Treachery in the Yard by Adimchinma Ibe Page A

there was no point dragging him down with me.
    I felt like lighting another cigarette. I don’t enjoy smoking that much, but it gives my hands something to do, and by putting something in my mouth I’m not as likely to open it as much. The area commander arrived first. He smiled grimly at me and nodded at Dr. Puene. Then Chief and Akpan came in. Now we were all together. The good doctor sat at the far side of the table. He looked calm, his custom-made suit without the slightest wrinkle.
    The police commissioner arrived at last. Ahmed Abdullah was as tall as Dr. Puene, largely built, with dark coarse skin, a rounded fleshy face framed with glasses, and a neck as thick as an ox. Probably with a brain to match.
    His protruding stomach tugged at his crisply ironed uniform, threatening to dislodge the shiny brass button there. A very harsh man, bad tempered. Officers in the state had a morbid fear of the man. You should—if you want to remain on the force.
    He and Chief greeted one another in the Moslem fashion.
    I saluted.
    We all sat down.
    Commissioner Ahmed sat opposite Dr. Puene. To his left, fromArea Command, was Jonathan Amadi. To his right, my chief of police, Isaac Olatunji. Captain Akpan sat to his right. I sat near no one. None of them looked at me.
    The commissioner spoke up first. “Dr. Puene, first I want you to understand that you are not under cross-examination. You are not under any obligation to answer any questions.” The good doctor said nothing. I muttered something to myself about sacred cows. The commissioner continued, “But to see justice served, of course we expect you will fully cooperate.”
    â€œOf course,” Dr. Puene said quietly. He sat back in his chair.
    It was Amadi’s turn. “Doctor, of course you know that anything you do tell us could be used in a court of law. Do you wish to have an attorney present?”
    â€œDo I need one?”
    They all smiled at him. No, he did not need an attorney.
    My mentor, Chief Olatunji, leaned forward. “Dr. Puene, do you know Okpara?”
    â€œOf course. He’s a friend and party member. He’s running against me.”
    Chief cleared his throat, going through the motions. “What is your relationship with him?”
    â€œWe’re politicians running against each other. But we’re also members of the same party. Some of our supporters do not quite get along as well as they could, but he and I are fine.”
    â€œSo your relationship with him is cordial?”
    â€œWe are running against each other.”
    â€œAnswer the question directly.”
    â€œI don’t have to agree with his opinions to be cordial.”
    Puene loved to play people’s feelings. There was nothing satisfying about his answers to the questions. I usually have less respect for people who are not able to stand up to someone likePuene, and there weren’t too many people in this room who would go up against him. He knew it, and he was enjoying it. So it felt right to put a damper on his enjoyment—and, well, perhaps my career did not mean all that much to me. “Doctor, do you want to be the governor of Rivers State?”
    They all looked at me. I was speaking out of turn.
    â€œWith the help of God and your vote, yes, detective.”
    â€œDon’t you have the best motive to blow him up? To have his assistant killed?”
    His eyes grew harder than the bullets that killed Wike. He looked directly at Chief. “There is no need to be rude. I don’t have to answer this nonsense. I am a highly placed and well-respected party member. That question was . . . inappropriate. I will defeat Okpara politically, you know; I hardly have to kill him.”
    Chief’s eyes narrowed as he turned to me. “Lieutenant, proceed with caution. This is an inquiry, not a trial.”
    I nodded. “Of course. Doctor, are you aware of the plot to assassinate Okpara?”
    â€œI am not aware of