I Told Her Your Secret

By Sharon Abimbola Salu

Jumai Aliyu is a Lagos-based lawyer with a rather predictable, drama-free life. But her life changes forever when a dead man - the Ex-Minister of Education - is found at a hotel in Lagos, and she is caught up in a whirlwind adventure. As Detectives Obi Madu and Nosa Osagie attempt to solve the mystery of his death, they soon discover that nothing you ever leave in the past stays in the past.

This is a contemporary Nigerian mystery with strong romance elements. It will take the reluctant and unconventional collaboration between an amateur female sleuth and the police to solve the murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharon Abimbola Salu
• Release date: Dec 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301640225

Sharon Abimbola Salu

Sharon Abimbola Salu grew up in Lagos, Nigeria where she lived until she relocated to the United States of America where she currently resides. Her stories are mostly set in Nigeria, and she writes stories she would like to read. A professed lover of spicy foods, she loves experimenting with new recipes, to the dismay of non-spicy food lovers. Apart from writing, photography is her other hobby. Visit her blog at http://www.sharonsalu.com

Book preview

I Told Her Your Secret

By

Sharon Abimbola Salu

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2012 by Sharon Abimbola Salu

Discover other titles by Sharon Abimbola Salu at Smashwords.com:

The Piano Book

Nosa's Wedding

Three Mangoes

The Life and Times of Two Flared Nostrils

Stay in Berlin

Bewaji's Ankara Adventures (The Aso-Ebi Chronicles, Novella 1)

Wura's Woodin Adventures (The Aso-Ebi Chronicles, Novella 2)

Cover Image from iStockphoto

Connect with Sharon:

Website: http://www.sharonsalu.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/SharonAbimbolaSalu

Twitter: http://twitter.com/sharon_salu

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E-Mail: [e-mail]

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at the address below.

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Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Dedication

I dedicate this book to the Holy Spirit who inspired me to pick up my pen and start writing again.

Thank you for encouraging me every step of the way.

Acknowledgments

I would like to say a special thank you to each of the following people who supported me while I was writing this book:

To Papa, who taught me the value of hard work and encouraged me to pursue my passion

To Mummy, who consistently covered me in prayer and taught me to always put God first

To Jenny, my darling twin sister, who made me laugh and kept me sane

To Peter, who inspired me to follow my heart and never look back

To Gabriel, who was always ready to supply hugs without my asking for them

To George, who pointed out all the silly facial expressions I had while I was writing

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Something in the Coffee

Chapter 2: Enter, Bode Williams

Chapter 3: Auntie Agatha's Story

Chapter 4: A murder is announced

Chapter 5: Room 240

Chapter 6: Yellow helps the detectives

Chapter 7: They are following you

Chapter 8: Back to the Hotel

Chapter 9: Who was Professor Alade?

Chapter 10: Kaduna Adventure

Chapter 11: Mariam H. tells her story

Chapter 12: What happened that night

About the Author

Chapter 1: Something in the Coffee

Two legs. Two, long legs. A fine pair of legs too, if you looked past all the hair that covered them. The owner of the legs was speaking. As Kemi raised her head slowly to look at the face of the speaker, an arm stuck out and roughly pushed her to one side. If the pull of gravity had been stronger, she would have tumbled down the stairs. But, by a sheer miracle, she maintained her balance. Kemi looked at her rough-handler. She was a young woman, possibly in her early twenties, and fair in complexion. Her impossibly long legs started where brown knees stopped. The hem of her skirt stopped mid-thigh, hiked inches above her knees. She wore one of those mid-riff, belly-exposing blouses that can heat up a man's blood and scatter his brain at the same time. Kemi did not have time to decide if the outfit was a pass or fail, for the woman was raining curses on her. She tried to apologize, but that seemed to infuriate her even more.

"Hey, sharrap dia! Can’t you look where you are going or what kind of ill-trained staff do they have in this place?! the woman said aggressively. The last word, place" was said with so much force that flecks of saliva landed on poor Kemi’s face. 

I’m sorry, ma.  I did not see you coming, Kemi managed to respond.

Oh, so you're deaf as well. Wonderful! My friend, get out of my way jo! yellow paw-paw ordered, even though her hands had already removed this human obstruction.

Judging from the tone of the woman’s voice, Kemi stayed where she was. This woman looks rough. I mean, look at her ears.

