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Mr and Mrs Olisakwe were inconsolable when I and some other girls from the hostel went to their house. I have never seen a man cry in my life, Mr Olisakwe’s shoulder was shaking furiously as he further sank in his sorrows. Mrs Olisakwe stared forlorn, sighing heavily from time to time.
Natasha was her mum’s carbon copy her mum has a birth mark on the nose too, same place Natasha had hers, Farida used to make fun of it then, she called it ‘ugly mole’ while Natasha would reply with ‘beauty spot’.
We were leaving her house when the Detectives assigned to Natasha’s case arrived, one is a stocky man, he should be in his early 40s or late 50s and the other is a slender woman whose age I could not decipher.
They were walking briskly towards the house but stopped in their tracks when they saw us. They walked leisurely towards us, the lady walked tall like someone who is sure of herself, she seemed really sure of herself. The man walked in measured steps but confidence and intelligence was written all over his face.
” Good afternoon ladies, I am Detective Diya and here is my partner Detective Isioma” the male detective smile softly as he said this. We all replied their greetings and made to leave but we were stopped by them.
” Ladies, we would need few minutes of your time” the female detective said.
We were led into Natasha’s parents waiting room, apparently they know their house so well now. There is a picture Natasha took with her parents and sisters at the beach. I couldn’t bear to look at it. The female detective raised her brows and stared fixed at me.
We were all questioned but I was asked to come to the police station the next day, according to them I was the last person that saw her alive, I wanted to mention the note I received but I thought against it. I have heard of detectives pinning crimes on people. We were allowed to go when they were through with their questions.
Natasha’s big sister was being consoled by her Filipino husband, they met when she was studying for her Masters in England. I still remember teasing Natasha about what their baby would look like.
My phone won’t stop ringing, my mother was scared to the bones when she heard of the murder and she asked repeatedly if I wasn’t in anyway involved with “that Natasha girl”. I was so pissed and chided her over her insensitivity, after assuring her that all was well, she prayed and promised to call the next day.
Heavy security presence was at the hostel when we got there, parents were mounting pressures on the school, they want the school to be closed for some time but the Vice Chancellor refused stating exams is fast approaching and can not be postponed. The school’s security was thus beefed up.
Everybody in the hostel cross check and make sure their doors are locked at night, people now sleep in fives and fours instead of the normal twos. I have also abandoned my room for Ese’s room.
I was still lost in thoughts over all that has happened when my phone rang again, I hissed thinking it was my mother, Farhan’s name flashed on the screen instead.
” Hello” I said in a weak voice
” Lanre, Farida is missing” intense sorrow and hopelessness was packed into the four words he uttered.
” what! h-hhhh-have you tried her number” I asked, I was thinking of the worst already.
” It has been switched off since yesterday” he mumbled.
I swallowed deeply, wondering where Farida would have gone to when we are all supposed to be mourning the loss of her dear friend. Then it dawned on me.
Farida was nowhere to be seen when we found Natasha’s body.