Treachery in the Yard tp-1

by Adimchinma Ibe

  Thompson was across the street. He did not see me. I moved behind a street pole. “No, honey. Only you can have that effect on me. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Hmm.”

  I switched the phone to my other ear. Wike had come out of the store. He was on the other side of the street, slowly walking toward a spot maybe fifty feet to my right, clutching nylon bags of junk food in both hands. Thompson was moving slowly.

  “Tammy? Hello?”

  “Sorry. Working. Watching someone.” The street was very crowded. I did not like this.

  “Who?”

  “Okpara’s personal aide. I met him during the bombing. I don’t like the guy and I figure maybe he knows something about the bombing.”

  “Should I hang up?”

  “Not yet. Uh, no. I need to look like I’m doing something other than watching him.”

  “Thanks. Glad I’m useful.”

  “Sorry.” Still watching Wike. He was nearing a parked car, struggling with the weight of the bags while reaching for his car keys. Thompson, tall and gangly, was now walking purposefully toward him. And he took a.22 from his pocket.

  I flipped the cell closed and pulled out my police special. “Police!”

  Wike and Thompson both heard me. Wike looked at me, then started to turn to see what I was looking at. He never saw Thompson. In a moment, Thompson had put four rounds into Wike’s chest. Two nylon bags of junk food fell to the street. Red appeared all over Wike’s shirt. He fell back against his car.

  People started to scream. Thompson was already running, into the crowd.

  Thompson? Wike? No choice. I rushed to the victim, who was slowly slipping to the street. His shirt was very red now. I caught him, let him down gently. His eyes were glazing over. He never had a chance.

  I flipped open my cell and speed-dialed. “This is Detective Peterside. Civilian down. Gunshot, multiple wounds. I need an ambulance at 56 Orominike, outside the Kumar Department Store.” It was already too late, Wike was as good as dead. I looked in the direction Thompson had run off, but there was no point in searching. He could have gone in any of a hundred directions, ducked into a hundred alleys or shops-assuming that he did not have a car around the corner waiting to pick him up. I speed-dialed again and gave headquarters a heads-up on Mr. Out-on-Bail, then leaned against Stephen’s car, looked down at his lifeless eyes, and pulled out a cigarette.

  A police siren came closer, then several. Soon there were plenty of cars, all too late. Uniformed police officers began to secure the scene, putting up a rope to block off the growing crowd of onlookers. I flicked my cigarette and watched the ashes fall to the ground in the dead hot air.

  My cell rang. I looked at the screen. Freda again.

  “Honey?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why did you cut the line like that?”

  “I have a situation.”

  “I hope you are not the situation.”

  “Not this time. All I did was stand there. I’ll call you back. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay, I. .” Her voice trailed off, she could think of nothing to say; my tone was a closed door. “Bye. For now.”

  “Sure.”

  The forensics van carrying Nnadozie and his crew drove up, followed almost immediately by Captain Akpan. A dead Wike was a big deal. Femi was in Akpan’s car. They walked over to me while Nnadozie and his forensics unit started unloading their equipment.

  Akpan looked at me as I took a drag. He did not like smokers. “What happened?”

  “I was shadowing Stephen Wike. He came out of the store over there. Thompson was waiting for him.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. Thompson pulled out a.22 and emptied half a clip into him. He disappeared into the crowd.”

  Akpan turned away and got out his own cell phone, made a call and started giving orders. When he was done, I said, “Thompson has to work for Puene. There’s no reason for him to be running around killing Okpara’s people on his own. Unless he has a very odd hobby.”

  Akpan nodded.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Femi and I then drove back to headquarters in my car. I wrote up a statement, then went up to see Chief. Stella let me in right away. Chief was sitting behind his desk, on the phone. He finished his conversation quickly when I came in.

  “Chief, I want to bring in Dr. Puene for questioning in the Okpara bombing and today’s shooting of Okpara’s assistant.”

