The Puzzle

Panic broke through the blissful adornment of the afternoon. The once rejoicing goats have retreated to the side walls. The once beautiful cloud changed its look into brightness and the Sun seemed to burn and mock the celebrating families. The atmosphere changed in a short while. Charles was restless; making calls and asking questions. He looked dull, but not wavered, he tried to reason out what happened and how it happened.
He recreated the scene on his mind; it was complimented by the analysis of the security officer at the hall entrance, and the best friends: After he had told Temmy to go and prepare her things and then they would leave to Ibadan, she left the hall with the best-lady to the house though it was only minutes away. The driver had been called and they were both to meet with him at the frontage. But the best-man walked fast to catch up before they both leave the hall , he had developed an unrequited love for the best-lady so he wanted to tag and have a chat with her. That was what made him requested a moment of talk with her; Prisca as a result of this had told Temmy to go ahead and that she would catch up later. As Temmy reached the hall front, the bridal car was already waiting for her, so she hopped in. That was all they knew.
But when Prisca got out and was about to go home, she realized the bridal car was still in the parking lot so she approached the driver who was having a nap as it seemed, he said he hadn’t gone anywhere, he was expecting Temmy and Charles. But when Charles talked with the security, the man had said he saw the same car leave. The description of the car the security gave, perfectly match the same one in the parking lot. The security man couldn’t see through into the car because of the tinted glass. He didn’t put the plate number to mind because he wasn’t expecting any abnormality; and beside, the plate would have been covered with the tag “Just Wedded”
It all got confusing and no one could do or trace anything. Charles and others could only come to one conclusion; that someone had a foreknowledge of the wedding. The person knew what car and gadgets would be used, and he got their exact twins. The person was an incarnate, he smuggled in the car to the venue and so it was used to bring the bride out of the venue. But their analysis could tell how the kidnapper knew when the bride was coming. They couldn’t tell why the driver didn’t see another car similar to his’ at the whole parking area.
After the diggings and findings persisted till the third day after the wedding, nobody could take the burden of the stolen wife any longer. The parents of Temmy had made calls and contacts to the local police station. Temmy’s picture had been all over the media. She made the front page of the “Kwara Herald” and the “Alaroye” Magazine. At a point, the bride’s parent alleged Charles of a deed probably from his past which has now come with its ugly head gaping out from the book and that had led to the kidnap of their daughter.
“Mama mi” Charles was telling Temmy’s mother, “There is nothing of such bad past that I have ma. And of which we are talking kidnap, this is the third day and nobody has called that we give or remit any ransom. I am seriously bothered, I just hope… I hope my wife is kept safe. That is my prayer”
His face was distorted, as if he wanted to cry. He took deep breaths incessantly.
Charles was left with no other option than to seek an external support. He had made calls to friends and associates. He even pioneered reporting the case to the media, but they seemed to be acting slowly, far beyond his pace. So after he had read some months back of a homicidal case solved by an intelligent crew, whose domain is on the Lekki Peninsula; he smiled as this thought flashed on his mind
This would be interesting, he thought. So he picked up the newspaper lying on the back deck of his car, he flipped open the pages, copied out a number on his phone and dialled a number as he took his seat on the back sit.

“King’s Forensics” a cool, feminine voice responded from the other end of the line.
Charles told his name calmly, and in a tone of someone depressed, He explained his plight and what had happened on his wedding day.  The lady on the other end seemed to be taking notes; Charles perceived, as she repeated the things he had said in a questioning but formal tone.
“We will get back to you soon Sir” the lady said after they were done discussing the issue.
“How soon would your ‘soon’ be, please? Because I find it difficult to concentrate on the things I do.”
“As fast as we can sir.”
“Okay, no problem. Thank you for listening. And please I have invested so much trust in you, please don’t let me down.”
“Alright sir. Thank you for calling the Kings Forensics, have a nice day.”
“And you too.” He dropped his phone, and used his left hand to scratch his head making  his hair scattered, then he leaned with his right shoulder and head against the driver’s sit.
It is really difficult to tell what bothered his mind. He looked composed, a strength that is so rare. He was actually gentle by nature; he did less talking and more smiling, but this time, the smile seemed kilometers far away from his face. He hoped the forensics enterprise or whatever they are get back to him soon. The lady he spoke to had collected his contact address.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, Charles had no idea about what to do next.

