Homicide was busy. Although unemployment was a major issue in Nigeria, I did not have to worry about my own fate-Port Harcourt ensured Homicide was always busy.
I was relaxed as I went through the security check at the outside gate and then drove past the old block of offices to the newer one across the Yard. I pulled my car up within a few feet of the new building’s front steps. Blocking the front steps a bit was my way of making a statement. Why use the parking lot? That was for someone else, and I was not someone else. Does that sound arrogant? I am not sure you can be a Homicide detective without some arrogance flowing in your veins.
Captain Godwin Akpan responded quite strongly the first time I parked in front. He was forced to walk around my car, which he thought demeaning. He threatened to write me up for insubordination-“the unruly act of blocking the entrance.” But he only threatened. When he saw that the threats did no good, and that I continued to park in front of the stairs, he let it go. He really had no choice. I was not going to budge and he was a pragmatic fellow. I liked him, but his insistence on going by the rules always got in my way.
Akpan was a model police officer. He took himself seriously and followed his own standard of being a “good cop.” He was also too self-confident and aggressive, and could be very demanding and critical. You usually knew where you stood with him. He was straightforward with his staff. Although he was often a pain in the ass, we still had a good enough relationship.
When he let it go, I responded politely: I followed the silent protocol and whenever I parked and got out of my car, I did not smile. It is not the Nigerian way to rub it in. Parking in front of the steps is one thing, grinning about it quite another. Though it might be good to try it once just to see what happened. .
I saw Barrister Howell Osamu, of Osamu and Associates, walk out of our building and toward a new Lexus Jeep. The SUV looked like it had all the extras. Lucky man, he. Did his luck make him wealthy, or did his wealth make him lucky? Or did luck have nothing to do with it?
Quite a legend Osamu was-famous for saving Barigha Duncan from jail time. Duncan was the boss of the organized crime syndicate in Port Harcourt, the Duncan family. His mistress died in his house one night after he brought her home from a club. Word was he suspected her of cheating on him. When he confronted her, she denied it. In the ensuing discussion, she suffered massive damage to her head, which killed her instantly. Duncan was smart enough to call Osamu, a budding lawyer trying to make his mark in Port Harcourt. Osamu had already won some important cases, putting him in demand in and around Port Harcourt, but he had been waiting for the Big One, and the Barigha Duncan case was it.
The state attorney hurriedly prepared the case, assuming he’d have no problem, given that Duncan had been alone with the mistress, and she was obviously the victim of a homicide. But no murder weapon had ever been found, and Osamu had experts testify that the mistress had tripped on a settee while trying to strike Duncan, hitting her head on the hard floor. Of course, a fall like that would not cause massive skull damage, but that was where a good lawyer, in those heady heights, gets brainy. Or was it because the autopsy was conducted by someone who needed some extra cash? The autopsy did not support a murder charge, thus the opportunity to nail Duncan went down the toilet. The jury ruled it an accidental death, and Duncan walked out a free man. Osamu had won his first (but not last) truly sensational case. Suddenly, he was transported into the league of attorneys with millionaire clients. There were plenty of crooks who needed his services. It took no time at all for him to start buying very expensive new cars.
I was not surprised to see Osamu at the headquarters. He was a frequent visitor, as his clients were of the criminal persuasion. I noticed a young man with him, wearing an odd-looking trench coat and a knit cap-odd because why would he wear such heavy clothes in the heat? He looked young enough to be a college student, not more than twenty-two. His lanky frame was delicate, his clothes a bit more expensive than usual. There was a nasty scar on his right cheek. He appeared nervous, shifting from one foot to the next, avoiding eye contact with me as I looked over at him.
I wondered what the lawyer Osamu and his friend were doing here. Whom had he sprung this time?
Since I was not on greeting terms with him, I ignored him and his young friend. But I figured I would see Osamu again, sooner rather than later.
CHAPTER FIVE
I walked up the steps and into the building. Some of the officers saluted when they saw me, some waved, few stopped. I chatted with a few friends as I walked through the lobby, then took the stairs up to the second floor, preparing myself to meet Chief. By the time I stopped at the steel-framed door, I was ready. The smile on my lips was quite suitable for a mid-ranked officer, I thought. I opened the door to Chief’s office and entered without knocking.
Stella, Chief’s secretary, looked up from her Imperial manual typewriter as I stepped into the carpeted office. Stella was a small, neat woman. She wore no makeup, combed her hair straight-nothing fancy. My guess was she had no boyfriend-her whole life seemed to be working for Chief. She kept her distance from the men in the block.
The air conditioners kept everything cool. The more important the official, the better his air conditioners, the cooler his office. Chief of Police Isaac Olatunji was very important.
Stella excelled at pretending to welcome anyone who came through the door. “Good morning, Tammy.”
“You look exceptionally happy to see me this morning,” I said.
“With you, I pretend extra hard.”
“Thanks. Is Chief in?”
“Yes, but he’s with someone. You have to wait, and don’t bother with your usual attempts at being friendly.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking into her dark eyes. “When have I ever tried to be friendly?”
“Ha ha. Sit down and be quiet. I have work to do.”
“Yes, Stella. Say, how did you get that name, anyway?”
“My mother was once married to Marlon Brando. Now, sit and be quiet.”
I barely had time to sit in one of the comfortable chairs before Chief emerged from his office, escorting a well-dressed young man. Chief was in uniform, tall and imposing. The man wore an expensive suit and was new to me. He looked like a high-profile business executive. He was well fed, his nails manicured, his expensive shoes polished. Calluses covered his fingers but they were old ones-he had probably been a manual laborer, but at least ten years ago. Mr. Young-and-Well-Dressed seemed happy enough-he appeared to have been entertained rather than investigated. He looked like a gentleman. I liked gentlemen.
They shook hands at the door and Mr. Old Calluses left with a graceful yet purposeful walk-he was in no hurry to leave, but he was going somewhere. You could say he was none of my business, but obviously, you have never been a Homicide detective. My business is everyone. Over the past eleven years, I have always found it pays to notice details, even when you are not on a case. Mostly I look for details involving murder victims, but it also pays to keep an eye on the currently living-it saves time later, after they are dead.
Chief was aware I was there but kept watching his visitor’s back until he had left the office. Then Chief pretended to first notice me, waving me to follow him as he walked back through the open doorway of his office.
“Good morning, sir,” I said, closing the door behind me.
“Morning, Tammy. Femi told you I wanted to see you?”
“Yes, sir. It’s a hot day.”
“Don’t bother. I have no time for patter today.” He motioned for me to sit down, a privilege not given to most junior officers. We were chummy-to the chagrin of Captain Akpan. I am not a charmer on purpose, but Chief had always seen something in me he wanted to cultivate. I had yet to learn what he wanted to grow inside me. For now, being Olatunji’s favorite made my life a lot easier. Akpan did not like the interference with the lines of authority, but he knew better than to question anything Chief wanted to do.