  He eyed me warily. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “I think he’s a key player here.”

  “I don’t have to tell you he’s a powerful man.”

  “Then why are you?”

  “Am I supposed to laugh? Is there something here that amuses you? Mrs. Karibi is dead, Angus Sekibo is dead, Howell Osamu is dead, too; now Wike?” He leaned back. “You’re on dangerous ground.”

  But he did call Police Commissioner Ahmed Abdullah, to get his okay to invite Dr. Puene into headquarters to answer some questions.

  I went back to my office, got Femi, and we drove out to Dr. Puene’s house. We found him in the same room as four days ago. An assistant remained hovering in the background.

  “Good day, sir.”

  His eyes had the same wariness Chief’s had, but some of his earlier arrogance was gone. “Yes?”

  I had plenty of ways to say it. “Doctor, we’d appreciate it if you came downtown with us for a while.”

  “For what?”

  “Just some questions.”

  “What about? This does not have anything to do with Okpara. . does it?”

  “Sort of. Stephen Wike was shot to death about an hour and a half ago.”

  “Which station did you say you’re from again?”

  “State Police Headquarters. Homicide.”

  He picked up his phone and punched in a number. If I was lucky, he was calling his lawyer. I smiled. I didn’t think so. Osamu was dead.

  “This is Dr. Puene. Yes. Good afternoon, Isaac.”

  Femi and I exchanged looks. He was calling Chief.

  “Some of your detectives are here. Yes. Yes. They want me to come in for some questions.” Pause. “I see. Yes, of course.” He hung up. Smiling. He turned to his aide. “I’m going down to police headquarters with the detectives here. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Are you sure about this, Doctor?” the assistant asked.

  “It will be fine. I’ll be back soon. Just postpone my appointments.”

  The ride back to headquarters took about fifteen minutes. The good doctor did not ride with us, of course. He was driven in his Toyota Limited SUV. When we got to the station he acted more like a visitor than a suspect, and everyone but myself and Femi treated him that way. As we came in, one of Chief’s assistants met us-he’d been waiting patiently-and took Dr. Puene, Femi, and me straight to a conference room. He told us to wait for the police commissioner, the area commander, my captain, and Chief himself.

  I was starting to get a good idea of why Dr. Puene was smiling. Not that I had not already guessed. I told Femi to go back to our office. If I was going to shoot myself in the foot there was no point dragging him down with me.

  I felt like lighting another cigarette. I don’t enjoy smoking that much, but it gives my hands something to do, and by putting something in my mouth I’m not as likely to open it as much. The area commander arrived first. He smiled grimly at me and nodded at Dr. Puene. Then Chief and Akpan came in. Now we were all together. The good doctor sat at the far side of the table. He looked calm, his custom-made suit without the slightest wrinkle.

  The police commissioner arrived at last. Ahmed Abdullah was as tall as Dr. Puene, largely built, with dark coarse skin, a rounded fleshy face framed with glasses, and a neck as thick as an ox. Probably with a brain to match.

  His protruding stomach tugged at his crisply ironed uniform, threatening to dislodge the shiny brass button there. A very harsh man, bad tempered. Officers in the state had a morbid fear of the man. You should-if you want to remain on the
force.

  He and Chief greeted one another in the Moslem fashion.

  I saluted.

  We all sat down.

  Commissioner Ahmed sat opposite Dr. Puene. To his left, from Area Command, was Jonathan Amadi. To his right, my chief of police, Isaac Olatunji. Captain Akpan sat to his right. I sat near no one. None of them looked at me.

  The commissioner spoke up first. “Dr. Puene, first I want you to understand that you are not under cross-examination. You are not under any obligation to answer any questions.” The good doctor said nothing. I muttered something to myself about sacred cows. The commissioner continued, “But to see justice served, of course we expect you will fully cooperate.”

  “Of course,” Dr. Puene said quietly. He sat back in his chair.

