Chapter Two

 

The moment he stepped out of his SUV, the first breath he took in told him the atmosphere around the house had recently been visited by death. There were more than half a dozen police cars parked around the Adeniran’s residence and the forensic team were already turning the house upside down looking for any clues left behind. He knew the corpse of Caroline Adeniran was still lying where her mother had found it, because he had phoned ahead instructing the lead inspector at the murder scene to leave the body the way it had been found.

Officer Muhammad Guni of the States Security Service (SSS) shut the door of his car and dragged his 6ft2 inch stature towards the entrance of the house. Muhammad was dark in complexion and built like a boxer with a bearded square face, protruding eyes and an upturned nose. He was a widower who had lost his wife to cancer five years ago. He was 40 years old and an indigene of Niger State. All he had after the death of his wife was his job and family that were scattered all over the country. Most of his family members were also on the force. His late father had been killed in the line of duty in the Nigerian Army and he was the first child in a family of five. Muhammad was the only member of his family working with the SSS. He was a graduate of Federal University of Technology Minna. He had a degree in Physics and a Master’s degree in criminology. Muhammad was familiar with most part of the country because his father, Sergeant Ibrahim Bochi Guni had been transferred more times than he could recall during his time in the Nigerian Army before he was killed on a peace keeping mission in Somalia.

After Muhammad’s father’s death, his mother Hajiya Maryam Guni had accepted her fate and moved on. She was now a very successful business woman back home in Niger State. She was his strength and currently the only true confidant he had.

Caroline Adeniran was the latest victim in a ring of murders that began seven months ago. Muhammad was now approaching the entrance of the sitting room of the duplex and he already had a vivid idea of what he should be expecting. The other four victims had been murdered using the same method of torture and brutality. The only connection the victims had so far was that they were all exceptionally pretty ladies. Muhammad stopped at the door and looked at his wristwatch; the time was 11:28pm. He was the only officer from the SSS currently at the murder scene. His boss had called him when he was getting ready to retire for the night and ordered him to haul his ass to the murder scene.

The moment Muhammad stepped into the sitting room, the first thing he saw was the naked corpse of Caroline lying on the floor in the pool of her own blood. Her eyes were wide open staring right back at him with her head facing upward. Muhammad was handed a pair of latex gloves by one of the forensic police officers at the scene.

“Good evening officer Muhammad,” a voice said.

He turned around and found himself staring at a uniformed inspector who was probably in his mid-thirties. The name on the inspector’s nametag was Inspector Emeka Ogbonna.

“Hello inspector. What’ve we got here?” Muhammad asked bringing out his notepad.

“The victim’s name was Caroline Adeniran. She’s 19 years old and a 100 level student studying law at the University of Abuja. Her mother is a widow and an accountant at Crystal Bank. Caroline has an elder brother studying Civil Engineering at Federal University of Technology Minna. The victim’s maternal grandparents live in Lagos,” the inspector replied.

After debriefing the inspector, Muhammad understood that he now had five dead pretty ladies and a psycho on the loose.

“Did anyone in the neighborhood see or hear anything unusual?” Muhammad asked.

“No,” the inspector replied.

“When was the victim last seen alive?” Muhammad asked.

“She was last seen talking to a close female friend living in the neighborhood in the evening,” the inspector replied.

Muhammad ordered the inspector to get him the friend because he needed to interrogate her himself. He told the inspector to make sure the friend remained outside the house when she arrived. The last thing he needed her to see was the cruelty of what had been done to her friend. Muhammad needed the friend to be focused when she answered his questions and the bloody sight of Caroline corpse wasn’t going to guarantee that.

Muhammad bent down and examined Caroline’s corpse on the milk colored bloodstained rug. Caroline’s hands and legs were sprawled out. The white blouse and bra Caroline was wearing had both been ripped and her skirt and panties appeared to have been yanked off because they were lying in a corner of the sitting room. Muhammad noticed that there was no sign of struggle from the victim so he realized that the killer had used a sedative, just like in the other cases. Caroline had sustained multiple stab wounds to the chest region. The breasts had been mutilated and the vaginal and anal region had been burnt with something corrosive. He could bet the monster had used concentrated acid like in the other four cases. The Modus Operandi (MO) used in committing the crime says it all, The First One was responsible for the murder of Caroline Adeniran.

Muhammad had been deliberately saving Janet Adeniran’s interview for the last. In all the years he has spent in the SSS, he knew from experience that the close friends or family members of most victims provided the best clues in solving a crime. That was of course if they were not responsible for the crime themselves. Muhammad leaned closer to the corpse. The face had been totally disfigured while the nose was smashed in. The cranium had been shattered and the scalp was the only thing holding her skull together.

