RUNS GIRL=EPISODE 6
I had barely gotten to my room when my phone began to ring.
I looked at the caller and it was the receptionist at Hilly Zander guest house.
Instantly, my heart skipped 3beats and my breath rhythm increased.
The reason why she was calling me was clear to me and this added to my anxiety.
But then I had to pick or else I would be tagged the chief suspect without any
waste of time.
With trembling hands I picked the call.
“Hello,” I said on picking.
“Yes, am I speaking with Cindy?” The female voice at the other end of the line
asked.
“Yes, you are,” I replied.
“What did you do to Alhaji? Alhaji was found dead this morning after you had left.
What did you do to him?” She asked nearly precipitating a spontaneous cardiac
arrest in me.
I nearly slumped on hearing the receptionist’s question but to God be the glory I
didn’t.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I replied with all the courage my
failing heart could muster.
“Please can you come over to Hilly Zander guest house?” She asked sending my
already weakened heart beating anew.
“Sorry I’m not in town,” I lied nervously.
There was no way I could go back to that guest house for any reason not to talk of
now that a murder case was involved.
“The best thing you can do for yourself and this guest house,” the receptionist
continued. “is to bundle yourself back to this place and clarify things or risk
turning yourself into a fugitive. Alhaji came in here healthy and hearty till this
morning.”
“The Alhaji was sleeping when I left,” I countered defending myself. “I don’t know
what you’re talking about and I’m currently not in town.”
Angrily, the receptionist ended the call.
It was obvious that the guest house was in big trouble as the deceased person
was no small individual.
Imagine a senator of the federal republic of____found dead in a guest house?
The case was indeed no small case and the guest house was bound to answer for
it.
No wonder they wanted me at all cost.
But then truth be told, I didn’t kill Alhaji and all of you can bear me witness.
But all the same I wasn’t going anywhere.
As far as I’m concerned, I was out of town and out of sight.
The police arrested all members of the hotel management including the manager.
They also sent Alhaji’s body to a well known hospital for autopsy.
News was sent to the media about a wanted prostitute named Cindy.
Luckily for me, my real name wasn’t Cindy so I only had my picture to contend
with.
Once or twice some friends called to confirm whether I was the one been shown
all over the news in connection to the murder of one reputable senator.
I strongly denied being the one and waved aside the picture as mere resemblance.
Even my roommate Stella was shocked about the whole development.
My only saving grace was that the name all over the news was Cindy not Linda.
Funny enough when the autopsy result of the dead Alhaji came out, it showed that
the Alhaji had died of circulatory arrest resulting from the complications of his
intake of one locally made aphrodisiac known as buruntashi.
This cleared both the hotel management and “I” of the crime but the news
nonetheless spread all over the country that a senator had died in a guest house
after a marathon s€x session with a prostitute after taking a locally made
aphrodisiac they called buruntashi.
It took me some months to recover from Alhaji Jubril’s experience.
It wasn’t easy at all for me.
To imagine that I had laid side by side with a corpse till daybreak was traumatic on
its own.
What if the ghost had strangled me to death? What story would I have narrated to
God in judgement?
The experience reminded me of how long ago I last went to church.
One thing about living a reckless life is that it has a way of luring you away from
God.
You start avoiding the things of God probably because you feel so dirty and
unworthy to be in His presence.
It had been months I last went to church and somehow I felt I needed a come
back.
The sunday 3weeks after Alhaji Jubril’s saga died down, I went to church for the
first time in 9months.
My parents had brought me up the christian way and taught me all the things I
needed to know about my christian faith.
My parents were anglicans and we all went to church together. We were 7 in our
family – 3girls and 4boys. I was the first child and my younger ones looked up to
me for direction.
As a result, I had so much responsibilities on my shoulders so my parents were
very strict and thorough with me.
The strictness doubled when I reached puberty and started seeing my period.
My mum in particular was always on my neck hammering into my ears how
wicked and deadly men were.
“Its true that we are not all that buoyant,” she would said to me. “But then never
accept any favour from any boy or man no matter who. Infact anywhere you see
them start running.”
I nodded my head severally each time she dished out this piece of advice.
Her strictness even increased my curiosity to find out what it was about men that
was so deadly.
I was barely seventeen when I lost my virginity to one of our street boys whom I
loved so much and was very nice to me.
I had felt severe pain that very first time he thrust his young p€n!s into my wet
punni but that was all about that. Every other thing that followed was pleasurable.
When I got admission into the university to study accountancy, all the strictness
and harshness from my parents dramatically reduced and I began to notice a new
found respect they had towards me.
But all that was now in the past.
The pastor’s sermon that sunday was very touching and it was asif the whole talk
was directed at me.
I felt so dirty and guilty inside but nonetheless man and woman had got to survive
and my own case wasn’t
Watch ot for 7