An African Affair by Nina Darnton Read Free Book Online

eye.
    A contingent of military police was arriving. The leader was the officer she had encountered at the demonstration, the very man who had followed her. Could she pretend not to recognize him or the body?—he just might believe that a woman could be that stupid. She began to walk away from the corpse, just as the MPs swarmed into the garden.
    The officer strode purposefully toward her. He spoke sharply, dropping the pidgin he had used earlier.
    “You!” he barked. “What are you doing here?”
    “I was at a party at the American ambassador’s next door,” she said. “I was hoping to get some details, but I didn’t want to go near the body.” She pretended to shudder at the thought. She took out her notebook. “I was told he’s been hanged, right?” The officer just stared at her. “I wonder if this is the guy who’s been doing all those robberies in Ikoyi and Victoria Island?”
    The officer nodded slowly.
    “Maybe,” he said, less threateningly. “We don’t know anything yet. There will be an official statement tomorrow.”
    Lindsay jotted a few words in her notebook. “Thank you,” she said evenly, moving a little nearer to the house. “I better get back to the ambassador’s party now.” He continued to stare at her, but he allowed her to leave.
    She walked as fast as she could, trying to look inconspicuous, which was impossible under the circumstances. She just needed to get out of there before he changed his mind. Her sense that her identity as an American journalist would shield her had evaporated. The images were burned into her memory: the purple gash on the young man’s bludgeoned head, the red wound circling his neck. The authorities were undoubtedly trying to make it look as if he were just another victim of street justice, but she knew he was a protester, possibly a leader of the dissidents. She wondered just how big a triumph this murder was for the government.
    As she passed through the house, the steward came over to show her out. As they walked, he mumbled something she could hardly hear. She looked at him. He appeared angry, in contrast with his officious manner. He glanced around, then raised his voice ever so slightly.
    “That man no be robber. He be Babatunde Oladayo,” he said softly. He pronounced the name with emphasis, as though it were someone who might be known to her. Before she could respond, they reached the door and he said in a loud voice, “Good night, madam.”
    Babatunde Oladayo. Lindsay stopped to write the name in her notebook. As she passed the guards at the door, she saw Maureen trying to talk her way in. Lindsay caught her eye, shrugging her shoulders in mock sympathy.
    She had to return to the American ambassador’s to fetch her car. When she reached the house, the party was breaking up. Her colleagues had disappeared, except for Mike Vale, who was sitting at the bar. He offered her a drink and when she refused, he flipped open his notebook and asked her what she’d found. Talk about riding on other people’s coattails, she thought, but she filled him in with a few facts, though not The Next Step or the name of the man who had been killed. He asked how the victim had died. When she mentioned the burn marks on his throat, he quickly closed his notebook and went back to his drink.
    Lindsay moved outside, realizing she was scanning the stragglers for James. She spotted him across the parking lot, chatting up a pretty young secretary. She watched as he held the car door open for her, then she turned away. Dave Goren was in the driveway, his car keys in his hand.
    “Let me ask you something,” she said, catching up to him. “Does the name Babatunde Oladayo mean anything to you?”
    He raised his eyebrows. “You’re always all business, aren’t you?”
    “Right now—yes.”
    “Oladayo,” he said thoughtfully. “He’s a student opposition leader. They support Fakai, hate Olumide, and organize demonstrations. They make a lot of noise but they’re