Muhammad stood up and started examining the expensively furnished sitting room glittering with LED light bulbs. There were pictures on the brick walls and the largest portrait displayed the images of four people seated on a sofa. Judging by their ages, he knew the fair man in his late forties was the late Mr. Adeniran and seated next to him was a beautiful and athletic looking young lady in her teens. Muhammad knew he was staring at the living version of Caroline, a complete opposite of what was lying on the bloody rug. Next to Caroline was a young, good-looking man in his late teens or early twenties. The young man was obviously Caroline’s elder brother. At the other end of the portrait was a pretty, tall, dark woman who had a big smile on her face. She appeared to be in her early forties and had her hand around the young man’s shoulder. The woman was Janet Adeniran. Caroline had no doubt inherited her mother’s beauty. The portrait was the quintessential image of the perfect family. At least it used to be, but he had a feeling it was never going to be the same, not after two murders in the family. Muhammad knew what it felt like losing a loved one because he had lost his father to the greedy and evil ways of man towards himself known as war and he had also lost his wife to a prolonged illness. Caroline’s brother was going to be devastated when he found out about the death of his sister. Man’s monstrosity had robbed him of his father and sister.

A voice from behind interrupted his thoughts. Muhammad turned and saw inspector Emeka staring at him. The inspector told him Caroline’s friend was waiting outside. He thanked the inspector before telling him to check on the victim’s mother to make sure she was alright. Caroline’s mother had asked the police for a little privacy within the sanctum of her room.

Muhammad stepped out of the house and found Caroline’s friend seated on a plastic chair on the veranda of the house. There was a spare chair opposite her and he sat on it. He needed to be careful with the way he spoke to her because the last ones to see the victims alive were sometimes more affected, emotionally and psychologically speaking. The inspector had forgotten to mention the name of Caroline’s friend. Muhammad noticed the professional mistake but he had deliberately refused to make the correction because the inspector could’ve taken it as an insult. The police and SSS always found it difficult working together even though they couldn’t avoid it.

“Hello young lady. My name is Officer Muhammad Guni. What’s yours?” Muhammad asked her bringing out his notepad and pen.

“My name is Sarah Marshal,” Sarah replied, nervously staring at the floor with her hands wrapped around herself.

Sarah had pretty features similar to Caroline but when it came down to beauty, she was no match for the living version of Caroline. Muhammad asked Sarah how she came to know the victim. She told him they became friends a month after Caroline and her family moved into the neighborhood from Lagos. Sarah also told him she was in her first year at college, studying Sociology.

“When was the last time you saw your friend?” Muhammad asked her.

“It was in the evening. I was on my way back from the supermarket where I went to get some groceries and Caroline was on her way home from school,” Sarah replied.

“Sarah, was there anything unusual about Caroline or her behavior?” Muhammad asked.

“No Sir,” Sarah replied, nervously chewing on her lower lip.

Muhammad knew he had to let Sarah go, at least for the night. It was getting late and her custodians might be getting worried. He had two more questions he needed to ask her before he could let her go and he had to do it tactically.

Muhammad stood up signifying the end of the interrogation. He told her she could go and he was sorry about her friend. Sarah stood up and headed towards the exit of the house

“Please Sarah, avoid going out at night because currently there are lots of evil doers out there who happen to be nocturnal,” Muhammad said when she was almost at the exit.

“I never stay out late and I’ve been indoors since I returned from the supermarket,” Sarah replied.

“Okay, but careful with the kind of company you keep,” Muhammad said worriedly.

Sarah looked at him exhaustively before she said, “Caroline and I are always busy with our studies and we hardly have time for guys.”

Looking baffled, Muhammad asked, “You mean two pretty damsels like you don’t have boyfriends?”

Sarah smiled faintly before she replied, “We have male course mates but nothing serious.”

Sarah and Muhammad stood there staring at each other before he finally said, “Good night Sarah.”

“Goodnight Officer Muhammad,” Sarah replied before she turned around and walked away.

Sarah Marshal wasn’t a fool. She had made it clear she never went out after she returned from the supermarket. She had a solid alibi even if she was considered a suspect. He was still going to get one of his subordinates to verify her alibi before he ticked her off the suspect list. From what Sarah had told him, this wasn’t the case of a jealous boyfriend or lover. But that was something he already knew. He asked it anyway, since there were times people would commit murders in a way similar to others to avoid suspicion.

