C.S.I: 9JA (The Jack And Jill Story: Episode 14)

The jeep that belonged to Anthony Scott plowed its way through Bauchi Road as he made his way back to his Bukuru residence. His chauffeur drove while Chief Scott busied himself with some documents at the back of the car. He looked up at the rear-view mirror and called his driver. “Dapo.”

“Sir?”

“Any word from the house?”

“No, sir. It seems she didn’t try leaving again.”

“Ok.” The commissioner returned back to his papers. After a while, he looked up again and said, “How is your injury?”

The driver hesitated for a moment, and then answered “It’s…it’s healing fine, sir.”

Chief Scott cocked a brow and said, “Is that so?”

The driver remained silent. The commissioner looked away from the mirror and said caustically, “Serves you right for not paying attention while you shaved.”

Dapo shrugged and said nothing still.

Anthony continued, “Same way you didn’t pay attention last night. Now my daughter is in this mess…” His voice was gaining volume as he continued. “The reason I kept you here was to watch over her. Don’t let her do anything stupid, but you failed me!”

There was silence. After a while, Dapo said softly, “I’m sorry, sir.” His voice betrayed no emotion. He maneuvered the car around the roundabout at Terminus and negotiated the Abuja/Jos expressway.

Anthony put away his documents into a briefcase and shut it. He leaned back on the seat and tried to relax on the plush leather covering. He sighed and finally said, “When we get home, I want you to contact my PA and tell him to arrange for our flight back to Uyo tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, sir?”

“Yes, after the charity tournament, I want to leave this town and take my daughter away from here before the police try to arrest her again.”

“Ok, sir.” Dapo looked at his boss through the rear-view mirror as he answered. He caught Anthony’s gaze and the man nodded at him and said, “You’ll be coming with us.”

Dapo put his stare back on the road; there was no need to answer. The car was almost at the intersection which led to the area where the Scott residence was situated. In the distance, the blaze of lights that illuminated the houses in that area shone brightly in the gathering dusk.

***

Anderson was propped up on his bed. Though he didn’t seem so, his face looked tired. Walter sat beside him, eager to hear what he had to say. The old man heaved a sigh and began his tale.

“About forty-five years ago, I met and fell in love with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her name was Rebecca Ette. We were both freshmen in the University of Uyo. I was new to the South since I am from Plateau State and grew up here. She showed me the way around Uyo. We grew close as the years went by, but we couldn’t go further than being friends because of our ethnic differences. We both left school a few years later and lost contact. But deep down in my heart I could never forget her. She was my first and only true love. I couldn’t date other women because of this.” He gave a self-deprecating shake of his head before continuing, “I’m sure you are wondering what kind of pathetic loser I am.” Before Walter could open his mouth to protest, he went on, “Anyway, as fate would have it, I was posted to Rivers State for my Youth Service.” He looked at the younger man and smiled wryly. “Yes, we had NYSC in my time too. And at the time, I served with a multinational oil firm. There was where I met the man who became my best friend.”

“Mr. Josiah Essien,” Walter found himself saying.

Anderson was taken aback by his words briefly. Then he smiled again and said, “I see you guys have been digging.”

“That’s what we are paid to do, what we are good at, to dig in our pursuit of the truth.”

“For the truth to set someone else free?” Anderson asked sardonically.

“In a way. The victim of a murder – the people he or she left behind – they all deserve the truth to be brought to light.” For a moment, when Anderson said nothing, Walter said encouragingly, “So, sir, you were saying?”

Anderson nodded. “Josiah and I became very close over the course of our youth service and we started planning business strategies together. We wanted to make it big and we weren’t ready to be anyone’s lackeys in any office. The year of the service ended and we started our firm immediately after. It was a small business. We started by hiring trucks to haul goods for marketers around the south-eastern and south-western states. In time, we began hauling oil and gas products. Our business expanded very quickly and we began delving into other lines of services. And six years after we started, our business became a limited liability company. We were in the money now and the pressure to settle began to tell on us. That was when JoJo – that was the nickname everyone called Josiah – introduced me to his fiancée. There was no quantifying my shock and dismay when I saw that his girlfriend and wife-to-be was none other than Rebecca. My Rebecca!”

The man’s voice betrayed the pain he felt at his recollections. Instinctively, Walter touched his hand.

“I’m fine,” he said hoarsely, tapping Walter’s hand reassuringly. “Even at that point, Rebecca and me – we were still very much in love. The feelings never died. The years that had passed did nothing to quench the passion. We tried our best to put a check on our emotions, to snuff out the feelings…but it just wasn’t possible. On the night before JoJo proposed to her, I went over to her place at her request. One thing led to another and the restraints we had put on our feelings were cut loose.” He looked up and faced Walter, as though daring him to condemn him for what he was going to say next. “We made love that night and I never once regretted it.”

He paused for a moment, and then continued, “She went on to marry JoJo and about six months after they moved in as a married couple – nine months after we made love – she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Even then, I wasn’t quite sure if the baby was mine or not, but I was happy for the couple. As the years went by, our business organization grew larger and attracted investors. Soon we had our hands in just about everything in Nigeria. Industry, import, export, you name it. We were all wealthy and happy, or so I thought.

“Then, JoJo called me one day; I think Jackson was about sixteen years old then. He confided in me that he wasn’t the happiest of men. He asked me if I thought Jackson was his son. I told him I did, and then he told me what he had never told anyone before, that he was impotent. As such, he couldn’t be the father to his son. He had lived a very wayward life back in his university days and had contracted an STD which he didn’t treat on time, one which caused him to be sterile. He told me he knew that he wasn’t Jackson’s father, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Rebecca. I felt sorry for him, but I knew deep down inside that I was happier for myself. From that point on, I made it a point of duty to look after our son.” Anderson added a heavy stress on the word ‘our’ and he smiled as he finished the statement. A smile that quickly vanished.

Walter noticed this and asked, “Is this what caused the falling-out between the two of you?”

“Oh heavens no.” Again, he appeared taken aback by what the officer seemed to know. Chuckling sardonically, he said, “Heavens boy, soon, you might be the one telling my story.”

Walter smiled and said nothing.

Anderson continued, “JoJo never got to know I was Jackson’s father. Only Rebecca and I knew that. She begged me never to reveal it to either JoJo or Jackson.”

“Then…” Walter hesitated. “Then, what caused the split?”

“There was never a split, though we did have a quarrel, but it wasn’t enough to jeopardize all we worked hard for all these years.”

“So what caused your quarrel?” Walter asked insistently.

“Am I under interrogation here?” Anderson asked with a smile.

“No. I just want to know. Your story is very intriguing.”

“Ok, son, if you must know, it was because of politics.”

“Politics?”

“Yes, politics. I never was one for all that business, but JoJo – he felt he had something to prove because of his condition and dove head first into politics.”

“What’s wrong with going into politics?”

“My boy, in my time, politics was a very dirty game. Not like now, when things have changed. It used to be very dangerous and people got hurt. Even right now, there are some old farts like myself in politics who still believe in the ways of old.”

“Wow.” Walter didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, as I was saying, JoJo went into politics, and that was when things started to go sour between us. I confronted him over the issue and asked him to pull out of it and concentrate on business and family, but he wouldn’t budge. He finally relocated to Uyo, his hometown, and governed the affairs of the company from the branch there. Rebecca was already a senior lecturer in the University of Uyo at the time, so it was quite convenient for them. I stayed in the Headquarters in Abuja, but I maintained close contact with my friends. There was a reason I stayed in Abuja, so far away from JoJo and Rebecca. The reason was Jackson. He was undergoing his Youth Service program in Jos at the time.

“Four years after he joined politics, JoJo was given the chance to become the Commissioner of Education in his home state. He was the favorite to get the appointment, but his rival had political clout mighty enough to get his way. Nobody really knew what went wrong.” The pain was back in his voice, etched on his face. “A few days to the day when the governor would pick the new commissioner, JoJo and Rebecca became victims to a ghastly motor accident while on their way home from church.” The old man blinked and a tear traced a path down his weathered cheek. “The reports said it was a failed brake. I was there at their funeral…” More tears coursed down his cheeks. “I made a promise to them at their grave. I was going to take care of Jackson.” He wiped the back of his hand over his cheeks. “Eventually, I left the head office and moved to Jos to head the branch and oversee the entire company from here. The headquarters in Abuja was left to be governed by one of our trusted partners.”

Walter nodded again. More pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. “So you moved here to look after Jackson.” It wasn’t a question.

Anderson answered nonetheless. “Well, yes. It was the promise I made to them…to Rebecca. That’s why I was so surprised when you accused me of killing him. I could never hurt my own son. I loved him so much. I was going to give him everything.” At Walter’s uncomprehending look, he said, “I was going to give him everything we owned. I changed all the papers regarding ownership of the company to reflect its new owner to be Jackson – that’s why I was going to travel down to Uyo today, to finalize everything.” His eyes filled up again and the tears began to fall. “It was agreed by me and the current CEO that when Jackson got married, we would sign over ownership of the company to him. So we started by offering him a job, which he was meant to start in a week’s time, and then he told me yesterday morning about his plans to propose to that Monica girl. It was all so perfect. But in the end…I failed.”

The words broke a dam in his soul. He leaned forward, lowered his face into his hands and started to sob, hard wrenching sobs that shook his body. Walter got to his feet and put a hand on his shoulder. He said soothingly, “You can’t let yourself get overly stressed, sir. You need to get some rest.”

Moments passed before the elderly man calmed down and leaned back to lie on his bed. His features appeared saggy with the weight of his grief and the wrinkles on his face were more pronounced. The boisterous man lovingly attending to his golf equipment this morning was gone, broken, perhaps never to return.

Walter felt a connection to his misery, felt echoes of it well up inside him. He said huskily, “Thank you for telling me your story, sir. I’m really very sorry about your loss. Losing your friend, love and son can’t be easy. Remember that truth I talked about earlier? I promise you, sir, I will find it for you. I will find who did this to Jackson, and he or she or they will be made to pay.”

Anderson said nothing. He stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. Walter looked at the clock on the wall. The time was 11:35 pm. He was mildly startled by how much time had passed. His stomach suddenly growled and his eyes felt grainy. He turned to the man lying on the bed, feeling reluctant to leave him alone. But his exhaustion was crashing down on him like a deluge.

“Have a good night, sir,” he said.

Anderson said nothing still. Walter patted him one more time on the shoulder, gently, turned and walked out of the room. As his steps faded away in the corridor, Anderson finally closed his eyes. As he dozed off, he muttered, “My dear Becky, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I failed you.” In a few minutes, he was asleep.

***

Chrome woke up with a jolt. The alarm clock he set had been buzzing for a while and he quickly pulled himself together. He reached out to the clock and shut off the alarm. He looked at the time. It was almost midnight. He rubbed the remainder of the sleep from his eyes and faced the monitor beside him. On the screen, the sequence of numbers that were running down had stopped and there was a pop-up window flashing at the base of the screen. It said DNA RETRIEVAL: COMPLETE. He clicked on the window and it expanded to show the results of the second stage. As he looked through, he came upon a something that sparked his interested.

“Hold on a second,” he said aloud to himself. The words resonated slightly in the quietness of the lab. “What do we have here?”

He punched a button on the keyboard in front of him and the printer that stood beside lab table whirred into life. In a matter of seconds, it had printed out what Chrome wanted to see. He snatched the printout and looked at it intently.

“That’s strange.” He began to read out a potion of the printout, “Two distinct DNA found within sample.” He held on to the printout for a while and then put it down. He faced the monitor once more and punched in some keys on the keyboard, promptly initiating the third and final stage of the analysis. “Time to see who you both belong to.”

C.S.I: 9JA (The Jack And Jill Story: Episode 13)

The surveillance room of the Jos Airport was a small room at the far right side of the top floor of the complex. The terminal had four floors, excluding the subterranean floor which was used as a car park for airport personnel. As the officers and their guide walked up the flights of steps to the top floor, Chude had put in a call to a friend of his who worked as a security personnel. The plan was for him to meet the trio outside the surveillance room and help them get in. When they did, the officers were introduced to the head-security officer in charge of the room. They explained what they needed and the security officer obliged.  The officers observed how high-tech the security equipments within the room were. In spite of themselves, they were impressed.

“So, what exactly do you want to see?” the security officer, who had been introduced to them as Chibuzor, asked the officers. He had settled his considerable bulk on his seat and fixed beady eyes on the officers.

“We want to see the security footage from the baggage collection room for economy class passengers,” Jerome replied. Those who travelled first class had a different baggage room.

“Ok, do you have a specific time in mind?”

“The time the last flight from Uyo landed. That should be around” – Jerome looked at the manifest – “20:00 hours.”

The head-security officer instructed another security personnel, who sat behind a large desk before a state-of-the-art desktop computer. Just behind the desk was a wall with an array of 10.1 inch flat screens embedded into it. Each screen showed a different part of the airport. The security personnel punched a few buttons on the console before him and immediately one of the screens, which had ‘PBS’ tagged underneath it, came on and the officers could see the baggage room. The time displayed on the top-left corner of the screen read 20:02. The baggage room had very few people standing around in it, most of them uniformed security officers. There were no luggages on the conveyor as it moved. Chibuzor asked his subordinate to fast-forward the playback. The man pushed a lever on the console and the time zipped to 20:07. On the screen, the people in the room could see that there was much activity in the room now. People were trickling in from the lobby which passengers just arriving into the airport would walk through to get their luggage from the baggage room. Edeeth and Jerome watched closely, not allowing the slightest detail pass them by. It took about a minute before Edeeth caught sight of someone.