  It was Amadi’s turn. “Doctor, of course you know that anything you do tell us could be used in a court of law. Do you wish to have an attorney present?”

  “Do I need one?”

  They all smiled at him. No, he did not need an attorney.

  My mentor, Chief Olatunji, leaned forward. “Dr. Puene, do you know Okpara?”

  “Of course. He’s a friend and party member. He’s running against me.”

  Chief cleared his throat, going through the motions. “What is your relationship with him?”

  “We’re politicians running against each other. But we’re also members of the same party. Some of our supporters do not quite get along as well as they could, but he and I are fine.”

  “So your relationship with him is cordial?”

  “We are running against each other.”

  “Answer the question directly.”

  “I don’t have to agree with his opinions to be cordial.”

  Puene loved to play people’s feelings. There was nothing satisfying about his answers to the questions. I usually have less respect for people who are not able to stand up to someone like Puene, and there weren’t too many people in this room who would go up against him. He knew it, and he was enjoying it. So it felt right to put a damper on his enjoyment-and, well, perhaps my career did not mean all that much to me. “Doctor, do you want to be the governor of Rivers State?”

  They all looked at me. I was speaking out of turn.

  “With the help of God and your vote, yes, detective.”

  “Don’t you have the best motive to blow him up? To have his assistant killed?”

  His eyes grew harder than the bullets that killed Wike. He looked directly at Chief. “There is no need to be rude. I don’t have to answer this nonsense. I am a highly placed and well-respected party member. That question was. . inappropriate. I will defeat Okpara politically, you know; I hardly have to kill him.”

  Chief’s eyes narrowed as he turned to me. “Lieutenant, proceed with caution. This is an inquiry, not a trial.”

  I nodded. “Of course. Doctor, are you aware of the plot to assassinate Okpara?”

  “I am not aware of any such plot.”

  “Doctor, there is a man we know of as Thompson. Do you know him?”

  “I do not know anyone of that name.”

  “Fine. Did you have Thompson, or whatever his real name is, kill Stephen Wike?”

  “Detective!” the commissioner barked. He went so far as to remove his glasses. “You either behave yourself or I’ll remove you from this panel.”

  I met his stare but nodded in respect. “I am just doing my job.”

  “Are you?” He turned to Captain Akpan. “Do you usually tolerate such an approach from a junior officer? Perhaps I should look into this personally.” He put his glasses back on.

  Clearly if I said anything else, I’d be thrown out of the meeting and probably get suspended. I leaned back and closed my mouth. I’d given the doctor the message. And it felt good. I could stop. For now.

  Unfortunately, for my sense of self-satisfaction, the doctor looked rather amused. He could afford to be. There was no danger to him in this room, except from me. . the “junior officer.”

  “Anyone with more questions?” the commissioner asked.

  No one had any. What a surprise.

  The doctor smiled. “Every opportunity I have, please believe that I urge my supporters to desist from violence. Yet, there has been violence. For example, at the peace meeting we had, there was an unfortunate incident. But both Okpara and myself believe in the democratic process. We know that violence is a cancer. That is why we want to change things around.”

  Good political speech, I thought.

  “Thank you, Dr. Puene,” Captain Akpan said, smiling.

  The commissioner joined in. “Doctor, thank you very much for coming today. We have no further questions.” He started to pack up his papers.

  That was it. We all stood. They shook hands. No one shook my hand. The good doctor smiled at me and left. They all walked out, leaving me alone. I looked down at the table. Chief came back into the room a moment later.

  “What the hell were you doing?”

  “What you taught me,” I replied, trying to look puzzled.

  “Knock off that look with me. You were way out of line. Why ask him such obvious questions, unless you just wanted to provoke him?”

  “Would we not have looked foolish if no one asked him a hard question? At least now we can say we tried.”

