Adimchinma Ibe - Treachery in the Yard

“You understand your rights?”

“No.”

“You have the right to have a lawyer present.”

“Am I being arrested? For what?”

“Are you willing to waive your rights?” Sometimes I found it helpful to ignore rights, something of course I’d never want done to myself.

“No. But that won’t matter, will it?”

“Sometimes. Not today. Too much is at stake.” He seemed confident enough. Perhaps he had nothing to hide after all. He was not insisting on lawyering up. “Do you know the man that ran from the bomb scene personally?”

“Who?”

I read from the report: “About six feet tall. Big man. He drives a white 305 Peugeot.”

“That guy? He said he was the plumber, that Okpara called him over. It was suspicious, my master asking for a plumber himself.”

“So you did not believe him?”

He nodded. I rather liked him. “I knew he was lying. I knew the workers who came to the house. I’d never set eyes on him before. And he was too well dressed for a plumber. But I checked inside. Stephen Wike told me to let him in.”

“Wike?”

He nodded again.

“This is the truth?”

“Yes. Wike told me that they had called a plumber for the upstairs washroom.”

“Was he the one who set the bomb off?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was at my post when the explosions happened.”

It was easy enough to check. Wike. Interesting. I got up abruptly and went for the door.

“Am I free to go?”

“Yes, thanks,” I told him, and told Ubani to have him released.

I decided to be political. This whole case was political. I needed allies. I decided to call on Captain Akpan, who was waiting in his office. I brought him up to speed.

“Really?” Akpan asked incredulously. “Wike believed the guy was a plumber?”

“Maybe. Maybe he knew all along that this plumber knew nothing about faucets and sinks. I think Wike knows more than he is telling.”

“Did the house need a plumber?”

“Haven’t gotten there yet. I thought I’d pass this on right away.”

“I appreciate that.” He sat back, thinking. “There are six house helps and three relations we could question. They have already been interviewed, but without this new information.”

“Femi and I can interview them.”

“Good. Do that. Right away. What else?”

“I have more questions now than before.”

Femi knocked on Akpan’s open door. We both turned to look at him.

“One of the two mystery men at the Karibis last night was picked up by patrol officers. Thought you would want to know.”

This was good news. “They’re sure he’s our man?”

“No one saw their faces earlier, but he was caught sneaking around the Karibi home.”

“When?”

“Early this morning, before the sun was up. He couldn’t give a straight story why he was in the area.”

“Excellent. Where is he now?”

“Not here. That’s the bad news. Barrister Osamu came and took him on bail.”

“Howell Osamu? Same Osamu? I saw him leaving with a younger man when I came in this morning.”

“Same. Same Osamu. Same young man. His name is Thompson. If that’s his real name.”

What interest would a high-end lawyer like Howell Osamu have in such a fellow? “I want to check on Osamu. I want to know what his interest is in this Thompson.”

Captain Akpan shook his head. “Go after Osamu? Is that a good idea? What do we have on this guy? Nothing; just loitering. Osamu will be only too glad to chew your ass off if you make a charge against his client without any evidence.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

“There’s more,” Femi said. “We received a call from Judge Karibi. I just heard.”

“And?”

“Our men are on the way. I don’t know the details yet. The staff sergeant passed it on.”

“I don’t like any of this, Femi. I’m going over to the Karibis. Do you have his number?” Femi checked his notebook and gave it to me. I dialed it on my cell. No answer.

In my car, I tried his phone again. On the third ring, it was answered. “Judge Karibi, I’m concerned about your call,” I said immediately.

“Who is this?”

“Detective Peterside.”

“This is Staff Sergeant Okoro, detective. Judge Karibi doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

“Thanks, sergeant. Too bad for the judge. Put him on now.”

There was only a slight pause before I heard the judge. “Detective?”

“I’m driving toward your house now. I am concerned about your call. The man found in your backyard this morning. He’s on the loose again.”

He sighed. “You are too late.”

There was a pause, and Okoro was back. “Detective, you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“The judge’s wife is dead. He found her ten minutes ago, in the kitchen.”

“Murdered?”

“Definitely.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m in the Rumuokwuta, round about.”

“Yes, sir.”

I don’t like murder investigations when the bodies pile up. You have to spend a lot of time climbing over the bodies to get to the truth.

Staff Sergeant Okoro walked over as I got out of my car at the judge’s house.

“When he came home nobody answered the door. He and his driver found Mrs. Karibi dead in the kitchen.”

“Where’s he now?”

“In an upstairs bedroom. I have an officer with him.”

“How did she die?”

“Beaten. Head bashed in. The pathologist is on the way. There’s more.”

I wiped off the sweat from my forehead, the ever-present sweat, the ever-present heat. “More? Like what?”

“The maid was killed, too. I think she died from a hit on the head. We found them both in the kitchen.”

“What does the crime scene say?” I asked as we walked into the house.

“Judge Karibi found the front door locked. The gardener said he was relaxing in the boys’ quarters, listening to music on headphones. Says he didn’t hear a thing. The house isn’t ransacked, no signs of forced entry. Looks like they gained entry through the kitchen. We found signs of a struggle in the kitchen, a chair overturned, and a table on its end.”

I walked through the ground floor of the quiet house with him. There was blood on the kitchen floor.

“We found two distinct pairs of shoe prints in the backyard, going to and coming from the kitchen door.”

If Thompson had murdered two women, chances were he had not been alone.

Dr. Lazarus Onwuchekwa, one of our pathologists, was bent over Mrs. Karibi’s body, while the crime scene boys were taking photos. The doctor looked up. “Good day, detective.”

“Is this how you like to start your day?”

He shrugged. “The pay is good.”

I checked on the rest of the search, which had been done on the house and grounds. The front door was clean, but there was blood around the back door, and shoe prints in the backyard.

“Anyone talk to the gateman?” I asked Okoro. He shook his head. “Get him here. We need to know where he was when all this happened. And Judge Karibi’s driver, too, I have a few questions for him.”

I found the judge in a bedroom upstairs, sitting quietly on his bed, an officer in a chair across the room. He looked stunned. “Sorry, judge. I need to ask some questions.”

He was staring ahead. “Now? Can’t it wait, man?”

“I know. And I am sorry. But it cannot wait, not if we are going to catch whoever did this.”

He looked at me now. It was not a look I ever wanted to see again. He did not want to say a word-but he was a judge, after all, and knew. “I got a threatening call in my office. A man’s voice, telling me that my wife should keep her mouth closed. I told him she had already given her evidence. I was worried, so I came home early. The door was locked. That was not unusual, of course. But no one opened it, even after I knocked several times. Miriam, our maid, should have answered. I got out my keys and had my driver accompany me. At first, the house seemed abandoned. But I heard the television in the living room. I hoped Naomi had gone to the kitchen or washroom. But I found her on the kitchen floor. After that, everything was a blur. I think my driver called the police.”