“I already did. I can’t have a ‘bon apetit’ when a demon moves undetected through Westminster and racks her peace."
He chuckled and sat on his chair. We were alone in his office. I checked the watch on my left wrist to ensure it was working.
I wanted to know why he would do anything to see me cry. “Why don’t you like me?”
He smiled, “Has any man ever told you he likes you?”
“You know Regina Cypher." I summoned courage. "You blackmailed her into getting cyanide from the lab where she works and duressed her into planting it in my apartment. She couldn’t do it. She killed herself. You think I’m the serial killer."
A vigorous nod. “Aha! You know I know you’re the killer. You know I know you did it. Tell me how you got the cyanide."
“I don’t know what you’re talking about." I replied.
“I can help you. I can help you get treatment in a rehab. I can help you. Wole the Ripper."
“Stop it." My heart was over-pumping. “I didn’t kill anybody."
“You’re a tattooist. You draw tattoos. Only you could have done that. Femi. Atkins doesn’t have the heart for that. I want to know why you did it and who your next victim for tomorrow is. Tomorrow’s Wednesday remember? Who gives you the cyanide? I know it’s Regina Cypher and now she’s dead. So how will you get the cyanide to-?”
“For the umpteenth time I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I breathed deeply.
He calmed and paced up and down his office. “I can help you. Stop proving hard to get”. His face expelled an eye wink.
“What do you want from me?” I said.
“You.” He walked to me and kissed me; and squeezed my left buttock.
I spat on his face and wiped my lips with the back of my right palm. “If I want to experiment with a man, I know where the gay pubs are.”
“You will regret the day your ancestors set foot in Europe." He said.
“Can’t wait.” I exited his office.
****
I couldn’t concentrate. The thought of a man kissing me kept numbing my focus until work hours of March 19 ticked to a halt.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
March 20 arrived
It was an uninteresting one and one of those working days when one didn’t feel like doing anything but pray for lunch time to quickly come.
It was a Wednesday and I had come to dread it. The killer’s modus operandi, or MO, was almost erratic. As far as I was concerned, the only concatenation was the tattoos and the probability of the Wednesdays. No one knew how the killer chose his or her victims except that previous victims were worshippers at All Souls.
I dialed Katherine on my way out for lunch. I wanted her to meet me at the restaurant where I proposed to her so we could trash out every of our misunderstanding. I was ready to forgive her and ask for her forgiveness; and move back into our matrimonial home.
She wasn’t answering
I dialed her office. It was same
I knew she was still upset.
I left her a voice message on her mobile to meet me at the restaurant.
As I drove, flashes of Hugh’s act kept dancing in my head. I had an eccentric feeling of myself. I still couldn’t imagine a man kissing me. It was insane. Yes I knew of the existence of ‘unstraight men’ but had never dreamed of one coming a mile close to me, let alone kissing me.
I needed therapy. I needed to talk. I needed that ‘psychological wound’ inflicted by Hugh’s kiss to heal. I changed route and screwed the restaurant plan as I drove to Southampton Street where Reverend Henry Bean’s office lived.
****
My Toyota Echo, simultaneously, pulled behind Reverend Bean’s Acura MDX.
We alighted simultaneously.
“Good afternoon Reverend." I walked up to him.
“Trailing a priest of God and your therapist is now one of the functions of a Scotland Yard detective?” His face was blank.
“I’m not trailing you. I think I’m under the weather, emotionally and psychologically, and I need to talk."
“Find a way to heal because yesterday Katherine called to cancel the session on behalf of you. She’s already filing for a divorce." He said as he removed his key from his door keyhole.
“No. I’m not aware of that." I said.
“Excuse me." He said as his phone sang Cece Winan’s ‘Mercy said No’.
He dialed the answer key. “Abigail?”
An unheard voice filtered into his phone’s earpiece. I stood still and watched, and listened to his side of the conversation.
"I’ve told you my stand. I will not bless your union. I do not approve of him."
He paused.
“We lost your mother to the bullet of a black armed robber and rapist. I can’t let you marry-”
He was interrupted. He paused.
“It is George I approve of. You must go-"
He was interrupted again. He paused.
“No. No I’m not disapproving of your union because I was a t-”
He was interrupted again and this time the caller hung up.
He tucked the phone into his left pocket. “I’ve got clients lined up. If you don’t mind, you may excuse me. Scotland Yard needs you more. And I’m not unaware of the Wednesday deaths. I don’t know why the flock at All Souls is the target. I’m still mourning my nephew." He headed for the interior of his office.
People were passing and looking at me. I had forgotten I was a public figure.
I was returning to my car when my phone sang its Grande Valse.
"I’m sorry. You have to hurry down to 200B Cambridge Street. She’s been dead since morning." Danielle’s voice filtered into my phone’s earpiece.
I jumped into the driver’s seat via the window and sped off.
****
The address was our matrimonial home.