“There!” she said.

“Freeze frame,” Chibuzor instantly instructed.

The image on the screen froze and Edeeth pointed to a spot on the screen. “Can you magnify this region and increase the picture quality?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the man behind the console answered and did as instructed. A push of a few buttons here, a swing of a lever there, and in no time the image was magnified and the resolution was changed to give a finer picture. The officers looked closely at a man within the shot. He was wearing a dark brown jacket and a face cap. His face was not clear from the angle he stood but there was something familiar about him.

“Can you play forward in slow motion?” Edeeth asked.

The man behind the console nodded and did as he was asked. The image on the screen began to move frame by frame. They saw the man move slowly until he bent to pick up his bag – which was unusually shaped for a travelling bag –, and then he turned and faced the screen as he walked out of the room. The man behind the console froze the image at that point and the CSI officers were looking into the face of a man whose features were familiar to them. A man they were surprised to see had evidently travelled via economy class to Jos. He was Chief Anthony Scott.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jerome hissed at Edeeth in surprise, not really expecting an answer.

Chief Scott was the last person they thought they would see. Edeeth watched the screen, her brow furrowed as she pondered something. She eventually asked Chibuzor if there was a way to follow the man on the screen.

“The cameras end just outside the arrivals lounge. If he doesn’t have a car waiting for him, it would be impossible to track him from there,” Chibuzor answered. He asked his subordinate behind the console to bring up the security footage from outside the arrivals lounge. When the screen changed to show the outside of the terminal, the officers saw the man they believed to be Chief Scott standing near the road; then he suddenly moved toward the left of the screen. He walked on until he was out of the camera range.

“Well, that’s all we have,” the man behind the console said.

“There’s no telling where he went from there,” Chibuzor added.

Edeeth and Jerome looked at each other and silently agreed that it was time to leave. They thanked Chibuzor and his colleague and asked if they could make available a copy of the footage they had just seen. Chibuzor assured them he would do so, and the officers, led by Chude, left the surveillance room and made their way back to the ground floor of the terminal. As they walked, Edeeth kept on pondering on what they had just seen. She heard Jerome say beside her, “Should we tell Chrome about this now?”

“Not yet,” she answered. “Let’s get all the facts together. Then we’ll report it in the morning.”

Jerome heaved a small sigh. Thoughts he’d had earlier about his speedy return to the hotel to order some room service and hit the bed immediately after dinner were starting to look like they won’t become reality; at least, not for some time. “Ok. So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so annoying that his trail went cold outside the terminal.”

Chude interjected, “If I may, officers. If the man you were watching on the screen went to the left of the terminal, he most likely went to the executive car rentals within the airport premises.”

Jerome and Edeeth looked at themselves, and then at Chude. “Executive car rentals?” Edeeth asked.

“Yes. They have been rendering their services within the airport for over a year now.”

“What kind of cars do they rent out?” Jerome asked

“All kinds of cars – sedans, jeeps, you name it.” Chude paused, and then said, “If you want, I can check them out for you and let you know by morning.”

The officers wanted to turn down his offer and do it themselves, but the fatigue that was battering their insides was beginning to tell on them. Edeeth was the one who gave the man permission to carry on his inquiry. “Ok Chude, find out what you can. The likely name used to rent the car would be Ememesi Scott. We want to know where he is headed and at what time he rented vehicle.”

“Ok, got it,” Chude said, his eyes brimming with his excitement.

“Make sure you get back to us first thing in the morning,” Jerome said.

“Sure, officers, glad I can be of help again.”

The officers bade him goodnight and made their way to the car park. Jerome started the engine and before long they were back on the expressway, making their way towards Anguldi, where the hotel which housed the team was situated.

***

Walter had immediately called on the nearest nurse he could find after he found Anderson awake on his bed. He was presently being attended to by the doctor on call and a few nursing staff. Walter watched from outside as the medical team checked the old man’s vitals and asked him some questions. They removed the tube in his nose and shut off the EKG machine. The nurses left the doctor alone with the patient and after what seemed to be an eternity for Walter, the doctor came out as well.

“Doctor, how is he?”

“He is doing very well, though he’s still weak.”

Walter peered into the room. The man was lying down with his back slightly inclined but his eyes were open and his breathing was steady. Walter turned back to the doctor and asked, “Any chance I could go in to see him?” The doctor was about to say something, but Walter quickly chipped in, “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to get him upset.”

“Please don’t. His heart is still weak. Any more excitement and he might have another episode.”

“I’ll be careful,” Walter assured the other man. The doctor nodded and walked away.

Walter walked into the recovery room. The old man noticed that someone had entered and he slowly looked to his left to see the police officer. His eyes flickered tiredly over the officer, and then he sighed and looked away. Walter moved to the side of his bed and stood, wondering what he was going to say, how he was going to begin.

“If you are going to apologize,” Anderson suddenly said in a weak, groggy voice, “better do it now.” There was no anger in his voice.

“I’m sorry for causing your heart attack, sir,” Walter intoned.

There was no response from Anderson. A few moments ticked by. Walter was about to turn away and leave the room when the old man replied. “Tell me the truth. Is he…is Jackson really dead?”

Walter turned around to face him. He leaned forward to look at the old man’s face. He was staring into space, his eyes glassy with sudden tears. Walter felt a rush of guilt for what he was about to do, but he knew he had to tell him the truth. “Yes sir. Jackson Essien is dead.”

The sigh that surged from the man was trembly and weak. He blinked hard, and the beads of the tears trickled down the sides of his face. The man was in obvious pain, and Walter, touched by it, picked up his gnarly hand and held it tenderly, silently comforting him. They remained still for a while.

Then Anderson said what the officer hadn’t expected to hear. “Jackson…” – his voice was feeble but the words were strong – “my son…is dead…”

To say Walter was surprised would be mildly stating the strength of his reaction to what he heard Anderson Gyang say. His lower jaw slowly dropped as a stunned look suffused his face. He stared at the invalid with disbelief, wondering, fleetingly so, if he had just told a joke and wanted to see how the officer would react to it. But the man lying on the bed, looking all broken up, his body trembling slightly with the strength of his silent grief, was anything but amused. Walter blinked rapidly and shook his head to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating from the fatigue he felt.

“Sir…” he began, “I don’t understand, sir…I thought I just heard you say Jackson was your son.” He fixed an intent gaze on the man.

Suddenly, Anderson wasn’t moving, and his eyes stared unblinkingly ahead of him. Walter was worried if he had caused him another stroke and was about to go into a panic when Anderson spoke in a grave voice, “Yes, my dear boy, you heard me right.” He paused for a moment to sit up, an endeavor Walter helped him with. Then he continued. “Jackson is my son.” He faced Walter as he said the words. He wasn’t crying anymore, though the sadness remained.

“I don’t understand.” Walter was shaking his head slightly in bewilderment.

Anderson sighed. He looked down at his hands and said, “I might as well tell you everything.”

C.S.I: 9JA (The Jack And Jill Story: Episode 12)

Chrome roused himself from his thoughts, snapping out of his mental synthesis of the case. He had a faintly worried look on his face. The case was more complicated than he had thought it would be, but he had thought up three different worst case scenarios. Depending on what his subordinates would dig up, he wouldn’t jump into any conclusions yet. First case scenario: Monica Scott did it. This would depend on the analysis he was carrying out right now and also on whatever Edeeth and Jerome would find out at the airport. Second case scenario: Anderson Gyang did it. It would be harder to deduce now that the man was stretched out, an invalid, in the hospital. Third case scenario: there was someone else they hadn’t considered, someone who had killed Jackson Essien and had masterfully covered his tracks. The last case scenario was what had him worried. What if they had been looking at everything from the wrong angle? What if the real killer was still out there walking freely? He sighed. Right now, there was nothing he could do but wait until what they had was thoroughly examined. He looked at the clock. The time was 6:25pm. He had spent about thirty minutes brainstorming. Not long enough by his standards. He was fatigued. He needed to rest.

Just then, there was a knock on the laboratory door. At Chrome’s call, Stacey walked in. She wasn’t wearing her lab coat and looked very pleasing in a brown khaki blouse on blue denim. She came closer to where Chrome sat and greeted him.

“How are you, Stacey?”

“Fine, sir.” She looked around the lab and said, “You are all alone?”

“Indeed, I am.”

Stacey stood where she was, half fidgety. Her eyes slid to where he sat, but she couldn’t quite make contact with his. Realizing that she wanted to say something and in no mood to accommodate her sudden anxious reticence, he asked, “Is there something you want?”

“Oh no, sir,” she stuttered a little. “I was almost on my way out when I saw the lights in the lab were on. I just wanted to know if anyone was in here.”

“Ok, well I’m carrying out some analytical work that will run through the night,” Chrome said as he turned to look at the computer screen. Stacey looked at the work he was engrossed in and then at the watch strapped to her wrist. Taking a deep breath, she finally moved from the spot she was standing to the side of the stool Chrome sat on. He was so close to her that she felt besieged with the redolence of his musky body scent, which was a blend of the day he had had and his deodorant. She felt suddenly heady with the scent.

“Um…sir?” she said nervously.

“Yes?” Chrome answered without looking up at her. He was studying the program flitting through the screen intently.

“Do…do you need…um, any help?”

“Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”He still hadn’t looked at her, nor noticed that she was standing close to him.

Her face fell at the slight disappointment she felt. She ventured another question, “So, how are things with you and Ruth?”

At the mention of his girlfriend’s name, Chrome looked up, suddenly remembering what he had planned to do earlier. He glanced at Stacey, smiling, and answered, “We’re fine. I’m actually glad you mentioned her. I was supposed to call her but I completely forgot.” He put down the writing pad and pen, and dug inside his suit for his cell phone.

Stacey stood there for a moment. A slight feeling of jealousy, like bile, rose up her throat and she quickly swallowed. Shaking her head in self-deprecation at her emotions, she muttered ‘Good night’ and began to turn away.

“Stacey?” She stopped. Chrome had felt the sudden and slight tenseness in the atmosphere. He didn’t know why it was present but he suddenly felt the need to say something, something nice, to the woman. “I appreciate all the efforts you’ve been putting in for the unit. You are doing a fine job. This analysis will run its course through the night and I wouldn’t want to subject you to such a stress. Go home and get some rest. I’ll need your assistance in the morning when the analysis is concluded.” He smiled at her when he was done talking and her face lit up as she walked away.

When she got to the door, she turned back to him and said, “Good night, sir. Be safe.”

“I will. You have a good evening.”

In the wake of her departure, Chrome dialed Ruth’s number. “Hello babe,” he said the moment she answered.

“Boo!” she said, half screaming through the receiver, which was characteristic of her.

This always made him laugh. “I’m sorry I haven’t called you all day, babe, but this case is much more tasking than I thought.”

“Oh boo, I’ve missed you,” she cooed

“I’ve missed you too.”

“Not hearing from you all day got me worried, you know?”

“I know…worried enough to make prank calls, right?” He laughed as he said that.

“Prank calls?”

“Oh come on, babe, I know it was you who called me twice with a private number.”

“Me?” The confusion in her voice sounded very genuine. “I haven’t called you today. I was at work all day and when you called earlier, I was driving, so I couldn’t pick it up.” She paused, and then continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t call back after I got home, I was really exhausted and took a dip in the bathtub…I completely forgot, sorry.”

Chrome was torn between figuring out who made the prank calls and imagining his girlfriend in the bathtub. God! What he wouldn’t give to be there right now. However, he found himself muttering, “If you weren’t the one who called me, then who did?”

The question was rhetorical, but Ruth answered nonetheless, “I don’t know.” They both fell silent for a moment until she intoned, “So, how’s the case coming?”

“It’s picking up pace. Not much to say about it now, but it’s just been a day. I believe by morning, we should have something solid to go on with.”

“I trust you, my superman,” she teased.

Chrome laughed and said, “Well then, Miss Lane, permit me to make a request.”

“Go ahead, man of steel.”

“How would you like to fly out with me to the hills of Kuru?”

“When?!” There was excitement in her voice.

“As soon as I wrap up this case – the weekend after.”

“That would be wonderful. I’ve always wanted to visit the hills.”

“I know, I just want you to have a fantastic time.”

“Oh, boo! I love you!”

“I love you too, babe”

“Alright, now shoo with you!”

“What?” Chrome was mildly taken aback.

“Back to work, lover boy! The sooner you catch the bad guy, the sooner I get to see the hills,” she said with evident glee.

Chrome laughed. He loved her humor. “Ok babe, you take good care of yourself.”

“I will, and you do the same for me too. Have a good night.”

“Good night.”

