[Story ] Paradox Of Abel …Part 55
Daniel held up his hand as if to shield a blow, “Wait-wait, this is absolutely confusing. Why the writer?”
“Has you battery begin to lose power already? Have you forgotten what the lawyer said so soon?”
Daniel was considerably mortified at this outrageous epithet.
“The lawyer said a lot of things.”
He replied grimly.
“According to him—the lawyer, I mean—the latest will states that twenty percent of the deceased’s property is to be shared between David and his brother, Gabriel.”
“You mean their real motive is to have the whole twenty percent for themselves, with Gabriel out of the way?”
“And Abel was murdered so that his share would be distributed among the rest of the surviving family members. And the note, the note could be implicating only one person among the family members.”
He stopped.
“Who?” Daniel asked anxiously.
“Take a wild guess.”
“Ruth Brown?”
“On the contrary, it’s Vera.”
“Who is Vera?”
Lot stared at him again, “I think you know who Vera is, Famous.”
Then he remembered. Vera! He remembered Esther claiming to know Remi as Vera. He stood up instantly, sweating.
“Why would he want to do that?”
“To have another member of the family out of the way. He knew that if Remi was accused of committing the crimes and got arrested, this would be too devastating for Ruth. Knowing that she had no other child except Remi might subject her to commit suicide. Her daughter is the only flicker of light in her existence; she never shows it, but everyone knows and after killing herself, the twenty percent would wholly become Esther’s—who would become the fourth and last victim among the family, excluding Jamal. In the end, David and his wife would inherit everything through evil but systematic plots.”
“They have to be stopped now!”
“We are powerless about that, we’ve got no evidence against them, Famous. Besides, my explanations are only plausible but improbable. I was speaking on merely speculative grounds—there’s nothing to back up my suppositions. They could actually be innocent. In fact, a part of me believes they are innocent, one of them at least. We’ve still got evidences to gather and more suspects to interview. If the V was actually referring to Vera, then Remi could as well be the criminal. To get to the bottom of this case, I must become like Edison who reportedly tested hundreds of materials before finding a filament that worked in his incandescent lamp.”
“I strongly believe Remi is not the criminal. We must be very careful about this investigation so as not to slip on the way and accuse the wrong person.” Daniel looked at his superior’s face and said, “You know what I’m talking about, sir.”
“This case is more complicated than the initial. Everyone in this case has a motive for murder, and out of the multitude must we pick the criminal—it could be anybody, it could even be Gabriel Malik.”
“I can tell you two reasons why it cannot be the writer who committed the crimes.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Crime writers are, as a rule, not bloodthirsty people. They avoid physical violence because their murderous feelings are efficiently blown off in print as to have little energy left for boiling up in action.
And they are also accustomed to the idea that murders are made to be detected that they feel a wholesome reluctance to put their criminal theories into practice. They don’t have the time for committing crimes because they are mostly engaged in earning their bread and butter like reasonable citizens.”
“You gave me more than two reasons. But you should likewise know that not all crimes are solved. Take the murders of Dele Giwa and Funsho Williams for instance, D.B. Cooper wasn’t caught in his free fall robbery since November 24, 1971. And most writers of crime fiction believe that they can get away with crimes if they put their minds to it. I’ve encountered a writer who claimed, after being caught defiling a little girl, to be working on the research of a book he was writing. They all hide under the veil of naughty research.”
“Have you read any of Ariel’s books?”
“I’ve read two of his books between yesterday and today. How a writer thinks is revealed plainly in his books. From reading Ariel’s works, I can correctly guess how his mind works.”
“And do you think he’s one who is capable of committing patricide?”
“He’s capable of committing genocide. His [i]Brick of Jericho[/i] reveals how crimes could be committed without little possibility of the criminal being discovered. The criminal was later caught in the sequel [i]Babylon[/i] which was due to the inconspicuous errors left behind from its immediate prequel. I don’t fancy reading story books but I confess enjoying those two books; they match my psychological temperament. The red herrings are quite convincing and the whodunit superbly portrayed. It was a nice piece of work he did in writing the two books. His third book, albeit incomplete, is quite different from the first two; it it Romance. But which writer in his right mind would writer about a writer who writes about another writer?”
“You surprise me, sir. I’ve never known you as a hero worshipper. You’re the kind who sees through humbug. You don’t take anyone at their own or the world’s valuation; you take them at your own valuation. You’re beginning to sound as though Ariel is a superhuman just because he wrote clever books. Maybe one day, someone will write about us too.”
“Aren’t we digressing off the main points?” Lot observed, “Ariel is a writer, and this profession makes it quite complicated to understand him.”
“How so?”
“Writers are some of the world’s most mysterious people. They can be totally different from what their works may say about them—I hate dealing with people like them. But I’ve got no choice now, have I? Please call him in, Famous, will you? The writer, that is.”
To Be Continued…..
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