I prayed the demon’s fourth victim wasn’t Katherine. I whispered prayers in my heart to Jesus for my wish to be so.
There was an abnormal obstruction in the street. Blue men and reporters littered the place. London Evening Standard Crew had stationed. BBC One Crew had set their equipment.
An ambulance had assembled.
My heart skipped many beats. Number four. Could it be Katherine?
A uniformed man lifted the blue and white barricade tape at the entrance of our matrimonial home. In our living room I found several high–ranking officers, some DSs, DCs and TDCs.
I didn’t take them into cognizance.
I rushed into Katherine’s bedroom which was filled with the foul smell of rotting human flesh. Doctor Knapman was examining a nude blond feminine figure which lain on a freefall position on the bed adorned with green duvet over a white bottom sheet. It was Katherine. She had only a pink G-string on.
Only if I had prayed to Jesus on time. He could have saved her.
Hugh and Danielle watched as Doctor Knapman examined my wife’s corpse.
The forensic department of the SCD processed the scene.
A tattoo had been designed on her bare back.
My eyes expelled a quasi–ocean as I attempted to touch her. Hugh and Danielle restrained me. Hugh ordered the uniformed men at the entrance of the door leading into Katherine’s bedroom to take me out.
These uniformed men were my juniors. They were uniformed sergeants. They took me to the living room and apologized. I understood. In their defence, they were carrying out a chief’s order to the letter.
I sat on our red leather couch. I noticed my right buttock was sitting on a hard material. I checked and discovered it was a gold earring. I quickly tucked it in my pocket.
The coroner and her aides arrived the scene. She had been informed that my wife was the victim. She came to me and said “sorry for your loss” and joined them in the murder scene.
They were still examining the body when Hugh walked to me and sat close. “You’re good. Intelligent. How did you manage that? You had to make your wife one of your victims. Tell me why. To mislead th
e police? Or to punish her for something she had done to you in the past? Tell me. Was she cheating on you? Is that why you both had been separated?”
I reached for my handkerchief and dried my tears. I checked the watch on my left wrist.
He was enjoying seeing me suffer the pain of loss. “Did you think murdering her would make us blot you out of our book of suspects? No! It only implicates you the more. If Agatha Christie were to be alive, she’d have marveled at your slickness."
My handkerchief had become drenched with the rain drops from my eyes. He offered me his pink handkerchief.
I took it and said “Thank you."
I’ll nail you when I can finally prove who supplies you with cyanide. And then P.D. James would send Adam Daigliesh into finding another mystery killer who’s a cop. I’d suggest her a title… I’d suggest ‘Wole the Ripper!' Then Ms Cornwell would do an American adaptation of your story. She’d have no choice than to betray her Marino character by making him the mystery killer. But I guess she’d find difficulty in doing that because Marino isn’t Black."
A radio message was relayed to the ambulance. Paramedics went in and carried out Katherine’s corpse.
Hugh stood, “You’re not a serial murderer yet. You’ve murdered just four” and walked out.
As Doctor Knapman walked out, I met him, “Please do all you can to treat her as human, a woman, a beautiful one and not meat."
“I’d try my best. Excuse me." He joined them outside.
The coroner followed.
I was devastated. I just experienced that moment in human existence when humans wish they should be dead along with their dead loved ones. I recovered from it with the help of Danielle. She walked me to the car.
Hugh was watching as we walked. The reporters didn’t come close. I could bet they were coerced.
We entered my car.
“Hugh would have concluded that you killed her and left and then called her line and left a voice message just so you could create an alibi." She said.
“How do you mean?” My eyes still teary.
She pulled out a phone from inside her bra and gave it to me. It was Katherine’s phone.
“How did you get it?” I said feebly.
“I was the first to get into her bedroom after smoke TV made a 999 call. I saw it had a voice message. I listened to it and, lo, it was your voice. I hid it. . . Hugh is building his evidence. Each evidence is logical. I really don’t know who to believe anymore. You or Hugh."
“You think I’m the killer?”
“I don’t know” She muttered.
“Why did you break into my apartment on the thirteenth of March?" I said.
She gawped at me. She was dumbfounded. “I beg your pardon."
“You heard me. Why did you break into my apartment?”
She forced a chuckle, “You can’t be serious. Who’s feeding you with such cockamamie or are you cooking such story to evade-"
I interrupted, “Next time you go breaking into people’s houses, don’t wear your perfume.”
She faked a Mona Lisa smile, “Now I know you’re mad from the death of your-"
“You couldn’t have known I love plays, worship the king of pop and ignite my soul with Enya, Enigma and Era. You couldn’t have known I do romance novels. You couldn’t have guessed correctly that I implored the services of Lady Palm and her five sisters and that of the breast biter. All these facts about me didn’t come to you facsimile from a celestial nark. You went through my things. You saw my clamp, my lubricant-"
“I’m sorry!" She interrupted.
“You never researched me because you liked me. You stumbled on those facts because you were digging for dirt and trash you found."