  The woman had three piercings, more accurately described as artificially-made perforations on each ear. From where Kemi stood, she could see the piercings in her left ear. The first one was at the upper tip of her ear and housed a small, silver stud.  The second one sat below the first, on the softer, meatier part of the ear. It seemed to be the newest one because it looked like it was still healing.  But it was the third one that really caught her attention because it looked like an open wound.  It was probably the very first ear piercing she got as a child.  Although this one was also on the soft, meaty part of her ear, it sat even lower than the second piercing.  However, it had been abused so much that it had become unduly extended. Now, it looked more like a laceration than an ear piercing.  Kemi theorized that this cut on her ear was possibly because the woman had a colorful history of wearing heavy, metal ear-rings for extended periods.  As her mind dwelled on it, she visibly winced in pain as she imagined the last ear-ring dropping off, leaving a bloody mess. Was there such a thing as ear surgery? This woman needed it. Fast.

As the woman with the multiple piercings continued her descent down the stairs, Kemi observed with surprise that her hands were as care-worn as Kemi’s own.  A fine woman like this? What kind of work does she do? By now, the woman had disappeared down the stairs into the lobby. Kemi continued on her way upstairs to the second floor. She reached the door of a room, towels in hand, and knocked. No answer. That TV is too loud. Maybe that's why he can't hear me knocking. She tried the door. It was unlocked. She opened it and walked into the poorly-lit room. I'll just drop these on the bed. Just then her foot struck something odd. She looked down, and that’s when she saw him, lying there, perfectly still, as if he had fallen asleep on the rug. Except that his eyes were wide open. It was when she saw his eyes, staring at nothing that she screamed. And she kept screaming in loud, heart-wrenching, frightful bursts, as if she could somehow rouse him from this deep sleep. But, she knew that this man would never wake up. He was quite dead.

* * *

Jumai’s eyes lingered on the black liquid sitting in her cup. It looked like coffee and even smelt like coffee. But as she brought the ceramic cup to her lips, she looked up to see Tina still standing by the door. She was looking intently at the cup in Jumai's hands, smiling sheepishly. Were those Tina’s teeth on full display? How unusual. Jumai had noticed that from day one, Tina rarely smiled. In fact, she made a deliberate effort to avoid showing her teeth when she actually smiled. A strange thought flashed in her mind. What if … No, it couldn’t be. She did not want to believe it, but experience had taught her to pay attention to those warning bells. And they were going off like crazy in Jumai's head.

Yes? What are you still waiting for? Jumai asked sharply, setting the cup of coffee down for a moment.

Ah, nothing, ma, Tina responded quickly.

Her quick response was even more unsettling. Jumai stared again at the cup of coffee, which had now resumed its former position on her desk.

You know what Tina, don’t leave yet. Come closer.

Tina tried in vain to hide her surprise, but like a good trooper, she obeyed.

Oya sit down.

Madam, I-I-I hope there’s no problem o, the poor girl stuttered.

If I had a kobo for every time someone said this to me, I’d be able to afford monthly vacations in Jamaica, Jumai thought to herself. Refusing to let images of sunny beaches and clear water distract her from the task at hand, Jumai shook her head in response to Tina’s remark. Tina hesitated and began to say something about having outstanding tasks needing urgent attention. Jumai ignored her and repeated her previous command, beckoning this time with her right hand to the reluctant Tina.

Jumai waved her hand dismissively at all her secretary’s subsequent protests and insisted on the latter sitting down at her desk. Rather reluctantly, Tina complied and sat gingerly on the edge of her seat.

As a Senior Associate at Akintunde & Co. Solicitors, Jumai Aliyu had a dedicated secretary, whose duties like many secretaries all over the country bore a peculiar resemblance to those of a house help. Running errands for the boss could mean anything. There was almost nothing that was off limits. It was not surprising to hear, for example, that the secretary accompanied the driver to pick up Oga's children from school. However, Jumai felt she was lenient, not only because she had no children, but because she tried to be considerable with her demands. But as everyone knows, there are two sides to every story. The staff members clearly disagreed with Jumai's version of leniency, and she was one of the many subjects they frequently discussed. However, getting her daily cups of coffee was something she preferred to delegate to her secretary, Tina. The girl seemed to have a knack for hitting all the right spots, taste-wise and knew exactly how Jumai liked her coffee.

The break room where the coffee machine was located was just two doors down the hall from Jumai's office. Jumai had found that same break room very amusing when she had first interviewed for an entry level position with Akintunde & Co. Solicitors. They had a three-step interview process. The first step was an in-house, face-to-face interview with a three-man panel: the Human Resources Director (Mrs. Johnson), one of the partners (Mrs. Eze) and an Associate (Tunde Coker). Other law firms typically had three partners conduct the interview, but this particular law firm was somewhat more progressive, choosing to include an Associate, basically a rookie lawyer, in the process.

