SHADOWS OF DECEIT

The Arrival

In the dimly lit interrogation room, Officer Tod fixed his gaze intently upon the smallish young man who sat there, clad in a faded green T-shirt and worn-out brown shorts. The air was heavy with tension, and the room seemed to shrink in the weight of the impending questions.

The young man, still grappling with the shock from the tumultuous scene involving his mother, remained silent and visibly distressed. The worn-out walls of the room seemed to absorb the echoes of the recent emotional turmoil, creating an atmosphere of palpable unease.

Officer Tod, undeterred by the palpable tension, leaned forward, his questions cutting through the stifling air. "Where were you yesterday? I want a detailed account of all your activities from morning till evening, including an alibi."

In the confines of the interrogation room, the young man, burdened by the weight of the accusatory atmosphere, hesitated. The room bore witness to the standoff, with other officers discreetly positioned behind the doors, awaiting Officer Tod's cues.

The threat of a life sentence for murder hung in the air, as Officer Tod, frustrated by the young man's silence, issued a stern warning. "Young man, if you don't answer these questions, you'll be thrown into jail for life. You better answer now."

The young man remained steadfast in his silence, prompting Officer Tod's agitation to escalate. With a gruff grunt, Officer Tod stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the cold floor. The tension in the room became palpable like a storm gathering momentum as he left the interrogation room.

Observing the standoff, Inspector Evans, who had been silently watching from the sidelines, stared at Officer Tod as he got out waiting for him to tell him what happened in the interrogation room.
"He's not talking; he doesn't want to," Officer Tod reported, as he shed light on the reluctant demeanour of the suspect.

Officer William, growing impatient, remarked on the passage of time. "But you've been in there for almost an hour."

In response, Inspector Evans, his demeanour unwavering, made a decisive call. "If he's not ready to talk, send him to the Adenta prison. Whenever he's ready, he will talk. For now, he's our main suspect"

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"Maame U, calm down, or you'll be sent early to your grave," Maame Boadiwaa tenderly attempted to soothe the weeping woman.

"And you know Kwesi would never do something like that. Josh was his friend; I'm sure the police will bring him back this evening," Esi, another friend of Maame U, said reassuringly as she gently rocked Ama, who was still wailing.

Despite their efforts to console her, Maame U, as if deaf to their words, continued to weep. The conviction that her son could never commit murder clashed with the perplexing memory of his strange attitude the night before, leaving her in a state of inner turmoil. Seeking solace, she stood up and ventured outside, hoping the open air would ease the suffocation she felt in the room.

However, as she stepped out, the pitiful and sympathetic stares from passersby intensified, casting a harsh spotlight on her pain. Regret filled her as she sensed the weight of judgment in their gazes. The attempt to find comfort in the fresh air quickly transformed into an uncomfortable encounter with the scrutiny of a concerned community. Overwhelmed, Maame U retraced her steps, reentering the room with a heavy heart.

Philip breathed in and out contentedly as they touched down at Accra Airport. Glancing at his mentee, he flashed a smile and posed a peculiar question.

"How about they give every detective in Ghana a private plane?" Philip mused, an air of eccentricity surrounding him. Yaw, uncertain of how to respond to his mentor's whimsical query, stood there staring at the tall, handsome figure before him.

Detective Philip's appeal was undeniable, with dazzling white teeth, brown eyes, and remarkably smooth, light-dark skin. Yaw found himself perplexed by the man's overall charisma, particularly struck by his abundant chestnut hair. His gaze quickly averted when Detective Philip raised an eyebrow, a silent acknowledgment of the young detective's admiration.

"It... it would be cool, sir," Yaw stuttered in response.

Philip chuckled, tossing a Mentos gum into his mouth and offering the packet to Yaw. Politely declining, Yaw stood as his mentor continued.

"Ah, well, where is the car? They said it would come and pick us up," Detective Philip murmured, glancing at his Rolex Daytona while pocketing the Mentos.

"It's already 7 PM. I thought it was 6. The world is a little bright to be 7," he remarked a hint of playful exaggeration in his tone.

Yaw remained beside his master, struggling to hold both of their travel bags. Philip, unperturbed, took out his iPhone 15 Pro Max and dialled a number.

"Hello, we've been here for almost 2 hours, and nobody is here to pick us up," Yaw barely managed to stifle a cough, shocked by the audacity of the colossal falsehood his master had just effortlessly spun.

"Don't you guys know how to follow accurate time? Oh, sorry, I forgot we are in Ghana since we don't follow our time. We've been here for so long, I suggest you serve us dinner at the Santoku restaurant," Philip casually suggested.

As Yaw processed the unexpected turn of events, Philip listened to the response on the other end before concluding, "Alright, good. We are still waiting." With that, he hung up, flashing a wide smirk at Yaw, who stood there, utterly flabbergasted by the fabrications effortlessly woven by his master, questioning how such falsehoods could be delivered with such ease.