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.
“Yes?”
I was nervous. This was not the sort of thing I’d ever done before. “It’s Tamunoemi Peterside, sir.”
“What a pleasant surprise.” From his tone of voice, he already knew, but I went through the motions anyway.
“Will you speak to Chief Olatunji?”
“No. Frankly, Tammy, this one is beyond me. There’s nothing I can do here.”
Right. “I can’t quit this or be put off. I’m working something big here. Dr. Puene is involved. This could be what we’ve been waiting for. We could finally get something on him.”
“Whoever said we wanted to get something on Dr. Puene? Who is this ‘we’? I can’t help you.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Sure, I understand. So do you. Listen. How shall I put it? Hmm. How about this: You’ve gone out of your mind.”
“I’m just doing my job. A lot is at stake here.”
“You are certainly right about that.” The line went dead.
I lit a cigarette. I did not like the taste but drew the smoke into my lungs anyway. Breathing the air was as deadly as smoking anyway. Life can be like that.
I thought longer about who to phone next. This time, the police commissioner.
“Yes. I know why you’re calling. Don’t bother asking,” he said.
“Ask him to put me back on.”
“And how would he do that? And why would he listen to me? Sorry, Tammy. Chief Olatunji is under pressure and he made the decision he had to make. That is his job. I trust his judgment.”
“Even when it is obvious something is wrong?”
“Especially when it is obvious there is something wrong. That is why I delegate. Take some good advice, Tammy. Don’t call me again, and don’t call anyone else.” The line went dead. Again.
I needed a break. All of a sudden, I wanted to talk with Freda. Maybe that was a good sign. I called her up and she made time between her appointments. She was waiting outside her office building when I drove up. Her smile was almost as hot as the sun. She walked over to my car doing interesting things with her hips. It was hard to keep my eyes off them, and it appeared she did not want my eyes off them. She smiled. Her manicured fingers had long blood-red nails.
As we drove through Rumuokwurushi, she chattered away, talking marriage, or about her friends, all of whom happened to have already gotten married. She was counting them off on her fingers. She had a lot of fingers; it seemed she was the only one left. I got the message. Call me Mr. Insensitive, but right then it did not feel like a marriage discussion kind of day.
Freda had wanted us married ever since we met. I was not sure why, or why I was seeing her right now. But here we both were. Weren’t we?
“Did you hear what I said, Tammy?”
“Everything.”
“About Rebecca?” she asked.
I sighed. “She’s getting married. I’m happy for her.”
“When are you going to get serious?”
“Seriously, I’m happy for her.”
She looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t you think the weather is very hot today?”
“Tell me.”
I found a quiet, isolated place, pulled the car over, and killed the engine. There was a pause.
She finally asked, “How are you getting on with the case?”
I took out a cigarette. She did not want one. I lit it and blew the smoke out the window. I hated to cast a shadow over her happiness but I had to tell her anyway.
“I’ve been pulled off the investigation.”
She was surprised. I usually don’t talk with her about problems at work-of course, mostly there hadn’t been any serious problems at work. “Why would they do such a thing?”
“It’s internal.” I was not sure how much to tell her. For that matter, I was not sure how much I knew myself.
“So what will happen now?”
“They’re putting another detective in charge.”
“There is nothing you can do?”
“Good question.” I concentrated on my cigarette.
“Why would Chief take you off?” I said nothing. “Tammy, cut this and talk to me.”
“Chief said I was reckless. That I don’t follow procedures. That’s all I know right now. But it is not the whole story. Something much larger is going on.”
“Isn’t Chief your friend? Can’t you just talk to him?”
“Not anymore.” I looked at Freda. “It’s smoke.”
“Smoke?”
“Politics.”
“But is it true you didn’t follow procedures?”
“Well. . well, yes.”
“Why wouldn’t you follow the rules? Are you trying to wreck your career? What’s wrong with you?”
“All that was wrong with me is that I was doing my job.”
“I don’t understand you at all.”
“Me neither.”
I threw away what was left of my cigarette and started the car. “I’ll drive you back.”
“And?”
“I don’t know.”
She said nothing all the way back. At her office building, she got out of the car and went inside without looking back. I watched her get smaller in the rearview mirror as I sat inside my car for a while. Just sitting there thinking was frustrating.
I drove back to my office. I was sulky all afternoon.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The phone rang. I asked Femi to answer it and he picked up the receiver. “Homicide. Detective Adegbola.” He listened, then turned to me. “You in?” he mouthed.
I shook my head. “Sorry, he isn’t.” After listening some more, he cupped the mouthpiece with his palm. “You want this one. It’s the doctor.”
“Puene?”
Femi nodded.
“He wants me?”
“No one else.”
I sighed but nodded.
“Wait one moment, Doctor. I see him coming in.”
I picked up the phone after a moment. “Detective Peterside.” I was not surprised when the good doctor invited me to his home to talk-privately-about something bothering him. Could I come right away?
Why not?
It did not take long to get to the doctor’s place. Traffic was light. The same uniformed guard as before opened the gate. He was expecting me. He stepped aside to let me drive in and I parked in front of the main house. I ignored the usual people hanging around outside as I got out of my car. Before I could take a step, the doctor’s assistant came out of the house: “He’s waiting for you.”
I followed him inside, where my host was waiting. He stood as I walked in. The atmosphere was pleasant enough, considering two hours ago, I had rudely accused him of murder. He had changed into a more Nigerian outfit, a full-length dashiki in blue cotton fabric and pants that had matching embroidery in gray. He looked casual.
“Good day, Doctor.”
“And to yourself, detective. Please. Sit.”
I sat on an expensively padded settee, ready for whatever the doctor wished to dispense.
He wished to dispense an intoxicant. “Drink?” he asked as he walked to the bar.
“I don’t drink on duty.”
“All the other officers who’ve visited have had something to drink.”
“Well, then, it’s up to me to maintain our false image of being sober at work.”
“I’m impressed. I am, detective.”
“Thanks.”
“You are most welcome.”
He poured himself a drink, a small one, then moved toward the window, sipping and looking down at the supplicants and hangers-on. He sighed. “Did you see all these people?” he said. “They don’t care if I win or lose. All they care about is my money. Everybody wants my money.” He turned to face me. “Have you thought of running for political office?”