The second step was a less formal lunch session with the interview team. However, it was the third step that Jumai had thoroughly enjoyed. It was a tour of the law office, led by Mr. Disu, the Office Manager. He was a short, stout, pot-bellied man in his forties who looked like he enjoyed being trapped in the '70s. He wore bell-bottomed trousers and a satin long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned halfway up his chest to reveal some thick, rather untamed chest hairs. To his credit though, he was quite articulate and for whatever it was worth, he thankfully tucked his shirt into his trousers. Those were his only redeeming qualities, as Jumai struggled hard not to laugh during the tour. It did not help matters that Mr. Disu’s trousers hugged his buttocks very tightly. Throughout the tour, Jumai tortured herself with images of him bending down suddenly and watching those trousers rip apart. And then there was that pesky issue of his hair. The tufts of hair on his head were scattered around the edges, leaving most of his shiny scalp exposed. Jumai could almost swear she had seen her reflection on the man’s head more than once. It was when this particular thought had crossed her mind that they were standing in front of the break room. At that moment, Mr. Disu was pointing out the room to her and the other interviewees. The words BREAK ROOM was inscribed in gold letters embedded in black plastic near the doorway. Jumai remembered wondering what exactly happened in there. That was of course, before Mr. Disu whisked them off to another section of the office.

It was this same break room that everyone visited for coffee breaks. Well, usually their secretaries. Employees often ate their lunch there too, hence its nickname, the Aproko room. If you were looking for a secretary or errand boy, you just had to check the Aproko room. You would likely find the erstwhile missing person there, gisting or gossiping with another partner-in-crime.

Earlier that afternoon, Jumai had sent Tina to get her a cup of coffee, an errand that usually took around five minutes. Tina had taken more than fifteen minutes to return back with a cup of coffee that was barely warm.

I want you to drink the coffee yourself, Jumai told Tina calmly. Her uneasiness only aroused the older woman’s suspicion, but she kept her emotions well-hidden.

Jumai pushed the cup slowly across the table towards Tina, who was trembling by now. Large beads of sweat formed on her head in a room that was freezing cold. Jumai enjoyed keeping the air conditioner at that temperature. Those who ventured into her office often requested that she turn off the A/C. Sometimes, she obliged, but sometimes, she just carried on as if she had not heard the request.

She took five scheduled coffee breaks every day at the office. The first cup was slurped at 7:00 a.m., fifteen minutes after she got to work. Being so early, she was usually the only person in the entire building at that time. She made that initial trip to the Aproko room alone. By 8:00 a.m. when Tina clocked in, Jumai had worked for close to one full hour. The second coffee break at 10:00 a.m. was Tina’s prerogative, and she prided herself in making those scheduled trips to the Aproko room. The other law firm partners did not send their secretaries on scheduled coffee room visits. The third, fourth and fifth breaks were at 12 noon, 2:00 p.m. and 4:00 p.m. respectively.

However, the other secretaries and legal assistants did not have what Tina referred to as ambition. Tina called it ambition but what she really meant was patience. Working for Jumai required tons of patience simply because she was so demanding. Apart from being obsessed with schedules, deadlines and everything related to time, Jumai had a knack for finding all sorts of odd tasks for administrative staff. Three months was the longest she had kept any secretary, male or female. After those three months, or sometimes before then, the secretary either quit or begged to be transferred to work for another partner.

With this history, incoming secretaries were wary of working for her. Not so with Tina. From day one, she had warmed up to her and clearly understood Jumai’s quirks and sometimes strange demands. She knew, for example, that her boss wanted documents stapled precisely half an inch from the left corner. She also understood Jumai's profound and unconcealed hatred for sans-serif fonts, and made sure that Times New Romans was used on all the documents she prepared. Furthermore, she knew what side of the room to position herself when taking dictations from Jumai. In short, the Jumai-Tina partnership was a match made in heaven. That is, until that day.

You could have heard a pin drop in that room. Tina sat facing Jumai, her gaze fixed on an invisible target above Jumai’s head. Her eyes did not meet Jumai’s for even one second. This standoff was taking longer than Jumai calculated. So, she decided to hurry things along.

You don’t want to drink it, abi? Oya, come with me! Jumai ordered as she sprang to her feet and motioned for the girl to follow her.

