Chief Inspector Gifty Quartey turned out to be a dark and beautiful woman shy of forty. She came in her sleek police sedan and her crisp uniform sigh a peaked cap.
We left the Manse in her sedan around seven o’clock after Nana Kojo had finished with his homework. I hovered in the backseat with Nana Kojo whilst the older gentleman sat in front with the policewoman.
“Is Mr. Samson Asante married?” Gifty asked as she drove through the dark street.
“No, but he has a girlfriend he’s been dating for about five years now,” I replied, and Nana Kojo told them.
“Does she stay with him?” Gifty persisted.
“Not that I know of,” I replied. “But I don’t really think so. He keeps odd hours a lot, not the usual practice of a man who needed to rush home to a woman.”
“Good,” Pastor Kofi said carefully. “Listen, Afia. This is how it usually works. You know, the dark amplifies the threat of evil. I don’t expect this to take long. We’ll speak to him, and then he will probably treat our words with disdain. They usually do. We’ll then leave the house on the pretext of leaving, but we’ll give him a card to call in case he changes his mind.”
Nana Kojo then giggled.
“And then the part I like best,” he said. “You will scare him a bit by moving things around. It changes their mind pronto!”
I smiled with anticipation, and soon we got to the plush residence of Lawyer Samson Asante.
It was in a respectable part of town. The land had belonged to me, but I had sold it to him to pay in instalments as he built; he still had about ten instalments payments to make.
Gifty parked the car and they got out.
She rang the doorbell and waited.
After a while later, there were footsteps behind the gate, and then Samson spoke.
“Who’s it, please?” he asked.
“Chief Inspector Gifty Quartey and Pastor Nana Kofi,” Gifty said quietly.
I glided through the gates and hovered beside Samson. He was wearing a pair of white shorts, singlet and slippers, and I could see the instant fear on his face as he looked at the closed gates and then licked his lips.
“What do you want, please?” he asked finally.
“Can we come in?” Gifty asked. “We want to have a discussion with you.”
“About what?” he asked, his voice getting coarse. “It is very late, you know. You can make an appointment and see me in the office tomorrow. I’m afraid I’m not in a position to talk to you!”
Oh, I wanted to slap him so hard, so bad, but they had warned me not to make a move until the right moment, and so I hovered beside him belligerently and breathed pure venom into his face.
“Look, this is for your own interest,” Pastor Kofi said gently. “You have angered Afia Ansah by destroying her Will and making a fake one with the connivance of Mr. Tony Wusu, her husband.”
Samson gasped now and took frantic steps away from the door, his face filled with terror.
“Go away!” Samson shrieked plaintively. “Go away or I’ll call the police! You can’t threaten me!”
“I am the police, young man,” Gifty said gently. “Listen, it is in your best interest to let us in!”
“No, never!” Samson said, his anger now taking over his fear. “I’m not letting you in. Go away!”
“Listen, Samson,” Pastor Kofi said calmly. “Afia’s spirit is angry with you, and she mean to do you harm. You have to let us in and you have to do the right thing otherwise this night will not end well for you. She’s in there with you now. We’ll wait here until you’re ready to see us!”
“That’s it, you mad men!” he said furiously. “Alright, fine, stand there! I’m calling the police right now!”
He turned away furiously and almost ran into the house, and I followed him closely. He went straight to the hall and picked up his phone from the centre table.
I moved my hand slowly and slapped the phone from his hand!
“Ei!” he cried as the phone flew from his hand and fell on the floor.
He stood like that, petrified, staring insanely at the phone lying on the carpet in front of him.
I bent slowly and picked up the phone, and he saw the phone rising by itself and hanging in the air.
“Ei!” he said again, taking a step back this time, and sweat was suddenly all over his face as he stared at the phone as if it was a living, breathing monster. I put the phone down carefully on the centre table, and then I hovered in front of him and stuck my forefingers into his ears.
“Ei, ei, ei, ei, cold fingers!” he moaned, and tears slowly fell down his face as he began to tremble. “Cold fingers. In my ears. Cooooold fiiiiingers in my eeeeeaaaars!”
