‘I have a good source. This man in Ghana is recommended.’ The Evangelist rose. ‘Good day, Mr Commissioner. And may God continue to bless you.’
So as the Evangelist paced, he worried about the officer’s words. Should I ask him to go to Ijebu Ode? He dialled the number for Chief Amechi.
‘Peace and love, brother!’
‘Peace and love, my lord! My heart is troubled.’
‘Your heart is in turmoil. Indeed it should be.’ ‘How much time do I have?’
There was silence for some time, then Chief Amechi said, ‘Between seven to fourteen days. They can come for you any time before the fourteenth day.’
Evangelist Chuba shivered.
‘Someone suggested that I consult some diviners at Ijebu Ode—’
Chief Amechi was shocked. He must stop him from doing that. ‘Why? No. The mantra forbids that… Listen, I have contacted the detective I told you about.’
The Evangelist sensed unease in his voice. ‘But my lord, what about the Sacred Order? Can they help me locate her? The Temple has the divine powers.’
‘The burden is not that of the Sacred Order. Everyone has his task. This is your cross. Do you disturb the Tais with your worries? Has the Order not treated you well all these years? I hope you do not intend to travel to the Temple. Remember you will receive no audience. Their anger is running high. The clock is ticking away.’
‘Thank you for your counsel, my lord.’
‘Peace and love, my brother!’
THIRTY-THREE
Sunday, 9th May 2010
Evangelist Chuba sat under a canopy tree, drinking juice and eating Cabin biscuits. A newspaper and his Bible were by his side and his eyes occasionally drifted to the gate.
Just as Mrs Chuba came out and sat beside her husband, the gateman rushed to the gate and opened it. A Mercedes E-Class pulled into the compound, and a sturdy man of average height stepped out of the car. He looked around to appraise the luxurious compound. The visitor wore woollen trousers, a white striped shirt and black shoes. He had on a pair of sunglasses, a fez and a gold watch. One of the guards took his luggage inside. The Evangelist walked over to welcome him, shook his hand and led him over to the garden seats.
‘So, you are Detective Kwame?’
‘Yes, Sir. I am sorry about your daughter.’
‘Please, do sit down, Mr Kwame. This is my wife… Evangelist Franca Chuba.’
‘My pleasure meeting you, ma’am.’
Mrs Chuba nodded briefly and asked, ‘What may we get for you, detective?’
‘A cup of coffee will do. I guess you people have coffee in this part of the world?’ he asked with a smile. He touched his moustache while surveying his hosts. Mrs Chuba instructed one of the maids to bring a cup of coffee.
‘Nigeria is a nice country.’
‘Is this your first visit?’ the Evangelist asked.
‘Yes, I had a wonderful journey. Lagos is a beautiful place. I took a taxi around town for a couple of hours while waiting for my flight to Enugu. I loved all the jostling. It reminded me of New York.’
‘Oh! Nigeria has been experiencing steady but continuous growth. Soon, we shall get there,’ the Evangelist said proudly.
Kwame’s eyes were caught by the newspaper; he picked it up and looked at the headlines. ‘Terrorism is tarnishing the image of the giant of Africa,’ he said.
‘What can we do? The world is full of evil.’
‘Ghana is a nice place too,’ Mrs Chuba said.
‘Yes. But of course, we cannot compare with you. You are years ahead of us—’
‘That is right. But if Nigeria is succeeding and Ghana is failing, or any other African country is failing, it means Nigeria is failing too. Don’t you think so?’ the Evangelist asked.
Detective Kwame considered these words, his head tilted to one side while he stared at the Evangelist. ‘I think… you are correct. But tell me, how has the family been coping?’
‘Brother Kwame, we have been in despair. We fear our daughter may be dead,’ the Evangelist said, his eyes blinking rapidly.
The detective sat back in his chair, resting his hands on the arms, and said, ‘Give me a brief rundown of events so far. How you heard the news, the efforts of the police. Her friends. Her close relations… Who and where she visits. Any discoveries so far… no matter how minute you might think them to be.’ He turned to see the maid approach with a tray of biscuits and his coffee.
