My Third Cycle

11. The Murder

June 23- 2000

I got up early the next morning, showered and decided a mature appearance would suit me, so I opted for a white collared shirt with a purple sweater, and straight grey pants. After examining my appearance in front of my mirror to make sure I looked good --which I did, I headed out. I drove steadily and quietly to the island, dying of anticipation. I did not speed, it was still 5:41am, didn't want to get there too early and creep them out.

I finally arrived at housing complex on the island and found a perfect parking spot at a park just before the complex. As I pulled up and parked, my stomach felt like it was closing in on itself, my palms began to perspire and then I realized I was crippled with fear of meeting my Ola after so long. I stayed in my vehicle taking long deep breaths and trying to persuade my heart to simmer down.

Once it clocked 6, I walked up to the building, a six storey flat just opposite a zenith bank. I found the main entrance door and pushed it open letting myself into the lobby. I had expected to find a guard or a porter who would help me locate Melinda's floor but there was no one. I examined the reception, it was sparsely furnished. Some couches, rugs, a glass coffee table and what seemed to be the porter's desk, with a name tag; Mrs. Anichebe .

I moved to the desk and called out. "Good morning! Good Morning! Is there any one here?" But in turn I got no response.

Getting impatient now I began to search for something that might help me identify Melinda's apartment number. Just then I saw a printed roster glued to the wall just behind the porter's chair, I walked over to examine it. Youwa! I found Zaleka and Melinda's room number, their apartment was on the third floor.

Heart racing, I took to the stairs --I was not well acquainted with the lift in this building and Nigeria had the nasty habit of cutting power when you least expect. Finally stopped Right in front of their door trying to catch my breath for a second, but something didn't feel right.

As I knocked the door squeaked and slowly opened to reveal a messy living room. No, not the kind that's gotta from lack of cleaning, this seemed likeit had been caused from a struggle or fight of some sort. I let myself in and almost soon as I got in, a female lying face down in a pool of blood came into view. She was gasping for air, a landline receiver in her hands, and a knife sticking out of her back. I was no doctor but I could tell her spine had been severed.

Panicked, I immediately reached for her, pulled out the knife --which in hindsight was a dumb move-- , held her in my arms and turned her face fervently praying she was not my Ola, She wasn't. I was a little relieved, but the lady on the floor was barely alive. I looked around the apartment, it was scattered, broken picture frames on the floor, broken furnitures strewn about the living room. I saw a photo of Ola with a lady who I immediately guessed was Melinda in one of the smashed pictures.

"Who did this?" I asked her, but all she did was gasp for air. Blood pouring from her mouth and nose, her face was too bloodied to make a match with the pictures. I asked again, running my hand through her hair to soothe her, whilst urging her to make one final meaningful sentence. "Where is Zaleka?"

"Th- they -- took h-er." She managed to say and her body went limp I dropped her body on the bloody floor

"Fuck!!!" I cursed under my breath. I heard the siren of an ambulance and the police faintly in the distance. I quickly searched the apartment for Zaleka.

"Zaleka can you hear me! Are you here?" The apartment was empty so I made a run for it before I was caught by the Nigerian police who would arrest anyone related or unrelated to the case. I managed to make it out of the building without attracting
any attention to myself, which wasn't exactly a difficult feat considering how empty most of the parts I'd seen had been.