Stella looked at her reflection in the mirror for the millionth time and scoffed. She did not like what she was seeing. TO HELL WITH THAT, she thought to herself. She never liked her reflection anyway. She was doing this because her therapist had said she would increase her pay per session if she did not 'loosen up'.
"Going out would help a lot, Stella," Clara had said as she adjusted her glasses, more because she was fond of doing so than because it was necessary. "Maybe better than regular sessions." She looked down at her book and wrote something before sharply looking up and peeking above her glasses. "No layers of makeup." she said.
"Right."
"I'm sorry, did you say something?"
"Me? No!" Stella denied. As long as she could wear anything she liked, she was totally Ok with the no-makeup thing.
But as if reading her thoughts, "And dress like a LADY, Stella."
WHAT?
"You heard that right. You are not, for whatever reason, to wear shorts, three-quarters, baggy joggers, gloves, especially not those things you call pop socks and any other thing that is... un-lady-like. Dress like a normal lady going on a date."
What?! "I'm not a normal lady." Stella had wanted to retort but decided against it. That would have meant extra therapy time that she was not in the mood for. Un-lady-like, was that even a word?
"I don't care about the number of WHATs you say."
She did not realize she had said that out loud.
"Yes, you did," Clara responded
Stella had glared in response, "Did I say that too out loud or you're just being an annoying psychic?"
Clara had smirked and stood up from her chair to return a case file. Stella's. "Are we clear?" She had asked, ignoring the glare she got earlier.
No. "Crystal." She had replied instead.
And here she was, dressed as and successfully looking like a doll gone wrong. But what could possibly go wrong, right? With that, she picked her clutch purse and left the house.
* * *
Motun blinked at the man facing her and yawned. He was saying something about a time and something- something that she was far from hearing. The scene was swarmed with people- nosy reporters who found it difficult to stay off the yellow tapes, neighbourhood busybodies who 'heard and came' and every other person going back and forth. She yawned again, loudly this time: loud enough to let everyone know that she was not finding it funny or nice being called so early by her Chief on a cold morning to attend to a case. Very normal of Dorathy.
Nobody paid attention to her yawning, though. Telling her that this, whatever it was, was more important than anyone's love for a nice sleep. Very normal of her co-workers too.
What was abnormal, she thought, looking around, was the crime scene itself. Although the property on which the body was placed had been abandoned for a long time now, people passed every route in G.R.A. Ikeja almost every time of the day. It had to take a lot of courage- and shamelessness- to kill someone here, unless of course, the actual crime took place somewhere else. Besides, the people close to the area had to have a lot going on with them if they had not heard any cry.
Another abnormal- but this time, annoying- thing was the rude lateness or absence of whoever Dorathy had chosen to be her partner. J.K., her partner was away on leave and since this happened in her absence, she had to work with another partner and she knew that Dorathy was going to surprise her. She had a feeling she might not like the surprise. All she could do was wait and see.
Well, more than enough time to do her 'thing' without anyone interrupting her thoughts. She did not feel guilty at all. Since her partner did not deem it fit to notify her of his or her lateness of absence, she was going to carry on without him or her. She crossed the tapes, moved closer to the body wrapped in a white cloth and wore her gloves.
"Estimated time of the death?" She asked.
"About six hours ago." A guy who she recognized to be from a medical examiner replied.
To confirm her speculations, she asked, "How long has the body been lying here?"
"About three hours."
Sounds about right. She uncovered the body. "Is this cloth ours?"
"No"
The body was a female's. About five-foot-six tall. The skin of the face, neck, upper and lower limbs, chest and belly were scraped off.
"Judging by the difference in colours, the scraping was done in sections. It also looks sloppy and messy. This was not done by a professional." Someone else said behind Motun- more like breathed on her neck.
She could not agree less. "No, it was not." She looked at the scars again. "He had to be done with one section before moving to the next. "It looks messy but he was not in a hur-" Who was she responding to by the way? And why did her heart miss a beat? She raised her head. Right. No wonder.
"James Maduka reporting for duty, ma'am." James gave a mock salute and winked.
Well, of course, who else had the guts to report late for duty but James Maduka? Nice one, Dorathy, nice one. She did not disappoint and had given her just the perfect person she did not want, not just because he was always late, but for other reasons. Other reasons that had to do with her sanity. Other reasons that had to do with her heart and why it skipped a beat earlier.
"Most of us don't want to be here too, James. I'm pretty sure nobody else loves playing call of duty at 5.30am on a chilly Lagos morning let alone stay here a minute longer. The best we can do is wrap things up ASAP and your lateness did not help doing that." With that Motun bent to continue examining the body. "And although I see no reason you should come late, a little heads-up would have at least shown that you are sorry."
"I'm sorry," James started.
YEAH, RIGHT. And here comes the excuse.
"Cassie had an episode just when I was about to leave the house. I had to make sure she was fine before leaving."
"There we have it, same old excuse," Motun wanted to say but thought better of it. There was no need adding to the reasons people called her 'the witch'. James indeed had a five-year-old asthmatic daughter that everyone knew of because he would not stop using her as an excuse for his regular incompetence. Although, Motun had a feeling it was not as bad as James always made it out to be, it was the cold season and poor Cassie was bound to have frequent attacks. But James always used Cassie's attacks even during summer, forgetting the fact that most of them knew that Cassie's mum was a full-time baby mama.