I was expecting him to flee or scream, but he was so petrified that he just stood absolutely still, his eyes bulging out of his sockets.
I could not resist it any longer. My fury was beyond control now, and I slapped him across the right cheek!
The slap lifted him up and slammed him down hard on the settee behind him, and I saw blood oozing out of his nostrils and lips by the force of the slap.
“A-A-Afi-Afia!” he moaned and dropped to his knees, trembling rather badly, and then he raised supplicatory hands into the air. “Af-Af-Afia…I be-be-beg y-you, Af-Af-Afia! Ha-ha-have mer-mer-mer-cy oh jajajaja baagaja bajaa bafaa manna taanaa mee!”
He was so petrified that he began jabbering, his words not making sense, and then the ultimate humiliation…
His bladder loosened up, and warm urine spurted rather pathetically down his shorts. I moved back from him, and then I blew around his living room, pushing the chairs around and tearing the framed photos from the walls. I ripped his television off its stand and crashed his sound systems and game consoles!
And all along he stayed in the settee where my slap had landed him, and he wept pathetically and cringed. He spoke incoherently, and jabbered in a nonsense manner, and then finally he curled up on the floor and just stared, never blinking an eye.
It occurred to me that his fear was driving him into shock and even madness, and so I stopped. To see him so messed-up really assuaged my fury, and I sat down beside him.
His phone rang, and I saw that it was a call from Gifty.
I picked up the phone, and when he saw it hanging in the air again, it finally galvanised him into action. He let out a hideous bleat of a scream and fled frantically toward the door. He tore the front door open and fell down heavily as he rushed to the gates.
“Help me, help me, helpmehelpmehelpme!”he jabbered madly.
“Samson, Samson, keep calm, keep calm, we’re here to help,” Pastor Kofi said kindly. “Please, you’re out of danger now. Please open the door!”
He was weeping pathetically as his trembling fingers opened the padlock, and when the gate opened, he tried to flee outside, but Gifty held him tightly.
He struggled fiercely, trying to scream now. I put my icy fingers on his neck, and he froze up again, going as still as a statue!
“Aaaowww, Afia is holding my neck!” he whispered and began to weep pitifully. “Afia is holding my neck! Aaaawoow, my neck, my neck, Afia has my neck!”
“It is okay, you’re okay,” Pastor Kofi said gently. “Afia, please leave his neck.”
And I let go of his neck.
That calmed him up a bit, and she grabbed the pastor and spoke frantically.Visit www.pobsonline.com for more amazing stories
“Please, tell her not to harm me, please, I’m sorry. Tell her I’m sorry, I’ll do everything. I’m sorry! Tell her to leave me. Don’t hurt me Afia.”
And he jabbered on and on, and Nana Kojo began to giggle, and even as his grandfather told him to keep quiet he still giggled, unable to stop.
And so, eventually, they convinced him to go inside.
The pastor had to accompany him to his bedroom to change into clean clothes, and then he came back and took us to his study.
Luckily, he had both the fake Will and the old one in his briefcase. They supervised him as I dictated a new Will, and he calmly filled in all the documents and wrote it down.
He appeared calm enough, but when I picked up the pen and he saw the pen hanging in the air, and signing on the dotted lines by itself, that coward simple keeled forward and fainted on top of his desk!
And so we had the two old Wills, and the new one I had dictated, leaving everything to my son, with Korku Dogbe acting as a supervisory parent. I gave my parents their share, and named them as beneficiaries of the new building and the car.
I cut off Tony Wusu completely.
They pushed Samson back in the swivel chair and covered him with a cloth, and then we left the house with all the documents, which we had previously agreed to send to my parents the next morning.
I did not leave with them, though.
We travelled for a while, and then I blasted out of the car.
“Hey, where are you going to?” Nana Kojo shouted in alarm, but I did not wait to answer him because I knew they might not approve of what I planned to do next.
First, I returned to Samson’s house just in time to see him driving out of his own house, speeding into the night.
Somehow, I did not think Samson Asante would ever be able to stay in his own house again after that night.
I moved on, gliding with ecstasy into the night sky…
There was one more call to make before the morning.
One particularly good call…
To be continued