Tina got up, but did not move an inch. She just stood rooted to the same spot. Her gaze was still fixed on the same invisible object. For a minute, Jumai thought maybe there was something deeply fascinating behind her. What in the world is wrong with this girl today? I have to repeat even simple instructions to get her to do anything. But, Jumai’s thoughts did not interfere with her mission. Her plan was working without a hitch, even though Tina still looked like she was dreaming.

Jumai led the way down the hall and into the reception. The look on the face of the receptionist told her all she needed to know: the whole office knew what was about to go down. She did not bother herself with the nitty-gritty details of how they had figured it all out. Jumai had concluded a long time ago that the walls had ears, and the ones in her office especially, seemed to have an extra pair. As she walked to the security room, Jumai silently prayed that her gut feeling about the coffee was wrong.

Knock, Knock.

Ye-e-e-s? Who be that? Come in! a deep male voice called out, in response to the knock on the door.

As soon as she entered the room, the odor that greeted Jumai's nose was what she decided was the smell of rotten eggs. The small, almost airless security room was occupied by the lord and master of the security department, Mr. Segun or Baba Sunday as he was known around the office. Jumai could have sworn that she saw drool sliding down the corner of Baba Sunday’s mouth, a tell-tale sign of mid-afternoon naps. A quick swipe with the back of his right hand destroyed the evidence forever. As Jumai fanned her face with her hands in a useless attempt to channel fresh air in her direction, she looked sternly at Baba Sunday. The poor man, making one last bid to defend himself, laughed nervously and blurted out:

Madam, no vex o! Na de beans I chop this morning, don turn to mess --

Another stern look from Jumai killed any further desire in him to offer extra explanations. The words died in Baba Sunday’s throat. Jumai made an attempt to talk to him while holding her breath. The result was that she began coughing violently, so violently in fact that Baba Sunday asked Madam if she wanted him to get her some 'pure' water for relief. The look of horror on Jumai’s face at such an outrageous suggestion quickly convinced Baba Sunday to reserve his offer.

After recovering from her brief coughing fit, she broached the subject of her mission with Baba Sunday.

Baba Sunday, please can I see the tape for the past hour around the break room?

Madam, I fit help you, but which one be break room?

But of course, Baba Sunday wouldn’t know what the break room was. Realizing that she would need to dig into her sparse Pidgin English vocabulary, while revealing her surprising knowledge of office gossip, Jumai corrected herself.

"I mean, do you have the tape for the Aproko room?"

Ah, yes, Madam. We never change am sef. E still dey record.

Despite his poor command of English, Baba Sunday was very sharp and efficient. He had worked at several security outfits before and his broad range of experience was what allowed the law firm to entrust him with the sole operation and management of the security room with all its technical and complex equipment. Baba Sunday peeped briefly behind Jumai to look at Tina, his brown eyes flashing with recognition. He understood that something was wrong, and that he somehow held the key to that mystery. The strange sounds coming from some of the outdated security room equipment did not make the unfolding drama any less bizarre, for they sounded like evil spirits battling with each other were trapped inside them. Baba Sunday, the priest of the security room knew how to appease them.

Moving deftly, he played with a few buttons until he pulled up the recorded video for the past one hour on one of the many TV screens in the room. Motioning for Jumai to come closer, they both watched the scene that was unfolding in disbelief, while the uncomfortable Tina remained close to the door. The recording showed that Tina had gone down the hallway to the break room as instructed. She had emerged with a cup of coffee in her hand, and made as if she was heading towards Jumai’s office. But rather than continuing down the hallway to the office, she had suddenly made a sharp left turn and disappeared into the ladies’ restroom. Emerging about ten minutes later, she held the cup of coffee in one hand, while her other hand smoothed down her skirt. As if that was not enough, she leaned forward, opened her mouth and dropped something extra in the coffee. It was saliva.

A cry of horror rose from Jumai’s lips and Baba Sunday folded both hands on his head the way people do when they have witnessed a calamity or when bad news has just been delivered. He shook his head slowly and just kept looking at Tina. The missing part of the puzzle was staring them all in the face. Tina had taken Jumai’s cup to the restroom and added a now ‘not-so-secret’ ingredient to it: urine. And as if that was not enough, she had also spat in Jumai's cup of coffee. Wickedness 101! The remaining events were a blur to Jumai, but Tina was promptly escorted from the premises within ten minutes of the discovery. Before she left however, Jumai gathered some strength and turning to Tina, she said:

One more thing, Tina, Jumai said, preparing to deliver her parting shot. Next time wey you wan piss for pesin drink, e go pay you if you shave first. I sabi say you go fit afford ordinary 10 naira razor on top your salary, Jumai said sarcastically. Her pidgin sounded unnatural even to her own ears, but she did