too much. It was still hurting like a lash of the devil's whip. He walked down the road and hailed a cab that nearly went past him at the speed of light. The driver was an albino who did not reply in speech or action except for a curt nod when Chase instructed him to drive to the hotel and climbed in into the cab. Chase could not be bothered. He relaxed a little as the cab tore through the nearly empty road and felt a whole lot better for it. The cab raced past the point where he had earlier put a scare in whoever was tailing him and he managed a little smile and reaching for a cigarette in his inner pocket, he tried to ponder on the details of what had happened. Then, as sudden as could possibly be, he experienced another shock so powerful that he strained his already pain-laden neck in reaction.
One of his pistols was missing. He remembered that he had drawn the pistol from his right inner pocket, released the safety catch and had fired once. The pocket was empty now. Since his initials were carved on the gun butt, there was no mistaking the intent behind the disappearances. Along with the missing body, the gun held him in responsibility for murder. Obviously, someone wanted the police on his coattails, to limit his freedom.
The cab dropped him off at the hotel and he returned to his room. He ordered a stiff shot of whiskey with a reasonable amount of ice and lit a cigarette, his brain working furiously to iron out the details and consequences of what had happened, searing with agonizing pain as a result. The receptionist who also doubled as the singular member of the hotel's room service department the whiskey and brought a small, brown, paper envelope as well. It had been delivered earlier and was addressed to him. It contained a check for 10,000 in Chase's name signed by Lorenzo himself.
Excitement overwhelmed Chase as he held the check up as though he could not believe his own eyes. One look was enough to assure him that it was as real as himself. He was ten thousand richer. He sat down and put some calm into himself.
He considered it and saw that he had been too soft so far. Here he was without a clue and with a check for ten grand that he did not deserve. Well, that was about to change.
He opened his first-aid box and gently applied a ointment on the sight of the swelling on his head and chewed a couple tablets of aspirin to relieve the pain. He loaded the other .25 automatic pistol, changed his clothing and was about to reach for the telephone when it rang. Lorenzo's voice was unmistakable.
"My home. Urgent" and the line went off before Chase could react.
Chase reacted just fine. He knew instinctively that whatever use Matt's body and his gun had been put to was already beginning to yield sweet fruits and that it would not be a fanciful thing for him. He braced himself and left for the home of Lorenzo, brimming with apprehension and a rising anger. An anger like a rising tidal wave with the intensity of a volcano on the verge of eruption.

