Chapter 2: The Client and the Trap

4

As I dey wait, my phone vibrate small.

Person don send me WhatsApp message.

I bring out my phone small small, check.

Na my guy Musa:

"Where you dey work today? You see any better client? Abeg, run me one or two."

Musa na my padi for this work. We dey share target sometimes.

If one block get plenty flat, we fit run am together.

If the work too much, I dey call Musa.

I reply quick:

"Omo, wahala dey—the owner don come house, I dey hide inside."

Musa reply sharp:

"Dem catch you?"

"No o, I dey inside wardrobe. She never see me."

I use my phone snap picture through the small space for wardrobe, send am to Musa.

I peek small, see her shadow pass, my hand dey shake as I type.

"This your client fine o. You no dey reason to carry both money and babe?"

"You dey craze. Abeg, help me. Find way make she commot."

I send am the woman address.

"Omo, e serious. I go buy you malt tonight."

Musa reply, "I dey come," then quiet.

The woman throw away the apple wey she never finish.

She waka go wine cabinet, carry two wine glass, pour two glass of red wine.

Her face dey calm, but her eye sharp like blade.

I freeze—why two glass?

I see as she pour sleeping pills inside one glass.

Full bottle of sleeping pills o.

She drop both glasses for table, check her wristwatch.

E be like say she dey wait for person.

As my phone dey vibrate, the sound nearly make me shout. I dey press the thing quick, put am on silent. For this kain risky business, na only person wey dey craze dey on phone for operation, but today, na only God fit help me. Musa wahala na another story, he fit enter anywhere, anyhow, no dey fear. As I dey watch the woman, my mind dey turn—who she dey wait for? The way she dey move, e resemble person wey get plan. My eyes dey shine, dey wait make anything wey wan happen, happen.

5

Na that time, I hear knock for door.

I dey reason whether na Musa.

But e no fit reach here so fast.

The woman look the door, pause for two seconds,

then waka go open am.

Na one middle-aged man dey there—no be Musa.

He hold bouquet of roses, dey smile.

"Ngozi, you don wait long?"

He give her the flowers, she just blush, carry am enter.

"Come inside, I just buy new red wine. Taste am."

She drag am in, lock door with key.

They waka together reach table,

she give am the glass wey get sleeping pills.

The man drink am finish, begin touch her anyhow.

Me, I dey wardrobe, my mind just dey turn.

Na small stealing I come do.

Now see as e be.

Wetin shock me pass, na say she put something for the drink.

If kasala burst, I go turn witness for murder.

I dey try balance myself for inside this small wardrobe, my leg dey pain me. The tension dey my belly. The way the man dey laugh, dey rub her arm, I dey reason whether I don jam jazz woman or cultist. Lagos dey mad, but this kain mad dey different. As I watch the scene from my small space, my prayer na say make the man no just collapse inside room, because that one fit cause wahala wey pass wetin my papa see for Biafra war. I dey bite my tongue make I no curse aloud.

6

I no even know how long e take, but the man soon faint.

The woman drag one big plastic basin from kitchen.

The basin big reach to carry person.

She put the basin for front of bed, just before my wardrobe.

She carry the man dump inside, pull all him cloth.

Wetin make my body cold be say,

she carry electric saw and kitchen knife.

Wetin she do next, my eyes no go forget till I die.

Right before me, she cut the man to pieces.

The sound of the saw loud like molue horn for my ear.

Blood full everywhere for the basin, I wan vomit.

...

She pack the small small body parts inside black nylon,

then dey carry am go put inside freezer for balcony—the type wey people dey use store fish for market.

At this point, I no send again—I just wan run.

But wahala be say, wardrobe door don jam. No matter how I push, e no gree open.

My spirit nearly comot my body. I dey tremble, sweat dey drip from my forehead reach my singlet. The whole house dey smell like iron and that chemical wey dey hospital. My teeth dey clench, my throat dey dry. My head dey knock as the electric saw dey grind—see as human being dey cut another human like goat for Sallah. For that moment, I swear, I nearly cry. My mind dey race—who go believe say na me be the innocent for this kain setting? Even police go reason say I dey involved. My only hope na to disappear before morning. But the wardrobe dey do me strong thing. I try use my back push am small—nothing. I even whisper, “Blood of Jesus,” but door still stiff. I fit feel my own heartbeat dey scatter like drum for masquerade festival. Chineke!