Let’s go home first. I want to see mum
“So when do you plan heading to the house?” The detective asked seconds later.
“It should be tonight, by 10pm. The neighbourhood will be dark and lonely by that time” I answered quickly. “That’s okay but without a good recorder and hand gloves, i doubt if your mission will be successful. I can get them for you. Thank me later” he offered with a smile.
“oh thanks very much. You are indeed an angel” I thanked him. “I think we are forgetting something. We are yet to come up with a plan on how to get her out of this place without your colleagues noticing” my brother queried suspiciously.
“Leave that to me. I’ll get your sister out myself, but you will be right outside the premises to pick her up. You will be the person to drive her to the house” the detective said while my brother nodded in agreement. “Now get ready, in thirty minutes we should be out of here” he added.
“but it’s still 6:30pm I thought she’s breaking into the house by 10pm?” my brother asked with surprise. “Yea she is, but I can’t be able to get her out of this place by that time. I can only get her out in thirty minutes while you take her to your house or anywhere till show time” he answered. I breathed deeply. I really was nervous.
By 7:15pm that fateful evening, the detective took me out of my cell and helped me out of the comp ound by hiding me in his car. We had no problem leaving the police premises. It really was the most easiest part of the plan. In a couple of minutes we arrived at the agreed rendezvous where my brother was already waiting. As i made to alight from the detective’s car, he held me back and stared at me with a worried look.
“please be careful. Here is the recorder i promised. It’s very small, uses micro card and has high recording capability. It’s already charged” he said with care, as he gave me the recorder with little lecture on how to use it. “here are the gloves as well. You need no lecture on how to use them” he joked.
“please don’t disappoint me” he begged. I nodded, gave him a reassuring smile and alighted from his car. The detective was just a perfect gentleman. “so what now?”My brother asked as i joined him in his car. “let’s go home first. I want to see mum” I answered quietly. He gave me a long look, licked his lips and drove me home without another word.
10pm arrived much faster than i expected. I soon found myself at the back of my husband’s house with my heart pounding furiously while my eyes examined the fence as i prepared to scale it. Yea i was born and raised in the village among boys. I knew how to climb perfectly well. My only fear was on how to achieve my mission

I surveyed the area for the last time, reached inside my black jacket and touched the pistol my brother gave me minutes earlier.

Precious Brother: “it has only one bullet. You are not going in there to shoot anybody but i’m giving it to you because no knows what might happen when you get there” he said as he gave me the little weapon, equally giving me a quick lesson on how to use it. With one quick breathe, i scaled the fence, wounding as barbed wires tore my trouser. But the injury was nothing compared to the wound in my heart.

I pushed on, very determined to finish the task ahead. In no time i was at the backyard. I quickly headed straight to the garden and stopped for a minute to take a look at the crime scene where the detective believed my husband was murdered. Tears instantly fell from my eyes.

Precious: “Damian I believe you are watching. I know you are right here. I know a murdered spirit is always at the spot where his life was taken away. Yes i believe in it. I believe in superstition. I can’t do this without you. Please help me” I cried quietly, picked up myself and walked into the building with determination.

All the security lights were glaring as i made my way into the big house. But instead of being caught with the help of the lights, I was guided to the guest rooms by the same wonderful lights. However it really wasn’t easy knowing the particular room to check. I had to start from the first room downstairs, but luckily the first three rooms were locked, leaving me with no choice than to move over to the fourth room. I slowly opened the door but the room was very dark inside. I couldn’t see anything. I drew back to the corridor, closed the door and checked my recorder which was in good working condition. I smiled with satisfaction, safely tucked it back into the breast pocket of my jacket, pulled out a small touch light from my trouser and slowly walked into the room, flashing my torch light.

Lady: “who the heck is that?” a lady suddenly screamed from the bed, switching on the electric table lamp by her side, and revealing her face in the process. She was no other person than Esther Hardey.

The lady I came looking for. I breathed deeply, drew back, locked the door and switched on the main lights of the room which equally revealed my face to the frightened lady.

Lady (Esther): “oh shit, you?? You got to be kidding me” she instantly smiled on seeing my face, equally regaining all her composure as if she was sure I wouldn’t do anything to her. I quickly pulled out my gun from the jacket while she scoffed on seeing it. “oh please” she hissed, sat up on her bed, grabbed a stick of cigarette and lighted it. “what the hell do you want?” She asked coldly.


Precious: “You have to tell me how you did it or i swear, I will blow off your head right now. I didn’t come all the way here to laugh with you” I threatened seriously. Esther breathed deeply, stared at me for some seconds before shrugging.

Esther: “fine, sit down you will have your story” she said cautiously. “don’t worry about me, just talk” I pushed on harshly. “but why the fuck do you want to know how your husband died?. Anyway here is your story. You are still going down no matter what” she said with a smile, reached for the bottle of strong wine by her side, poured out a shot and gulped it all down. “you Africans are very dumb. You are nothing but an opportunist. You deserve whatever that is coming to you” she breathed fiercely. “do you know that I’ve been with Damian since my childhood. We were together all through high school and college. We were together till a silly friend of his dragged him to Africa. Everything changed from that moment, but i still waited and hoped. Then what?” she stopped, shook her head, sucked on her cigarette and blew out thick clouds of smoke, equally studying me cautiously. “I heard that a fucking black like you has gotten him completely off the hook. It was unbelievable. I couldn’t take it. I swore to ruin everything” she poured out while my hand trembled. “I made plans with my cousin who agreed with me in everything. We all joined Damian’s mother and her train. Together we came to Nigeria” she stopped and blew out more smoke from her mouth.

Esther: “do you smoke?” she asked quietly.

Precious: “no just continue with the story?” i urged.

Esther: “We arrived in Nigeria and I still tried my best to stop him from marrying you but no he wouldn’t listen. So after the wedding when everyone was carried away with excitement. I discreetly told him to meet me at the garden by 12am. It was a long wait, but he finally showed up and I got him distracted while my cousin slit him up. It was a clean revenge, but the whole plan changed when we got to the room and saw you deeply asleep. Instead of killing you, we decided to pin the crime on you by getting your prints on the murder weapon. Unfortunately your mother in law spoiled everything the next morning by pulling out the knife from her dead son’s body. Anyway you are still damned. I heard the case is being moved over to my country” she concluded with a laugh while a cold shiver ran down my spine. That exact moment, somebody pushed on the door leading to the room which I earlier locked, drawing my attention and equally making me take my eyes off Esther. With that split opportunity, she pounced on me like a tiger, knocked me down and opened the room door. A white muscular guy walked in and grinned at me. “oh what do we have here?” he asked with a cold smile. I instantly knew he was the murderer. The idiot that murdered my husband.



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