Working Cases - Episode 7

 

Joseph Thomas was a big man who had been even bigger in his youth. At fifty-four, his rough and shaggy looks, calm demeanor, and wizened eyes, showed a man who had survived a hard life by working even harder. He had been the town carpenter his entire life, inheriting his father’s workshop and the name Carpenter when he was seventeen.
We were waiting for him when he came home at five-thirty that evening, a heavy sack hoisted over his left shoulder and a box set of tools in his right hand. He saw us standing in the porch and paused . I couldn’t clearly see his face with the sun behind him. Gabe waved at him. He changed direction, walking into the shed at the side of the house instead. When he emerged again, the sack and box of tools were nowhere to be seen and he had changed out of his work clothes. He walked towards us, and his stance told me he was ready for a fight.
“Hello, Gabe,” he turned to the rest of us. “What can I do for you?” 
I stretched out my hand for a shake and he took it. “Mr. Joseph Thomas?”
“Most people round here call me Carpenter.”
“Carpenter, I'm Detective Nicodemus Onojah. This is Detective Ocholi,” I gestured to Natalie who said hi and shook his hand, “and Amelia, and of course you know Gabe.”
“Good. I know who you are

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. What are you doing in my house?”
“We would like to talk to you?”
“About what?” he eyed us suspiciously.
“My father, the senator, was killed four days ago.”
“Senator is dead?” he asked wide-eyed.
I was confused. “How long have you been out of town, exactly?”
“A week, I got a job up on the hill village.”
That explained it. The hill village was probably an entire country unto itself, almost completely isolated.
He looked all of us over, as if to decide how dangerous we were. “It’s best you come inside. It’s cold this December.” And with that he ushered us in.
His house was quaint. Everything was old. Everything was wood. Everything was beautiful.
He spoke again. “Have a seat. What killed him?” He sat across from us. He hadn’t bothered to offer us anything.
It was Natalie who spoke this time. “We have cause to believe he was stabbed by someone, the same person who murdered Mr. Lanre Abidemi and was probably involved in Mr. Duncan Ajayi’s death.”
“I thought they found the men that killed Lanre and Duncan.” He asked.
I leaned forward. Carpenter didn’t know the senator’s son had been convicted for his murder. It might prove easier to lead him to believe there was still an investigation. “You see, Carpenter, we have reason to believe there is someone else. The senator was planning on talking to you before he was murdered. So, we decided to follow up on it.”
Amelia, who had been silent since, spoke up, “Please, if you know anything at all, you can talk to us.”
“Hmm,” Carpenter looked away. “You say this person killed the senator?”
“We think so.”
He seemed to make up his mind. “There was someone new in town about four weeks ago. He came to me and said he needed some furniture work done. Now, I had never seen this person before so we got to talking and he said he was new and we talked about a lot of things. Then he asked me to point him to Duncan Ajayi’s house, and I didn’t think anything of it so I did.”
“What about the furniture?” I asked.
“That’s the funny part. Once I told him where Mr. Duncan’s house was, he left the furniture and just went away. He had already paid so I didn’t really go after him. Then, a couple of weeks later, I hear Duncan’s dead, and I think about this stranger. And I think what if he killed Duncan? So I send a note to the senator using my real name so no one else but him would know it was me. I didn’t think he’d remember the name, but, at least he’d discover it was me eventually. So, when you called me by my name, I thought the senator sent you.” 
This was interesting. Could this stranger be the man we were looking for? “What did this man look like? Did you find out anything else about him?”
“He was tall, muscular,—like all those wrestlers you see on TV—he looked like a man who could hold his own in a fight, you know. And he was fast. I mean, one second he was there with me and I blinked, and he was gone. He also had a goatee and a scar across his left eye.”
If ever there was a perfect description, this was it. The stranger fit the profile of the man who killed my father perfectly. He was strong and fast. “Thank you, very much. Natalie, can you help me write that down? Ask him the standard questions so we can recognize this guy.” I stood and started to walk out.
“Where are you going?” She asked.
“What’s the time?” I asked her, stopping briefly.
She glanced at her watch. “It’s six-thirty. Is that supposed to mean something? You have somewhere to be?”
“You know when I said I was going to talk to Madame Olivia?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“And you asked me to be careful how I spoke to her?”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh God! You didn’t!”
“I did. She’ll be here soon.”
“You bloody idiot!”
“Well, lucky for us, the entire police division will be here soon too. If they are caught attacking us, we’ll have all we need to put them in bars.”
“That’s assuming we survive, you phenomenal bastard! You’ve killed us all.”
“No. I’ll go out to meet her alone. I can stall her guys until backup gets here. Amelia, you and Gabe take cover. Natalie, calm down, and just continue with Mr. Thomas here.” I took a deep breath. “This will all be over soon.” As I walked out of the door, Madame Olivia and her henchmen pulled up in front of the house and I was met with a dozen guns pointed at my face.
I shoved fear to the back of my mind and put on a brave face. “I see you still hold a grudge. It was a joke, Olivia.”
The sprightly buxom middle-aged woman had a smile on as she walked out of the black SUV. “You have yourself to blame. People do not insult me and my family. And people do not call me Olivia.” Her smile turned toxic.
“So you're going to kill me?”
“Kill you?” She seemed amused by the suggestion. “No, I'm going to walk away.” With that she, and her henchmen, walked back into the cars and started drive away.
“Wait, what?” They were walking away? “What is this?”
“She rolled down the side window and laughed. “Don’t worry, Nicodemus. The police will be here soon and this whole mess will be sorted. See, I don’t need to kill you. You killed yourself by coming here.”
That was when I heard the gunshot. A scream rang out from the house behind me, and the SUVs rolled away. I turned to the house to find Carpenter standing in the doorway, a gun in his hand, and someone was lying in their own blood in front of him.