"You can’t play the game if you’re afraid to get your hands dirty." — Ruthless People by J.J. McAvoyI am drifting in and out of listening to the conversation the Police officer is having with Ibrahim and Yusuf.Kamsir is still sitting lifelessly on the bed, and the crowd of domestic staff loitering by the door has been dispersed. I look again at my husband’s body, sprawled on the floor, soiled with blood, vomit, and if the smell in the room is anything to go by, feaces. What a sad, shameful, and ungraceful way to go!And I loved it!!!“But, you had already left,” I say, finally finding my voice. “You left in the morning, under very unpleasant circumstances. How come you were around to have wine with him late at night? I saw him with kamir at about 8pm, and you weren’t with them.”All eyes turn to me, bewildered, until Ibrahim points at his chest, “Are you talking to me?”“What unpleasant circumstances?” the officer asks.“Nothing. It was just a small family misu
"Some wounds run too deep for the eye to see; they bleed in silence, beneath layers of performance." — UnknownAfter a quick shower, I manage to nibble on some biscuits as I sit in the living room with all the doors open, watching as the police talked to the staff in the dining room, one after the other. When Yusuf and Ibrahim return, the police officer who I learned was the head of the Boston department,named Mark, asks to meet with all four of us again.“I’ve already sent a request to the hospital, for them to make arrangements for an autopsy,” he says. “I believe that will help put everyone’s mind to rest.”“Is it really necessary? Isn’t it obvious the way he died?” Ibrahim asks. “He was stabbed in the stomach and had a chair broken over his head. The evidence is there for all to see.”“Yes, but we still have to conclude which of the two injuries killed him, Sir,” he answers. “We also spoke with all the staff. One of them has been arrested as a poss
“Grief was the celebration of love, those who could feel real grief were lucky to have loved.” — Chimamanda Ngozi AdichieAs we drove up to the ranch, there were dozens of people at the gate. News of the minister’s death has reached the media and, as expected, their grief is palpable. The movement restriction is still on, with nobody allowed into or out of the premises. Getting to the house, I am surprised that the number of policemen there seems to have doubled. I’d thought that with the chief officer in the station, there would be none of them at the ranch, but there they still are, pretty much everywhere you turn.I ask for my lunch to be delivered to my room, and I am asleep very shortly after eating it, mentally and physically exhausted. With the mystery of the minister's murder still rife, whether we like it or not, we are all prisoners in the house, even the prospective groom. I feel saddened that the reason for Yusuf’s trip back home has bee
"The conscience is a wound that never heals and no balm can ease its pain. You can run from the law, deceive the world, and silence the voices of others, but the voice within—that merciless whisper of truth—echoes louder with every breath. There is no punishment greater than the knowledge of the wrong you have done, no prison tighter than the guilt you carry. And when your sins are dressed in the blood of the innocent, even redemption begins to look away." — Unknown“jacobi ? Jacobi that was just talking to us inside?” Yusuf exclaims. “How is that even possible?”Jacobi puts up no resistance as the police bundle him into their van, and there are more shouts of disbelief as the car drives off. Nobody can believe that the mild-mannered doctor is the one who has committed such a horrible crime, the vicious killer on the loose.“I said it, but you all thought I was crazy,” comes Ibrahim’s voice, as he emerges from the crowd. “I said it was that d
“We are all sinners, but some of us are better at it than others.” Ruthless People by J.J. McAvoyI don’t fight as my mouth and nostrils fill with water. Instead, I close my eyes and pray that the end will be quick. I push myself further down, trying to hurry the process. I hear water splashing from the tub to the floor and push myself even further still. It is better for me to leave this world than to continue to hurt the people around me.The water has started to overwhelm my body and my breathing has started to falter when I hear what sounds like screaming. I struggle as I am abruptly pulled out of the water, fighting off the hands holding me, wanting desperately to return to my watery grave. But the person who has botched my mission will have none of it. “Help! Help! Somebody help!” kamsir shouts, wrestling with me. He soon overpowers me and is able to lift me out of the bath.Seated on the floor, I am now coughing and spluttering, water seeping
“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” — Michael CorleoneNobody left the table, and their meals remained untouched. Ibrahim, I’m not surprised about, as I know he is determined to watch me like a hawk so I don’t escape. I’m not surprised about Yusuf either, as his fondness for me has made him distressed about the unfolding situation. But kamsir…I just can’t figure out the sudden about-turn in his behavior towards me. It simply makes no sense at all.A little under an hour later, officer mark walks into the room.“Good morning, all,” he greets. “Forgive me, but I had a meeting with the head of security in the country at Washington, hope you know the minister’s death hasn't been taken lightly . May I?” he asks, beckoning at a seat and proceeds to sit when Ibrahim gives a dismissive wave of the hand. “So…you say you have found the killer?” There is no mistaking the cynicism in his voice.“There she is,” Ibrahim answers, pointin