The call was disconnected, and he replaced the phone on the table. He felt a mixture of intense pleasure from speaking to her and a niggling worry over the conundrum of who had been calling him. A yawn fought its way through his mouth, bringing to his mind his most pressing problem. He was exhausted. He promptly dismissed the thought of the prank calls. Right now, he needed rest. He stretched and picked up the alarm clock on the table, which was used in timing experiments inside the lab. No use trying to think on a tired brain. He set the alarm clock to beep in six hours time. That should be enough time for him to grab some shuteye. He replaced the clock on the table and stood up from the stool, lumbered to the door and locked it. He took off his lab coat and then his suite. He went back to the table and tried to sit as comfortable as possible. Before long, with his head down, he was asleep.

***

The car park at the Jos airport had been renovated after a fire outbreak a few years back. Many believed it was a terrorist attack orchestrated by the militant group that plagued the Northern region of the country at the time. The fire had gutted a vast area around the car park, destroying several vehicles, before it was put out by the fire service. It was rumored that it was started by a bomb explosion, but the authorities rebuffed the claims with a press release stating that it was caused by a leaking fuel tank on one of the cars parked there. To be on a safer side, the government added some safety features to the park during renovation. The entrance had cameras embedded in the ground which scanned the underpart of any vehicle that stopped to collect a parking toll. So many other security features were added and these included Explosiometers and other devices that could pick up the slightest amount of explosive and flammable gases in the air. At the entrance, Jerome showed his ID card to the security operatives and was let in. He found a good spot to park and killed the car engine. He and Edeeth got out simultaneously and in a matter of minutes, were on the walkway which led to the departure wing of the airport.

It didn’t take long before they found the Trans-Delta Airline booth at the terminal, but the walk from the entrance was quite a tedious journey. There was a horde of people lining up and walking about inside the terminal. It was just over a week to the Nation’s Independence Day celebration and a lot of people were trying to get to different areas within the country to celebrate it. The officers had to shove their way through the crowd of travelers to get to where they were going. At the booth, Jerome leaned forward and asked the lady sitting behind the desk – who he identified as Danielle from her name-tag – for the whereabouts of Chude Miguel.

While he did this, Edeeth busied herself by looking around the airport terminal. Ever since she became a member of the C.S.I team, she had never passed through the same way everyone else went while travelling. The team always used the wing reserved for Federal V.I.Ps, and this was at the far end of the airport. She was amazed how things had changed inside the Jos terminal. A few years back, it was one of the worst Nigerian Airports by standard (something most of the airports in the northern region of the country shared). The equipments were outdated and things generally didn’t work around there. Again, thanks to the new administration, all the nation’s airports had seen a turnaround in terms of infrastructure. A few of them had even been upgraded to international standards. Edeeth’s wandering mind was brought back to the present by Jerome’s voice. He was saying something about the workers for the airline having weird names.

“Can you believe them?” he said

“What?” Edeeth asked, blinking her eyes and her mind back to the conversation he obviously had started without her knowledge.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“I was just thinking about the names on the tags of the people I’ve seen working here,” he said, looking from one side to the other. “They all have fancy foreign names like it’s a fad. That makes me laugh, you know?”

“Well, you’re one to talk – Jerome!” She added a heavy stress on his name.

Jerome laughed.

She smiled as she asked him “So, where is your source?”

“The lady at the counter said he would soon be with us, so I guess in a few more minutes he’ll be here.”

“We he better be. The sooner we get the info, the sooner we are out of here. I’m running low on gas for the day. Have you even had anything to eat?”

Jerome’s eyes widened when he realized what his answer was going to be. “Not since breakfast, before we were notified of Jackson Essien’s dead body. My goodness, has it been that long?”

“You bet.” Edeeth fought a yawn that suddenly worked its way to her mouth. “By now, I should be used to the grueling pace of our work, but sometimes – Urrgghh!” She made a face with the exclamation.

Jerome chuckled and was about to say something when a deep voice cut in, “Officer Jerome?” The two of them turned to see a man clad in the Trans-Delta Airline staff uniform of white shirt tucked into black trousers, the shoulders of the white bearing the airline’s logo. “You’re Officer Jerome?” he asked again. He was a chunky, dark-skinned man with alert eyes and a brisk manner. When Jerome nodded, he stretched out his hand. “I’m Chude Miguel.”

Jerome took the hand in a handshake. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Miguel.”

“Please call me Chude.”

“Very well. This here is my partner, Officer Edeeth.”

Edeeth shook hands with him, and said without any preamble, “Chude, I believe you have some information for us.”

“Wow, straight to the point I see. I heard you C.S.Is don’t joke around, I guess that info was right,” the man said with a smile.

“Well, we’re kind of under some pressure,” Jerome explained. “And Deborah Banks told us you could help.”

“Yeah, Debby told me and I do have what you need.” He motioned to them. “If you’ll follow me this way, I’ll give it to you.” He turned to the lady behind the counter and said, “Danny, I’ll be gone for a few minutes; cover for me.”

She nodded. He walked away, followed by the officers as they moved towards the Trans-Delta Airline office within the airport terminal. When they got there, Chude asked the officers to wait outside. It was illegal for him to share any kind of confidential information with anyone who was not a member of staff. Even though they were police officers – especially because they were police officers –, they were supposed to have a warrant in order to have access to whatever the airline staff had for them. But there had been no time. Warrants went through many protocols before they could be issued and time was something the officers didn’t have. They patiently waited for their informant to return; moments later, he reappeared holding some sheets of paper. He handed them over to Jerome.

“Here you go, just as you asked.”

Jerome rifled through the papers, handing Edeeth some sheets to go through as well.

“Those are the manifests from all the flights from Uyo to Jos yesterday evening and night. I had to pull a lot of strings to get copies from other airlines,” Chude added, as though angling for a reward for his work.

Edeeth asked, “I thought your airline was the only one to fly last night.”

“Well, ours was the last plane to arrive the airport, but we certainly weren’t the only one who flew in last night.” He sounded a little defensive, and he divided a cross but expectant look between the two officers.

Understanding the other man’s need to be appreciated, Jerome said, stretching his hand, “Thanks for this. We really do appreciate your assistance.”

Chude shook his proffered hand, his face beaming. “Glad I could help.”

Edeeth was still going through the manifests while the two men courted, and her eyes caught on a detail. A name on the manifest. Ememesi Scott. It had appeared in the economy class list. She tapped Jerome on the shoulder, splayed the paper before his face and pointed a finger at the name.

“Ememesi Scott?” Jerome muttered. “I don’t think I’ve heard the name before.”

“Maybe a relative of the Scotts?” Edeeth said, half asking.

“Did you find something useful?” Chude asked, his excitement at such a prospect evident in his voice.

It took a while for the officers to realize that he was still standing there. It was as if the discovery of the name had thrown them into another world. Jerome turned around to face him and said, “Yes we did, thank you.” He hoped the second ‘Thank you’ would be hint enough for the man.

But Chude didn’t budge. The excitement of being part of a police investigation appeared to be too much of a gravitational force that held him rooted to the spot.

It irked Jerome, and he had just opened his mouth to word his displeasure when Edeeth, suddenly having an idea, asked, “Excuse me, Chude, do the arrivals lounge have security cameras?”

“Off course, they do, ma’am.” He sounded a little affronted by the question.

Edeeth laughed when she realized what she had asked. “Sorry, what I was trying to say was, is there any way you could help us gain access to where they monitor the cameras?”

“Ok…that would be the main security room, on the top floor of the terminal.” Chude stopped as if to ponder for a moment, and then continued, “Of course, it won’t be easy to gain entrance, but I think I can talk to some people.” There was a self-satisfied smile on his face.

Feeling like part of the team, are we? Edeeth thought with a wry smile. She exchanged a look with Jerome, and they silently realized that they were stuck with Chude Miguel for awhile longer.

“Ok, Chude, lead the way,” Jerome said

They followed their guide towards the stairway that would take them to the top floor of the terminal. As they walked on, Edeeth looked at her wrist watch. The time was 6:35pm. She caught herself wondering how Walter was doing and immediately scolded herself. What the hell is wrong with you? He’s not a child. He can take care of himself. She let out a sharp breath and followed the men who walked ahead of her up the stairway.

***

Walter had gone through half of the journal when a nurse came into the room to check on the patient. She was a young lady, seemingly in her mid-twenties, Walter observed, and from the way she handled the equipments, she had a flair for her job. Her white linen blouse, which she wore over white trousers of the same fabric – which, in his opinion, gave her the look of an apprentice in a 60s Hollywood horror flick – had a name tag right above her breast pocket. Over the years, the uniforms for nurses had undergone drastic changes, especially in Federal Medical Centers. This change was put into effect by the National Association of Nigerian Nurses and Midwives (N.A.N.N.M.) which had received complaints by quite a number of nurses of sexual harassment. The new uniforms didn’t really make much difference in that aspect, but it did give the nurses a new sense of pride in their work. Walter watched the petite woman go about her duties until she turned around to see him staring.

“Is there a problem sir?” she asked, her features betraying a faint unease with his scrutiny.

“Oh, excuse me, Miss” – he looked at the name tag – “Yvonne. I didn’t mean to stare.” He smiled reassuringly at her. “I was only admiring your efficiency. You seem to be very good at what you do.”

The nurse smiled back at him. If she was light-skinned, her face would have turned a hint of red, so evident was her pleasure and embarrassment at his words. “Thank you, sir,” she muttered, and continued with what she’d been doing. Moments later, she was wheeling out the cart she came in with. She got to the door, hesitated and turned around. “Would you be needing anything, sir?” she asked almost shyly.

“Um…nothing for now, thank you. But if I do need anything, I won’t hesitate to call on you.” He punctuated his words with another smile.

The nurse’s eyes skittered away from his face with abashment and she turned and left. Walter went back to flipping the pages of his journal. A small smile hovered on his mouth as he relived what had just transpired. Seems I’ve still got it, he thought to himself. In that moment his mind wandered to where Edeeth might be, what she might be doing, how the investigation was going on her end. He missed having her here with him, ribbing him with her wisecracks one second and acting all maternal toward him the next.

The thoughts of her had started to warm his insides when a slight cough cut into his reverie. He looked up in the direction of the sound. It was Anderson. The man was awake.

C.S.I: 9JA (The Jack And Jill Story: Episode 11)

Jerome drove the Toyota Corolla down the freeway towards the airport. He remembered the last time he visited Jos a few years ago. The road that led from the airport to the city had been a very lonely one. Now there were lots of buildings dotting the terrain, most of them expansive hotels and the smaller, unobtrusive motels. The rate of development around the nation was alarming. But he wasn’t complaining. The shift from Oil and Gas to Agriculture and Renewable Energy as the nation’s sources of external revenue and energy was a welcome development. It had brought about a large amount of employment opportunities and a reduction in CO2 emission that resulted from gas flaring. The Federal Government even went a step further by building two state-of-the-art refineries in the South-West and South-East regions of the country. Things sure had changed over the years, Jerome thought to himself as he drove. He was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece on his left ear. He usually wasn’t comfortable about making phone calls while driving, but in this case he made an exception. He put in a call to Deborah and it didn’t take long before she answered.

“Hello Debs,” he spoke into the headset.

“Hey, Jay, been expecting your call.”

“We had a meeting earlier on.”

“Ok, so I was able to do some digging around and it turns out there was a flight from Uyo to Jos last night by an airline called Trans-Delta Air. It’s a new airline and not very popular. They operate only domestic flights and one of theirs happens to be the only flight from Uyo to Jos last night.”

“Trans-Delta Air? Yeah, I’ve heard of them.”

“Well, I made contact with one of the ground staff of the airline and he promised to get you a copy of the manifesto.”

“That’s great, Debs,” Jerome said excitedly.

“Yeah, so all you have to do is go the departure wing of the airport, at the Trans-Delta Air stand, and ask for Chude Miguel,” Deborah said.

“Chude Miguel?”

“Yes.”

“What sort of name is that? What is he – Latino-African?” Jerome’s tone was marinated with light derision.

Deborah laughed. “Keep that opinion to yourself. The guy is quite the hothead.”

“Okie-dokie then. Chude Miguel, got it.”

“I hope that helps. If you need anything else, you can ask him and he’ll help out. He’s a good guy. You take care now and call me soon, ok?”

“I will, Debs, thanks again.” He disconnected. He reclined on the driver seat of the car and he checked the time on the dashboard. It was 5:36pm. He was about negotiate a turn from the freeway to the main road that led to the airport when his phone rang. He tried his best to concentrate on the drive whilst looking at the display. It was Edeeth. He dropped the phone and pressed a button on the side of the Bluetooth earpiece to answer the call. “Hey Edeeth, fancy you calling me for a change,” he joked.

“No time for jokes, Jay,” she said crisply through the receiver, obviously in no mood for play.

“Oh, sorry about that. What can I do for you?” Jerome asked, masterfully hiding his hurt at her brusqueness. In all the years they’d been working together, he had come to realize that Edeeth had a better rapport with Walter than with him. Those two had a chemistry that they weren’t even aware of. He supposed it came from the fact that they’d been on the CSI team longer than him; he was the last addition to the investigative team.

“I need you to come pick me up at J.U.T.H.”

“J.U.T.H. – what are you doing there?”

“No time to explain. Chrome wants me to accompany you to the airport, to partner with you on your lead over there.”

