You were there the night they killed Dimba Salazar. You saw as the bullet catapulted into his skull and he fell on the stage. Right before your eyes! You saw as blood swam out of his fore head and formed an unsightly puddle all over the stage. You saw as life dripped from his eyes, his cold palms twitching repeatedly until his heart was frozen by the frosty kiss of untimely death. All around you, people screamed and ran helter-skelter for their dear lives. But you just stood there, looking at the lifeless body of the king of Jazz music. You turned around and saw a man holding a sniper through a window. He saw you and immediately fled. But you did nothing.
After a while, you eventually overcame the shock and walked out of the concert arena. While others were running around mad, you walked out. Three weeks before then, you had heard on the news that the fifty-year-old jazz singer, Dimba Salazar was coming off retirement for two years during this period, he had intended to release two albums and go on a world tour. You were excited. Of course, you had to be. Dimba was the greatest legend in jazz music. You and all the other kids in the whole neighborhood grew up listening to his classics like “Grab Your Lovah”, “Groove Away”, “Paper Politics” and “I Have No President”. Dimba had always been a huge critic of the country’s corrupt government. They had forced him into retirement after secretly sabotaging his career. He decided to come back quickly so as to end his career on a high note. But someone from somewhere had just gunned him down. Your childhood icon was killed right before your eyes.
You walked out of the arena and drove speedily to your house. Senwa asked you what was going on. You ignored her and went straight into the bathroom where you locked yourself up. You splashed water onto your face and spat into the toilet. You saw the thick saliva roll down your lips and burst into tiny bubbles just before hitting the brown water. Senwa was knocking on the door now. Senwa, Your caring wife, She begged you to open the door and talk to her. She left and came back an hour later after she had probably seen what happened in the news. She was sobbing and she told you visitors had arrived for you
“Tell them to go. I don’t want to see anyone!”
“They are policemen.”
“What?” You were not sure what was going on.
“There are policemen in our house. Makah”, your wife spoke amidst tears. “What did you do?”
You barged the door open and pushed her aside. In the sitting room were three men. Two dressed in police uniforms and the last, in a three-piece suit. They were standing and they motioned to you to take a seat, as if they were not the guests. You sat down and the one in suit began to speak before you could ask them what they wanted.
“I am Detective James Asareme. I am here to discuss with you about the shooting that occurred at the Churchill Arena earlier this evening.”
“I am not sure I understand you.” As if you were stung by a lie-bee, you began with lies.
“Oh! I think you do. Here’s a picture of you when Mr. Dimba Salazar was gunned down. You were in the front row of the show.”
“I don’t remember being there.” You did.
“Let me refresh your memory then, sir. Two hours ago, you went to a Dimba Salazar concert and you sat in front. While he was performing “I Have No President”, a gunshot was fired and he fell to the ground instantly. Do you remember now?”
“Partially” You remembered completely.
“According to an eye-witness, you saw the shooter.”
“I didn’t see anybody.” You did see the killer!
“All right, what about this? We have three suspects.” He whipped out a file and brought out three mug shots of different men. “Is any of them the killer?”
“I don’t think so.” One of them was.
“Sir, do you not remember anything?” Detective Asareme seemed to be getting angrier now.
“No, I don’t.” But you remembered everything well.
“May be it’s the effect of the shock.” Senwa came to your defence.
“Perhaps you should let the shock wear off for a couple of days.”
“We will be back tomorrow, sir.” Detective Asareme said curtly and walked briskly out, flanked by the two pistol-wielding police men. Just before stepping out, he turned back. “I want you to know that you could be in danger. If you indeed saw the culprit, he would try to silence you. All you have to do is tell us the truth.”
“I told you all I know.” We both know you told him only lies. He was soon out of your house.
Senwa offered you a cup of coffee and asked you to tell her the truth. “Who was it?”
“It was my brother.” You told her it was me. You revealed the secret you were never supposed to. You forgot to hold your silly tongue!
