BY MIDE BENEDICT
EPISODE 2
‘Banned it is for a sole heart to bear
Such secret alone;
It’s a secret that no one can dare
Or struggle with every means to share.
A secret every one ear must hear,
Yet a secret every ear must fear
For its whisper is an upset death
That could swallow any liver’s breath,
For if an alien’s ear beholds its half- dust,
One is apt to become a runaway ghost’
CONTINUED FROM THE LAST EPISODE...
The news of the groom’s arrest had spread like a nuclear bomb blast, mushrooming and extending into every corner and ear, that not even the smallest insect would be able to claim its ignorance. Every newspaper firm, radio and TV station had made it a motto, even the internet was not spared as well; all went broadcasting the news with headlines that could have woken a dead man up from his castle of box and cave to read. Though it looked as if all media homes were into the yellow journalism system of infotainment, but actually, it was more than that, it was the truth made sunny, it was the truth that even yellow journalism couldn't paint well. It was most certain that almost all media houses must have had their highest sale that year, for it was a news that gave them great information to share and as you know the greater the important information they share, the greater their coins climb the ladder falling coins. Who would not pay to get information about the biggest bang in town, not even I, a man struggling to get three square meals on his table each naming of the day, could afford to miss it.
That morning, as usual, the pages of the newspaper had had the news of the case’s hearings printed out. I have been following the case, at least almost every day, about Mr. Mike Albert, who was accused of murdering her bride’s maid, Miss Benita, who was said to have overheard him talk of murdering his own bride on his wedding day, of how his wedding outfit which had a little blood stain on it was taken as a testimony against him, how some other servants had claimed they had heard him scream at Miss Benita, while in his room as a result of some misunderstanding which they knew no ‘mustard seed’ of and how he had dashed out of that same room heatedly, leaving Miss Benita behind.
The whole event was gawky, for I wondered how a man could have wanted his lover dead. The investigation was still on but with all the evidences against and without a single one in his defence, it was sure that morning, according to the papers that Mike would either be given a life jail term or a certificate to exit life’s border.
‘That guy must be a serial killer.’
An old man who was standing beside mesaid as he wobbled his head in derision. He has a scar on his face, indicating that smile had, for a very long time dwelt on his dark complexioned face, but the smile was no longer there, it couldn't have been there, because no one would smile when his resources and wealth were been smoke in pipes by some few in the house of law. That has been the issue since power came to dwell amongst us. Not even I, had a smile on my face.
‘He is a sure killer. One who could want his bride dead and could also kill his bride’s maid for overhearing him plot with an unknown caller must surely be a cynical murderer who must be hanged to death.’ The man added without even looking at my face, though I was not too sure he was talking to me. But to be sure, I did something. I dropped the newspaper I was holding, picked up another and then made a testing reply
'You can’t be so sure of that you know?'
‘Sure of what?’
Now looking at my face as if I were a criminal.
‘Am sure it was him, who else could have wanted her dead than him. He has a lot reasons to do so.’ He added
‘What reasons could someone have, that would have driven him to murder his lover and wife to be?’ I asked, after I had become sure I was his referent.
‘Checking out his records, I mean his family history, he has no family here. He had lost his dad when he was very young and his mother too but no news of their death and his origin is known. He had been with the Davises from a very tender age. I even heard from someone that he has no relation he could point to. What an ungrateful bastard!’
‘His unknown origin is no reason to kill. That he was at the mercies of the Davises is more reason to assume he didn’t do it. But, talking of his origin, where could he have come from?’
‘The street perhaps; where did you expect? A purlieu boy like him comes from nowhere. He’s a sure native of a Ghostland’
‘Nevertheless, that’s no point for a murder.’
‘Sure it is.’ He said, moving close to me and touching my hand with his utmost strong fist like that of a man who has worked for over twenty years in the coal mine and has now been dispatched for sending one of those pot-bellied bosses, who were used to oppressing their workers, into his 'timely' death.
‘Don’t you know Miss Hillary is the daughter of Barr Davis, one of the richest lawyers and owner of some big-boy companies in the country?'
‘What’s that got to do with the plot?'
He pauses and gave me a long stare as if he was frustrated at the last question I had asked him. He changed his face into something else, as if he wanted weep and then replied.
‘That makes her the heir to everything; his estates, and all he has. In fact she has her own companies too, maybe two to three, not quite sure, but I know she does. If he had succeeded, since he was going to be the next of kin, everything would have been his. Wow, that dude is a sure brainiac.’
‘Uh-oh! That’s kind of true. But how did you know all this?’
He looked at me again, with that same look he had given me earlier when I asked him a question; like I was a criminal or something. I pulled myself away from him a little. Realising what I was doing, he relaxed, before he then replied me, which took him more than five seconds to do.
‘It seems you have been joking with the news, boy.’ He said. He picks up a newspaper and flipped through the pages.
‘There it is!’ He exclaimed.
'Just take a look at how beautiful the maid he murdered was. What a waste. Come a little closer and read the information yourself.’
I moved closer to him, took the paper from him and turned to the page he had drawn my attention to.
‘What the… wait a minute, who did you say this was again?’
‘The maid who was murdered; her photograph was just released this morning: any problem with that?’
He asked expectantly, but I was already carried away after setting my eyes on the picture. My temperature rose to two hundred degrees as I kept staring at it.
‘Hey dude, got your own issues?’
I immediately regained consciousness:
'No, I don’t. I think I have to go now, got a bunch to catch up with.’
‘Okay, son, this world is a busy world.’ He said with a smile on his face, but my expression was opposite. ‘Yeah, more full of activities than the world of the birds.’
I picked up the paper that had the maid’s photograph in it, paid some token written above the newspaper’s front page to the vendor then I gradually strolled away, pretending as if nothing was happening. When I got to a corner, which was now far away from the newspaper stand, I hastened up. I couldn’t get my eyes off that image as I ran home with my legs running faster than the speed of a bike, staring at it and soliloquizing.
‘She mustn’t leave before I get home.’ I said loudly.
‘I never knew I had a ghost living in my own apartment.
To be continued in EPISODE 3: coming soon...
Hello dear reader, I hope you enjoyed the second episode of the Runaway Ghost.
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