It was a Sunday afternoon; the flame of the Sun burned through the, hair, feather and wool of the domestic pets. Cocks and hens perched on their woven basket-home. A goat and a sheep lay at the edge of Qazeem’s house, the sun had cast a shadow of the house over them. The goat was rubbing its head against the wall as if to shake something off it. The sheep was on its four as it gently looked at passers-by while it chewed its cud. Hand fans seem incapable of their function in the hot February Sun in Ilorin, the air they blow was as hot as the exhaust coming out of a gasoline generator. Sabo Oke seemed particularly quiet. The C & S School close by is always void of the usual cries and shouts of students, so it made Sunday a perfect relaxation day for Qazeem.
Qazeem has no belief in any deity other than the Islamic way, but he believed in resting on Sundays. He so much cherished his health. While taking his usual nap, with his four year old son sleeping beside him and himself was drifting in the terrains of unconsciousness and consciousness, there was a rapping sound of the door. He wasn’t sure if it was in reality or from his sleep, he adjusted his position on his worn out three-sitter chair. Then the sound on the door came again. He stood up, adjusted his trouser fly and adjusted his singlet. He said in a semi husky voice
“Na who dey there?” pidgin English was the way through which he communicated to his neighbors. But he speaks the normal English if the person he was talking to had a proper knowledge.
“A visitor from the South” A voice from the other side replied.
Still, confused, he opened the door and he saw a young man, most likely in his early thirty. He wore a spectacle with rectangular frames, his eyes look keen and gentle. The stranger’s moustache sat firmly on the throne above his upper lip. The man’shirt was starched and properly ironed. The trouser was a black corduroy and nice pair of trainers housed his feet. Quazeem was busy checking out the details about the stranger, so it took him a while to notice the out stretched hand for a shake. Finally, he shook the hand, it was a firm grip that squeezed his small palm in  the stranger’s large palm. Quazeem opened his mouth to say
“Who …”
Just at the same time, the stranger said
“Incognito. Team lead and profiling officer at the Kings Forensics.” He was smiling. “And you are Qazeem. We spoke on phone some days back.”
Qazeem didn’t find anything amusing.
“But I can’t remember giving you my address.”
“Oh, yeah. Mrs Sonekan, Temmy’smother…I mean the mother of the bride which you…”
“Okay I get.” He cut him short. But she couldn’t have told you my room, because whenever I drive her around here before she drives herself home, she only bids goodbye from the outside. She has never entered in here.”
“Intelligent.” Incognito said as he noticed the features about the man standing in front of him. “Well I saw a young lad with his cloths off outside, he pointed your room to me.”
Qazeem hissed, as he muttered to himself.
“Foolish boy, he never wears cloth, I wonder why his mother keeps buying them. He complains always of heat even in rainy seasons.” Then he said to Incognito, “Welcome Sir, feel at home.”
He rushed to his fridge, it made a creaking sound as he opened it, it was as a result of the rusting metal wedge. He brought out a sachet water commonly known as ‘pure water’ he picked a cup from the centre table, blew air into it, as if that would clean the whole dust off it. He dropped both on the stool and brought them to where Incognito was sitting.
“Sorry, the light came around not quite long, but it didn’t stay long either and it takes a couple of hours before my fridge gets cold. I actually need a new one” he chuckled.

“It’s no problem, thanks.” Incognito removed his spectacles and dropped it on the table

“ So do you work for a newspaper establishment, or what? Because on phone, I couldn’t make anything out of the details you gave. You only sounded as one of these journalists that probe and bore with questions.”
Although he was an N.C.E. holder, the whole grammar Incognito had poured out eluded him. Incognito then explained that the firm for which he works deals with solving crime scenes and mysterious cases with basic ideologies and technologies.
Incognito had begun without wasting time, he was saying, “So you didn’t think it unusual when you slept off on the wedding day?”

“No. Not really, Because I had enough rest overnight and I just finished eating not quite long”
“Then that meant you shouldn’t have slept?” His tone  sounded more like a question than a statement.
“Maybe” he looked worried now, as if he was trying to remember something horrible.
“Do you know Temmy’s family well?”
“Well? I was Mrs Sonekan’s driver while she was still in office, before retirement I mean. So, I’m quite familiar wit the family well enough.”
“Is there anyone that you’ve possibly offended who would have wanted you implicated?”
“No” his facial expression was still blank and his eyes to cold. “I really don’t like quarel, so I make peace with people always. So nobody that I can think of would have wanted me implicated”
“Hmm” Incognito sighed, he wiped his fore finger over his moustache. His phone beeped, he adjusted himself, stretched out his right leg out so he could have easy access to reach and remove his phone from his pocket.
He unlocked his phone with some series of codes, he stared at the screen. A SMS came in from an unknown sender, the sender reads, “ANONYMOUS” There was no traceable number, neither was there any information to tell anything meaningful about the sender.
The message contained a web link, he clicked and while his phone was trying to connect to the internet service, he said.
“Mr Qazeem, just some minutes…hold on please.”
“Okay” Qazeem relaxed his back, and used his hand to pick out something invisible from his child’s hair.

A news blog site popped up on his screen, and the theme gaping at Incognito from the screen reads “A popular Trader killed at Kuje, Abuja.” There was an image of someone dead, whose cloth was but soaked in  blood and had turned black, but Incognito could tell the person was putting on a white.

What happened?
What led to the death?
Who sent in the message with an hidden identity?
It seem to be getting more complicated right?

The next Chapter shows clues and hints. You don’t want to miss it!

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See you soon!