  “You did not ask him any hard questions. You only embarrassed yourself.” He looked at me, trying to figure out if I was being sincere or sarcastic. “I don’t have the authority to cover you if you persist.” He turned on his heel.

  I was left alone in the conference room, and eventually walked out by myself.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When I walked into my office, Femi looked up from the report he was writing. All he needed was a glance. “I see it didn’t go well.”

  I sat at my desk. A draft report on the Wike murder faced me.

  Femi was still looking at me, wanting more, so I told him, “I figured I didn’t have much of a career anyway. It’s good you weren’t there. Will you give me some money when they fire me?”

  Femi laughed. “You got nothing out of him?”

  I shook my head. “Without evidence, all I could do was bluster. And no one around the table was interested in my trying to pressure him. He’s too high up. Maybe I’ll give up police work and write a novel.”

  Femi was used to my moods. I had started out idealistic but life has a way of changing that.

  Akpan startled me, coming by my office a few minutes after, to tell me that a gunshot had been reported at Borikiri, around the time I left yesterday. He pointed out that the shooting was near the reported address for Thompson. “Bystanders told us that one man, about your age and height, was chasing a younger man who fit Thompson’s description. Some coincidence, eh?”

  We exchanged a look. “Any news of Thompson’s whereabouts now?”

  “I have officers working on that. They have orders to bring him in alive. And they are in good enough shape to run him down if he tries to get away.” He smiled flatly. Or was it sarcastically? “Just thought you’d like to know.”

  I was thankful he was on my side. He could have been upset.

  “And, Chief wants to see you.”

  “About what?”

  “He did not bother to tell me. It sounded. . urgent.”

  “I hear you. I’m going right now.”

  I stared at the open doorway after Captain Akpan left, thinking over what he said.

  At Chief’s office, Stella was in the front office as usual, typing away on her old Imperial manual.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Don’t bother with the repartee, I’m busy.”

  “I’m here to see Chief. Is he free?”

  She nodded. “He knows you’re coming. Just go in. I know what you’re going to ask, so don’t bother. I don’t know anything.”

  I asked anyway. “What’s happening?”

  Stella frowned and did not look up, avoiding my eyes. Not a good sign.

  I walked into Olatu
nji’s office. He looked up with displeasure. Another bad sign. Today was not to be a chummy day.

  “Good day, sir.” I walked up to his large desk.

  He had his speech ready and did not waste time. “We worked the interagency operation for eighteen months. Now Osamu is dead. And this afternoon was the final nail in your coffin. A number of people want you off the case, and I can’t disagree. That’s the best I can do to appease them.” He said it crisply. I don’t think he wanted to say it, or at least I did not want to think he wanted to say it.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s just it. You do not understand.”

  I looked at him directly. He looked back more so. “Tell me this is a joke, sir.”

  He got up from his executive chair and walked to the window, his back to me, hands in his trouser pockets.

  “It is no joke,” he said quietly, looking out the window.

  “You’re going to let some brass-button hound you into doing this? Take me off the case in the middle of an investigation into multiple murders?”

  I had every right to be angered by his decision to pull me off the Okpara case.

  He turned, looked at me angrily, then returned to his executive chair. “I told you. It was not my decision. You ask why you’ve been taken off the case? That you have thrown caution to the winds is more than enough reason. I tried to slow you down and you ignored me. You’re an ingrate. I am disappointed in you, Tammy.”

  I was completely taken aback by his anger. I did not know what to say-anything would be wrong. So I just nodded, accepted his summary dismissal, and left. In the outer office, Stella kept her eyes down as I went by. “Duck,” she told me under her breath.

  As I walked through the lobby, the boys at the counter eyed me jealously because they thought I had Chief’s ear-they had no idea what was really going on. I nodded to their salute and left the building.

  I needed to see what my options were, and make some private calls. My office phone could be monitored if I was under surveillance so I walked to the phone booth across the street, dialed our Area Command, and prayed that I would get Amadi directly. He answered on the fourth ring.