A find made by the members of the Enugu State Waste Management Team (ESWAMA) while sifting the trash bin near the Onwa Asato roundabout kept the police on their toes: a severed, bloodied teenage hand. An all hands investigation unearthed another hand gripping a kitchen knife and the lifeless body of a boy. Led by witness accounts, they identified the deceased as Isaac, a fourteen-year-old whose mother, Evelyn, is a primary school teacher. The police then departed with the body and several individuals of interest for further questioning.
Meanwhile, Evelyn was at home, anticipating Isaac’s return from taking out the trash so they could have their breakfasts. When the doorbell rang, she dashed to the door, beaming with a smile.
“Miss Evelyn Ajo?” A bofficer in plain clothes asked, tapping his feet on the patterned gravel floor. Evelyn rolled her eyes, simpering affectedly. Her grip on the doorframe loosened, and she tightened it, sighing.
“My eyelid had been twitching,” her voice came as a forced whisper. “Who are you?”
The officer ransacked his pocket, and replied, Sergeant Mike, as he showed her his badge. He held his dark-brown-haired partner standing aloof a step away and added, “He is Sergeant David. We need to ask you some questions about your son, Isaac. May we come in?”
“Sure,” Evelyn said with a nod, leading them to the dining area. “What happened to my son?” she wondered aloud. “He should be home for breakfast soon; it’ll get cold.”
The breeze wafted an aroma of well-seasoned meals across the unexpecting noses of the officers who drifted closer to the dining, their eyes, sated by the spread of gourmet dishes as their heads collided in whispers.
“Are you celebrating something?” Sergeant Mike asked, looking up. Evelyn flung a “no” at the officers and continued when she turned, “oh, you asked because of the plethora of dishes?” She paused for a moment before adding, “Well, I’m a teacher on midterm break, so I thought I’d enjoy some quality time with my son over our favourite meals.”
Everywhere went blank with a deafening silence, even the clock’s ticking became audible and piercing. Sergeant Mike moved towards Evelyn’s bedroom, and she rushed headlong after him, bumping into the wall. She paused and thought for a while, then began rubbing her forehead as if just coming to the realisation of the pain and swelling there. Of a sudden, she shot a glare at the officer, “You haven’t explained why you’re here yet, and you’re invading my privacy.”
“My apologies,” Sergeant Mike replied, unfolding the document he pulled from his breast pocket.
“I have a warrant in connection with Isaac’s case and need access to any scene or individual that could help the investigation,” he said, handing her the paper. “It bears the proper stamp.”
Evelyn perused the paper and returned it to him, asking why the warrant concerns Isaac’s death when Isaac is hale and hearty. “Are you mistaken?” She added.
“Oh, no, he isn’t,” Sergeant David’s voice foreran his presence as he joined them in Evelyn’s room. Sergeant Mike continued exploring the bedroom, and noting every item while Evelyn kept a close watch. He zipped across the patio between Evelyn’s room and the small nook facing towards the kitchen, observing Evelyn and furrowing his brows as he asked, “Aren’t you disturbed by your son’s death?”
She grinned. “Why would I get upset about a joke?” Her response surprised Sergeant Mike into a pause.
“Hasn’t the mortuary contacted you yet?” he asked. Evelyn frowned.
“Why contact me? Why would I expect a call from the mortuary?” she retorted. The officer sighed. “That’s negligent on their part, but they’ll reach out somehow,” he said. “Hope your phone’s working.”
Evelyn chuckled. “Officer, please stop; you’re frightening me.”
Sergeant Mike spotted some clothes draped over a chair and walked over to inspect them, raising them to his nose.
“You’re now sniffing my clothes? Am I a suspect in some crime?” she asked. “Did something happen to my son?”
“Who slept on the floor last night?” he asked instead.
“Isaac, how do you know?”
“The socks under the bed.” He picked them up and tossed them onto the bed. “Why did he sleep on the floor?” He glared at her.
“My boyfriend, Jack, stayed over last night.”
“Your boyfriend? Didn’t you lose your fiancé less than a year ago?”
“Yes, and what of it?”
“So you let your son sleep on the floor for a man? You’re quite an odd mother.” Evelyn’s expression darkened, and she was ready to retort, but Sergeant David’s tap drew her attention.
