“No. We are not allowed to.”
“You are better off. Politics is such a dirty game in this country. It is a dirty game to begin with, but here you feel the mud. It gets between your fingers.”
“So why not get out of it? You’re a doctor. You could be saving lives.”
He waved his hand, holding the glass, at imaginary foes. “Someone’s got to stand up to all this. Is that not using some of your own words, detective?”
I leaned back. He could certainly be charming enough. “You said you want to talk about something that’s bothering you?”
“Yes. I expect I shall have some sleepless nights over it.” What he said next sounded rehearsed. “Detective, someone wants me dead. I’m worried sick about my safety, now that the primaries have heated up.”
“I thought we were going to talk about Stephen Wike.”
“We are. I was shocked when I first heard. Now I’ve had time to think.”
“Why are you shocked? Did his murder not follow naturally?”
My question did not faze him in the slightest. He finished his drink. “You really think I did it?”
“At the very least, you know more than you are telling. You and Okpara are at each other’s throats. Everybody thinks you ordered the bombing and this hit.”
“Do they? Why would I order the killing of Okpara’s personal aide?”
Then, he said something I had not expected. “Five days ago, my mechanic checked my gearbox and axle oil before we were to drive to a meeting with elders and traditional rulers, and he found a bomb had been planted under my car. I called the police but it was kept very quiet. The bomb squad took care of it. Naturally, I suspected Okpara. Until someone tried to blow him up. Now I have no idea who to suspect.” His grim expression appeared real. “Detective, a third person wants both Okpara and myself dead.”
“And what did my colleagues say?”
“The colleagues who were around the table today? They say they are investigating. I don’t believe them, and from your expression during the meeting, I do not think you believed or trusted them, either. You think they are not interested in investigating me. You are right, detective. They are not. But not because they are protecting me. There are many games being played out.” I was leaning forward now. Very good-this was not what I had expected at all. “So, detective, what should I do? Wait until someone succeeds in killing me?”
Was he playing me or was I playing him? “Perhaps you should do nothing. I need some time. Are you sure you can’t talk to Olatunji?”
“I can ask him to have you investigate. I’m not sure he will. Detective, I’m next. Or perhaps Okpara, then me. I can’t say.”
“Who else was there, when the bomb was found under your car?”
“My good friend and party member, Professor Nwikeki. He was accompanying me to the meeting. The meeting was cancelled after the bomb attempt, though, and changed to this Friday.”
“Can I speak to him about this?”
“By all means. In fact, I insist.”
I did not know whether to believe him or not. He studied me for a while. “You don’t believe me. Do you?”
“I don’t know quite what to believe.”
“Fair enough. Speak to Sergeant Obiwali of the Metropolitan Police Division. He will corroborate all I have told you.” He poured another drink, another small one.
I walked out of his house a lot less sure of myself than when I had walked in.
I drove over to the Metropolitan Police Division, which had jurisdiction of Rumuokoro. Sergeant Obiwali confirmed his information. He had taken the doctor’s statement, showed it to me along with logs of the calls and a file on the bomb found under his car. If this was a lie, it came with backup. I was still suspicious-all this could be an elaborate charade to divert attention from the doctor. I needed someone not connected to him.
I drove to Professor Nwikeki’s country home, not far away. He was a local politician, actively involved with the struggle for the Ogoni people, and he was chairman of the political Elders Forum. He was a good contact, someone I trusted. It only took him a few minutes to confirm what the doctor had told me. He thought Dr. Puene had nothing to do with either the Okpara bombing or the Wike murder. “I assure you Vincent is a good man. A very religious and respectable man.”
“But couldn’t it all be a hoax?”
“Not from what I know.”
I left, drove back to headquarters slowly, trying to think it over.
Femi was not in our office when I got back. Before heading home, I decided to grab some food. I had eaten nothing since morning and I was almost famished.
I ran into Femi outside our building on my way to the buka. He was looking downcast. I told him I could use some food. We walked into a nearby restaurant while I told him about my conversation with Dr. Puene. He said nothing. He just listened quietly. We took a table, me wondering what was up. He waited until I had ordered. “I have been reassigned.”
I nodded. “It’s nonsense.” The waitress brought the first part of my order. I was hungrier than I’d realized. Femi watched me eat. I offered him some, but he shook his head.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said.
“About what?”
“Do you think we have a leak?” he asked.
How did he expect me to respond?
“Never occurred to me,” I said, still regarding him closely, “Okay. What if there is one. Who could that be?”
He smiled grimly. “Hey. Nobody said anything about anybody being a leak.” He adroitly avoided answering my question. He looked at me closely, then said, “Forget that I asked.” He was on the edge but not yet ready to jump.
I finished, paid the waitress, and we left. As we walked back to headquarters and my car, he asked, finally, “Think you’ll find out who’s behind the killings?”
“I’m still convinced Puene’s behind it all.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. Why do you want to know?”
He just stared at me, then shook his head. “Sometimes you are so full of crap. We’ve known each other a long time. I’m just curious, that’s all. Good luck with your sarcastic self, lieutenant.”
I watched him walk back to headquarters and felt even more alone than before.
I got into my car, still watching Femi as he disappeared in the Yard. I sighed, picked up my cell phone, and called Freda.
“Hello, it’s me,” I said when she picked up.
“Yes, I gathered.”
“I’m sorry about earlier on.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorrier,” she said.
“You are.”
“Funny.”
“Someone is lovesick and not man enough to accept it.”
She laughed.
“What are you doing right now?” I asked.
“I’m in the kitchen, preparing dinner.”
“If it’s okay, I’m going home, going to sleep, and not planning on getting up until tomorrow. Is that okay?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“I’m afraid I would not be good company.”
“You’re in my heart, Tammy.”
For some reason, I did not know what to say except good-bye. I did not deserve her. And I had no idea what to do about it.
Or what to do about the murders.
I drove home and rested for a while, lying on my back on the bed. Sleep came quickly but it was restless.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning around ten o’clock, as I parked, Okoro came out of our building, looking his usual unhappy self.
“Hi,” he said. “We haven’t seen Femi today. He didn’t sign in this morning.”
“Did you call his number?”
He nodded. “He switched off.”
A few days ago I would have thought nothing of it. Now I started to worry about the worst. “Something could have happened to him,” I told him.
His eyes widened in surprise. Instead of asking anything, he hurried away, putting distance between us.
I decided to check on Femi at home. I went back to my car, unlocked it, got inside. I drove over to his house and walked up to his front door. It was open.