“Officer Kamson, as I briefed you on the phone, I want this man, my husband, taken away and questioned. I have reason to believe he is involved in the disappearance of my former housemaid. I think he might have harmed her. Take him with you to your station and detain him!”
“Do you have any evidence of your allegations, Madam Florence?” Officer Kamson asks.
The letter! I shout in my head, pressing my nose against the glass of the door so hard, I am fearing it will crack any moment now. Tell the police about Rebecca’s letter.
“Come on, Florence,” Big Daddy says. “This is just ridiculous. What do you think I did with Rebecca? Of all people, Rebecca? So what if she is missing? She could have run away!” He turns to the police officer. “Officer Kamson, listen to me. I swear to the god of my fathers that I do not know anything about that girl’s disappearance. I have my weaknesses, but to cause a girl to disappear? Why would I do that?”
“Shut your mouth!” Big Madam’s shout is so sharp, it makes everybody jump, including me and Kofi. Kofi even bangs his head on the glass door, but before anybody inside can turn to look at us, Big Madam says: “Why don’t you tell Officer Kamson about the affair you’ve been having with my close friend Caroline Bankole?”
The silence, it falls like a sudden storm, a thunder with no boom.
Big Madam’s breathing in and out is the only noise for a long, long moment until one of the two sisters falls inside the sofa and puts her hand on her head. “God forbid. This is the devil at work.”
“The devil, my foot,” Kofi whispers. “The devil, my left testicle.”
“Madam Florence.” Officer Kamson shifts from one foot to the other. “I understand you are upset with your husband, rightly so. But you invited the Nigeria Police Force here for a reason. Why do you think your husband might have a hand in Rebecca’s disappearance? Housemaids are known to jump from employer to employer, aren’t they? As far as we are aware, she hasn’t been reported missing. And”—he clears his throat—“if you suspect she was having an affair with your husband before she disappeared, ma’am, then it would make sense to invite you both for questioning.”
“Me?” Big Madam says as her hands fly to her chest. “Did your boss not tell you about me before he sent you here? I am telling you to take my husband away and detain him and you are talking about investigating me. Questioning me. You must be crazy!”
“Florence, please,” Big Daddy says, and everybody turns to look at him. He drops to his knees in front of Big Madam. “Please ask Officer Kamson to go away so you and I can talk about this Caroline thing, man to wife. It was a big mistake, a terrible, terrible mistake. I can explain everything.”
Big Madam shakes her head and wipes her face with the edge of her boubou.
“Please,” Big Daddy’s sister says, “let us put this issue about Rebecca going missing to one side so that our brother can move back home. Look at him, on his knees! He is suffering enough as it is. He has nowhere to live. Please, Florence, take him back. Tomorrow, we will gather everybody and have a family meeting to discuss the other matter.”
Big Madam pushes out a deep breath. She seems like she is losing the fight of life, and I want to jump and bang the door and tell her to show them the letter from Rebecca. To tell them about me. But Kofi, he can sense my jumping spirit, my angry soul, and he presses a hand on my hand, as if to say, Slow it, Adunni. Take it slow.
“You can go, Officer,” Big Madam says with a low, quiet voice. “I think . . . I will be in touch when we need you. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Turning to Big Daddy, she says, “Chief, I never want to see you in my house ever again. Abu will pack your things. Get them from him at the gate. Do not forget to hand him my car keys.”
Officer Kamson’s cough breaks the second shocked silence. “I think I will, er, take my leave,” he says with a quick salute. “Please remember that we are here to serve. I hope you will resolve what appears to be a mere domestic matter. Call us when there is something to investigate.”
I cannot let the police man be going away without the letter, without knowing what happened to Rebecca, if they will ever find her, or if she is dead. No. No. No.
“No!” I say this inside my head, but I think I mistake and press one remote-control to loud my voice because my voice is not inside my head really, it is outside of everywhere and filling the whole kitchen, and all the shadows in the parlor are turning to look at the door, at the place where me and Kofi are standing, where I am banging the glass of the door with my two fists, and where Kofi is using his hand to cover my mouth as he is dragging me away from behind the door.
* * *
Outside, in the early-morning sun, I am sitting on a stone in the garden. My eyes keep filling with tears that is choking my throat and making me to cough. I was not able to fight for Khadija, and now I am not fighting for even Rebecca. It crushes me to know that I have so much power with the letter, but no power at all if Big Madam is not giving the letter to the police. I am not sure how long I am staying like that, crying sore, until Kofi comes outside.
“Chale, you are still crying?” he says. “I can bet on my new house in Kumasi that Big Daddy will be back. It will take a lot of begging on his part, but she will take him back one day because she needs him more than he needs her. Is it not sad that, in this part of our world, a woman’s achievements can be reduced to nothing if she is not married? Anyway, get up. You are needed.”
“Needed where?” I ask, looking at him with eyes swollen and sore of pain from too much crying.
“Big Madam wants you,” he says. “She’s in her reception.”
“What does she want me for?” I ask, but Kofi shrugs.
“She’s in a foul mood. Good luck.”
As I wipe my face and enter the kitchen, my phone vibrates in my chest. I pluck it out to peep it quick: a text message from Ms. Tia that seem like it been waiting there for nearly one hour:
Adunni!! You got in!!
You won a place in the scheme!
I am not waiting ONE MORE DAY!
I will fight Florence if I have to.
I am coming to get you now!!
Pack your stuff.
xx
I stand there, in the middle of the kitchen, my back to Kofi as he is putting plates and spoons into the dishwasher with a happy whistle, as he is busying himself with work, forgetting about Adunni and all her troubles.
I read the text message again: with my voice trapped inside of my chest, a whisper in a container, with my eyes wide-open; and then with my eyes closed inside a deep darkness, the words running bright, a ribbon of fire, of hope.