“Are you sneaking up on me now?” She barked. He sighed, and said, “Check your phone; it might be the mortuary calling.”
Evelyn ran into the dining room, tripping over a rug as she grabbed her phone. Moments later, she broke down in tears. The police exchanged glances, shrugged, and left without a goodbye.
***
Ogbo, a caramel-skinned teenager with a distinctive mole on his chin and Isaac’s classmate, was the first suspect summoned into the interrogation room. Sergeant Mike took note of the boy’s youth as he sat across from him.
“Don’t make me resort to torture,” he warned.
“Why am I here?” Ogbo asked, confusion etched on his face. The sergeant slammed the table and roared, “No pretences here!”
“But I did nothing wrong. Why am I here?” Ogbo retorted.
“What did you do to your classmate, Isaac, when you saw him this morning?”
“Ah! What could I have done to him?” Ogbo replied, pelting his brows.“We just shook hands, discussed our tricky math homework, and went on our ways.” The sergeant banged his palms on the table again.
“How and why did you kill Isaac, and who was your accomplice?”
“Kill? Is Isaac dead? I just saw him this morning; how could he be dead?”
“It seems you’re not ready to talk. You were the last person with Isaac this morning, and now he’s dead. Do you want me to torture the truth out of you?” The officer barked. Ogbo went silent. He slouched, engrossed infingering his cuffs that its clanks and the officer’s icy glare couldn’t bring him to a stop. When he looked up his face was pale and tears hung around the corners of his eyes, pricking for permission. “Isaac is dead?” He whispered and wiped his eyes outright, replying to the officer, “I wasn’t the last one! Isaac rushed off to meet someone he called Uncle Jack.”
“Jack? His mother’s boyfriend?”
“Uh… I don’t know who he is; I just remember Isaac shouting ‘Uncle Jack!’ then he waved goodbye and ran off.”
Sergeant Mike gestured to the warders to take Ogbo away, and Sergeant David entered as they escorted him out.
“We’re overlooking something,” he said. Sergeant Mike nodded and replied, “Yes, we need to question Miss Evelyn again along with that Jack fellow.”
“Let’s begin with Jack. We should act swiftly to see if their accounts align,” Sergeant David said and paused, ruminating. “But she couldn’t have harmed her child.”
“I think so too, but she may know who was involved or what unfolded.”
Later on, the officers lit their pipes and left the station, waving off the warders. The old, rusty police vehicle sat parked outside. Sergeant Mike started the engine while his colleague gave it a push, and they drove off.
Upon reaching Evelyn’s open compound, they noted the SUV parked in a corner.
“Looks like she has an august visitor,” Sergeant Mike remarked, shrugging. They saw Evelyn leaving with a young man whose attire suggested he was somewhat suspect. The officers greeted them, and the young couple responded with dismissive glances.
“We need to speak with you, ma’am,” Sergeant Mike called after them.
“What is it? You want to embarrass me in front of my guest?” Evelyn asked, raising her hands in frustration. “What about the killers of my son that you’re supposed to find? Where are they? That’s all I want from you.” Sergeant Mike faced them, hands tucked into his pockets.
“I’m afraid that’s why we’re here,” he replied. “Madam, who is this young man with you?”
“That’s my affair,” she snapped. How does it concern your investigation?”
“It concerns everything,” Sergeant Mike replied with barely contained rage. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
“Well, that’s Thompson, my boyfriend. And don’t ask anything further,” she asserted.
The officers exchanged knowing looks. “We came to request Jack’s contact information, but it appears you both will need to accompany us to the station for questioning.”
“Baby, what’s going on?” The young man asked, confused.
“Move!” Sergeant David barked, ushering them to the police car.
***
The officers wore expressions that mirrored Evelyn’s earlier annoyance as they faced her. After a while, Sergeant Mike pierced the hush, asking, “What kind of mother are you?”
“What do you mean?” she replied. “Am I supposed to perish because I lost a loved one? I’m just trying to heal.”
“How many boyfriends do you have?” he asked.
“I’ve lost track; it’s none of your business. I just want justice for my son. You’re wasting time digging into my life.”
“Excuse me,” the officers interjected. She paused to observe them before huffing.
