Must Read: Paradox Of Abel - Season 1 - Episode 49

7 years ago

Must Read: Paradox Of Abel - Season 1 - Episode 49

Ruth Brown walked into the room at almost half an hour after Daniel had requested her presence in the room set for interrogations, but because of the loathe she still nursed at the footballer, she snapped at Daniel, telling him to go and visit the devil. This discourtesy had subjected the poor Daniel to slunk back to his master, instantly cowered. Lot was about storming down to compel her over when the lady stepped into the room with graceful steps and proud dispositions. She carried her shapely body with dignity found only in ladies who knew the powers inherent in their seductive charms.

She stood by the table for a moment staring at the detective, perhaps expecting the gumshoe to offer her a seat. But when Lot didn’t seem to care about her stationary position, she grabbed a chair and sat down, facing the detective.
Lot pretended to be busy while the woman sat down waiting. He continued shuffling papers and reading their contents with ease and calmness. He was intentionally trying the lady’s patience as much as he could. He wanted to see her angry before beginning his interrogations. He had learnt that Ruth Brown was a lady whose patience always hanged by a spider’s silk. When he looked in her face, it was boiling with irritation. He smiled to himself—he had seen what he needed. The anger the lady wore on her face was more noticeable than the make-up. Apart from that, Lot noticed that instead of a watch, the lady was wearing a pink band on her wrist.

From the numerous cases Lot had investigated in the past, he knew that anger could be a blindfold—it was capable of rendering a person blind to logic. Anger could force a person to utter words he’d secretly sworn never to use.

Detective Lot therefore strongly hoped that Ruth would reveal information she might have planned to keep to herself; information that could help his cause in unraveling the knitted box of conundrum placed in this household by the hand of a monster.
‘If you don’t already know, my name is Detective Lot—”
“Really? Your mother named you Detective?”
Lot drew a sigh at that. “Mrs. Brown, Daniel and I shall be throwing a number of questions at you—”
“Knock yourselves out to hell,” she interrupted grimly again, “Words can’t describe how little I give a damn.”
Lot pause, glared at the woman, shrugged and continued, “Profanity is a brutal vice, she that uses it is not a lady. I expect that you’ll be entirely and more politely forthcoming in your replies.”
“If I wish.” came the grim reply again.
“Mrs. Brown, I should let you know that withholding information is a grave offence. If you were planning to be a frustration to this investigation, I’d advise you to have a rethink.”
She didn’t reply to that. Her phone rang and she picked it up, snapping at the caller. Whoever had been on the other end of the line got a good ear cleaning.
“What can you tell us about yourself, Ruth?” Lot asked.
“I see no reason why I should engage in an autobiographical recital just because you demanded of it. And I’d prefer you addressed me as Mrs. Brown. Besides, what right do you and your mental permutation of a sidekick have in calling me here to question me?”
Lot ignored the insult and said, “I understand that you’ve been married three times.”
“The last time I checked, that wasn’t against the law, and neither was it any of your business.”
“Why did you leave your first husband,” he consulted the list with him, “Mr. Tunde Johnson?”
“He wasn’t man enough for me, I suppose. He wasn’t clever. All my men have to be smart, strong too—I don’t mean physically strong alone, but strong enough to challenge my intellectual taste. Otherwise I get bored.

Tuned is also a complete klutz when it comes to fashion; he wears clothes even the Salvation Army would reject. He’s not bad-looking but he dresses like a zombie. He’s the lowlest face on the dumbest totem. I must have been dumber to have married him. He doesn’t happen to be sartorially consistent. Did I ever tell you he saves his teabags? Uses them two or three times before he throws them away. Isn’t that ludicrous?” she paused and added, “I’m old enough that there is no Prince Charming, just a bunch of more or less flawed men. Sometimes they wear shiny armour but it is always rusty on closer look. I knew all I needed to know about all men. The strong could be devils, but the weak are moral cowards. So, I’d rather lie down with lions than wake up beside dogs with fleas.”
“I expected you would say that. And your second husband—what led to your break-up?”
“I plead the Fifth Amendment about that.”
“What’s his name?”
“That isn’t important, he’s dead.”
Daniel gulped. Something about the woman had always scared him since the moment he set his eyes upon her. She carried too cold a countenance; if she spent too long in a bath-tub the water might freeze. And a part of him told him that Remi also carried a streak of her coldness. He was uneasy.

