Tonye seemed to be the mostbadly affected. He was so frightened, that he wanted to leave theLodge immediately. But the orders of the police stopped him. I wassurprised that his fear did not actually kill him. Willie was stillable to preserve some of his faith. He called on the other guestswho were willing, to join him in his room at 7:00pm each day for prayers of protection.He also wanted to pray for the repose of the soul of MariaMarshall. But only John hearkened to that call.
Two days after the murder,we sataround a table in the lounge. An air of depression and shock still hungover the Lodge. The Divisional Police Officer and anotherplain-clothes policeman were also seated with us. The DPO hadintroduced himself earlier and now looked completely relaxed. A movie was showing on the televisionscreen, but no-one seemed interested.
“I hope no-oneminds?” asked the DPO, as he lit a cigarette. Nobody answered him.He was a huge man with a well-trimmed moustache and small,suspicious eyes that darted all over the place. Most people confessed that they feltuneasy in his presence because of his eyes. I had come across himseveral times, while I was still in the Force. He was reputed to besuch a thorough police officer, that he would not spare hisownmotherifshe broke the law.But he alsohad a reputation for being full of himself. He now inhaled deeply and blew out somesmoke.
“Quite anunfortunate time to commit a murder and all these things actually,”said the DPO, as he let out some more smoke through his nostrils.“I don’t understand the sense of timing of some people. Theelections are just around the corner. My big boss upstairs,the Governor of the State, wants to contest again. But with a murder here and amurder there, people are bound to feel insecure. So, he may losesome votes at the next polls. And his opponents are bound to hammeron the insecurity of lives and property during his tenure, by thetime they start campaigning. It therefore falls on poor folk likemyself to see that these things are kept in check as much aspossible and all these things, you know.”
“Mr. DPO, areyou saying that if this young lady had been murdered atanothertime, it would have been more convenient?” I asked, truly bewildered.
“Mr. Simpson,murder is a bad thing at any time, but the timing can make it a lotworse. This, you will agree with me, is one of the peak times that tourists come around here. And youknow that tourism provides a major source of revenue to theState. We don’t want to go frightening off our rich and idle visitors by killingsomeone here and there. So close to Christmas isn’t a nice time for someone to goand get himself or herself killed and all these things, you know.We are even lucky that this is not one of the top class guesthouses.”
We alllooked in shocked amazement at the DPO.
“Mr. DPO,” Istarted angrily. “You seem to see this young lady's murder as aninconvenience to you and your people upstairs, rather than anythingelse. Does it not occur to you that she could have been your daughter or yoursister?”
“Oh, rest assured, Alex that theculprits will be apprehended. You just can’t go around killingpeople and all these things, you know. And that brings a point tomind.”
He blew some smoke in mydirection. It was quite a talent he had, the way he made the streamof smoke come out in a straight line towards me.
“It is acurious thing, Alex,” he said. “That someone seems to die each time youappear at this Lodge.” We were now on first namebasis, it appeared.
Hearingit put like that, did not sound nice at all. Believe me. Some otherguests turned to stare at me. I could read a new suspicion in theireyes, as they contemplated his words.
“I have foundit quite a strange coincidence, myself,” I replied, unruffled.
“In my line ofwork and reasoning, I’ve come to discover that true coincidencesare rare. Most of what appear like coincidences are actually so because peopleplanned them to look that way.” He blew some more smoke in my direction, as hiseyes surveyed me in an arrogant fashion.
“What exactly are you saying?” Iasked.
“Alex, I’mjust saying that each time you appear at this Lodge, someone dies or gets killed!” hereplied.
I feltTonye, who was sitting close by, shrink away from me. I chuckled tomyself; he was such a nitwit.
“But I was also here, lasttime,” said Willie in consternation.
“Then, thesame goes for you!” said the DPO, giving Willie his own shareof cigarettesmoke.
“So, Maria wasactually killed?” Ayuba asked.
“Yes, she wasmurdered,” replied the DPO, flicking some ash carelessly on the floor and crossing hislong legs casually on the table. I observed that his boots werewell polished.
“The killermade it seem as if she had killed herself, by locking the door andleaving her key still inside her purse on her table. Butthe autopsyhas shown that shestruggled with the killer before he or she finally killed her. Sheobviously scratched the assailant because traces of skin and bloodwere found under her nails, and the blood did not match hers.”
“But how could the killer leavethe key inside her purse in the room, then leave with the doorlocked?” asked a puzzled Mrs. Marshall. She had dark rings aroundher red and puffy eyes.
“That was simple,” replied theDPO. He took a long drag on his cigarette before he continued.“Tell them how it was done, Mark.”
Theplain-clothes policeman smiled and cleared his throat. He was atall, thin-looking man with bloodshot eyes and a pinched face thatreminded me of a sewer rat.
“He collected the extra key tothe room from where it was kept and that was what he used to lockthe door when he left,” explained Mark.
The DPOexhibitedsome more of his impressive smoke-blowing talent. This time, it was directed at Ayuba, wholooked uneasy.
“That bringsme to you, Mallam Garuba,” said the DPO, fixing a glare on Ayuba.
“Ayuba, not Garuba,” correctedAyuba.
“Whatever,” said the DPO, wavinghis cigarette indifferently