“If you can’t respect yourself, what do you expect from me?”
“You’re a prime suspect!” Sergeant Mike snarled, fuming. “From my findings, your child’s father, a wealthy businessman, postponed your wedding due to your recklessness. He died shortly after, leaving his fortune to your son, who is now deceased.” Evelyn slammed her palms on the table and stood.
“Excuse me?” she seethed. “What are you insinuating?”
“Why do you have so many men?” Sergeant David joined in.
Evelyn froze, then sank back into her chair, arms crossed.
“Coping mechanism,” she replied, avoiding their gaze.
“Explain yourself,” Sergeant Mike said, glaring at her.
“Have you heard of BPD?” she asked, still averting her glances.
“Clarify yourself, woman!” he yelled. She straightened, and asked, “If I don’t, what will happen?”
“You might find yourself confined to this prison.”
“Oh, you can only keep me here for 24 hours. I know my rights, and I have competent lawyers at the ready,” she bragged.
Sergeant David leaned closer, and rested his hands on the table as he chimed in, “I’m all ears. Continue your explanation.”
Sighing, she continued, “BPD stands for Borderline Personality Disorder. To be brief, I fear abandonment or being alone; hence, I surround myself with many partners.” Silence fell as the officers exchanged puzzled glances.
“Does this seem like Zeeworld or Nollywood movie to you?” Sergeant Mike asked.
“Of course not; I’m not onscreen and this place doesn’t resemble a set,” she retorted. Sergeant Mike raised his hand towards her, but Sergeant David steadied him with a gentle touch on the shoulder.
“Her explanation is valid if she can provide evidence,” he said.
“Of course, my doctor can attest to that,” she replied flippantly. Sergeant Mike sighed.
“Take her away and bring in the man she arrived with.” Thompson, one of Evelyn’s lovers, appeared baffled when he was escorted in. Sergeant Mike dismissed him in annoyance and ordered Jack to be brought in. When Jack entered, his shackles clanked as he walked. On sitting down, his bushy beard bobbed as his large, sorrow-filled eyes darted around.
“What did Evelyn promise you that led you to kill Isaac?” Sergeant Mike sneered to intimidate him. Jack blinked in disbelief.
“Excuse me? Why would I kill Isaac?” he stammered. “Are you here to interrogate me or to falsely accuse me?
Sergeant Mike rose and slapped Jack. “One more lie and you’ll be sent to the torture room!” he growled. “Isaac was last seen with you; are you saying a ghost killed him?”
“No, that’s not true; Isaac wasn’t last seen with me,” Jack began. In the small hours when I left their house to prepare for work, Evelyn had just sent Isaac to dispose some trash. I left without him since we weren’t going the same way, but the shortcut I had formerly intended to follow was blocked.” He paused and thought for some moment before continuing, “You can make inquiries to confirm this. I had to use the longer route. I was walking on my own when I felt someone hug me from behind, turning it was Isaac. He smiled at me and ran off to toss the trash. I noticed a man was nearby.” Sergeant Mike struck him again.
“Are you trying to spin a ridiculous story?” he hissed. “Tell us how and why you killed Isaac—fast!”
“Wait,” Sergeant David interjected, placing a hand on Sergeant Mike’s shoulder. “Let him finish. You said you saw a man by the trash site when Isaac was there, right?”
Jack nodded. “A sane man would urinate in the gutter, but that morning, I saw a tall, muscular man in fine clothes passing water onto the trash.It struck me as odd, but I didn’t get a good look at his face, as I never anticipated such a tragedy.”
“Can you provide a better description of the man?”
***
Back at home, Evelyn was distraught. She tore through the house, throwing around her late son’s and fiancé’s belongings. In her agitation, she called her therapist before taking her medication. She soon felt drowsy and collapsed onto a nearby sofa. Just as a picture slipped from the clutter, she caught sight of it and grabbed it. It was an image of her late fiancé,Mikel standing beside Sergeant Mike.
“What? How?” she muttered, bewildered by the revelation. “Sergeant Mike knew Mikel? And they’re even namesakes?”
***
In a grim, overcrowded prison cell, Jack sat cross-legged in a corner after tussling with some domineering inmates. Suddenly, he leapt up and rattled the security door, shouting, “Warder! I need to speak!”