He looked at his watch, the time was 11:50pm. He went into the house for his last and most difficult task of the night, which was questioning the mother of the victim.

 

***

 

The Janet Adeniran he was staring at seemed to have aged 20 years more than the woman he saw in the portrait earlier. Death hasn’t been kind to the poor woman. Janet Adeniran’s eyes were swollen.

The room was large and also expensively furnished like the sitting room. She was sitting at the edge of her bed and looking out through the window overlooking the backyard. Muhammad hated the process of questioning the members of the deceased family. He took a chair opposite the makeup table and sat close to the door. Since he stepped into the room, she was yet to move or even acknowledge his presence. It was like he wasn’t even there.

“I’m sorry for your loss Mrs. Adeniran. My name is Officer Muhammad Guni, I’m with the SSS,” Muhammad said and she nodded.

As soon as Janet had overcome the shock of finding her daughter’s corpse, she had dialed 911 and walked out of the house. It was outside the house that the first police car to arrive found her crying her heart out. She was later escorted to her bedroom through the back door by a female police officer. She had spent the last hour recalling memories of her late husband and daughter. The tall, heavily built officer from the SSS had brought her out of her trance.

“Please Ma’am, I need to ask you some important questions because the sooner we commence with the investigation, the quicker we find the person responsible for your daughter’s death,” Muhammad said and Janet nodded.

“When was the last time you saw your daughter alive?” Muhammad asked.

“When I dropped her off at the main gate of the University at around 7:25am. She had an early morning lecture at 8am.” Janet replied.

“Had your daughter been acting strange or did you notice anything unusual with her behavior?” Muhammad asked.

“No. She was happy as always. She gave me a goodbye hug and then she was gone,” Janet replied and tears started trickling down her cheeks.

He had to speed up the questioning before she lost her composure. Muhammad waited for her to wipe the tears off her face before he proceeded.

“Can you think of anyone who might want to harm you or any member of your family?” Muhammad asked.

“No,” Janet replied before she looked at Muhammad with tears still trickling down her cheeks and asked, “Why will anyone do that to my baby? Caroline was a happy, sweet and obedient girl. Anywhere she went, she gave nothing but smiles and happiness.”

Janet buried her face in her palms and started sobbing. Muhammad decided to bring their session to an end by asking the final and the most important question.

“When your husband passed away, did he leave a large inheritance behind for you and your children?” Muhammad asked.

“All he left behind was a house at Lagos. My husband and I spent most of our savings on our children’s welfare,” Janet replied, trying to hold it together.

Muhammad stood up to leave. He felt bad for putting her through the stress of interrogation not long after her daughter’s death, but it had to be done. The worst part of the whole tragedy was that she had been the one to discover her daughter’s corpse. He had to check out the alibi of every single member of the family when the murder was being committed. This was one of the important details which helped rule out the members of the family as possible suspects. Muhammad also needed to investigate those who had motive and opportunity to commit the murder. Sarah had opportunity but she was just not the type to commit murder. Her motive could be jealousy but it was just a worthless theory.

“Ma’am I’m really sorry for your loss but we’ve to take your daughter’s body for an autopsy. I will do my best to make sure you get her back as soon as possible,” Muhammad said and Janet replied with a nod.

Muhammad was exhausted. There was nothing he needed right now other than a good night’s sleep to take him out of this nightmare.

“If there is anything you might need ma’am, there will be a police patrol car parked in front of the house. Please feel free to notify the officers. Once again, I’m sorry for your loss Mrs. Adeniran,” Muhammad said before he opened the door and walked out of the room.

As soon asMuhammad closed the door, Janet fell back on the bed and wept some more.

When Muhammad stepped out of the house, most of the police officers and forensic team had left. He approached the police car parked across the street and told them to be vigilant. The killer could return to visit the murder scene and he told them to check on Mrs. Adeniran at regular intervals to make sure she was okay.

Every step Muhammad took as he walked towards his car brought the image of Caroline and her mom to his mind. Whoever the monster was, he was going to make sure he did his best to nab them before they killed another lady. His boss had given him four weeks to find ‘The First One.’ The psycho now had five bodies to his name. Muhammad hoped the body of the killer was going to be the next and final one.

The Director General of the SSS was currently turning on the heat on his boss and his boss was also making sure he felt the steam. Muhammad was the senior officer in charge of the case and if things don’t turn out well it was him who was going to be the guilty one. The fact is, success is the son of a hundred fathers but failure was an orphan.