They were silent as the maid placed the tray on the stool beside the Evangelist.
‘Thank you. How is lunch coming on?’ Mrs Chuba asked.
‘Almost set, Ma. In fifteen minutes, Ma.’
‘Have you tasted Nigerian banga soup?’ Mrs Chuba asked Kwame.
‘No, ma’am. I can’t wait.’
Kwame got to work that very day. His method of questioning was detailed and to the point. Each person was interviewed separately and thoroughly. Kwame compared his notes with those he had been given by Officer Leonard who had been introduced to him soon after his arrival.
He found out that none of the staff knew when Adeline left the house. He also tried to establish her mood before the disappearance. Some said she was not in the best of moods. Others said she was okay. Miss Spencer said she was fine. Demola revealed something that she did not tell the police.
‘Sir, one day, some days before small madam got missing, she was vomiting—’
‘How many days before her disappearance?’
‘Like four days, Sir.’
‘I didn’t see it in your statement to the police, beautiful girl?’ He looked her in the eyes.
Demola grinned.
‘They didn’t ask me about her mood, Sir. Is it not good to answer only what you are asked?’ She was admiring the detective.
‘How did you know?’
‘I am her nurse, Sir. We are to answer only what we are asked.’ She grinned at the detective again and Kwame grinned back.
‘So the vomiting, my dear? What do you think about it?’
‘There are many reasons why one would vomit. I don’t know why she vomited.’
‘You are a nurse. So don’t you think if she was sick, she would have told you? Maybe she was hiding something from you… like pregnancy?’
‘No, Sir, Adeline can’t be pregnant. She has no boyfriend.’ Demola became uneasy. ‘May I leave now?’ she added quickly.
Kwame was startled at her sudden change of mood. ‘You can go, my dear.’ She stood to go. At the door, he called her back. ‘It’s been a few days now, Demola. Maybe if you sit down and think, you might come up with some other things about Adeline.’
She said nothing.
‘You loved Adeline?’
‘I still love her, Sir. Adeline is a nice person.’
‘Then you should help me find her for you. She may be in danger wherever she is, Demola.’
‘If I remember anything I will let you know.’ She hurried away.
Miss Spencer and the girls gathered in the kitchen; she was trying to find out what they had said to the detective. Demola didn’t tell her that she’d told him that she’d seen Adeline vomiting. Miss Spencer’s phone rang.
‘Excuse me,’ she said and hurried to her room. She locked the door and went into the bathroom.
‘Hello, Donaldo.’
‘How are you, Miss Spencer?’
‘I am fine, but you don’t sound good. Are you okay?’
‘I am worried. Very worried about Adeline.’
‘Me too. I don’t know what happened, Donaldo. She didn’t come to see you that evening? She told me you were waiting for her outside.’
‘No. No. I wasn’t waiting for her. I can’t lie to you.’ But he did exactly that. It hurt him to lie, but Miss Spencer was the only connection he had left to Adeline, the only source of redemption. Maybe through her love and forgiveness the nightmares would cease.
Miss Spencer took a deep breath. She had been willing her mind not to think that Donaldo might know Adeline’s wh
ereabouts.
‘Donaldo, things might work out fine now. There is a new investigator. His name is Kwame… he is from Ghana.’
‘Oh.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘When did he arrive?’
‘This afternoon. He is trying to find Adeline. He has a great reputation, I am sure he will solve this in no time.’
‘Please keep my identity a secret. You know that if her father discovers that she was seeing me, he will feel betrayed. Things will turn out worse.’
‘I know. I know. My God. I am so afraid, Donaldo.’
‘Adeline would want us to be strong. She wouldn’t want her parents to know about me no matter what.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Detective Kwame was a soft-spoken, gentle man. He walked gracefully, never appearing to be in a hurry. He often stroked his moustache and carried a comb in his pocket which he would run through his hair. The maids were all in love with him and gossiped about him.