“Who’s making that ruckus?” A warder snarled as he approached the cell. “What is it?”
“I need to see Sergeant David.”
“Sergeant Mike is the one overseeing your case,” the warder replied, “But he isn’t here at the moment. Sergeant David is only assisting.”
“That’s fine; I need to talk to Sergeant David now,” Jack insisted. The warder scanned him from head to toe.
“Is Sergeant David around?” He called to his colleagues.
“Yes… yes,” someone replied from a distance. The warder unlocked the cell and led Jack out, shackling him before they arrived at the interrogation room.
“Sure… sir.” The warder saluted upon seeing Sergeant David. “This suspect insists on having a private conversation with you.” Sergeant David sighed, facing Jack.
“Sergeant Mike is managing your case; he’s the one you should speak with.”
“No. I want to talk to you, not him,” Jack insisted. Sergeant David, intrigued, motioned for Jack to sit.
“What’s so secretive?” he asked. Leaning in, Jack whispered, “It’s about Sergeant Mike. He was the man I saw by the trash site when Isaac was disposing of his trash. He might be involved in Isaac’s death.” Sergeant David shifted in his chair.
“This is serious,” he said, biting his fingers as he gestured to the warder to take Jack back to his cell.
***
Sergeant Mike roamed the patio outside his office with pocketed hands. On sighting Sergeant David, he hurried to him, clearing his throat as he asked, “Eeem… David, is the news true?”
“What news?” Sergeant David squinted before rubbing his eyes. “Please, help me blow my eyes,” he added, moving closer to Sergeant Mike who obliged him.
“The minimum wage,” Sergeant Mike replied all agog. “The news just carried that we have been paid.” Sergeant David’s lips arced a pouty hiss as he shook his head.
“That’s fake news, bro.” He patted Sergeant Mike’s shoulder. “I heard it, too and was overjoyed until the minister of Interior confirmed it to be false.”
“Damn!” Sergeant Mike hissed. “I just felt it! It was too good to be true. They just let my hopes up for nothing.” He sighed. “What about our salaries. We have been owed for months; any update?”
Sergeant shook his head, saying, “None, my bro.” Then he smirked. “But there’s a message from our superior to you.” Sergeant Mike turned and walking away, he said, “We will talk about that one later. Let’s focus on today’s work first.”
“Mike,” Sergeant David called him back, approaching him. “Return the warrant for the investigation into Isaac Aagu’s case.”
Sergeant Mike turned, raising an eyebrow. “Why should I do that?”
Sergeant David handed him a letter, saying, “This is from our boss.” Mike skimmed the missive, sighed, and tucked it away.
“This is the warrant,” he replied, handing David a folded piece of paper.
“How did I end up being a suspect?” he asked.
“Miss Evelyn made a statement implying you knew her husband long before, which coincided with Jack’s statement. Therefore, our inspector had to act.” He patted Mike on the shoulder “Don’t worry, my brother. If you’re innocent, we will clear your name.”
***
Evelyn waited in her car outside Laya’s office after telling him on the phone to come downstairs. Laya, an average-height, plump attorney in his late forties, approached with his protruding stomach leading the way. He opened the passenger door and slid into the seat, tapping the file he carried.
“This is Chief Mikel Aagu’s will,” he said, stifling a burp. “I think it’s time to go over the second condition.”
“Second condition for what?” Evelyn asked, squirming in her seat. “Mikel left all his assets to my son, Isaac. Since Isaac is deceased, I should inherit everything as his next of kin. What are you hinting at?” Laya cleared his throat, flicking through the document.
“The will specifies that if Isaac doesn’t reach eighteen to inherit his father’s estate, all assets should be bequeathed to charity.” Evelyn lunged at Laya.
“You must be crazy. I didn’t kill my only child just to have his inheritance go to charity. You are mistaken!” Laya grinned and thrust the document at her, “Look for yourself. Is this not Mikel’s signature? Wait, are you admitting you killed your only child?”
Evelyn sighed and adjusted her clothes and hair.
“We can resolve this; disregard the will and let’s split the assets. I can offer you 10% of it, how about that?” Laya shook his head resolutely, saying, “I am a principled man. I must ensure what I’ve been entrusted with.”
