C.S.I: 9JA (The Jack And Jill Story: Episode 6)

The commissioner’s voice was deep and commanding, and it went well with his build. Considering it was his daughter’s boyfriend who was murdered, Chrome had been expecting him to make an appearance, but not so soon. He had made sure information concerning the death of Jackson Essien and Monica Scott’s connection to it was kept within a closed circle.

Chief Scott took a look at all three officers before he continued, “I believe you are holding my daughter here against her will and without an attorney. I believe you officers of the law know the gravity of such an infringement on the fundamental rights of a citizen.”

Chrome was the one who responded. “Our apologies, sir, but your daughter is in fact our only lead in a murder case. It is only procedure that we cross-examine her.” Chrome flicked a look at the driver and wondered idly about the origin of the scar on his cheek. He refocused his attention on the commissioner and said, “Since you are a man of the law, you are welcome to sit in while we ask your daughter some questions.”

“I don’t mind if I do,” Anthony replied.

They all walked into the building and the driver got back into the car and drove towards the parking lot.

By the time the three officers walked into the interrogation room with the commissioner, Edeeth was trying her best to get some answers from an inconsolable Monica. Chrome could see that her tears were genuine just as Walter had said. When Monica saw her father, she rushed up from her seat, across the room and embraced him.

“Daddy!” she cried into his shoulder.

“What have you done to my daughter?” Anthony quizzed. 

Edeeth shook her head and walked over to where her fellow officers stood. “May I see you guys outside?” she said sotto voce, and the four of them left the chief and his daughter in the interrogation room. “According to her,” Edeeth began once they were outside, “she was nowhere near the crime scene last night.” She paused before she continued, “But I think she’s hiding something… There’s something she’s holding back, she’s just not talking.”

“With the way she was crying in there, who can?” Jerome chipped in.

Walter said, “It’s going to be even more difficult to get anything out of her now that daddy’s around.”

Chrome peered through window of the interrogation room. He looked intently at the Scotts, especially at Monica. He tried not to miss a thing. Then, he turned to Walter. “We need to get back to the hill. I feel we must have missed something.” To Edeeth and Jerome, he added, “Edeeth, I want you to get as much information as you can on our dead friend. I want to know his personal background, his parents’ background, anything that can give us headway in this case. Jay, I need you to do me a favor. I want you to reach out to your contact at the airport. I want to know about flights from Uyo to Jos within the past 24 hours.” Jerome raised an eyebrow and Chrome understood what he was asking. “I want to know how the commissioner could be here so quickly. Even if Monica called him this morning while you guys picked her up from her house, it still would take a while for him to make it down here. If my hunch is anything to go by, then I believe we either have a leak within the department or Monica knows a whole lot about last night.”

The other three officers exchanged glances, and Chrome continued, “We can’t hold her for more than six hours without any proof to put her as a suspect, so we have to cut her loose for now. But we will have to keep a close eye on her…and her father.” The others nodded in agreement. Chrome looked at his watch and concluded, “It is 2:30pm now. Let’s meet back at the war room in three hours with our findings.” He paused to divide a searching gaze on their faces before adding, “Let’s do our best to close this case as quickly as possible.”

“Yes sir,” they chorused.

Jerome headed off in the direction of the exit while the other three went back into the interrogation room. Anthony got to his feet immediately they entered; indignation was starting to tighten his features. “Why are we still here?” he seethed. “Aren’t you done interrogating my daughter?”

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” Chrome replied.

“You had better be,” the commissioner spat at him. “We are so out of here. And you better not bother my daughter again unless you have something more concrete. Have I made myself clear?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Monica. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s leave.” The young girl stood.

As the two of them walked towards the door, Chrome stretched out his hand to shake that of Monica’s. “My condolences, I know this is a very hard time for you.” He held her hand and looked steadily into her eyes. “We would, however, appreciate it if you didn’t leave town until the investigation is over.” He turned a meaningful look on her father as he spoke.

“Don’t worry, she won’t.” And then, Anthony led Monica out the door and towards the exit.

The officers stepped out of the interrogation room after them, watching the father–daughter duo as they walked toward the wide front door. The light of the afternoon haloed them and cast the outlines of their bodies in sharp relief. A soft breeze caught and fluttered the hem of the kaftan the commissioner was wearing as he opened the door and held it so until his daughter had passed.

The door shut behind them, and Edeeth spoke first, “OK, it’s official. She killed him. Who wants to bet money on it?”

Walter chuckled at her words. He liked that about her, always making jokes at the appropriate times to ease the tension in the air.

Chrome started for the door, saying, “Ok, Walter, let’s get going.”

The other man turned and winked at Edeeth as he followed his boss. Edeeth smiled and shook her head before heading off to her own assignment.

***

Jerome got back to his makeshift desk in the forensics department and put a call through to his contact at the airport using the secured line in the office. The room was not exactly what you would expect an elite unit such as the CSI team to be occupying. The room was rectangular and clean, with the smell of fresh paint now fading after weeks of use. The linoleum was well-trodden, and the swivel chairs creaked when you sat on them. The only computer in the room was the one on Chrome’s desk, and the internet connection was very nearly lamentable. Jerome couldn’t wait for them to be done with this case and be on their way back to Abuja, from whence they’d been summoned. They’d already been in Jos for close to a month, working on another murder case, one that they resolved just yesterday. The perp they’d been hunting blew his out brains when the hand of the law knocked on his door. Today was supposed to be about wrapping up the paperwork and flying back to Abuja.

But no, Jackson Essien had to tumble down the hill and keep them in Jos for God-knows-how-long, Jerome thought with some disgruntlement as he waited for his call to connect.

The Crime Scene Investigation department was permanently stationed in the FCT, with the objective of traveling out to different cities in the country when summoned by the local police; twice they’d even flown out to Accra in Ghana to assist on two different cases, one of which had been about the serial killings of victims in the exact same way described in the bestselling novel of the widely-celebrated Nigerian author, Ben Ikhator. The writer had assisted them on that case, and the addition of the CSI team’s investigative prowess had left a lasting impression on the Ghanaian police force, hence the re-invitation to help in the investigation of the second case. But they only responded to cases that were unique.

Suddenly he was pulled out of his reverie when a perky female voice said, “Hello?”

“Debs, it’s me, Jerome.”

His contact was a woman named Deborah Banks. She worked at the Records Department of the Murtala Mohammed International Airport in Lagos, but she was always in the know about goings-on within each airline that operated in all the other airports. If anyone was going anywhere, she would know.

“Hi, Jay, what’s up? Caught your bad guy in Jos yet?”

“Kinda. He decided to hurry on to hell ahead of schedule.”

Deborah giggled. “Oh man. Don’t you just love when they speed things up that way?”

“The redefinition of justice, even though it makes closure for the victims’ families hard to get.”

There was a brief uncomfortable silence as Deborah’s mirth was swatted by Jerome’s somber words. “Uh…so, ok, what can I help you with? Every time you call, there’s always something you need.” She added a chuckle to take the sting off her words.

He told her what he needed from her. She gave him the assurance that within the next hour she would have some information for him. Jerome dropped the receiver of the desk-phone and leaned back on the chair he sat on. He let his mind wander to earlier that day. He remembered the corpse of the young man. He was an orphan. Something the dead man had in common with him. Something in that thought stirred up a question within him. He leaned forward and picked up the receiver of the desk-phone again. This time, he put a call through to the Akwa-Ibom state police command.