“Why don’t you and Walter drive down and meet me at the airport, then he can leave,” Jerome said sourly. He didn’t appreciate Edeeth’s crispness over the phone. Talk about being a bitch, he thought. Besides, he was almost at his destination, and he didn’t appreciate this detour. He worked better alone anyways; why would Chrome saddle him with Edeeth. She obviously didn’t sound too pleased by the assignment.

“Just come and get me, will you?” Edeeth said, almost commandingly.

Jerome navigated the car to the side of the road and slowed down. He worked a quick mental calculation on the distance between where he was and either destination. If he continued down the road, he would make it to the airport in roughly ten minutes; but if he turned around to go pick up Edeeth, he would spend fifteen minutes just to get to the hospital. He sighed heavily and said, “Ok, I’m on my way.” He pushed the button on the earpiece again to end the call as he maneuvered the car in a semi-circle. Before long, he was back on the freeway headed in the direction of the J.U.T.H.

***

Edeeth held her phone in her fist for a while. She had just realized that she’d sounded very abrupt with Jerome. She didn’t understand what triggered such coldness towards him. She shook her head as she replaced the phone back in her pocket, trying to block out the thoughts that came racing in. At that moment, she realized that she had absentmindedly taken a medical journal from the table in the lounge and had been holding it throughout the time she was talking to Chrome on the phone. Talk about spacing out, she thought. She was a strong willed woman who never allowed emotions to come in the way of her work. What exactly are you getting emotional about? she thought. She shook her head again as she walked back towards the private recovery room where Anderson was taken to. By the time she got to the door, she had put the thoughts out of her mind. Peering through the window on the side of the room, Edeeth could see Walter sitting on a chair about a foot away from where the elderly man lay. They had taken off the nose tube; only the drip was still attached to his right hand. The old man was breathing steadily, as evidenced in the rapid rise-and-fall movement of his frail chest beneath the hospital garb he was wearing. Edeeth caught a glimpse of Walter’s face. The worry that was etched on his features on the drive to the hospital and in the lounge earlier had faded. Though he wasn’t smiling, he looked more alive. Suddenly, for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she found she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the sprinkling of dark hair on the arms he had folded before his chest, nor the tapering fingers that curled over his upper arm. Her mind was suddenly afire with thoughts of those strong, warm hands sliding about her body, her body which would be trembling against his, before he would twine the fingers through her hair, pulling her head forward toward his, bending his face to give her a mind-blowing, intense, passionate –

Whoa! What is this? She shook herself free from her heated reverie and backed away from the window. This is no time for such nonsense, she thought. Get a grip on yourself, girl. She looked at her watch. Jerome would be around any minute to pick her up. She sighed, took another inhalation, and walked into the recovery room.

Walter didn’t notice Edeeth come into the room, but she got his attention when she placed a hand on his left shoulder. The touch felt warm. She had a way of making him feel at peace. He smiled at her and she handed him the medical journal in return. He realized that there was something guarded about her expression.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“I – er, got it for you,” she said, stuttering a bit, “since you’re going to be here a while, you might as well read something to get your mind off what happened.”

“You want me to read?” Walter asked, eyeing the material in her hand as though it was something he needed to stay far away from.

“Why not? You have to do something to while away the time. We don’t know for how much longer he would be unconscious.”

 Walter shrugged, and took the journal from her. He looked at the cover and raised an eyebrow. “A medical journal?” When Edeeth nodded in affirmation, he looked at her with a slightly incredulous expression. “You want me to read a medical Journal – in a hospital – around all these sick people?”

Edeeth chuckled and smacked him lightly on the back of his head. “Silly you. You’re not going to catch anything just by reading the journal. Besides, we are C.S.Is” – she made the last comment with a slight air of pride – “A little added knowledge can’t hurt you now, can it? No,” she concluded firmly.

Walter smiled ruefully. “Yeah…you’re right.” He looked at the clock on the wall opposite where he sat and asked, “When are you supposed to be leaving for the office?”

“I told you, Jerome is meant to come pick me up.”

“Jerome?”

“Yes, Jerome,” Edeeth said, sounding a bit exasperated. “I told you he’s on an assignment at the airport, and Chrome wants me to partner with him.”

“Oh, sorry – I guess I wasn’t listening then.”

“It’s alright. I understand.” She paused a while and then said, “You’re going to be fine…right?”

He nodded.

She smiled and said, “Good. I have to go now. Jerome should be here any minute. Call me if and when anything happens, ok?”

He nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You get going.” He turned a page on the journal as she left the room.

When she got to the lounge, and then out into the warm evening, there was no sign of Jerome. It was almost six o’clock. She wondered how far off he was. She hated being made to wait. It irked her, especially if it was a man who was the cause of the delay. She was about to head back into the hospital when a black Toyota Corolla pulled up into the car park by the side of the building. She recognized the car as one of theirs.

As he swung into a parking space, Jerome recognized Edeeth’s form in front of the hospital ahead of him. He set the automatic gear on Park and turned off the ignition. As he stepped out of the car, Edeeth was already halfway across the distance from him. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t frowning either. That made Jerome a little bit uncomfortable. He dealt better with people when he could read their body language and facial expressions. That was one of his talents. By reading an individual’s expression, he could decipher the underlying emotion. But Edeeth was one of those rare people, he had come to know, who had a masterful control over their expressions, only giving away what they wanted you to know. Her gait was the usual sure and purposeful, slightly hip-swaying stride, and her face maintained the deadpan look until she got to him.

“Sorry, I’m late” he said, apologizing for something he knew he didn’t do. Experience had taught him the best way to lighten a situation with the opposite sex was to be on the receiving end. The more he gave out the upper hand, the quicker the tension was defused. It was a strategy that seemed to work for him most of the time with women he’d dated in the past, and he could see it had worked this time too.

Edeeth’s mouth curved into a small smile. “Who gave you that idea that I was upset?”

Before long, they were driving out of the premises of the hospital and navigating their way back to the highway. When they had merged with the traffic headed toward the airport, Edeeth looked over at Jerome and said, “I’m sorry I made you come all the way here to pick me up.”

If Jerome was surprised by her apology, he did his best to hide it. He simply smiled and said, “It’s no biggie. The chief’s directive, right?”

“So what was it you were going to tell me concerning you ‘hunch’?”

“My hunch?” Jerome said, feigning forgetfulness. Edeeth shot him a pointed look, and he chuckled. “Oh! My hunch. He tooted his horn and he overtook a lorry who was belching thick, dark smoke from its rusty exhaust pipes. “Well, just like I told Chrome, I just had this gut feeling that there was more to the accident of Jackson Essien’s parents than meets the eye. I know it’s a long shot, but what if I’m right and somehow their death is connected to Jackson’s?”

Edeeth arched her head. Jerome’s reasoning was actually impressive. If there was anything she’d learned working on this elite team and from years of a career in investigating crime, it was that the littlest clues could rise from issues that were seemingly unrelated to the case at hand. “That sounds plausible. But let’s just take it one lead at a time, OK?”

“Yea, sure. It’s just that – I really want to get out of this town already.”

“Tell me about it,” Edeeth commiserated. “I’m having a nice long bath scheduled once we get back to Abuja for the express purpose of washing off all the dust I’ve accumulated here.” She shuddered delicately.

Jerome laughed. “It’s not so bad here. At least, this place is worlds away from Bayelsa, the time we went after that arsonist who was murdering smalltime politicians in their homes, and setting their houses on fire after his work is done.”

“Oh yes, I remember that one.” The man they’d been after had a ritual of killing these politicians, setting down their bodies in a circle drawn by their blood, and thereafter setting their houses on fire. He had started the murderous conflagration in Cross River, working his way through the South and down to the East. And they finally caught up with him in Bayelsa. The hunt had taken them into the swampy terrains of the Niger Delta, an experience Edeeth had not been able to completely scrub off her skin for days during her bath after it all. And now, she shuddered again at the recollection. “Oh boy, that is one place I never want to go back to. Remind me to resign if the police force there ever calls on our assistance again.”

Jerome laughed again as they drove on toward the airport.

C.S.I: 9JA (The Jack And Jill Story: Episode 10)

The ETV (Emergency Transport Vehicle) of the Jos University Teaching Hospital arrived at the residence of Sir Anderson Gyang in less than 10 minutes, thanks to the light traffic and flashing sirens. The paramedics on hand wheeled the stretcher on which Anderson lay as Edeeth and Walter watched from the sidelines. Walter paid the taxi driver, and Anderson’s luggage was retrieved and taken back into the ailing man’s apartment. The officers got into their vehicle and drove behind the ambulance as it pulled out of the compound and into the freeway.  Walter sat on the passenger’s side; his countenance revealed his soberness.

While she drove, Edeeth kept shooting him concerned looks. She knew he blamed himself for what happened. Well, why shouldn’t he? she thought ungraciously. After all, it really was his fault. It was easy to put the blame on him, but a part of her admitted that it wasn’t entirely his fault. They were all under a tremendous amount of stress. They hadn’t caught a break since their previous assignment, and it wasn’t unlikely for even the best of them to snap under such pressures.  She looked at Walter once more and asked, “Are you alright?”

He didn’t reply.

She didn’t say anything else, and the silence stretched as she weaved through the highway traffic. She maintained her pace behind the ambulance as its siren blared and cleared a path for them on the road.

In his corner, Walter sat still. The only thought that lay heavy on his mind was a prayer. God, let him be alive.

The ambulance arrived at the Jos University Teaching Hospital (J.U.T.H.) approximately ten minutes later. The elderly man was immediately wheeled on a stretcher into the emergency room. The two officers waited in the reception for feedback from the doctors. Edeeth sat in one of the chairs in the lounge while Walter paced back and forth, stopping from time to time to see if any doctor was coming out of the ER.

After what seemed to be an eternity to the officers, a man clad in the white coat of a physician stepped out of the room and headed their way.  Both Walter and Edeeth walked up to him before he got to the lounge and the look on Walter’s face was enough to tell the doctor what they wanted to know.

“Don’t worry, officers,” he began, “he’s going to be fine, though he’s still unconscious.”

Walter let out a sigh of relief and Edeeth lifted a hand to rub his shoulder.

The doctor continued, “He was very lucky. If you hadn’t performed CPR before bringing him here, it would have been another story.”

It was Walter’s turn to pat Edeeth on the back. She was the one who maintained a level head when the emergency had occurred. She had performed the CPR. If it weren’t for her, a manslaughter charge might have been hanging over his head at the moment. The officers told the doctor what happened and how the patient was vital to their investigation. The doctor explained to them what sort of ailment his patient was suffering. He further informed them that Anderson would need to rest, firmly adding that he shouldn’t be subjected to any further interrogation, or else the strain of answering the questions could trigger another episode.

“I have to leave you now,” the doctor said. “I have another patient to check on.”

“Ok, doctor,” Edeeth replied.

“Doctor…” Walter hesitated for a moment, but he went on to ask, “May we go in to see him?”

“I don’t see why not. Just as long as you don’t disturb him.”

“We won’t.” Walter started off in the direction of the ER, with Edeeth coming up behind him.

Inside the ward, Anderson lay on one of the beds. His eyes were shut. He had a tube connected to his nose and another was wired into his arm. His heart was being monitored by an EKG machine, and he looked really frail, unlike the robust man they met earlier in the day.

Had it really been just this morning that they had questioned him, Walter wondered as his eyes swept over the invalid. It felt now as though an eternity had passed. He rubbed a hand over his face, emitting a small sigh of exhaustion.

Edeeth tapped him gently on the back. “Hey Walt –”

“You don’t have to say anything, Edeeth,” he cut in before she could go any further. “I know it’s my fault. I got carried away by emotions. I should have listened to you.” His tone was marinated with regret.

Edeeth was about to say something when she was interrupted again. This time it was her phone. She brought it out of her pocket and saw from the display that it was Chrome calling. “Walt, it is Chrome.” She waited for him to respond, but he kept looking through the ER window. She sighed and walked off towards the lounge to answer the call.

***

Chrome sat on the lab stool as the monitor in front of him kept on flashing numbers and alphabets. The program still had a few hours to run before the second stage would be done. This was the perfect time for him to think. He had to put the pieces of the puzzle together. He had faith in the abilities of his subordinates but he knew at the end of the day, they would still look up to him to fill in the blank spaces. He sat quietly. His mind was a beehive of activity; it computed pieces of information pulled from his memory, tied the pieces together, and strived to make sense of it. This was his specialty. He wasn’t a pushover when it came to physical exertion. In fact, he could easily hold his own against any and all contenders when it came to a brawl; after all, every member of the team underwent rigorous trainings abroad. The incumbent government spared no expense. It was determined to fight crime and corruption which had plagued the country for years. Gone were the days when criminals walked free even after the evidence fingered them out as the perpetrators of the crime. The entire police force was revamped. Corrupt officers were dismissed, and some others arrested. The reformation took the nation by storm. But even with the changes, some individuals operated under the notion that they could outsmart the police force.

