Murder At Midnight

conversation neverveered away from his complexion, and that he spent a considerable amount oftime admiring himself and strutting around like apeacock.
He wasactually a dull kind of fellow. He never got the gist of anythingyou told him, unless he had asked some rather silly and pointlessquestions, prompting you to repeat yourself over and over again. Ithink it took him about a week to understand what took normal folka minute to understand.
Tonye also had a rude manner ofstaring at people; his brows would be drawn together and his mouthslack open, and it would be obvious that he did not care whether or notanyone was aware that he was staring. He did this while shaking hands with me. I took an immediate disliketo him.
Next, I shook hands with JohnBrad. He was of average height and build, and always wore a disapproving frown onhis face. He seemed withdrawn from everything happening around him.I would later remember that I never ever heard him whistling orsinging, and I never witnessed him getting excited over anything.His arms always hung limply by his sides as if they were mereappendages whose use he had failed to discover. He moved in a dull,stiff and sickly manner, as if he was a ghost, or was suffering from some internalailment.
I neverreally took a liking to him, but he turned out to be the kind ofperson who wasn't bothered about something as mundane as whether ornot others liked him! Yet, I made a point of talking to him becauseI like cultivating friendships and investing in people. Besides,you never know when they would turn out to be be useful.
I would also come to learn thatJohn took the adage cleanliness is next to godliness to heart. He was a paragon of neatness; he tookgreat pains to keep his belongings and person, spotless. He evenbathed thrice, daily! His cleanliness and apparent love of waterreminded me of a swan.
The third man was PhilipNewman. Although he looked older, Philip was in his late twenties.He walked with a swagger and spoke in slangs. He was as huge asWillie. His build reminded me of a professional wrestler orweight-lifter. He also seemed to me to be a person who cared nothing forconventions, and liked to do things in his own way and at his own time.
Introductions over, I returned to Ayuba, who was now sittingbehind the bar, which also served as a reception desk.
“You can still have your oldroom,” he said. “It is unoccupied.”
I toldhim that that was fine by me. He handed me the keys, even before heopened his register and filled in my particulars. While I waited, Ilooked down at my feet. I had three bags with me and all were quiteheavy. Just then, a young man came into the lounge from outside. Hewas casually dressed in a white shirt and shorts. I felt he must beone of the youths in the neighbourhood, who did odd jobs now andthen for Ayuba and the guests. Without any hesitation I called outto him.
“Come and help me with thesebags,” I said, pointing at the bags on the floor. He stopped in hisstride and looked me over, as if he could not believe his ears. Alook came into his eyes, which I can only describe as a mixture ofanger and bitterness.
“And who doyou take me for?” he asked. The air was tense. I could sense thathe was barely controlling his anger. "The errand boy around?" he continued. I was taken aback by histone.
“I’m sorry, Iem…” I stumbled for the right words. I noticed now that he was notas young as I had first assumed. He had a boyish face and physique,but there was no doubt that he was a man; not just any man, but a manapparently of some education and standing. Ayuba, bless his soul,swiftly intervened.
“This is one of my guests, Mr.Simpson,’ he explained to me. “His name is Nagoth Ali and he isactually in the room opposite yours.”
“I am sorry; do not beoffended,” I apologised to him. Mother Nature had apparentlyshort-changed him in both the height and size departments. “I’msorry. I’m sure Ayuba can help me with the bags.”
“With all pleasure, Mr.Simpson,” replied Ayuba, as he picked up two of the bags and Ifollowed him with the remaining one. The young man, still stiffwith annoyance, preceded us as we climbed up the broad staircasethat curved to the left towards the landing. As we came up thelanding, we encountered a long, wide corridor leading to differentnumbered rooms with one door directly opposite another. All therooms in the Lodge had en-suite bathrooms.
Duringmy last visit, I had stayed in the last room by theright.
Theyoung man walked to the last room by the left with the number tag‘11’. He took out his key from his pocket and opened the door. Thenhe went in, closing it behind him.
Ayubadeposited my bag before my door with the number tag‘12’.
“Is there anything youneed?”
“No,” I replied, as I opened mydoor. “I’ll just take a bath and have some rest.”
“Dinner isserved at 6:00pm,” he said as he started to take hisleave.
“I’ll be down by then,” Isaid.
“Fine, now,” hereplied.
I metthe other two guests later in the evening at the dining table; anolder woman and her daughter. It was an unwritten rule in the Lodgethat single women had their accommodation downstairs.
The dining room was quite largeand with additional tables and chairs, could conveniently sit about 20 people. ButAyuba had only eight guests. I found myself flanked on either sideby the two women; whether this was a purposeful arrangement or acoincidence, I could not say. The mother, who introduced herself asMrs. Marshall, was on my right. Her daughter, Maria Marshall, satto my left. Directly opposite were Nagoth, Tonye and Philip. Ateither end of the table, sat Willie and John.
Mrs. Marshall was quite awoman. She walked around with the aid of crutches, which now laybeside her chair. Two features immediately struckyou,whenyou met her. First,her eyes. They were intense and round, reminding me of an owl.Secondly, there were her large protruding ears