“No one has to know about you,” I replied hesitantly. I wanted to be angry with her, but she was right. Why had I brought her along, into danger? I turned back to Kola. “She’s right. Let’s leave her out of it. She wasn’t here.”
He nodded. He did not need her for the story anyway.
“About the rest of it, though. Are we on?”
“I have to talk to my editor. I’ll call you in an hour.”
After he left, I looked at Freda but she avoided my eyes. I could not blame her. We did not say a word during the drive to her office, and I could not blame her for that, either. She went inside without looking back. I could not blame her for anything.
I was on my own.
I did not want to go back to my office to stare at the walls, so I went to a small drinking pub a few blocks from headquarters. Police officers liked the place, and I felt like being among my own kind. I stepped inside and looked around. Instead of slapping me on the back, the other officers avoided my eyes. Great, just great.
I ordered whiskey and the bartender poured the drink. Then I looked around. And realized how self-absorbed I was. They were not ignoring me or shunning me. It was that I was not the only person affected by Femi’s death. They were not just avoiding me, they were avoiding each other. We were all part of a family, and we were in mourning.
I downed the whiskey in one go. It burned all the way down. “Another,” I told Benjamin, the bartender.
“I heard about your man,” he said, pouring me another drink. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say. I was drinking to get drunk. I was furious with Chief, with the entire police force, with the world, with everybody. I was on my third drink when my cell phone rang. I flipped it open, expecting Kola. It was Captain Akpan.
When I spoke my voice sounded dead. “Yes, captain?”
“Where are you, detective? Something came up.”
“Something that has to do with me?”
“Where are you?”
“Near headquarters.”
“In the bar?” His ears were sharp when it came to background sounds.
“I can come down to the office if you want.”
“I just want to know if you know where a newspaper reporter-Kola Badmus-is. You were talking with him a few hours ago.”
Just when I thought it could not get worse.
“His editor called, concerned. He was supposed to call in, but didn’t. He’s on what is considered a dangerous assignment and is supposed to check in regularly. If you were the last person to speak with him, do you have any idea what happened?”
“Wish I did,” I said. I sat looking at the third drink in front of me. Suddenly, it did not feel like a good time to get drunk. “Shall I go down to the newspaper offices?”
“Good,” was all Akpan told me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Nigerian Chronicles had an office arrangement typical of a newspaper. Tunde Abiodun was the city editor. He was a fat, bald man with a fat, bald manner. He grimaced when he saw me walking up to him.
“Any word on Kola?” I asked him.
“I was hoping you would tell me.”
“When did you see him last?”
“On his way to see you. He told me that you called him, that you had a story for him. He left to meet you. That was the last we heard of him. Did you meet him?”
“Yes. I gave him a story. He was going to come back here and talk with you about it.”
“Then you should know more than me. What was the story?”
“I think Femi, my assistant, found out something too hot and he was murdered. I was willing to put my name on the story.”
He nodded. “Well, he never made it back here. And I think I have the right to hold you at least partially responsible.”
There was nothing I could say except that I would do my best to find Kola. He did not seem to think my best meant very much. Then I went up one flight of stairs to see Sheun Daramola, the owner. He outranked the city editor. I had never met him, but he had a reputation even tougher than Abiodun’s.
“Homicide?” he asked. He removed his glasses. What was with these old guys removing their glasses when they wanted to talk? “Sit down.”
I sat.
“Do you have any news about my reporter?”
“Nothing yet. I’d like to look through his office, to see if there’s anything there that might be useful.”
He nodded. “Anything that would help. We are running stories in today’s paper, and the other papers are donating space to run stories as well. In something like this, we stick together.”
“I may have to talk to his colleagues.”
“No problem. I’ll have you shown to his office. I had it locked up when it was obvious there was something wrong.” He called on the phone for the city editor, and when the fat man came in, panting from the effort of walking, Daramola told him to show me to Kola’s office. “I don’t know how going through Kola’s things will help, but do whatever the detective asks. If he wants to speak with other reporters, arrange it.”
The city editor nodded and led me out. We went back downstairs, past several offices to a locked one. Abiodun produced a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, then excused himself and returned to his own desk.
The office was something of a mess, but it was a working mess, with file folders covering the desk and most of the floor. My guess was each folder had its own specific place. I started with the desk. The papers yielded nothing. I found a daybook, which looked like his backup. His appointments were all listed. He’d met a council chairman an hour before seeing me. I opened each drawer of his desk, but in the end, it was a waste. The files on the floor provided nothing, either. I went to talk with the staff, but none of them knew anything, including other stories Kola had been covering; competition for stories could be fierce, and Kola was usually tight-lipped about his work right until it appeared on the front page. Soon enough I was driving back to headquarters with nothing to show for my visit.
While driving, I phoned Akpan on my cell. “Any luck finding Kola?”
“No. We’ve checked the hospitals and morgues. Nothing.”
“No body but also no sign of kidnapping? No ransom demand?”
“No.”
Back in my office, I found a new assistant detective, already hard at work writing reports. Writing reports about what, I did not know. I felt uneasy, seeing him in Femi’s seat. Perhaps Chief was feeling guilty, and was giving me back a partner. The new man said that he was just graduated from the Police Detective College. This was his first field experience. His name was Ade, and he was also from Yoruba, like Chief. Was Ade there to work for me or to spy on me?
After he introduced himself, he told me that Chief had Femi’s file, and wanted to see me. I spent a few minutes getting to know him, then went up to Chief’s office. Stella waved me in and went back to her Imperial. I wondered why she kept the typewriter. She also had a computer. Perhaps it was easier to keep certain documents confidential if there was only a single typed copy.
Chief’s door was half open. I pushed and entered.
“You wanted to see me?” I asked a little stiffly, wary.
“Yes, Tammy. At ease. Kola Badmus. You were the last person to see him?” He closed the file he had been reading, removed his glasses, laid them carefully on the desk in front of him.
“Yes. Kola is a friend.”
“What were you talking with him about?”
“Stuff. We hadn’t had a drink together for some time, so I asked him to join Freda and me at the Grill. We had a few drinks and he left.”
He pressed a button on the intercom. “Have Captain Akpan bring Miss Agboke in.”
The door opened and Freda entered, Captain Akpan behind her.
“Honey?” Freda asked me as soon as she saw me. “What’s this all about?”