That night, Officer Leonard Omelu came to see him again when he left work. The two men met in the Chubas’ sitting room.
‘I am passionate about this case,’ Leonard told Kwame. ‘It’s puzzling. A girl disappears without a trace and everyone claims she has no friends and she wasn’t seen leaving the house.’
‘We can’t talk here. Come to my room.’
In the guest room Kwame brought out the copies of the police statements that Leonard had given him earlier and his own notepad.
‘I don’t want to talk in the sitting room because I don’t trust anyone.’
‘Good. Do you get the feeling that there is a kind of conspiracy going on here?’ Leonard wanted the detective to speak his mind. ‘Kwame, the day this girl was reported missing, we came here to talk to the staff, but each of them answered our questions as if they had been prepped before we came on what to say and what to leave out. If we pushed too hard, the Cameroon woman, ehm, Miss Spencer, would say that we were embarrassing or intimidating her staff.’
‘I see.’
‘Then when we took the security guards to interrogate them, nothing new came up. I think something fishy is going on here.’
‘I believe, Leonard, that they are scared of something more than interrogation. Something I cannot pinpoint. I think something is going on in this house that they are frightened to say in case they are punished.’
‘Exactly.’ Leonard was impressed with the detective. He liked working with intelligent people.
‘I’ve got some new information anyway,’ Kwame announced. ‘The nurse, Demola, said that a few days before the girl disappeared she saw her vomiting.’
‘What else did she say?’
‘Nothing more. I wonder if the girl was pregnant and has eloped with her lover.’
‘Well, we found a letter in her room. A love letter, but when we showed it to the Evangelist he tore it up—’
‘What?’
‘Yes. He claims the girl had no friends, and certainly no boyfriend—’
‘So the letter was going to contradict his claims?’
‘Yes.’
‘How stupid – does he want us to find her or not?’
The two men looked through the statements spread in front of them.
‘This girl,’ Kwame tapped Adeline’s photograph, ‘this girl is so beautiful. There’s no way people in town won’t know her. I think we can get more information from people outside this compound than we have from the staff here.’
‘So what are you thinking, Kwame?’
‘We need to come up with a publicity strategy.’
‘But her photograph has been in national dailies and on television every day.’
‘Not that kind of publicity. How many people in this town have access to the dailies or the national TV or cable network channels? We need to come up with something simple. Tomorrow we will scan this photo and print lots of copies and pay some boys to paste them on the walls of public places with a notice.’
Officer Leonard smiled. He was beginning to like Kwame even more.
‘Leonard, someone in this town must have seen that girl around. She is eighteen. At that age, girls are adventurous, with boys and so on. Especially if they are being controlled by their parents. We need to find someone who thinks they have seen this girl before, either alone or with someone. That would be of great help.’
THIRTY-FOUR
Monday, 10th May 2010
Officer Leonard Omelu drove Kwame around town after they had printed Adeline’s photo in a printing shop because the District Police Office had no scanners or printers. The notice had Adeline’s colour photo with a message:
If you know anything about Adeline Chuba
Come forward. Reward: N100, 000
He added his mobile number at the bottom. Some young boys were paid to paste the posters around Ishieke and to drop them in hotels and restaurants. The next day they were to do the same in the nearest town, Abakaliki.
Late in the afternoon, Leonard and Kwame sat on Leonard’s bonnet talking in front of the Chuba residence, when Leonard’s phone rang.
‘Hello? Yes, I can hear you. Yes, I am in charge of the case. Good. You saw my name and phone number on the poster.’ Leonard looked at Kwame. ‘Yes, yes. You saw her once. With a boy? Okay. How can I meet you? Please, no, don’t worry, I won’t arrest you. I am not a police officer. I am a private investigator hired by her family…’ He knew that if he told the truth it would put the caller off. ‘Please, this girl might be in danger…’ Leonard began to get into his car. Kwame hurried to the passenger’s side. ‘I am on my way. Please hold on. I will be with you in… five minutes.’
