April 4th

By Ben Bioku

I As far as Wilson was concern, the world wasn't a bad place to be. He had the African mom who got his back, his degree, great friends and he wasn't struggling in his life; nothing was better in a country of black.

Things could be better when he fell in love; it could be one of the best things, it could complete him...

...but no—unlike a normal heart break that comes with falling in love, Wilson got into something extremely bizarre.

And just as he appeared in court, he learned the lessons that he might not have had the chance to ever learn if life hadn't happened like the devil was on vacation from hell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716555466

Ben Bioku

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April Fourth

Ben Bioku

Copyright © 2019 Ben Bioku

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recordin g, scanning, or other, except for brief quotations as in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 9781716555466

Edited by  Eze Ohaegbulam, Chisom Iboko and Mrs Shindara Olatunji

Raedable Publishers: House 3/5 Solomon Onafowope Street, Abule Oshorun Ibeshe Ikorodu, Lagos, Nigeria.

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For mom

Table of Content

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Dear Reader

Epigraph

Copyright Infringement

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Dear Reader,

APRIL FOURTH was first written on paper in 2015. When I was convinced I had acquired a little more knowledge in writing, I wrote it again in 2016. It was an interesting read for me, I had to rewrite in 2017 adding what I thought was necessary, and while I decided to fine-tune it in 2018, I ended up rewriting the whole piece again.

The book was inspired by a long lost event that happened long before I was born; somewhere in the 80s: mom got into trouble on April 4th in years past; it was pretty a complicated story, it'll take a lot of our time.

I think that's for that.

The law tangled with love in the trilogy I titled April�where love became negative, and law didn't turn a blind eye.

Most of the cast of characters in April trilogy chose their fates, and I couldn't do anything to change it.

Sometimes, writing a book is like that: the characters attain the minds of their own about how they want their stories to go. Kemi was the most notorious for that.

I hope you enjoy the twists and turns of the minds of people toward others, and themselves as well.

-Ben Bioku

�Welcome, thou kind deceiver! Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key, dost open life, and unperceived by us, even steal us from ourselves.��John Dryden, All for love.

Prologue

I SAT STILL IN my car, but my mind wasn't still, my legs folded just between the wheel and above the driver's seat. A myriad of thoughts crowded my mind, engulfed by the car engine whirr. I appeared oblivious of my surroundings and inside me was a growing turbulence of anxiety. I found myself perspiring and alternating currents of fear and faith eclipsed to heightened the wave of despair that followed the stressful unprogressive traffic.

Again, I gazed into the side mirror of my car. I  stared at the long queue of other cars frantically hooting behind me, the hawkers that ran around long and small vehicles�selling gala, la casera, superbite, bread, yawo eggs, groundnut, maggots, and lots more that could catch your fancy especially when you've got extra cash. My gaze averted to the shops that hung beside Badagry expressway, but not a thing relieved me of my worries. Thoughts of my journey filled my mind�to the brim�and I grunted, tensed.

Wilson Alabi is my name, in my early thirties and slightly built. I have a hooked nose, moderate lips and small but shinny little eyes. I�ve got a little space just after the start of my normal hair, though not enough to be called a bald head, but it�s something like that.

I stole a glance at my wrist; the watch ticked round the transparent glass cover like it was no man's business how swift it moved. My worries grew as time ran faster, and even the traffic helped no better�it was just still; and I was too impatient to sit still, hence, I got out of the lane and trailed the nearest U-turn to follow one way.

It was risky, but what I was going after was way bigger. I prayed silently not to be noticed, even though the necks of the policemen ahead wouldn't stop twisting warily. I twitched and grabbed the steering wheel, pressing a little harder on the car accelerator as I kept my head on a furtive position. I had planned to join the lane at the next U-turn.

I imbibed the tension that crept into my nerves and digested it as one of the wary policemen crossed over to the lane I had turned to. Without being told, I knew he was coming for me. Adrenaline masked my nerves, and I began to chew my thumb. Another man on uniform followed, and I knew I had fallen into deep trouble with the Nigeria Police Force. I had thought my journey was being dawdled in the traffic, but, obviously it was going to be another story. The two men who were coming toward my direction were definitely going to thwart all my efforts. All my tricks to go forward were just a foolhardy. I should have waited patiently. I wondered if I was still going to continue my journey.

One of them got close to me and started taping my car as if it were stolen, directing me to park aside. Regret and suspense were mixed up somewhere in my mind. Should I bribe them? At that length, how much will they be satisfied with? Were the thoughts that streamed my mind as I parked at a corner. A scapegoat was well enough to describe me as I turned off the car ignition and leapt out wearing a reproving face. I hid the stress that had plastered my face a while ago.

The sergeant looking man had a thin jaw and complexion like that of my black Italian shoes. The bulky one that followed looked like he was in his 60s and had a face like an over fed bull dog— an inspector or sergeant major, I guessed. I needed a miracle. I took ₦500 note from my pocket and moved to the sergeant looking policeman.

