Murder At Midnight
he walked towards Maria, who I now realised hadbeen waiting for him. I felt jealous all over again.“You’re set?”Maria asked him, reaching out her manicured, left hand to adjust his shirt collar. Thatsimple act affected me more than I could ever haveimaginedpossible. Iwished it was my collar that was being adjusted by herfingers.
“Yes,” repliedNagoth.
“Let’s go then,” said Maria.“But I’m walking with you only part of the way. I have some otherthings planned for today.”
“Okay,”replied Nagoth. Handin hand, still talking, they walked out of the lounge into themorning sunshine. Like a married couple.
I took the writing materialsback to my room and settled down to begin writing. About an hourlater, I heard hushed voices coming from under the shady trees. Itwas Maria and her mother. At first, I did not pay any attention towhat they were saying. Their voices gradually rose astheirtempers flared.That was when I realised that they were actually quarrelling. So, Igot up and peered through the curtain.
“I forbid you to see that man!”said Mrs. Marshall, in a stern voice.
“You cannot dothat,” replied Maria, rising to her feet in anger. “I’m agrown womanand I have a rightto see whomever I wish to!”
“That man is no good for you!”shouted Mrs. Marshall. “I can see through his charade. He is afraudster!”
“What do you know about him?”asked Maria. “I like him and I will see him every second of the dayif I want to!” Maria's temper matched her mother's.
“He is no goodfor you! I’m ordering you to stop going to hisroom.”
“I’ll not have you talk to melike this. I’m not a child.”
“You’re still a child to me. I’myour mother and I’ll tell you what is right for you. I can seethings from afar while sitting, which you can’t see even standing.I will have a word with him when he comes back.”
“If you say anything to him,I’ll never speak to you again! You’re not my mother! You arenothing to me! I hate you!” screamed Maria and she ran off, downthe path.
“Come backhere!” shouted Mrs. Marshall. “I said come back here, you! I have amind to kill you! Worthless child!” she tried to rise to her feetbut heavily sat back again. She had a murderous glint in hereyes.
Shesuddenly looked up at my window. I was not sure if she could seeme. I hastily retreated into the room.
“Good morning, Mr. Simpson,” shecalled out. “Nice view from up there, isn’t it?”
I did not answer her. The womanwas truly a witch. But I could not help wondering which man she didnot want Maria to hang out with. Was it Nagoth whom she treatedalmost like a son? Or some other man?
CHAPTERFOUR
A HYPOTHETICAL STORY
It was a Friday afternoon. A dusty hazehung heavily over Obudu. I was in my room and had almost finished reading thenovel I'dborrowed from John. I felt a cool, soothing breeze making its way into the room, throughthe open windows. I could also hear Mrs. Marshall and John talkingbelow, onthe wooden chairs.
John said something that I didnot quite catch and Mrs. Marshall laughed. I think it was the firsttime I had heard her laugh. Her laughter was rich, deep and quiteinfectious. She seemed happy. Leaving the novel on the table, Iwalked over to look down at them. Mrs. Marshall was knitting andhad balls of thread of different colours. John was sitting close toher and holding one of her crutches in his hands.
Justthen, Philip came down the path towards them. He was whistling. Hehad both hands in his pockets and his dark glasses on.
“Ma’am,” he said coming to wherethey sat. “How come you never give those fingers abreak?”
“I don’t hear them complaining,”replied Mrs. Marshall with a smile, as she continuedknitting.
“I’ll be damned!” said Philip.“But is this the same cap that you have been making all thistime?”
“No, I have finished twoalready.”
“But what’s the lowdown with thecaps?” asked Philip.
Mrs.Marshall stared at him, her round eyes puzzled.
“I mean, what do you do with thecaps?” explained Philip.
“Well,” said Mrs. Marshall. “Thelow down is that knitting keeps me busy and if anyone is interestedin buying, of course, I will sell. But most times I just give themout.”
“I get the scope,” said Philipnodding his head. “Alright, I'm off.” He turned to go.
“Where exactly are you off to?”inquired Mrs. Marshall.
“Oh, I’m justgoing to circulate the neighbourhood,” replied Philip. I could not help smiling at hisjaunty steps.
“Quite a character,” said John.“That pair of jeans could do with some washing, though.”
“Oh yes, he isquite a character,” agreed Mrs. Marshall. “I heard he spent twoyears in a drug rehabilitation centre. He was into hard drugs andthey made him suffer sudden, violent outbursts. During the episodes, he would attackthose around him. He was discharged some monthsago.”
“A pity,” said John. “But howdid you get to hear of this, Mrs. Marshall?”
“I always keep my ears open,John.”
“You seem to have something onyour mind, Mr. Simpson,” Mrs. Marshall remarked that evening, as Iwalked past the wooden chairs.
“Good evening, Mrs. Marshall,” Isaid.
To be frank, I had so much onmy mind, that I would have passed without noticing that she wasthere. I was thinking of Maria and her budding relationshipwith Nagoth. Istill felt bad about it.
“I’ve nothing on my mind,” Ireplied.
“Is that so?” She was staring atme with those owlish eyes, which now looked amused. “But you seemdistant these days and you keep staring at my daughter in a funnyway.” I was startled.
“I’ve no ideawhat you are talking about,” I said as I stumbled over an exposedroot on the ground and just managed to avoid falling.
“Your eyes,Mr. Simpson, light up like a Christmas tree when you seeMaria.Butjust as suddenly,you become morose. Tell me,” she said, lowering her head andspeaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “Are you falling in love withher?”
I saw the futility in lying toMrs. Marshall. She was telepathic, for sure.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Marshall. Ifeel a certain tenderness towards her, but it seems that she is inlove with someone else.”
“With who?” asked Mrs. Marshallher eyes, narrowing to slits.
“But you must know of herrelationship with Nagoth,” I said.
“Oh, Nagoth,”said