That was where the CSI team came into play. And that was the reason why Chrome was the leader of the team. His greatest prowess was his intellect. The same intellect he was about utilizing in the case at hand when the ringing of his phone intruded. He instinctively looked around the lab table for the device; then he remembered it was in the inner breast pocket of the suit he was wearing. He dug out the phone and checked the caller ID. It registered Private number. Ruth again with the pranks, he thought as he answered the call.

“Hello.” He waited a while for an answer but there was none. He let out a chuckle and said. “Ok babe, I think you can drop the act now.”

Still there was no answer.

He disconnected from the call, dialed his girlfriend’s number and waited for her to pick up. It rang. No response. He was beginning to get irritated by the prank, but he could never get mad at Ruth. He may be tough when it came to the cases he worked on, but he was still a softy when it came to her. He quickly killed the thought of texting his disapproval of the prank to her and decided to call someone from his team. He was a little worried about Walter. He had seemed a bit unstable when he left the conference room earlier. Chrome looked at the time; it was 5:35pm. They should be back by now, if all went well. He hoped that Walter hadn’t done anything stupid. He shook his head. There was no way that would happen. After all, that was why he had partnered Edeeth with him. The woman was as level-headed as Walter was quick-tempered. He called her cell phone. It took a while before she eventually picked the call.

“What’s your progress?” he asked without any preliminaries.

“Well, uh…sir, we are currently at the Teaching Hospital.”

“WHAT!?” Chrome’s voice climbed an octave or two. “What are you both doing there?!”

“Anderson Gyang, our suspect – he had a heart attack.”

“Oh Jeez! How did that happen?” He paused infinitesimally before adding, “Was it Walter’s doing?”

Edeeth answered carefully, “It wasn’t not entirely his fault…you know we have all been under a lot of stress.”

“Edeeth! That was exactly the reason I sent you with him. I know how irascible he can be when he starts to get stressed. You were supposed to restrain him.”

“I’m sorry I failed you, sir.”

“Tell me what happened.” After her narration of the events that led to Anderson’s incapacitation, he asked, “So, how is he?”

“He’s recovering, sir”

“And Walter?”

“Still a bit shaken, but he’ll be himself soon. I’m guessing he’s going to stay until the old man wakes up.”

“Ok, let him do that. I understand how he feels.” He paused then continued, “I need you to meet up with Jerome at the airport and assist him. He’s unto something. You can both call it a day from there. I’ll see you all here by 10am. Inform Walter as well. That will be all.” And he ended the call. He shook his head, briefly thinking about the various turns this case was taking. “All in one day,” he said aloud to himself.

He looked at the computer screen. The program was still running. The estimated time for the second stage to run its full course was nine hours. It was the longest of the three stages. He had about seven hours left to go. He decided to get back to his brainstorming. He would do that for a while and then grab some shuteye. He would have to spend the night in the lab. Even though that wouldn’t be a first for him, he still didn’t like the idea. He tried his best to relax on the lab stool he sat on and began to think.

***

Edeeth put her phone back into her pocket. The day sure isn’t going as I had hoped, she thought to herself. With the wrapping up of the initial murder case that had brought the team to Jos, she had been looking forward to flying back to the relative comfort of Abuja, to the clean orderliness of her apartment. By sunset, she had planned to be soaking inside a bubble bath, a glass of Sherry in one hand, her CD remote control in the other as she coordinated the volume of bluesy music to soothe away the stress of yet another case properly solved.

Instead, it was almost sunset, and here she was – no bubble bath, no glass of Sherry and no music – still stuck in this discomfiting environment of Plateau State.

She sighed and walked back to the ER. She got there just in time to see a nurse wheeling Anderson’s bed out of the room. Walter was still standing where he was. She walked up to him and asked what was going on.

“They are taking him to a private recovery room,” he answered. “I’ll be staying with him until he wakes up.”

“I guessed as much,” Edeeth said, almost laughing.

“Excuse me?” Walter wondered what was amusing to her.

“Oh nothing, the ‘Chief’ wanted us to go meet Jerome at the airport and help him out with his leads, but I told him you would want to stay here with Anderson until he wakes up.”

“Oh, so you do know me that well,” Walter said, giving a small rueful smile.

“Ah-ah! I saw that smile.” She pointed comically at his face.

The mirth in her gesture was infectious and Walter found his smile widening. “Go joor.”

She said, “I’m glad you’re back to yourself now. I’ll have to call Jerome to come pick me up.”

“Come pick you – why?”

“Well, Sir Lancelot, how would you leave here if I take the car with me?”

“Oh.” He paused and then added, “Ok, thanks, E – for everything…”

“You’re welcome, man,” she said, punching him lightly on the arm. “That’s what partners are for.”

And thereafter, they parted ways, with Walter following after the nurse who had wheeled Anderson down the hospital corridor, and Edeeth moving back to the lounge, phone pressed against her ear as she waited for her connection to Jerome’s number to be made.

 

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

The gates of the Bukuru residence of the Scotts were flung open as the black SUV belonging to the commissioner drove in and parked underneath the linoleum shade, at the far end of the compound, which protected the cars parked there from the stultifying rays of the sun. The driver got out and opened the door for his boss while one of the army personnel who manned the gate opened the other door for Monica. When she got out, she headed straight for the front door, one which was opened by an attentive steward; she walked past the steward without acknowledging him or responding to his greeting. She could hear her father loudly reprimanding the military men as she made her way to her room and locked the door behind her. She walked over to her bed and sat down. Her eyes were red and from the way she was breathing, it wouldn’t be long before another wave of tears would start falling from them. She opened the drawer on the side of her dresser. There was an envelope inside it. She opened it and brought out a piece of paper. She glanced through it, and sighed deeply. She grabbed the framed picture which sat on top of her dresser. It was that of her and Jackson, together. She looked from the picture to the paper, and whatever that was in the paper must have been some sort of connection with her dead lover, because she suddenly felt overwhelmed by a surge of emotions.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I’m so sor–” She couldn’t manage it. The lump in her throat resurfaced, too thick to be swallowed, and a fat tear trickled down her cheek. Another followed, and then another. And soon, she had started to cry again. Deep, bone-crushing cries, full-body sobs. Just when she thought she couldn’t cry anymore. Something inside her gave way again, and now she sobbed without pause or let up. For several moments, her grief overtook her, and soon began to dwindle to a stop. And that was when she heard the sound of footsteps coming toward her door. She began sniffling her sobs to a stop, dabbing at her moist face when a knock sounded on her door.

“Honey, are you in there?” her father asked from behind the locked door.

Hoping to mask the fact that she’d been crying, Monica spoke in a hoarse voice, “I’m here daddy. I just need some time alone.”

“Ok, dear.” From the other side, Anthony had begun to back away from the door. Then he said again, “In a short while, I’ll be leaving for a charity dinner being organized by the country club. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me.”

“I told you dad, I want to be alone for now.”

“Ok, what about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, there will be a charity golf tournament at the country club. I happen to be one of the contenders.” There was some pride in Anthony’s voice, as though he wanted to impress his own daughter.

That made Monica dredge up a small smile in amusement. “Let’s see how tomorrow goes, daddy,” she answered.

“Ok, dear. Now make sure you get some rest. Have the cook whip up something for you to eat; I know how you like not to eat when something is bothering you. In fact, I’ll instruct her to send up a tray to your room in a short while. I will be back home quite late, so don’t wait up.”

“Ok, daddy. Bye.”

“Bye, honey.”

Monica listened from behind the door as his footsteps receded down the hallway. She was about to make her way back to the bed when a sudden wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She ran into the bathroom adjoining her room and let out the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. She threw up some more of her lunch before standing up; she flushed, and then washed her face and rinsed her mouth in the wash basin. She looked at herself in the mirror in front of her. A thought fleeted through her mind. She had to do the smart thing. She was going to have to run away. She was going to run away from everything – the police, her father, the ghost of Jackson…from it all. She had just left the bathroom when she got the nauseous feeling again. “Maybe tomorrow,” she muttered as she fled back into the bathroom.

***

Walter drove erratically down the highway towards the Kuru suburbs where Sir Anderson resided. He kept swearing under his breath as he overtook vehicle after vehicle. Luckily, the traffic was light.

After checking to make sure her seatbelt was safely secured for the umpteenth time, Edeeth said, “Dude, take it easy.”

“I know, I know!” he snapped back as he swerved past another car. The look on his face was enough to tell Edeeth what was going on in his mind. She was about to say something when Walter suddenly blurted, “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it from the beginning!”

“Come on, Wally,” Edeeth tried pacifying him. “There was no way we would have guessed. He just didn’t look the part of a killer.”

“Yeah…well…I know” Walter muttered, not wanting to be mollified. He looked at the digital clock on the dash board. The time was 4:35pm. “This time, he’s not going to get away from me!” he gritted out as he punched the accelerator.

***

Jerome was in the forensic lab when he remembered he left his note on the table in the conference room, after the meeting they had. He was clad in a white lab coat and was wearing protective goggles and latex gloves. He was already on the second stage of the analysis – since the Abraham Smith Method was a process of three stages – when he had the urge to retrieve his notebook from the conference room. He made to stand up, and saw Chrome walk into the lab. He was holding a notebook in his hand. It was Jerome’s notebook. Chrome took one of the lab coats hanging on the wall close to the exit and put it on. Then he walked up to where Jerome sat and placed the notebook on the table in front of him.

“This is yours, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Interesting.” Chrome paused for a moment before continuing, “I went through your notes. You seem to have a lead on something, care to share what it is?”

“Well, sir,” Jerome began, “when you asked me to get information on incoming flights to Jos from Uyo, I had a hunch.” He paused to check the equipment he was using to run the analysis, and then continued, “While I waited for my contact at the airport to return my call, I thought about the circumstances surrounding Jackson Essien and his family. It’s not every day an entire family lineage is wiped out without any cause. I’m also an orphan, so I could relate with this victim in a sense.” He switched off the centrifuge which was being used to separate a solution vital to the analysis, punched some keys on a keyboard which was linked to the computer beside him and went on, “I’ve often wondered about the way my parents died. I mean, I knew how they did, but I always felt there was more to their death than meets the eye. That’s why I became an officer. Something about that got me thinking. How did Jackson’s parents die? Investigations showed it was an accident, but I still wasn’t satisfied with that, so I called the Akwa-Ibom State police command to send a detailed report on everything they have concerning the case, including pictures of fingerprints found at the scene…anything that could be of importance.”

When he was done talking, Chrome nodded and said, “That was very good thinking, Jerome. So how soon do we expect their reply?”

“Well…uh, sir, since I mentioned to the inspector in charge of the command that you were the one asking for the information, he assured me that I would get it in about two hours. So that should be in the next thirty minutes.”

Chrome smiled. “That was quick thinking.” He glanced at the analytical equipment that was in front of Jerome and asked, “So where are we on the DNA analysis?”

Jerome switched on a monitor and said, “I’m through with the first stage of the analysis.” He pointed to the screen, which had a series of numbers rolling down at a very fast pace. “I’ve fed the information into the computer. The A. Smith program is already running and we should be getting results in a couple of hours.”

Chrome looked at the screen for a few seconds and said, “I’ll take over here. You work on your leads. Get to the airport and find out what you can from there. When you’re done there, you can call it a day. Report all your findings to me in the morning.”

“Ok, sir,” Jerome replied as he took off his goggles and gloves. He grabbed his notebook from the table and before he left the lab, he hung up the lab coat he was wearing.

***

The time was 4:55pm when Walter pulled up to the gate that enclosed the quarters of both the murder victim and Anderson Gyang. He parked right in front of the gate, sealing it off. There was a taxi inside, parked in front of Sir Anderson’s flat. Edeeth got out of the car first and walked over the Walter’s side as he got out.

She stood in front of him, said, “Now be cool. Let’s handle this professionally.” And then, she walked towards Sir Anderson’s flat.

At that moment, the man came out of his house bearing a large bag and dragging a suitcase on the ground. He was surprised to see the officers and the look on his face said it all. “Officers, it’s a surprise to see you both again so soon. Hope all is well.” He dragged the suitcase to the cab and the cab driver opened the boot.

Walter seemed ready to lunge forward and, as if reading her partner’s mind, Edeeth immediately stepped in front of him and said, “That’s one heavy suitcase, sir. Travelling somewhere, are we?”

Anderson divided a patronizing look between the two of them before answering, “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m travelling somewhere. And before you ask, the destination is none of your business.” He flicked a meaningful glance at his wristwatch and continued, “I seem to be running late. Now if you’ll excuse, I have to get going before I miss my flight.”

Walter was growing impatient and Edeeth could sense this. She spoke again before he could, “Sir, we are still investigating the whereabouts of Jackson Essien.”

Anderson stopped in his tracks. “Whereabouts?” he said.

“Yes, his whereabouts. We came earlier today and asked you a few questions about him, since he wasn’t at home.”

“Ah yes, I recall. Well, he’s still not at home…and I doubt he will be back tonight.” There was something faintly surreptitious about the smirk that now parted his lips. Before Edeeth could comment on the source of his amusement, the smile vanished, and he opened the door of the taxi and slipped the bag he was holding into it. He then straightened and said very coolly to the officers, “If that will be all, could you please get your automobile out of the way? I really need to be on my way.”

The affected impatience in his voice was the last straw for Walter. He walked past Edeeth, planted himself before the other man and said in a raised tone, “We know you killed Jackson!”