Officer, good morning, I said, as I stretched out the ₦500 note to him. "I'm really sorry oga, I'm a bit in haste, please," I added, praying he accepted the money.

The man took it furtively as I tuck my hands in my pocket.

Alabi! Someone called.

It was my surname. I knew just one police detective and she is a lady. None of the men before me were familiar. I pivoted my neck to the bulky officer and greeted. Good morning, Sir.

He squinted in recognition attempt. He smiled and replied, How's your Mom?

I felt assuaged but at the same time regretting why I hadn�t waited for him before bribing the black sergeant. She's doing well, Sir, I said.

I was sure he noticed the look of lost I had on. I didn't recognize him.

Well, I am Officer Gimba. I've worked with your Mom on a homicide case before. That time, I believe you were as small as my grandson, Tayo. What a way to meet you. You must be pursuing someone, I guess. He grinned from ear to ear and played silently with the bundle of keys he held.

He had guessed right, but I rather trailed on a safer excuse. Just a bit late for an appointment.

He paused, and thought much on what to say next. My regards to your Mom. Tell her what had happened. I'm sure she'll do much on reprimanding you because I wouldn't want us to have this kind of conversation again, do you understand?

Of course I did, as I nodded in agreement. I sighed and said. Thank you, Officer.

Thank God he made it quick. We both shook hands and off I went into my car. I turned on the ignition and proceeded with my journey once again. I waved at the officer as he did back. I wanted to press more on the accelerator, when I heard another tap on my car. I looked at the rear mirror, and it was Mr. Gimba, asking me to stop.

What is it this time?

I had thought my Mom's fame had saved me again as it had always done�a lawyer that had lost just two cases in her years in litigation�who had always been there for me after my Dad's death.

I'm sorry I have to be an object of delay, but you should open your boot, Mr. Alabi.

The words came from Mr. Gimba, and this time there was a hint of perturbation that stole my ease. My forehead wrinkled in wonder, My boot?

He moisturized his lips. There is something about your boot, Mr. Alabi�like it is blood stained, I'm not too sure. A red cloth stuck outside. Don't worry, it's a mere verification.

My heart thudded heavily. I quickly unfastened my seatbelt. I moved abruptly so I could let him see whatever he thought was there�if not one of my rags. But then, the blood stained came to remind me that this might cost me more than I have expected.

I tried recalling anything I have kept in there that might implicate me, but there was none. It could only be a rag, I concluded in confidence and I walked to my boot. With the two men beside me, I opened the boot cover.

There was a minute silence during which I could hear my own breathing. Then I stiffened; my heart stopped beating for a moment, and subsequently, it started to beat wildly as if it wanted to escape from my chest cavity. At this time, the rumpus vicinity and the rumble of long vehicles, even the hooting noise of the cars all stopped, or maybe I couldn't hear them. But I wasn't deaf. Nobody was moving. The road sellers were no longer running. Time ceased. My mind was in a whirl and I was cold. The scene that was laid before me was macabre.

It was the dead body of Irene, my secret lover. I felt how a drunk would probably feel if he was pushed and left inside a freezer for five minutes�completely sober. I remained as still as an abandoned bakery in the middle of a forest as there was no room for doubt. I wasn't dreaming, and I could recall, the date was April 4, 2009.

Chapter One

I TOOK A DEEP breath, knowing fully well that my final year examination ended three weeks ago. I was standing at a corner near a shady tree in the Police College at Ikeja GRA. I was just hoping Kemi would come out with a smiling face as I had done three weeks earlier. I looked at the cloudy sky and idly glanced over the crowd coming from the hall Kemi had earlier told me they would be using for the exam. Her low haircut caught my attention. Her type of low haircut had never been the same with others. I had to admit it�she was beautiful; and I kept on wondering what had actually made me never to have asked her out�a best friend since primary education; and even when our tertiary institutions were different, we didn't let distance be an obstacle.

She came my way with a long face. I swallowed hard and didn't want to ask how the exam had gone so far, but I did. And she gave a wry smile.

Piece of cake! Trust me, you're looking at a detective already, she claimed. Many a time, I�d gone to see her in the yard they train, and had seen her handle a revolver or a rifle, I�d asked myself how an introvert chose something unlikely.

I grinned as I held her by the head and pulled it to my chest. Come here, detective Adams. The woman I was once would cradle thinking would break now grew stronger than my own fist and handled stuff I still shiver at their sight. 

We took a heaving sigh and thanked God together. It was one of our habits to always remember to thank God after a heart thumping situation. We interlocked hands as we headed to see Frank�our friend, who studied Law at the University of Lagos where I studied accounting and finance as well. Holding her by hand sent memories cascading through my mind like water spilling from a waterfall.

I could recall clearly, the day she was patting my back to console me when my dad had past away. I was eight then. I was in primary five and very small. My Mom wouldn't stop crying and sprawling on the floor�the habit of African women�while other neighbors consoled her.

Kemi's young voice had called to me. It�s okay, Willi.

But that didn't stop me from crying out my strength until my eyes became puffy. She had begged her Mom to let her stay