Detective Tobi got out of his car and walked toward the LIPD building, his ever-present assistant by his side, following like a faithful dog. Parking out here was supposed to be illegal, since the actual parking lot was inside the premises, but with the media people clustered outside, it seemed as if the building had been locked down. Members of the press packed the entrance with their microphones and cameramen, demanding a few minutes with the head detective.
He, on the other hand, hated things like these, and as he walked through them, he waved the reporters off, walking faster to reach the gate. He was about to knock on the gate when it opened. Immediately— and predictably —the media people tried to rush through, but the gate that opened was the smaller one meant for people, not the bigger one meant for cars, so it wasn’t difficult for the officers manning it to keep them and their cameras out without using force.
Someone moved through the officers and came out. It was Chief Abdul Rikau, a slightly obese man in his late 50s with a round belly that showed through his uniform. The Chief himself. Chief Rikau served as LIPD’s Chief of Police.
The detective saluted him and the Chief eased him with a wave of his hand. His assistant, Efe, looked back at him in unspoken question. She looked lost with the press shoving microphones into all their faces and shouting questions all around them. Efe looked as if a few hours sleep would do her good. Resuming work by five a.m. and seeing traumatizing crime scenes that featured dead people wasn’t a job meant for office assistants, obviously.
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“Good morning sir,” Efe greeted the Chief. She shouldn’t have bothered, because with all the shouting around them, the Chief didn’t hear.
Tobi gestured for her to go on through the gate while it was still open as the Chief held him by the elbow and dragged more than led him away from the media sharks. Chief Rikau had a car of his own, a Nissan Pathfinder, as well as a police-appointed driver, and the reason he wasn’t been driven in it right now could only be because they couldn’t risk opening the gates wide and let at least half of the people outside scramble their way in.
The head of the whole department would have to take public transport, and by the expression he wore, Detective Akano could safely guess he wasn’t happy about it.
The Chief looked at the detective’s car as he walked past it, still holding him by the elbow. Tobi coudn’t tell whether he was considering pressing charges or taking the keys and driving it where he wanted to go.
They were almost at the noisy Adeola Odeku junction when before they stopped.
“They said there was a homicide this morning,” he began, all professional and cool courtesy.
“Yes sir, by around three or four in the morning. I have already been down to the crime scene personally. Our Crime Scene Investigation people are rounding up processing it as we speak.” This didn’t seem like the right time to add that he had been taken out of his bed at home and forced to resume work almost four hours early.
The Chief looked past him to the press still gathered outside the gate. “Why are they many like this today, Tobi?” he growled. “People die everyday. Why is this woman special? Do you know anything about her yet?”