“The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.” — African Proverb“Where is maria?” Ibrahim demands.That soon becomes the question on everybody’s lips. Where is madam maria?Mary answers when she is summoned to the room. “I don’t know where she is. She hasn’t come upstairs today.”That in itself is an ominous sign, as madam maria has not for one day missed coming up from her basement apartment. Even when she hasn’t felt her best, she has at least ventured up to monitor the progress of work.“Let’s not get too hasty,” I pleaded. “Anyone could have intercepted the minister's meals. Let’s not jump to the conclusion that she did it.”“I agree,” Yusuf supports. “There’s no way madam maria could have done such a thing. Have you seen the state of her since he died? She’s even taking it worse than the rest of us.”“Nobody is suspecting her,” officer mark clarifies. “It’s just important that I ask her a few questions about who she believes might have had a
“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.” — Stephen King“Poor girl, you don’t know how much I pitied you every time you came here, thinking she was your friend,” he said, still looking at me. “Almost from the moment you arrived, she did everything she could to get you out. I used to shake my head as she encouraged you to continue to receive that one,” he beckoned at Ibrahim with his chin, “in your bed, deceiving you that it was the only way to have some footing in the house, though she knew full well that the more accepting you were of his son, the more it angered Omar and pushed you away from him. She thought he would have sent you away years ago and didn’t anticipate you staying for as long as you have.”“But the minister had so many other women. Amanda, Clara, Lauralee, Clementina…just to name a few,” I say, my head still spinning. “I was the least of her problems.”“You were the one he ca
"And suddenly you know… It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings." – Meister EckhartHer eyes clouded with tears, and I turned back to look at the officer. “Can I speak with her in private first?” When he hesitates, I add. “I promise, she’ll answer all your questions later. Just give me the chance to talk to her first…to get her more comfortable.”That seems to do the trick, and he nods in agreement. I look at Ibrahim and Yusuf, and neither one expresses any reservation.Taking Catherine's hand, we enter the old vintage house. “Are you the only one home?”She nods, her body shaking like a leaf. “Zeynep, I didn’t know she was going to do it. Please, don’t let them take me.”“Nobody is going to arrest or take you,” I coax her.She wipes her eyes. “I know you’re angry with me. Angry because of…”“Because of the minister ? Catherine, you should know better. I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me. I thought we were friends,”
“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.” — Stephen King“Poor girl, you don’t know how much I pitied you every time you came here, thinking she was your friend,” he said, still looking at me. “Almost from the moment you arrived, she did everything she could to get you out. I used to shake my head as she encouraged you to continue to receive that one,” he beckoned at Ibrahim with his chin, “in your bed, deceiving you that it was the only way to have some footing in the house, though she knew full well that the more accepting you were of his son, the more it angered Omar and pushed you away from him. She thought he would have sent you away years ago and didn’t anticipate you staying for as long as you have.”“But the minister had so many other women. Amanda, Clara, Lauralee, Clementina…just to name a few,” I say, my head still spinning. “I was the least of her problems.”“You were the one he ca
“The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.” — African Proverb“Where is maria?” Ibrahim demands.That soon becomes the question on everybody’s lips. Where is madam maria?Mary answers when she is summoned to the room. “I don’t know where she is. She hasn’t come upstairs today.”That in itself is an ominous sign, as madam maria has not for one day missed coming up from her basement apartment. Even when she hasn’t felt her best, she has at least ventured up to monitor the progress of work.“Let’s not get too hasty,” I pleaded. “Anyone could have intercepted the minister's meals. Let’s not jump to the conclusion that she did it.”“I agree,” Yusuf supports. “There’s no way madam maria could have done such a thing. Have you seen the state of her since he died? She’s even taking it worse than the rest of us.”“Nobody is suspecting her,” officer mark clarifies. “It’s just important that I ask her a few questions about who she believes might have had a