“I’m sorry.” She said defeatedly. “Hugh sent me to check if there was anything unusual about you."
“And yes you found many unusuals! Didn’t you?”
“No. He asked me to check for cyanide. When I gave him feedback that your apartment was cyanide – free, he then requested that I plant one. I told him I couldn’t. He said he was going to get me the cyanide content to plant and after you had been convicted, he’d make sure I’m promoted to the rank of a DI. I love you. That was why I didn’t do it."
“So you know Regina Cypher was going to plant it. Jude didn’t tell you anything after all; that’s if, Jude even exists."
“I’m sorry. But I swear Hugh is downlow and-” She said.
“Get out of my car.”
“It hasn’t gotten to that. I’m sorry.” She pressed on.
“Get out of my car." This time at the top of my voice.
She alighted.
I reversed, made a powerful U-turn and sped off.
****
When I turned into my drive and alighted, Katherine’s wraith stood at the entrance of my Park Lane apartment.
She wept.
I cleaned my eyes to ensure it was real and yes it was.
I cleaned it the second time and she was gone.
I knew she wanted to tell me who her killer was but she couldn’t.
According to Danielle, Katherine was a guest on Smoke TV. Her slot was slated for 11. A.M.. The Smoke TV officials tried to call and didn’t get an answer. When her slot had passed and she still couldn’t be found in her university office, they dialed 999. Danielle was the first to get into her bedroom and noticed the phone; and hid it. She obscured evidence for my head’s safety. I think it was a good and lovely gesture.
I went into my apartment and locked my door; and proceeded to the bathroom to cry. Crying was the only option at this time. My mother used to tell me “men don’t cry” but not in this case.
I couldn’t sleep for sleep eluded me and insomnia took abode. Even barbiturate wouldn't be able to induce sleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
March 21 was a Thursday, and the International day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination; and I had been given the rest of the week off.
I couldn’t focus. Katherine’s body had inhabited the Iain West forensic suite. She had become a specimen for a public experiment. As I paced up and down my apartment I kept looking at the earring in my hand and decided to wait until evening.
I went to my personal computer, or PC, and started windows.
My modem subscription hadn’t expired yet.
I launched Mozilla Firefox which displayed the Google search bar. In the search bar I typed 'anagram solver'. The search results were multiple. I settled for the very first search result which was 'Andy’s anagram solver – Ssynth.co.uk'. I clicked it.
I typed in “Above A Sinning Room” in the bar for ‘1 word or phrase to be solved” and limited the solution to “2” words. I ticked “English (132 000) words) and submitted it with the “Go do it” link.
Four phrases displayed on my PC screen:
boomerang invasion
invasion boomerang
mooing nonabrasive
nonabrasive mooing
I typed in ‘uh Boa Job Jug' and with a word limit of '2' and there were no results. I changed the word limit to '3' and there were multiple results:
bag hobo juju
bag juju hobo
bah gobo juju
bah juju gobo
boob hag juju
boob juju hag
gab hobo juju
gobo bah juju…
And I typed in 'A Nun Moo La' with a word limit of “2”.
alumna noo
annual moo
lauan mono
lauan moon
manual noo
moa nounal
moo annual…
I did same for 'Go Kook Inks'. With a word limit of “2”, there were no results and so I increased it to “3”. The results were almost uncountable.
gin kook kos
gin kos kook
go kook sink
go skin kook
ink go kooks
king so kook
king os kook…
I continued before my PC and tried othe
r anagram solvers.
A back pain formed. It was excruciating like a jagged knife cutting through my spine but didn’t get to me. I was immersed in this. I had never had this intense drive to do all within and above my strength to unravel this killer until the death of my wife. True it is that no one talks about evil until it shows up on one’s doorstep.
Each result I got kept activating the hormones of anger in me that made me almost conclude that the anagrams left by the killer were gibberish. I knew they weren’t and if I could decipher them I could prevent another death, I thought.
I lost track of time as though I had been bewitched by a sorcerer to forget the world.
I logged off and shut down and thought for a while, “Am I destined to unlock some nonsense codes in every investigation? Am I going to solve puzzles all through my existence?"
I decided to give my 2001 Toyota Echo the night off as I decided to use the tube.
My destination was 60G, Bayswater Road.
It was evening.
****
She opened the door and I entered. “Good evening mother!"
She looked exhausted, “Welcome Wole. You’re right on time for dinner. I made vegetable moussaka."
She savored every bite while I ate in grief. I dared not say a word because she was going to scream at me and I mightn’t have that fortitude to bear her nuances. She was a strict adherent to dining etiquette.
As we ate my eyes caught the Daily Star which, unknown to me, had been staring me in the face. I didn’t know what the news would be because I hardly read the papers - one of my inadequacies.
Thursday’s highlights on the front outside cover page were multiple. But one of the highlights was printed in big fonts. I opened the first page:
Wednesday: Story of a Serial Killer Page 6