“Fine, 20%,” she proposed, but Laya remained firm. “We’re talking billions here,” she snapped. “Have you calculated how much 20% is? It exceeds all you’ve ever made in your lifetime.”
“I said no!” Laya growled.
“Oh, I see you want to be stubborn.” She raised her eyebrows. “Let me warn you: if I can harm my flesh and blood, I can hurt anyone. Now, get out of my car. Leave!” She barked. Laya exited with a worried expression, glancing back as he hastily returned to his office, for fear that she might sneak an attack on him.
Upon returning to his office, he flung the file onto his desk, locked the door, and hurried to the police station. “I need to file a statement; my life is in danger,” he blurted. After documenting his statement, he was ushered into Sergeant Mike and David’s presence, where he recounted his experience.
“I’ve got a plan,” Sergeant David said with a smirk.
***
The next day, the trio met at a bar to review the plan’s outcome. As Laya pulled his chair closer with a tense expression, Sergeant David asked,
“Why does your face look like that? Don’t tell me the plan flopped.”
“It flopped,” Laya replied. “Today, she was very cautious with her words. I tried tricking her into repeating yesterday’s claims so I could record it, but she didn’t take the bait.”
“Damn!” Sergeant David slammed his hand on his thigh in frustration.
“No need to sweat it,” Sergeant Mike said, grinning. “I have recordings from her phone conversations with the hitman she hired. We can present those in court tomorrow.” Sergeant David stared slack-jawed in disbelief.
“How did you manage that?” he asked.
“With my experience in the police force, this was a walk in the park,” Sergeant Mike boasted, thumping his chest.
“In that case, I’ll be heading home,” Laya chimed in, shaking their hands before leaving.
“So, it seems Evelyn is headed for incarceration,” Sergeant David said, and Sergeant Mike nodded in assent. They went silent as Sergeant David began pondering over the case.
“I’ve been sceptical of Evelyn’s lawyer’s claims,” he broke the quiet. “How could she accuse you of wrongdoing when you stand to gain nothing from Isaac’s death? You’re not related to the family and hold no rights to the deceased’s fortune.”
“Is that so?” Sergeant Mike raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?” Sergeant David asked, curiosity crossing his expression.
“What could I have meant?” Sergeant Mike replied sarcastically and Sergeant David gave him a playful tap on the head.
“You’re too playful,” he said. “But I still can’t shake off the notion that Jack collaborated with Evelyn. Why else would he testify against you?”
“I’ll share a story,” Sergeant Mike began. “A woman logged into a discreet platform to hire thugs and planned to have her son killed. Guess who the hired assassin was?” He winked at Sergeant David and laughed.
“Don’t fret, my friend.” He patted Sergeant David’s shoulder. “I’ll reward you for your loyalty. As for Laya, he’s my distant cousin, and we’ve been in cahoots for quite some time.” Sergeant David gaped at his colleague, astonished.
“You mean you… you were the hired assassin?” he stuttered. “When did you devise all this? How come she doesn’t know it’s you?”
“Am I that dumb?” Sergeant Mike asked. “It’s untraceable.” He chuckled, casting a sidelong glance.
Some clanks poured in and Sergeant Mike soon felt a shackle around his wrists. His heart raced as he opened his mouth in shock, struggling to speak. Sergeant David erupted into laughter and retrieved the shackles.
“I was just messing with you,” he said, patting Sergeant Mike’s shoulder. “We’ve been owed for more than six months, and you’re the saviour of me and my family. Am I crazy to crucify my hero?” They shook hands and laughed together as they left the bar.
SANDRA UCHE DELUMOZIE is a Nigerian writer, poet, and educator whose work explores themes of identity, resilience, and human connection. A graduate of English and Education from NnamdiAzikiwe University, Awka. She has been published in Kalahari Review, AfrihillPress, Illino Media, Storyhouse, Artingarena Magazine, and other literary platforms. Sandra was longlisted for the Quramo Writers’ Prize in 2024, and her writing has appeared in the NSPPAnthology as well as several other notable collections. She is passionate about storytelling that interrogates culture, emotion, and personal truth.