*************************************

"Welcome, Mr. Chase"
Chase replied with a nod. He had no patience for pleasantries in his present mood and was certain that Lorenzo had not called him up with such haste and urgency for a nice, little tea-party.
"You have been highly recommended and are being well-paid but you have made a grave mistake in this course of your duty. I assured you of the cooperation of the local authorities because I assumed that it would enhance your work and give you a certain leverage".
Lorenzo paused and met the gaze of Chase; intense, as though each man was intent on staring into the soul of the other.
"I have a cordial relationship with the Sheriff and he has informed me that his men have found the body of a man, shot to death by appearance, and a fireman bearing your initials beside it. It turns out to be that the man in question is a friend of my murdered son, Matt. One of the two men who were in his company in the last hours of his life. Do you see the catch?"
"I do", Chase replied, his anger reaching boiling point. The police wouldn't leave him be now that he had been implicated in a murder in the course of his investigation. It was a lucky thing that Lorenzo had the Sheriff on his payroll, for all the good things in life, Chase might have been behind bars by the time. A freshly fired gun with his prints and initials beside a corpse killed with the same weapon was enough evidence for a jury to slip a nice, strong noose around his neck.
"The other friend has been taken into custody for protection sake. Perhaps you have misinterpreted your assignment, Mr Chase, but I'll have you know that I am very disappointed in you. I am inclined to tell you that you will earn every single dime I am paying you to undertake this matter. Had you not been highly recommended..."
"Let me tell you something, Mr wiseguy", Chase interrupted as Lorenzo's eyes glared at him in angered surprise as though he was not used to being cut short, "I'm not in the mood for a talking-to. If you were not so much of a sucker to pay me as much as a hundred thousand for a job I would sweetly do for a ton less, you would be in a world of agony right now for yammering at me like that. But you are and I'm not so much of a sucker to think you would keep paying up after I give you a nice kicking in the lady-parts. Still, there is a border to my money lust and you are on the edge of it. If you're smart, take my advice and stop flapping your gum.
In the past few hours, I've been shot at, knocked out and framed for murder. Someone is gunning for me in a big way because of this investigation and quite frankly, I could refund your money and hop on the next bus out of town. Tell you what, I could. I won't.
When a guy shoots at me, it creeps me out and I would have you know that I hate being creeped out. I hate it more than I hate anything I've ever hated and the list is huge. I hate it so badly and when I hate something, I deal with it. So I'm going to deal with your problem because it has become my problem. In ten days or less, I will deliver the killer to you and if I don't, you have a complete refund and I get out of here and never come back. If that is all, I would like to leave now."
Chase stood up slowly, his eyes not leaving Lorenzo's for a fraction of a second and it was a dejected man who had resigned to fate and Chase to give him justice that stood up to meet his handshake. But immediately they locked hands, something extraordinary happened.
Lorenzo's grip tightened so fixedly that it was nearly vice. A grim, vicious half-smile spread across his face that did not reach his eyes. He nodded once, slowly raising his chin up in the direction of the door of the room like a snake rearing its head to strike. He then suddenly released his grip and returned to his normal state of gloom as though the man who had been in his place the previous second was a polar mirror-image of himself. Chase knew for a certain that moment that Lorenzo had lost his sanity or at the very best, some of it.
Chase walked out of the room on the verge of tremors. His strong fingers had not been crushed by the pressure of the grip but it was a near thing. He knew Lorenzo was mentally disturbed and the thought was not very encouraging. But Chase was in his own element and had an anger stewing up inside of him, equalling whatever insanity Lorenzo had. He met the Fillpino chauffeur on his way out and simply waved. He had had his fill of Lorenzo and his house and everything that came with it or so he thought, until he lifted his eyes as he was nearly exiting the front door.
Right there stood Mrs Millar, her scarlet eyes smiling at him invitingly. It was hypnotic, breaking down the walls of his resistance and recently acquired anger and drawing him to her in a way that befuddled his understanding and left him carelessly helpless. All the images of her that he had painted in his head since he first saw progressively seemed like rubbish now that he was seeing the real thing up close. She had such compelling eyes and a luscious figure that would have made the best sculptor green with envy. Without signaling him or saying it, she was calling him and he helplessly walked towards her as though unaware of himself and only stopped when he was in her arms.
Anyone could have walked in on them in that awkward position and it would have spent doom for him but he did not care at all. The only thing that mattered was the feel of the warmth of her skin on his. The scent of her hair that pervaded his nostrils as her long, slender fingers snaked through his hair and pulled him closer and tighter around her bosom. She was taming him and possessing him and he was loving every second of it, not wanting it to end. Her hands strayed to the back of his head and she pulled his face so close to hers that the tip of their noses touched.
Suddenly, she tightened her grip on his head and whispered in his ears,
"Go away. You're not wanted here."
The next few seconds passed very quickly. She suddenly jerked away from him, looking as white and pale as though she had seen an apparition. Chase tried to turn around to determine the cause of the reaction but before he could do so, a jolt of white-hot pain shot through his head stemming from the site of his earlier assault and he blacked out again.

proproman:
Thanks. I'll check em out. I thought there was nothing like fantasy in this country given that everyone is writing either a mournful story about life or "ayo and seyi". I've got loads of ideas and can't wait to start writing. Thanx a lot.


And by the way, A LOT is wrong with "eze and the fisherman".

A lot is wrong with your literary orientation or lack of it. A whole lot.

adekayo1234:
Google is your friend

Stop exhibiting ignorance. The novel is "a song of ice and fire"