“I believe your third husband is Mr. Brown.” Lot said.
“What if he is?”
“For how long were you married to him?”
“Thirty-six months. The first time I saw him I thought I was going to turn into a pillar of salt. He was so fantastic looking. I didn’t marry him because of his looks alone. I married him because he was one of the best men in the world. He was smart, he was kind, and he was very good in bed. There might still be men I would sexually desire, even admire, come to like, and even want to marry. But I will never again put myself at the mercy of any man.”
“Did you love him?”
She glared at Lot, “Love? What is love?”
“You don’t know what it means to fall in love?”
“I felt something sweet very deep in me when I was with him, maybe that was what some silly ladies call—love. Poets write about love, and singers sing about it, but it is a myth. Who needs love before copulation? I’ve rode a legion of men with whom I had no slightest liking. A few of them are two lawyers, several doctors, a president of an international foundation, three managers of leading banks, a stockbroker or two, and a renowned psychiatric whom both of you should make an appointment to see.”
Lot was controlling the urge to that this rude woman by the neck and strangle her, “You didn’t divorce Mr. Brown, did you?”
“I didn’t.”
“But what I gathered was that you are no more with him.”
“Tony Brown is a typical SOB.”
“Did you just say Tony Brown?” Daniel chipped in, bearing an astounded look.
“Are telling me your ear-drum is faulty?” Ruth fired back.
“The Tony Brown I know is one of the most powerful men of this country, and he just celebrated his tenth wedding anniversary. The lady he celebrated that anniversary with wasn’t you. It’s either you’re lying or—”
“Will you shut that gob of yours?” Thundered Ruth, “You button up your mouth when two elders talk.”
Daniel instantly forgot to complete the statement.
“If you’re talking about the same Tony Brown we all know, Mrs., then you should be well ashamed of yourself for your false connubial decree.” Lot said.

Ruth glared at the two men, venom shone in her eyes as she rummaged through her arm-bag and came up with a dog-eared photograph which she placed angrily on the table.
“Now, look at those, you twin-apes, and tell me once again that I’m lying. I’ll be delighted to see you two make freaking idiots out of yourselves, if you’re not already idiots initially.”
Lot looked at Ruth skeptically, shook his head and reached for the photograph. He studied it for a few seconds before passing it across to the curious Daniel. On the photograph were the pictures of three people: Ruth, Tony, and an infant in the middle of the couple.”

Lot half-suspected that the lady’s arrogance resulted mainly because she had not been with her paramour for several days, and she was a youth with roving fancy.
“Is that your child? The one in the middle sitting on your thighs?”

Ruth took a moment before replying, “Yes, that’s my second child,” she smiled proudly, her smile wasn’t very reassuring, ‘She was growing up fast, she’d be four years old in a few months if—” she stopped herself here, but it was too late.
“If what?” Lot asked, fully interested.
Tears rushed to Ruth’s eyes, she said between sobs, “Her name is Gloria.”
“What happened to her?” Lot knew that she’d answer any question now. What was initially hard in the woman had now been softened. There was now about her a curious, quiet dignity.
“She was kidnapped.” Ruth replied.
“Kidnapped? How?”
“One Monday morning of January last year, I received a call that Gloria could not be found. It was the headmistress of Gloria’s school who called. I thought it was a joke but when Gloria’s whereabouts could really not be ascertained, I got devastated.” She stopped and wept some more. Lot waited for her to continue, “It was on the third day, when I had believed that my daughter had met with an accident and died, that the kidnappers called.

I don’t know how they managed to get my phone number. They demanded for a ransom of twenty million naira to be delivered to a certain location at a given date. Gloria’s disappearance devastated Tony as much as it did me. He provided the money and placed where he was instructed—in a trash can. He came home and we expected the kidnappers to call us and provide the location of where we could find our daughter. The kidnappers never called after the payment. Now I don’t know what has become of my daughter.” She wept some more.
Lot stared at her, “I understand you have a lot of faults, but I don’t think self-pity is one of them. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Believe me, a lot of women have suffered worse tragedies in their lives.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Brown,” Daniel said, with a little manifestation of sympathy. “I pray you re-unite with your daughter.”