Anderson stopped midway entering the vehicle. He straightened again and shot a puzzled look at the belligerent officer in front of him. “What did you say?”

Either he truly was surprised, Edeeth thought as she watched the man’s reaction to her partner’s outburst, or he was an actor worth an Academy Award.

“I said we have overwhelming evidence which shows that you murdered Jackson Essien,” Walter said steely.

“Jackson…murdered?” Anderson echoed the two words, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

Before Walter could speak, Edeeth jumped in. “Yes sir, we found his body in the early hours of today. That’s what we are investigating.”

Anderson took a step back from the cab and kept on muttering, “Jackson….dead?” His breathing was becoming labored and he began to tremble. Edeeth knew something was wrong, but Walter still wasn’t having any of that. He charged forward but Edeeth snatched at his arm, her firm grip pulling him up short.

He shot her a look of annoyance. “Why are we wasting time? We know he did it. Let’s bring him in and end this charade!”

Edeeth’s voice was quiet and hard when she said, “I told you to keep cool!” She was about to say something else when she heard a sudden increase in the labored breathing coming from Anderson. Walter heard it too, and both of them turned to see that the elderly man sweating profusely. His body was weaving dangerously where he stood, and the taxi-driver’s worried gaze was on him too.

The man kept on mumbling, “Jackson…it can’t be…dead…no….it can’t be…”

“Calm down sir…please calm down…” Edeeth lifted placating hands as she moved closer to him.

But the shock he’d been hit with was apparently too much for his sixty-five year old body. He suddenly collapsed with a heavy thud on the ground. Edeeth ran to him and unbuttoned his shirt. “Oh no! He’s going into cardiac arrest!” She looked at Walter, who was stunned at what had just transpired, and said, “Don’t just stand there, call an ambulance!”

As if broken free of a trance, Walter sprinted to their car and radioed for an ambulance. Edeeth stayed with the old man as the taxi driver stood a few feet away, visibly shaken.

Conditioned Air

Mr. Chikezie Smith has always lived with fear. His phobia for heights, drowning, cats and spiders are but a few of the many things that comprised his ever growing encyclopedia of fear. Growing up in an abusive home didn’t help his predicament much, either. He had always been always afraid of his father who hit him often at the slightest provocation, and his mother who always had a word of abuse or another to rain down on him every now and then; the woman’s idea of punishing her son was to smear Robb and pepper on his eyes. He also became afraid of going to school because he got picked on by bigger and older kids, due to his smallish stature. But fear also became the driving force behind his transformation into the man he later turned out to be. Over the years, all through his secondary and University days, he studied very hard and made good results. He was determined to break free from the bondage of his parents’ continual abuse. He also subjected himself to a grueling exercise and bodybuilding regimen and learned karate, so as to defend himself against bullies. Now, he stood at 6ft 2inches with the physique of a male model worthy of the Mr. Universe contest, and armed with a Bachelor’s degree in Accountancy, followed by a Master’s degree in Business Administration. It didn’t take long for him to climb up the ladder of success in the multinational firm he worked with as the first assistant to the Chief Accountant of the Headquarters in Lagos. With such a record, not only did he command respect from his peers in the company, but he also struck fear into the hearts of his juniors. He would often give a conceited smirk whenever he thought about the irony. He even went as far as changing his last name from the family name to Smith just to buttress his point of being a man free from fear. A move that didn’t go down well with his parents; but he didn’t care about their opinion anymore. But he was constantly hounded by talks of the animosity that thrived between him and his parents each time he went to visit his siblings. At a point, he became paranoid, his suspicions kicking in over the thought that his kin could be members of some secret society, and was out to get revenge on him through some diabolic means.

Yes, Mr. Chikezie Smith had always lived with fear. Old ones faded with time and then new ones arose. That is the cycle all humans have to face in their daily living. He had been able to live with his fears and learn from them, and judging by the way his life had progressed, it was clear that he was doing a good job.

But tonight, something was quite different from the fear he felt. It felt like an accumulated mass of different kinds of fear had been dropped on him. He hadn’t felt such fear before, not even when his father would yell his name as a signal to another round of beatings, or when he would see a group of bullies waiting for him down the deserted road after school.

It was the fear of all fears.

Cold shivers ran down his spine as he tightened the grip on his Glock pistol with his right hand and clutched his Bible firmly on his chest with his left. He made his way down the hallway of his apartment, a tastefully furnished 3-bedroom apartment situated in a sparsely populated area in the state. He had chosen this apartment because of its location. The building was located very close to the expressway which was very convenient for Chikezie, as it was a straight commute to his office. The apartment was quite extensive and the hallway was well lit, but tonight, Chikezie could barely see beyond his nose. It was as though his fear was so thick it darkened his vision. Large droplets of sweat cascaded down his face from the crown of his head in torrents and dampened his sleeping-shirt. His legs quaked as he made his way towards the kitchen, in search of the shadowy creature he had seen run in there from the corner of his eye.

Just a few minutes ago he had felt a presence, like someone – or something – was in the house with him. He had immediately made his way to his room and – thanks to the Senate’s recent signing of the “Citizen’s Firearm” bill into law – took out his pistol from underneath his bed. He went through the entire house and found nothing. He was just about to give up when he noticed the shadow for the first time. It disappeared behind his couch in the living room just before he could make out what it was. He cautiously walked up to the couch and peered behind it, only to find nothing but his suit which he had tossed onto the couch as he entered into his living room that evening after a hard day’s work. He thought back to earlier in the day. It had gone very well. In fact, it had been one of the best days of his life.

***

He woke up that morning and prepared himself for work. He felt good. He had just finished refurnishing his apartment and installing air conditioners and new beds in two of the three bedrooms in the apartment. When he stepped outside his compound he saw the early morning fog which was characteristic of the Harmattan season; December had swung in with gusto. He loved the Harmattan. He loved its significance – ushering in the festive season and signaling the close of another year.

He set out to work and made it there on time. All seemed to be going very well throughout the day. Even though he had a 32inch flat screen T.V. in his office, he barely watched anything on it. Only when his girlfriend dropped in would he have the urge to see what was on the tube. Even when she visited today, they had lunch together. When they walked out of his office building, he noticed a change in the air. It was a little too hot for the Harmattan. Paying no mind to his observation, he drove his girlfriend to the nearby restaurant and they had lunch. They discussed a lot of things afterwards (mostly about their future together), and thereafter, he dropped her off at her office, and then bought some groceries from a convenience store close to his office just before the end of his lunch break.

It was a Monday, so work was slow and the whole day was filled with meetings. At the close of work by 5:00pm, he and some of his peers and superiors remained behind for another hour to brainstorm on some issues pertaining to the future of the company. They brought the meeting to a close with a few drinks to celebrate the close of another profitable year. By the time he entered into the elevator and hit the button for the parking lot, it was already 7:15pm. He got off the elevator and walked into the parking lot. He got inside his car, turned on the ignition and drove out of the enclosure. He remembered to tip the parking attendants generously.

On his way, he listened to music from his collection of classic soul music. The music was so soothing to him that he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments to better savor the sweet melody from Sade’s Sweetest Taboo. All of a sudden, he snapped his eyes open just in time to see a black cat run across the road. He swerved expertly, narrowly missing the feline by a whisker. With his heart pounding, he chuckled as he thought about what just happened.

By the time he got to his apartment building, he had forgotten the incident. He got to his front door, turned the lock and got into the living room, switching on the air conditioner as he made his way across the room. It came on with a hissing sound which meant that the compressor was up and running. He was proud of himself for being one of the first to purchase the latest model of the ‘green energy’ air conditioners in Nigeria. He had always been enthusiastic about saving the planet. He threw his suit on one of the couches and switched on the TV just in time to hear the news about the latest solar flare which took place earlier in the day, which resulted in increased temperatures across the northern hemisphere and release of microwaves along some points across the tropic of Cancer. He was listening to the concluding part of the news when he first got the feeling he wasn’t alone.

***

Now he was chasing this shadow through the whole house. It was when he felt a cold hand faintly brush against the back of his neck, bristling the hairs on the skin, that he realized that he wasn’t dealing with the natural.

He remembered the cat. Yes, the black cat!

The thought occurred to him that this must be the doing of someone after his life. He walked into the kitchen, but he didn’t see anyone, or anything suspicious. A drop of sweat fell from his face and hit his already dampened shirt, and on the spot it dispersed on the fabric, something moved. He felt more wriggling sensations pop up beneath his shirt and, in a moment of panic, he lifted his shirt to see what was going on. He gave out a yell when his eyes caught sight of what was moving beneath his clothing. Hundreds of tiny spiders crawled all over his torso and were making their way toward his face. It was as though they came out from under his boxers. He tried to beat them off, landing blow after blow on himself with the butt of his gun on his mid-section. Some fell off, but a lot more advanced. He felt their tiny pincers dig into his flesh and he panicked all the more. He looked around the kitchen for anything he could use and found a flask filled with hot water. He grabbed it and without thinking, poured all its content onto his body. He winced from the pain as the water singed his skin. He fell to the floor and to his greatest surprise, the spiders were gone. Vanished. Not even a single dead one lay anywhere on the floor. All that remained was pain from the scalding. He didn’t understand what was going on.

Before he could gather his thoughts, he saw the shadowy creature from earlier on float by and disappear through the hallway. He reached for his gun, which had fallen to the floor during his episode with the spiders, and chased after the dark enemy. He didn’t care about being cautious anymore. Each step he took was a painful one. He knew the burns he suffered from the scalding hot water would become infected if he didn’t treat it soon, but first he had to get rid of the cause of his sudden misfortune. He ran into the living room and saw that the front door was left wide open. He could have sworn that he locked the door behind him when he got into the flat a few hours ago. It could only mean that the creature had made its way outside. He couldn’t let it escape.

He ran straight for the open door and just before he got out, he felt a crushing pain on his face and hands. It was as though some kind of barrier had prevented him from going outside. His enemies were really at work. It took him several seconds to recover from the shock of the collision he had just experienced, just in time for him to realize that there was no barrier to begin with. He had run head-long into his front door which was locked tight. He was bleeding profusely from his broken nose, he had cracked his upper lip and his head ached badly.

He couldn’t understand anything anymore.

He suddenly felt the walls of the apartment were closing in on him, as though the entire house was out to crush him. He ran to the door and kicked his way out. Pain shot through his entire body as the injuries he had sustained began to throb. He ran out of his apartment, made his way down the two flights of stairs he used every day, seeing as he lived on the first floor of the 3-storey building. He ran toward the main gate of the compound. The ground seemed harder than usual, and right before his eyes, it began to undulate. He wobbled as the concrete waves made it difficult to move. He tripped and fell to the ground, crushing his left side on the hard concrete. He moaned in pain. He knew the swellings around his upper body, from the hot water bath, must have burst and peeled off by now.

He looked up towards the main gate and saw two figures standing there. One was that of a man and the other a woman. He narrowed his eyelids so that he could get a clearer picture of who these two intruders were. He lurched to his feet and limped toward them. As the hazy images got clearer, he recognized them both instantly.

His parents!

He was horrified. His father was wearing what seemed to be a uniform, and he immediately sussed it was the uniform that belonged to the secret society he was a member of. He had always been suspicious of them and now they had proven him right – that they truly were after his life. He cringed as the figure representing his father raised its hand in a terrifying manner towards him. He knew what would come next. The beatings he used to experience as a child. He let out a desperate shout, slipped out the gun and shot the towering cultist.

The second figure, which represented his mother, let out a deafening scream. He felt it was just like old times. She was about to scream abuses at him and torture him with pepper and Robb ointment. He jumped backwards while squeezing off shots from his Glock pistol at the banshee. He pulled the trigger for the fifth time just before he hit the floor. He heard both evil doers whimper as they fell to and bled on the floor. He knew he had to get away from here. Cultists always looked out for their own, and they would be after him in no time.

He tried to compose himself and go back to his apartment, but as he turned around, he saw the ground ahead of him begin to undulate again. The nightmare wasn’t over yet. The waves were bigger than the last time and they rolled towards him. He ran out the main gate, into the street. He ran as fast as his tired legs could go and went as far as his injured body could take him. As he ran, he noticed some creatures that resembled dogs were running after him. He looked back and saw they weren’t dogs, but huge cats. All were black, blood dripping from the side of their fanged mouths. He screamed and shot at them as he kept running towards the expressway. One of the ‘cats’ gained on him. He whirled around and shot it at point blank range. Twice. It dropped to the floor in a heap of smoldering flesh but the waves and the other cats kept following him until he got to the expressway.

He stopped to catch his breath and suddenly noticed they weren’t following anymore. He stood there and raised his head to the sky in triumph. He was about to start rejoicing in his heart when all of a sudden, the highway disappeared under a bright light. He turned towards the source of the light and saw a gigantic spider charging towards him. He screamed at the top of his voice and let off five rounds from his pistol at the mega-sized arachnid. The bullets had no effect as the spider opened what seemed to be a mouth to reveal huge Chelicerae.

It kept coming at him, closer and closer.

