Working Cases - Episode 4

 

Have you ever finally remembered something you forgot earlier, but still have this nagging feeling at the back of your mind that there’s still something else you're forgetting?
That was how it felt for me when we found the two men that killed Lanre. The two men had also confessed to helping Lanre kill Duncan. One of them was sporting a nice low-impact bullet wound on his upper arm that fit the ricochet description perfectly . And I was sure they were guilty. But,
Despite the fact that there was no evidence to support it, and the killers had given their testimony that they were the only ones other than Lanre there, I still had this nagging feeling—call it Detective’s Instinct—that there was someone else. Some part of me knew there was a third person in Lanre’s house that afternoon. The only problem was that I couldn’t prove it. So I pushed it to the back of my mind, and focused on solving my next case.
Meet Senator Abdulraheem Akande. Loved by both his country and the media, and sorely hated by his fellow politicians; fit as a fiddle and able to bench nearly twice his own weight; tall, at four inches over six feet he could tower over everyone else in a room, his personality was also capable of that feat; a man who not only detested corruption, but also did all he could to stop it; the man who was the leading propagator of the Reforms’ Act, the man who made me what I was, the man who was what I was even before me, the man who, other than me, was the only one keeping the reforms alive. The enigma that is, well, was Senator Abdulraheem Akande

All episodes of this story can be found here >> https://www.ebonystory.com/story/working-cases

. And he was dead.
“You okay?” Natalie asked me. I was standing in front of the window with my back to her when she came in. I turned to face her. She smiled a sad smile. When Natalie smiled, her big brown eyes smiled more than her face did. It was reassuring. I smiled back at her. She had broken the unspoken rule for me today. She had come into my office to see how I was doing, associating herself with me. And to do that had just become more dangerous, because the man who had made me, the man who was even more un-killable than I was, had just been killed. 
She spoke again, softly. “I know it must be hard for you. He was practically your father.”
I nodded.
“He took you in as a child after your parents died, right.”
I nodded. “I was twelve. He knew my father. I didn’t have any other relatives, so he took me in.” I turned his face away so she wouldn’t see the tear that had escaped my eye, “He raised me as his son, and sent me to do the one thing in this world he couldn’t do alone. And now it’s killed him.”
She walked around my desk to wrap her arms around me in a hug. I melted into her embrace and wept silently. 
She held me like that for a long time. When I put myself together, we parted. I mouthed a small ‘thanks’ and she smiled at me again. I cleared my throat and said it again, “Thanks,” I sat down and looked through the open door, “Half the station just saw us. You're putting yourself in danger for me.”
She laughed. “No biggie. I can take care of myself.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
I had only one answer in my mind. “Find the bastard that killed him. End him.”
“You mean arrest him?” she raised an eyebrow.
I honestly didn’t know if I would be able to stop myself from killing my foster father’s murderer.
She seemed to know what I was thinking. She put her hand on my clenched fist, “Don’t worry; I’ll be there to help you do the right thing.”
I chuckled. “Did you just become a member of team?”
She laughed, but her eyes were serious. “Yeah, damn the consequences. I am officially the first member, apart from you of course, of the unofficial Nicodemus Taskforce. The others can sit around, but from now on, I'm helping you.”
I nodded. There was nothing to say. We both knew she might have just signed her own death warrant. But, I was grateful. I needed the help. And I would do my best to protect her.
The rest of the day was a breeze. After careful consideration, I was allowed on the case to find the killer. There was nothing I would be able to do till the next day. The junior officers were collecting evidence and speaking to witnesses. So, at about four o’ clock, I went to speak to Gabe.
He was at his usual spot, the top of a small hill that overlooked the sea, throwing rocks at the waves. He turned almost immediately I set foot on the summit. The boy had sharp senses.
“Hey, Gabe, how are you?” I asked him, careful to smile and look nonthreatening. He was a beautiful boy. He took all the physical attributes of an autistic child and managed to somehow look like the most beautiful sixteen-year-old I had ever seen. 
“Uncle Nick,” he smiled an open-toothed smile, and then he seemed to remember something that made him sad, “Uncle Akande is dead?”
“Yes, Gabe,” I answered him truthfully, “the senator is dead. Do you know anything about it?”
He looked at me, puzzled. He repeated his question, this time as a statement, “Uncle Akande is dead.”
I was confused for a moment before I realized. Gabe knew a lot of stuff, but you’ve got to know how to ask. He only answered questions he understood and was confused when you asked something that didn’t make sense to him.
“Who killed Uncle Akande?” I settled on that question being straightforward enough. 
He shrugged, “I don’t know.”
I sighed. 
Then he said something that caught me by surprise. “The man that killed Uncle Lanre is the one that killed Uncle Akande.” Then he turned to me and shrugged again, “But I don’t know him. I did not see his face.”
I couldn’t get anything else out of Gabe that evening, but as I drove home, I knew my fears had been confirmed. Someone else was there. Someone who was a lot better than Lanre at hiding his face. Someone who had been at two crime scenes, and left absolutely zero evidence of his existence lying around. Someone who had killed my father. And tomorrow, tomorrow I would find him.