Leonard drove like someone on the run from hired assassins. They parked outside a small café and hurried inside. Kwame dialled the number and saw someone behind the counter answer their phone, then he rang off and walked up to her. Leonard followed. She was a middle-aged woman. She was dark, dressed in a blouse and skirt but wearing a cooking apron over the top. Her hair was covered with a scarf.
‘Sir, good afternoon. Please come.’ She indicated a door behind her and led them to the kitchen.
Leonard spoke first. ‘My name is Leonard. This is Kwame. We are not policemen. He is a Ghanaian. I am a Nigerian. We were hired by the family to search for the missing girl.’
‘Sir, I am scared because if you give information to the police they will arrest me as a suspect.’
‘We know that, but we assure you that we won’t do that… you see, this girl has been missing for several days now and no one seems to know what has happened to her. Her family claims she doesn’t leave the house.’
The woman was surprised.
‘What?’ Kwame said. He had been studying the woman for signs that she was lying.
‘They say she doesn’t leave the house? I don’t think that’s true, Sir. You see, that girl is very beautiful. That is the problem with beautiful people. Everywhere they go they are easily noticed.’
‘I agree.’
‘She came here once with an elderly woman.’
‘Can you describe the woman for us?’
‘She was plump and busty with chocolate coloured skin.’
The two detectives knew who she was talking about.
‘What did they do?’
‘It seemed they just came to hang out. The girl was behaving strange. She was staring at people as if she had never seen humans before. I noticed this because she was so lovely and you know… we women, we notice when we see a gorgeous woman.’
‘That’s very interesting.’
‘There is something else.’
‘What? Please tell us.’
‘I saw her again… here… twice.’
Leonard and Kwame took a deep breath. God was on their side.
‘She came with a boy… a very handsome boy. In fact the boy was even more beautiful than the girl. I noticed them because this is a small place and we don’t get that many customers. And I liked the girl because of her looks and lovely figure. And the boy too.’
�
�Was it the first time this boy came here?’ Kwame asked.
‘Yes. Well, I don’t know if he had been here another day…’ The woman paused. ‘I think he came here another time before the day he came with the girl. But I am not sure. Please… I can’t say what I don’t know.’
‘This boy came with her twice, you say? Around what time did they come?’
‘It was always in the evening, seven or eight o’clock.’
The two men glanced at one another.
‘Describe the boy, please… just like you described the woman.’
‘That’s easy because he didn’t look like one of us—’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Leonard asked.
‘He looked mixed-race. Long hair, chocolate skin and a straight nose. He looked like a foreigner. I have never seen someone like that before… I remember thinking how perfect they were. Both of them.’
Leonard smiled, and Kwame said, ‘Thank you so much, Ma.’
The woman grinned. ‘So?’
‘Oh, the reward? I assure you, if what you have told us turns out to be useful information, which I believe it is, you will receive due reward, even more than the money promised.’
‘When?’
‘I will call you.’
‘Please don’t cheat me, Sir.’
Kwame placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder. ‘In Ghana we are sincere. Trust me.’
When they got back in the car, and Leonard sped off, he said, ‘Kwame, you are brilliant.’
‘Do you know the boy?’
‘Yes.’ He laughed so loudly that Kwame thought he was going mad.
‘Oh… this is just beginning to get interesting.’
‘We need to get back to the Chubas’ house. We need to interview that cunning woman… that Miss Spencer or whatever they call her.’
‘What is it, Leonard? Who is the boy?’
‘The first day we investigated, a mixed-race young man came to the house, said he was supporting the family. He was very nervous. I think that is the boy this woman just described.’
‘So, let us go and question him!’
‘Wait, Kwame, relax. It is not so simple. The boy, it will not be easy to talk to him. His father is a very powerful man. He is the son of the Chief of the Island. We must be very careful with these people.’
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