The pain assaulting his body, coupled with the fear he felt at that point, rooted him to the spot. He knew he had no way of evading it. He looked down at his gun and he knew he had nothing more than two bullets left in the magazine. He raised the gun up to his head and thought it would be better to die by his hand than end up in the belly of such a beast.

However, with four of its eight eyes blazing bright, the creature got to him just before he could pull the trigger.

***

*Part of a news report from Channels television’s Evening-News-Desk on Thursday 9:00pm*

“…reports indicate that the victim, one Mr. Chikezie Smith, went on a rampage in the late hours of Monday. He apparently ran out of his apartment building, located on Saliu Street, off the Lagos/Abeokuta expressway, and shot the security guard and a woman, who has been identified as a commercial sex worker. He later made a mad dash toward the expressway where he shot down a neighbor’s watchdog before standing in the middle of the highway, where he was knocked down by an oncoming luxurious bus.

Autopsy report carried out on his remains show that his body was heavily scarred with second degree burns and he had an unusually high amount of adrenaline in his blood. Investigations carried out at the scene of the disturbance by the newly inaugurated C.S.I. team, revealed that there was a large amount of a strange gas in the air. The gas was said to have very strong hallucinogenic properties which caused the victim – Mr. Chikezie – to visualize most of his terrible fears.

The gas was traced back to a leakage from the so-called ‘green energy’ Air-conditioner which the victim had recently installed.

These Air-conditioners, which are being produced in China under the brand name SongLoo Air-conditioners, are imported by Odegbami & Sons Limited. They utilize a new type of refrigerant which is said to be eco-friendly, but unstable at high temperatures. Investigators claim that yesterday’s solar flare may have been the trigger that set off the reaction and turned the seemingly harmless gas into notorious nightmarish fumes. Since it’s still unclear as to what other side effects this activated gas may have on humans, citizens who have purchased the fore mentioned Air-conditioner should refrain from switching them on, as they are all being recalled by the marketers. So far the number of deaths recorded from exposure to the gas is said to be 4 within the Lagos vicinity.

Investigations are still ongoing to determine what caused the leakage of the gas into the air filters, but one thing is clear, the time taken for continuous exposure to the said gas to have such disastrous effects is approximately twenty minutes.”

***

Mallam Abdullah Halim wasn’t a happy man. Though he was a successful business man who hobnobbed with the cream of the crop in society, he still wasn’t happy. The reason for his unhappiness waited for him at home every night after a hard day’s job. He despised his wife, a feeling that was mutual. Yet they lived together under the same roof, had been doing so for the seven years they’d been married, in a bid to please their parents, who had arranged the union. He hated her nagging, her whining and other traits she exhibited that didn’t go down well with him.

Tonight he came home to find that she had already gone to bed. The time was 8:30pm and he wondered how angry she must have been to make her go to bed so early (after all it was a Tuesday night and most of her favorite soap-operas would be showing on the television). She had left a note on the living room table telling him where to find his dinner.

He went to his room, which was down the hall from hers, in their beautiful six-room duplex. He took off his kaftan. He looked at his dresser and spotted the tray of covered dishes which was his dinner. He turned on the air-conditioner in his room and it jerked on with a hissing sound. He looked at the machine for a while. He had just bought it, after much persuasion from the young lady who came to his office to market the product. Not only did he get a good bargain, he also got a Friday night he would never forget in a hurry. He smiled at the air-conditioner as the cool air blew towards him and sent a wave of memories of that Friday night’s pleasures with the young lady-marketer.

He looked at the time and it was 8:45pm. He decided to snooze a little before the 9:00pm news came up. He never missed the news. He lay down on the bed, shut his eyes, and reopened them at the alarm he had set. The time was 9:20pm.

He got up with a jolt. For some unknown reason, he was sweating profusely. He kept having thoughts of his wife being out to kill him tonight. He shook his head in an attempt to expunge the thoughts from his mind, as though the thoughts would fall right out of his ears. He switched on the television in his room just in time to hear the anchorwoman for the evening news reporting the tail end of the headline news. He had just missed the part about the recall of the air-conditioners with the brand name, SongLoo. The same brand the lady-marketer persuaded him to buy. He got off his bed and felt slight wave of dizziness.

He still couldn’t shake the feeling of his wife wanting him dead. His mind began to travel. Why did she go to bed so early? Why did she leave a note for him instead coming out to greet him? Why did she leave his food in his room, instead of the dining table? More and more questions about her behavior tonight kept flooding his mind and feeding his paranoia. Something caught his eye at the periphery, and he could have sworn he saw a shadow very close to the dresser. The dresser, where the food his wife made for him lay. He cautiously walked over to the dresser and gently tried to open one of the plates on the tray. He held the lid, and lifted it up.

He wasn’t ready for what he saw. Hundreds of worms crawled all around the plate in a pulsating mass. He staggered backward and knocked his foot underneath the dresser, sending the worms flying in different directions. He hated anything that slithered. Snakes. Worms. The like. At that moment, the large mass of worms, which had fallen to the floor, began to part ways at the center. A head reared up from in-between the mass and instantly Abdullah knew what it was. Just like the one that chased him down as a child growing up in the northern part of Nigeria, a black mamba slithered out from the midst of the heap of worms. Abdullah clutched at the wall behind him in a desperate attempt to flee from the menacing reptile.

Just then, the room to his door was flung wide open and he saw a figure standing there. It was his wife…or something that looked like her. It had her face but its pitch-black body looked like that of a bird and her arms looked like those of a lion and ended with sharp claws on each finger. When it/she called his name, it sounded so evil that he clasped his palms over his ears, attempting to block out the sound. He saw a row of jagged teeth in its/her mouth. He screamed at the top of his lungs as the creatures before him came closer. He looked around the room frantically and his gaze came down on his dagger. It had fallen off the dresser when he knocked it over. The creatures came closer still. He took a deep breath, and lunged toward the dagger.

C.S.I: 9JA (The Jack And Jill STory: Episode 8)

At the top of the hill, Chrome and Walter sifted through the crime scene. Making sure they didn’t miss a thing. Their eyes darting this way and that. Walter was slightly acrophobic, so he stayed well away from the drop-offs lining the hilltop. They worked from opposite ends gradually making their way to the center. They couldn’t get any clear pattern of footprints because the scene had been heavily disturbed by some uniformed police officers before they arrived in the morning. They had to make do with finding something more solid than footprints. The wind atop the hill was quite strong and it sent Chrome’s tie flapping like a sail as he crouched down to peer underneath a bunch of cacti growing near a rock. Something there had caught his eye, something small and pink.

“Hey, Wally, over here,” he called out. When Walter got to his side, he pointed to the object and asked, “What do you make of this?”

Walter brought out a pair of tweezers and picked up the object. After careful scrutiny, he said “I think it’s…a broken piece of…artificial nail?”

“BINGO!” Chrome replied with some excitement creeping into his voice. “That’s exactly what it is, and that’s exactly what I had hoped to find.”

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t follow,” Walter said has he bagged the piece.

“You see, when I first checked out Monica Scott, I noticed her right hand was balled in a fist while the left was not. I needed to confirm my suspicion by getting a better look. So I shook her hand before she left and got a better look. Her left hand had well manicured artificial nails while the right hand didn’t. The only time a woman removes the artificial nails on one hand, without removing that of the other hand, is when a nail is broken.”

“Wow, sir, you learnt all that from Ruth?” Walter joked.

“Amazing what you glean from the fairer sex when you’re taking a breather.” He winked at Walter and both men laughed. Chrome continued, “Let’s get back to the station lab. The glue used in fixing the nails might have a piece of the wearer’s nail tissue. If we put a rush on it, we can have a DNA report by morning. I bet my ridiculous government salary that it belongs to Monica.”

“Luckily for us, Jos has the equipment we need to get this done quickly,” Walter chipped in.

*The world of forensic science had undergone tremendous advancements over the years, especially in the area of DNA analysis. About five years ago, a Jewish scientist, Prof. Abraham Smith, of Stanford University in California, USA (a leading school in the research in DNA), was able to develop a method which accurately cut short the time taken in completing a DNA analysis. With the help of a group of programmers in India, he developed a computer program which reduced the time taken in the screening process, DNA quantitation, PCR (polymer chain reaction) Step Calculation and DNA typing, thereby increasing the accuracy of the analysis by reducing human error. This method was currently being used by most law enforcement agencies around the world. A few years before the breakthrough, it usually took at least seventy-two hours to get a printed result for the analysis. This was done for urgent cases, but it was also very expensive to undertake. With the new method, it would take just a little over fifteen hours to complete an analysis for an urgent case.

And at the moment, the investigation of Jackson Essien’s murder was as urgent as any other.

Within the three years of the existence of the C.S.I. department of the Federal Police Force of Nigeria, four of its personnel had taken training courses on this subject. The Federal Government also made it compulsory within the time that all citizens should submit samples of their blood for DNA identification, including fingerprints and toe-prints. This was carried out in the last nationwide census. This move led to incredible breakthroughs in the solving of some cases which were once labeled as unsolved. Some cases, not all.

Within minutes, the two officers walked down the hill and drove away from the crime scene.

***

Back at the autopsy laboratory, Manny was getting his report ready for Chrome when Stacey walked in all excited. “Dr. Emmanuel!” she called out

“Stacey, how many times have I told you? You don’t need to be so formal. Call me Manny, please,” Manny cut in.

“Oh sorry, Manny, force of habit.”

“No problem. Now, what’s got your knickers on fire?” Manny attempted to tease.

“Well, I went back to the forensic lab and it turned out the computer recreation of the murder weapon came out faster than we anticipated.” She handed a file over to him and continued, “Also, the material we recovered from the wound on the corpses head is aluminum. The thickness corresponds with the specifications used the coating of Golf clubs.”

Manny was flipping through the pages of the report in the file as Stacey continued, “From the dimension fed into the computer simulator, it was able to give us a three dimensional image of what kind of golf club it was that inflicted such a wound.”

Manny himself was a golf enthusiast and he knew immediately what the kind of golf club it was at first sight of the computer image.  He closed the file and sighed as he said, “It’s a 9-iron golf club, the strongest of all clubs used in the game of golf. A terrible weapon as well.”

***

Sir Anderson Gyang looked at his wrist watch as he stood in front of the compound which house his flat and that of the late Jackson Essien. The time was a 3:45pm. His flight was scheduled to leave by 6:30pm for Uyo. He took a look at Jackson’s flat. The front door was still locked since morning. Sir Anderson smiled. It wasn’t your everyday-old-man kind of smile; there was something coy about it. He turned away and headed into his house.

I have to start packing if I don’t want to miss my flight, he thought to himself.

Once more he turned to Jackson’s flat and spoke with a whisper, “Adios Jackson. My work here is done.”

He walked into the front door of his flat and shut it behind him.

***

Edeeth was waiting in the WAR Room when Jerome walked in. The nickname “WAR-room” was given to the C.S.I conference room which had been converted from a large storage room within the building. It was given the name because it looked like a battle had been waged in it. There were files here and there and a lot of things were out of place. Within the last year, the Federal Government had made it compulsory that all State police commands should have facilities in place for a C.S.I team. Jerome was glancing through some notes he had taken down and almost bumped into the table in the center of the room.

“Watch where you are going, nerd,” Edeeth joked

Jerome made a funny face at Edeeth before settling down on the chair next to the one she sat on. The face made Edeeth chuckle. Jerome placed the note on top of the table and continued glancing through it. He noticed Edeeth had a file in front of her.

“You’ve got the info on his background already?” he asked her.

“Not everything, but this is good for now.”

“Ok, I’m still waiting on my source at the airport,” Jerome said as he resumed glancing at his notes, “but I had a hunch and called on the Akwa-Ibom State police command.”

“Oh?” Edeeth arched an amused brow. “You had a hunch? Well, I guess a bit of Chrome is rubbing off on you.”

Jerome smiled. “It does seem his personality is rubbing off on all of us.”

“True. Now, what was your hunch about?”

Jerome was about to answer when Chrome walked in through the door. He was closely followed by Walter, whose instant scowl betrayed his displeasure at seeing Jerome all alone – and sitting so close – with Edeeth. Walter had an extreme case of the green-eyed monster when it came to what he considered his.

The duo stood up as their superior officer walked to the end of the table and sat down. Walter was about to leave the room when Chrome called him back. “Wally, before you get started on the analysis, let’s table our findings.”

“OK, sir,” Walter replied. He returned and pulled up a chair on Edeeth’s other side.

Chrome leaned forward. “So far, Walter and I have found some interesting things at the crime scene.” He nodded at Walter who placed the evidence bag on the table. Edeeth picked it up first and smiled. Chrome continued, “We found that at the top of the hill, at the spot where we figured Jackson fell from.”

Edeeth passed the bag to Jerome. Walter brought out his digital camera and played back the pictures they had taken earlier. He showed them to Edeeth as he said, “We also found tire tracks and foot prints not far from the hill. We believe it was left there by the perpetrator because the foot prints go to and fro the spot where Jackson’s body was found.”

Jerome was about to collect the camera from Edeeth when his cell phone rang. He looked at the display and saw that it was Deborah Banks. He excused himself from the gathering and went just outside the office to receive the call. Chrome looked at Edeeth and asked, “Did you get anything interesting on the background of our dead friend?”

