Chapter 2: The Husband Under Suspicion

For Naija, dem dey talk say person wey know house na im dey open door for thief.

Statistics show say for wife kill matter, more than 50% na husband dey behind am.

One junior officer whisper, "Oga, na so dem teach us for training school o."

Inspector Musa sabi this thing well.

He nod, face hard. For Naija, if woman die for house, everybody first dey look husband with side-eye.

So, Obinna Nwafor become main suspect.

He call Obinna sit down, eyes fixed on am like CCTV.

During questioning, Obinna cooperate well.

Obinna talk with steady voice at first, but palm dey sweat. He answer every question, no vex, no shout. Inspector Musa notice everything—body language, how eye blink.

He explain say only two keys dey: one for am, one for Ifeoma.

He show officers him own key, chain old and bent. "We no get spare, na only two," he swear.

Day before, he go Abakaliki see doctor, and because e late, he sleep near hospital.

He drop hospital card, prescription paper, even show text message from friend wey dey check am. Everything just dey complete.

Later, Okposi police call hospital, dem confirm Obinna story.

Nurse for night shift, one slim woman wey sabi everybody, confirm say Obinna sleep for waiting area. Inspector Musa scribble, but e no still clear.

He always carry him own key, but no too sure about wife own.

He explain, "Na her handbag she dey keep am. I no dey touch am."

But Obinna insist say Ifeoma no dey give her key to anybody, so he believe she must open door herself at midnight.

He say, "Ifeoma stubborn, she no dey trust anybody with that key. Even her mama no fit collect am."

“How your relationship with Ifeoma?” Inspector Musa suddenly ask.

Inspector Musa lean back, watch am, voice cool like Okposi stream water. The room quiet, everybody wait answer.

Obinna look up, voice shake small. "Even though Ifeoma and I both remarry, we love each other well. She no go ever cheat."

His eyes shine, whether na tears or anger, nobody know. For Igbo land, man no dey show weakness anyhow, but his pain real.

If no be lover, then who be the person she know?

Inspector Musa circle answer for jotter, "If no be lover, na who? Family? Friend? Neighbour?"

At this stage, Inspector Musa still feel say na crime of passion, but na just him mind dey tell am.

He tap biro for table, rhythm echo for small office. "Something dey hide for this case," he mutter.

The estate where crime happen na old area built for 1980s, with only one gate in and out.

Old estate, faded paint, mango trees dey drop fruit every harmattan. Only one gate—everybody sabi who dey come and go.

Five-metre-high fence surround everywhere, so nobody fit just climb in from outside.

Even boys wey dey play ball no fit scale that kain fence, unless dem be Spider-Man.

If killer wan enter, e must pass main gate.

Musa ask estate security man, Baba Monday, "Anybody enter night wey you no know?" The old man shake head, "Oga, na only people wey get face for this compound I see."

But when police check CCTV, dem no see anybody suspicious.

Dem watch black-and-white footage, nothing out of place. No strange face, no hurried waka. Inspector Musa frown, rub chin.

That night, apart from residents, only old people, women, and children come in—none fit do this kind thing.

One young officer joke, "Unless na woman wear mask." But nobody laugh. Atmosphere too tense for joke.

Killer fit be person wey dey live for estate?

Musa nod, "Na person wey get leg for here fit waka pass unnoticed."

Inspector Musa no fit shake off this idea.

He pace corridor, eyes sharp, scan every face wey pass for compound.

Police team begin analyse different possibilities, everybody bring theory.

Room full, people dey talk—one say na cult boys, another say housemaid, another say juju. Musa listen, dey filter noise from real clue.

Even small chance, dem check am.

"No clue too small," Musa tell him men. "Na so dem dey catch fowl for bush."

For the next three days, Inspector Musa and team check all residents for estate.

Sun burn neck, sweat drench uniform, but nobody complain. Every flat, every face, dem check.

Over three thousand people—permanent and visitors—but either alibi strong or dem no fit be suspect.

One by one, Musa tick names, sigh every time alibi check out. Killer just dey vanish for air.

After days of wahala, still no breakthrough.

Even old mamas wey dey sell akara for gate begin pity officers. "Oga, una no go rest small?"

During all this, Inspector Musa waka every corner of estate. After talking with experienced detectives, dem suspect CCTV blind spot dey for old estate.

He and men, shoes full of red dust, mark places wey camera no dey reach. "Abeg, check that angle behind refuse dump," he order.

True, dem find loophole.

Camera wey suppose face one side bend since last year, so e leave big gap. One officer point, "Oga, na here person fit waka pass, nobody go see am."

Outside main gate, long fence dey. If person waka close to fence, e fit dodge camera, sneak in without being seen.

Inspector Musa smile small, but smile no reach eye. "The killer sabi this place well. No be small pikin job."

But if killer be outsider, who show am the blind spot?

He write for jotter, "Who show am way? Who be inside man?"

And e be like person come just to kill. If not, why e avoid cameras from beginning?

His voice drop, "No be random, na planned work."