Motun found it annoying that people either forgot that fact or chose to ignore it because James' Dad was a higher-up and he would eventually be let off the hook even if brows were raised.
"That I'm here this morning does not mean I do not have my own stuff to attend to. Unlike you, James, I am a mother. Big difference. I don't wake up, freshen up and buzz off without prepping my kids. And I definitely do not have a stay-at-home husband." All these were the words Motun wanted to lash out but "I'm sorry about Cassie" was all she said. She knew if she began to lash out, she would say things from her emotions that she didn't want to say. She didn't want to appear vulnerable to James, not after what happened between them. Not after her resolve to be strong.
"Thanks."
"Like I was saying, the killer was not in a hurry to scrape the skin. Whatever he used was sharp enough to scrape the top layer but meticulously, he almost did not damage the inner layer at all. The question is why is scrape the skin?"
"And what finally killed the victim? The scraping definitely was not the cause of death."
Motun looked at James. He definitely had not lost his touch. Probably another reason he was always pardoned.
"No, it wasn't," she replied, standing up.
"I need this body ID'ed. Get the coroner to do a proper and full-body autopsy. I want answers in 24 hours. Nobody crosses these tapes unless I say so." Motun reeled out commands as the already silent scene became activity filled with activities again.
Turning to James, she said, "I need a profile."
"On it."
Motun took a final sweep of the scene with her eyes, wondering why someone cruel enough to commit murder would also be considerate enough to properly take care of his victim's body.
* * *
The desk phone blared repeatedly, annoyingly interrupting Motun's short nap. She had been working endlessly since the day broke trying to build a case profile because she wanted to have something from her own point of view, plus she didn't entirely trust James to do a good job- or any job at all- seeing as he had time to go from table to table answering stupid questions about the body found earlier that day. She could not help but notice that the 'tables' were ladies' tables. James had always been a lady's man, every single lady in the PD had a crush on him. She hated the fact that she also was not immune to him. She hated the fact that with his desk so close to hers, it took a lot of subconscious confirmation that she was married before she could at least go on with her day. She hated the fact that Dorathy put him on this case with her.
Motun was tired and needed a nap. Twenty-five minutes was all she needed but she obviously could not get even that because nobody seemed to care about the phone's ring.
She hissed and tried to trace where the ring was coming from. It was from the missing persons desk. Strange. It had been a while since someone called that line. It was almost as if it didn't exist anymore and Peter, the guy in charge of the desk, had since taken solace in being with the guys at the reception. She could not blame him.
"Lagos State Police area command, Ikeja. This is Motun Banks. What is your name and how may I help you?"
"Good afternoon, officer Motun. I am Clara Adichie."
"Good afternoon, Miss Adichie. How may I help you?"
"I'm calling to report someone missing."
Motun picked a pen. "Okay, and who would that be?"
"My patient, Stella. Stella Coker."
"Your patient?"
"Yes."
Motun swallowed whatever comment she wanted to make. "How would you describe your patient?" She asked.
"Thirty-one years old. About five-foot-seven. Dark skinned. Somewhere between chubby and skinny."
That's a strange age. Motun expected something younger. "When was the last time you contacted her?"
"Sunday evening. On the phone. She did not call on Tuesday to confirm her Wednesday appointment. She did not show up on Wednesday either. She has been unreasonable since then."
"Is she the type to, you know, go off the grid for a while?"
"No. Never. I wouldn't be reporting her missing if she does that often."
This probably was not any cause for alarm but Motun loved being extra sure. She asked for Clara's address as she picked her jacket and keys.
"Thank you, Miss Adichie. I'll be with you shortly." She dropped the receiver.
"Going somewhere?" James asked as he walked towards her.
Motun gave him a look that said I-owe-you-no-explanation before saying a sharp "Yes."
"Does it have anything to do with the call from the missing person's desk?"
This man. "Oh, so you heard the ring."
James seemed to be more occupied giving her an discomforting stare than with the call that came in earlier. Then he snapped out of it and put his hand in his trouser pocket.
"Care to fill me in?"
Guilty. Seeing as he ignored her accusation. "Why would I do that?"
"Err... I am your partner?" He said as if testing how it sounded.
"Says who? This case is different from the deadbbody case Dorathy paired us for. Speaking of which, how about we start from where I asked you to write a case profile and you screamed 'on it' only for you to go about playing popular dude, leaving me to deal with Dorathy's report on my own to-"
"-Whoa, easy, tigress."
Motun glared at him. She hated being interrupted like that and he knew it.
"Okay," James raised his hands in surrender "I'm sorry. I'll write the report as soon as we-"
"-That," Motun snapped. "Wouldn't be necessary."
"Fine, drama queen. Can you at least fill me in?"
Motun quickly told him all she knew so far, including the unusual fact that Clara was simply Stella's doctor.
"Why isn't a relative reporting her missing. I mean it's been over forty-eight hours. For all we know, may be more. This is Thursday and Clara said they last spoke on Sunday."
Motun nodded. "Something is wrong somewhere. Only one way to find out. I already opened the case. It's on my desk. I want to be sure before I process it."
"Wait, you opened a case based on a hunch?" James stared at her in disbelief.