“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” — Michael CorleoneNobody left the table, and their meals remained untouched. Ibrahim, I’m not surprised about, as I know he is determined to watch me like a hawk so I don’t escape. I’m not surprised about Yusuf either, as his fondness for me has made him distressed about the unfolding situation. But kamsir…I just can’t figure out the sudden about-turn in his behavior towards me. It simply makes no sense at all.A little under an hour later, officer mark walks into the room.“Good morning, all,” he greets. “Forgive me, but I had a meeting with the head of security in the country at Washington, hope you know the minister’s death hasn't been taken lightly . May I?” he asks, beckoning at a seat and proceeds to sit when Ibrahim gives a dismissive wave of the hand. “So…you say you have found the killer?” There is no mistaking the cynicism in his voice.“There she is,” Ibrahim answers, pointin
“We are all sinners, but some of us are better at it than others.” Ruthless People by J.J. McAvoyI don’t fight as my mouth and nostrils fill with water. Instead, I close my eyes and pray that the end will be quick. I push myself further down, trying to hurry the process. I hear water splashing from the tub to the floor and push myself even further still. It is better for me to leave this world than to continue to hurt the people around me.The water has started to overwhelm my body and my breathing has started to falter when I hear what sounds like screaming. I struggle as I am abruptly pulled out of the water, fighting off the hands holding me, wanting desperately to return to my watery grave. But the person who has botched my mission will have none of it. “Help! Help! Somebody help!” kamsir shouts, wrestling with me. He soon overpowers me and is able to lift me out of the bath.Seated on the floor, I am now coughing and spluttering, water seeping
"The conscience is a wound that never heals and no balm can ease its pain. You can run from the law, deceive the world, and silence the voices of others, but the voice within—that merciless whisper of truth—echoes louder with every breath. There is no punishment greater than the knowledge of the wrong you have done, no prison tighter than the guilt you carry. And when your sins are dressed in the blood of the innocent, even redemption begins to look away." — Unknown“jacobi ? Jacobi that was just talking to us inside?” Yusuf exclaims. “How is that even possible?”Jacobi puts up no resistance as the police bundle him into their van, and there are more shouts of disbelief as the car drives off. Nobody can believe that the mild-mannered doctor is the one who has committed such a horrible crime, the vicious killer on the loose.“I said it, but you all thought I was crazy,” comes Ibrahim’s voice, as he emerges from the crowd. “I said it was that d
“Grief was the celebration of love, those who could feel real grief were lucky to have loved.” — Chimamanda Ngozi AdichieAs we drove up to the ranch, there were dozens of people at the gate. News of the minister’s death has reached the media and, as expected, their grief is palpable. The movement restriction is still on, with nobody allowed into or out of the premises. Getting to the house, I am surprised that the number of policemen there seems to have doubled. I’d thought that with the chief officer in the station, there would be none of them at the ranch, but there they still are, pretty much everywhere you turn.I ask for my lunch to be delivered to my room, and I am asleep very shortly after eating it, mentally and physically exhausted. With the mystery of the minister's murder still rife, whether we like it or not, we are all prisoners in the house, even the prospective groom. I feel saddened that the reason for Yusuf’s trip back home has bee
"Some wounds run too deep for the eye to see; they bleed in silence, beneath layers of performance." — UnknownAfter a quick shower, I manage to nibble on some biscuits as I sit in the living room with all the doors open, watching as the police talked to the staff in the dining room, one after the other. When Yusuf and Ibrahim return, the police officer who I learned was the head of the Boston department,named Mark, asks to meet with all four of us again.“I’ve already sent a request to the hospital, for them to make arrangements for an autopsy,” he says. “I believe that will help put everyone’s mind to rest.”“Is it really necessary? Isn’t it obvious the way he died?” Ibrahim asks. “He was stabbed in the stomach and had a chair broken over his head. The evidence is there for all to see.”“Yes, but we still have to conclude which of the two injuries killed him, Sir,” he answers. “We also spoke with all the staff. One of them has been arrested as a poss
"You can’t play the game if you’re afraid to get your hands dirty." — Ruthless People by J.J. McAvoyI am drifting in and out of listening to the conversation the Police officer is having with Ibrahim and Yusuf.Kamsir is still sitting lifelessly on the bed, and the crowd of domestic staff loitering by the door has been dispersed. I look again at my husband’s body, sprawled on the floor, soiled with blood, vomit, and if the smell in the room is anything to go by, feaces. What a sad, shameful, and ungraceful way to go!And I loved it!!!“But, you had already left,” I say, finally finding my voice. “You left in the morning, under very unpleasant circumstances. How come you were around to have wine with him late at night? I saw him with kamir at about 8pm, and you weren’t with them.”All eyes turn to me, bewildered, until Ibrahim points at his chest, “Are you talking to me?”“What unpleasant circumstances?” the officer asks.“Nothing. It was just a small family misu