“Oh yes I did.” She opened the file in front of her. “Jackson Essien was the only child of Mr. and Mrs. Josiah and Rebecca Essien. As we already know, his parents are also late. They both died from a car crash two years ago. His father was an industrialist and his mother was a lecturer with the University of Uyo.” She passed a sheet of paper to Chrome. “That is company profile for E.G. Group of Companies. It’s a very large firm with interests in oil and gas, import and export of goods and so many other ventures –” She was cut short with Jerome’s re-entry into the room.

The man started speaking at once, “That was my contact at the airport.” He returned to his seat as Edeeth resumed talking.

Chrome was the one who interrupted her this time. “Sorry, Edeeth, but I’d like to hear what Jerome’s contact said.” He motioned to Jerome.

“Well, um…my contact has it on authority that the commissioner’s name was in the manifesto on the last flight from Uyo to Jos. He travelled in the business class. However, the sources at the Jos airport have no recollection of him coming through the arrivals gate.”

Chrome nodded and said, “Ask your sources if we can get a copy of the manifesto for the last flight from Uyo to Jos for yesterday. We would like copies for both business class and economy class.”

“Will do so, sir.”

Chrome looked at Edeeth and said, “Sorry about that, E. Please continue.”

“As I was saying sir, the E.G. Group of Companies is a very powerful company. They have their headquarters in Abuja and other branches in Uyo, Lagos and even here in Jos, which is where Jackson was supposed to start working next month.” She paused for effect before continuing, “The Company was created by two friends in the early nineties. Mr. Josiah Essien and his very close friend…” She looked at Walter before ending the sentence “…Mr. Anderson Gyang.”

The look of surprise written all over Walter’s face was enough to tell Chrome that both Walter and Edeeth knew who this Anderson Gyang fellow was. “Who is Mr. Anderson Gyang?” he immediately asked.

It was Walter who answered. “He was the man who identified himself as Jackson’s neighbor when we went over to his house earlier today. We would never have suspected he had any connections with Jackson.” Walter put a hand on his jaw and played with his beards. “That is very interesting.”

“That’s not even the interesting part,” Edeeth chipped in. “It turns out that both Josiah Essien and Anderson Gyang had equal shares of the company, 40% apiece. The remaining 20% was owned by five other investors. So the Board of Directors is comprised of these seven individuals.” Edeeth showed Walter and Jerome the copy of the document she received from the C.A.C. “When I got a hold of this information, I called one of the company’s directors and enquired of the validity of the information. He validated it and went on to give me more info.” She paused again, this time to see how interested her audience was in her story. She relished the attention being showed her at that moment.

“Are you waiting for a drum roll here?” Jerome interjected wryly.

A chuckle rippled around the table. Edeeth smiled and said, “He told me that Josiah and Anderson had a falling-out about three years ago. It was a very serious one and both parties never spoke to each other after that, not even during board meetings. Mr. Anderson relocated to Jos and headed the branch office here.”

Chrome sat up on his chair and returned the paper he was holding back to Edeeth. A hush fell on the gathering, and each individual mulled his thoughts for a moment.

Walter broke the ice when he suddenly stood up. “I have to get started on this.” He grabbed the evidence bag from the table and was about to leave the room when Stacey sauntered in. She was carrying a folder under her left arm which she placed on the table.

“Good evening, officers,” she greeted cheerily.

“Good evening, Stacey,” Walter and Jerome chorused smilingly.

“How you doing, Stacey?” Edeeth asked.

“I’m doing fine, E. Thanks for asking.” Stacey turned to Chrome and said in a reasonably subdued tone, “Good evening, Chrome – sir…” Something about Chrome’s presence intimidated her; it also didn’t help that she nursed a crush on him.

“Yes Stacey, what’s up? Did Manny find anything else?”

“Yes, Manny – I mean, Dr. Emmanuel…he sent me here.” She opened the folder in her hand and passed copies of her superior’s report to the officers – first to Chrome, then to the others. “As you can see from the reports you are holding, we have deduced the origin and composition of the metal object that was found within the wound on the victim’s head. It is aluminum and from its density we deduced it’s the kind usually used in coating sports equipment.”

“What kind of sports equipment?” Jerome asked

“If you flip to the next page” – papers rustled as they flipped – “you will see that, with the aid of the 3D computer diagram, the most likely sports equipment is a –”

“9-iron golf club,” Chrome cut in before she could finish.

“Yes sir, that’s what we think it is too,” Stacey said, smiling.

There was a brief hush again; it lasted infinitesimally before, as if on cue, both Walter and Edeeth exclaimed, “Oh shit!”

They looked at each other and Walter tossed the evidence bag at Jerome. “Here, Jay, you run the analysis.”  He turned to Chrome, who already knew what he was going to ask and nodded in approval.

“You get going,” he said. “Jay will run the DNA analysis. Edeeth, you go with Walter”

Edeeth was on her feet, and both officers made their way out the conference room and towards the building’s exit.

 

 

 

*This is a fiction story, so the statement made here is also fiction. Nobody of such repute exists, and if they do, this is pure coincidence. There are new breakthroughs in the world of genetics and DNA analysis. So far none has been able to reduce the time taken to complete said analysis. We hope in the nearest future it would be achievable.

C.S.I: 9JA (The Jack And Jill Story: Episode 7)

The commissioner’s car sped down the Jos/Abuja expressway, towards the Bukuru residence of the Scotts. Even though only a few yards separated Anthony and Monica Scott in the back seat of the car, it seemed as though a chasm was yawning wide open between them. The young woman stared unseeingly out the window at the passing scenery. And judging by the set look on his face, Anthony wasn’t in an amiable mood either.

“I told you not to go to the police!” he suddenly burst out. He turned to face his daughter. “Do you know what kind of unnecessary publicity you have brought upon yourself? You are very lucky that I already had an engagement here in Jos. Who knows what those officers might have subjected you to?”

Monica made no response. She kept on staring out through the window. Anthony leaned toward her, and that was when he saw her tears. They streamed steadily down her cheeks, giving a silence to her grief that was poignant. Touched by it, Anthony held her head softly and gently drew her to his arms.

“There, there, my dear, I’m sorry for being hard on you,” he consoled. Her sobs began to gain some volume, and her father added, “I know you loved him so much. I promise you that whoever is responsible will surely pay for this!”

For a moment, she said nothing. Then she broke the embrace, rested her teary gaze on her father and husked, “Thank you, daddy.”

“You are welcome, my dear.”

During this time, the scar-faced driver kept on eyeing them through the rearview mirror. When his boss looked in his direction, he averted the gaze.

“Dapo,” Anthony called.

“Sir,” the driver answered.

“Get us home quickly.”

“Ok sir.”

And the driver stepped on the gas pedal.

***

Walter pulled up his car on the far end of the road, which wasn’t tarred, and led to the hills. Chrome was the first to step out of the car as Walter killed the engine. The sun was scorching. Chrome had his shades on and he looked around to take in the entire landscape. Walter got out after him and shut the door with a slight slam that appeared to resonate in the stultifying stillness of their environment. The crime scene was just ahead of them and it was sealed off from the public. Armed police personnel guarded the region so that nobody would tamper with the scene until the investigation was over. Chrome spotted a figure standing not too far from where they were parked. He pointed towards the end of the road behind Walter. “Start from that side. I’ll check this side,” he instructed.

Walter nodded and walked off in the direction Chrome had pointed. He was holding several plastic bags customarily used for the packaging of exhibits found on crime scenes. There were some on atop the roof of the car and Chrome picked them up as he walked in the opposite direction, toward the figure that stood watching them. On getting closer, he could see that the figure was that of a woman – a Caucasian woman. He remembered who she was; the expatriate who had found Jackson Essien’s body earlier in the day. He walked up to her as she looked towards the top of the hill, shielding her eyes with her hands from the bright rays of the sun. Chrome was a few steps behind her when he coughed to get her attention. Visibly startled, she whirled around.

“Oh my! You scared me,” she gasped, with a smile building up on her face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Chrome said, returning her smile. He could tell from her accent that she was British. She had pale-blue eyes and her skin was well-tanned. Her hair fell in straight chestnut-coloured waves to her shoulders, which were straight and lean under the cotton blouse she was wearing. Chrome was tall, and was used to staring down at most women. Not so with this woman. Her height stretched just as tall as his, and she looked to be in her late thirties.

“You are Officer Chrome Chunke, am I correct?” she asked, rather boldly. Her blue gaze rested searchingly on his face.

“Yes I am,” he replied, a little taken aback.

“No need to be surprised, sir,” she said, her smile coming back. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“My reputation?” Chrome’s brow arched.

“Yes sir, you are the one who solved the case of the hallucinogenic gases been used as refrigerants by that Chinese Air-conditioner company last year, not so? It was quite a scary episode. To think I almost bought the so-called eco-friendly air-conditioner.” She effected a shudder.

“Oh that.” Chrome smiled demurely in recollection of the case that took place the previous year. “That was a long time ago. So you have been in Nigeria since then?”

“Yes, I’ve lived here for quite a while now, two years to be exact. I love this country, so peaceful, yet with such an understated vibrancy. You can imagine my surprise when I saw the dead man this morning as I was taking my morning walk.”

Chrome watched her as she spoke, taking in a more scrutinizing observation of her. She had none of the stunning good looks of the likes of Monica Scott, but perhaps, that had to do with the fact that her looks had been hammered and firmed with age. Her musculature was well-toned, evidence of her addiction to exercise, and her voice was soft and crisp.

“–I mean, the poor man, to die in such a ghastly way, it’s just horrible –”

Chrome refocused on her words with some effort. Cutting in, he said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss –” He waited for her to give her name.

“Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners?” she said with some self-deprecation. “My name is Lorna – Lorna Jones.”

“Miss Jones –”

“Please call me Lorna.”

“Ok, Lorna, I’m sorry but you have to leave this vicinity.”

“Oh I know, you have to do your police stuff.”

“Thank you for understanding”

“My pleasure, officer. It was a real honor to meet you.”

Chrome watched Lorna leave and waited until she was nearly out of sight before he began canvassing the scene. He made sure he didn’t miss a thing, his eyesight swept from one point on the ground to another. He was about to walk to another part of the road when his cell phone rang. It was Walter.

“Talk to me, Wally.”

“Chief, I think I found something. Come with the car, I’m quite far from where you are.”

“Ok, I’m on my way.”

He ended the call and walked back to the car. Within a few minutes, he had driven to the part of the road where Walter was waiting. He got out of the car and both men met at the centre of the road. Walter cast a look around before asking his superior officer, “Chief, do you notice anything odd?”

Chrome looked around him the same way Walter just did. “Um…not really. Enlighten me.”

Walter looked around again, and then answered “We’ve been on this road for close to an hour now, haven’t we?”

“Yes we have.”

“I haven’t seen another car come through this route except for ours.”

“That’s right.” Chrome stood, hands akimbo, his crocheted brows betraying his impatience. Get to the point, he seemed to be saying.

Walter continued, “Even this morning, when we first got here, I noticed none of the cars on the highway ever turned to this road. Nobody uses this road because it leads to nowhere, just to the hills. And there is no point taking this road to the hills since there is a better road on the other side of the hills, the less steep side.”

“Excellent observation, Wally, but where are you going with this?”

“Follow me sir.” Walter led Chrome to a spot quite a bit off the main road, at hidden end of one of the hills. Walter pointed to the ground. There were tire tracks imprinted in the loose earth. Chrome crouched to get a better look. Walter brought out his High Definition digital camera and took a few snapshots of the imprints.

After carefully observing the tracks, Chrome got to his feet. “What can you tell me from this?”

“Well, the tracks are fresh, most likely left here in the morning, nothing earlier than that or else the winds would have covered them up. They were most likely made by a jeep because of the size and uniqueness of the tire patterns.” He walked to one point on the tracks and pointed towards the opposite direction and said, “The car came from the other side of the hills, where the good roads are.” He walked on a bit towards the direction Chrome was standing and stood. “It stopped here and the occupant got out.” He pointed at the only footprint that was closest to the tracks. “Those aren’t my prints, and neither are they yours.” He brought out a measuring ruler from his knapsack and placed it beside the footprint before taking a picture of it.

Chrome followed the footprints with his eyes until they disappeared into the road where their car was parked, and came back towards the tire tracks. “At least, we are most certain now that our victim was murdered. We also know his killer was mobile and was waiting. Let’s get to the top of the hill.”

Walter followed closely behind Chrome as they made their way to the top of the hill where it all began.

***

Edeeth had just got off the phone with one of the secretaries over at the Corporate Affairs Commission and was waiting for the final bit of information she was promised to be sent to her via email. So far she had gotten information on Jackson Essien’s school background and his deceased parents’ marital life. All that was left was to put all the pieces together to get a bigger picture of the Essien family. Her Blackberry suddenly buzzed and she knew the email had been sent as promised. She used the computer on the desk she was sitting behind to open the mail. She was reading through the information sent to her when she caught sight of a portion which seemed to be of great interest to her. She clicked on PRINT on the home screen and went over to the copier machine to collect the printouts. All the while, she kept on muttering, “Interesting, very interesting…”

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.