"We're both uninterested in the case." my partner said, while I stood by his decision.
People always said that it was impossible to be a private detective in Lagos, but it was way more impossible to be one in Abuja. You'd always get stinking rich clients with a poor command of English and ridiculous cases.
"You have to helepu (help) me, my pren (friend), the woman said, making sure to injure English every time she spoke. Great. This one was a northerner and wore the hijab as though her life depended on it. She was quite overweight, and could hardly breathe with the way she was covered.
"You have to help yourself. Bring down that stuff covering your face abeg (please). This is not a place to faint; I don't even have money to hire a taxi to rush you to the hospital," I said, drawing on my cigarette.
"Look, Madam. You said here that you used a leather slipper to flog him in the morning when he broke a plate. After that, he left and hasn't returned for a day now. Must someone tell you what happened before you know it?" Shola my partner asked, obviously annoyed with how the woman kept trying to get us to take up the case.
"Look, your son ran away. Simple. If it's you that was flogged with a leather slipper, would you remain there?" I asked, stifling my laughter. Shola threw a glance at e before bursting into laughter.
We were seriously the most unprofessional detectives in the country.
"Sorry ma, sorry ma," I said, noticing that she was getting annoyed "Look, we'll come to your house and look around. If we don't find any clues, I'll refer this to the police."
'Thank you, my prens (friends)," she said, smiling at my partner and I. Two of her bottom teeth were gold implants.
Stinking rich MFs, I thought.
"Come, Ifeanyi! You and who is going where to look at what? If you're going you can go, I have..."
"Madam, you know our rates right? Since my partner won't oblige, I'll go alone then. That'll be 2000 Naira per hour."
"Thank you. Don't worry, I'll pay 5000 Naira per hour," she said, thanking and bowing profusely while I tried telling her to stop. From the corner of my eye, I saw Shola stirring, putting his newspaper aside.
"Okay now, Ifeanyi. Let's start going quickly before traffic will just block the whole Wuse 2 road," he said, grinning.
"Who is 'Let's' and where is he going? I thought you weren't going; you don't need the money shey (right)?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.
"It's your father that doesn't need money," he cursed, pushing me towards the door.
********************
Read Part 2 here:
Okay guys, so this is a new project for me. I've decided to set the story in Africa (no more Westernism) and center it around my favorite genre - Mystery, Sleuthing, and Crime.
I've also decided to create a new community that is centered around Serial Stories - stories that have more than one part or installments. Don't worry, I'll still finish Taken in the Short Stories community, but all of my future projects in this regard will be in this community.
I'm doing this because I'd like to do all this in a community tailored towards such content. Most other communities are only for 'one-offs' or cliffhanger stories with no continuation.
Contests and the like will be coming soon, so you should probably join and tell your friends about it too. Thanks.
This is an interesting one, can't wait for the next chapter. 😍