Must Read: Paradox Of Abel - Season 1 - Episode 52

7 years ago

Must Read: Paradox Of Abel - Season 1 - Episode 52

When Chike Okafor was ushered in by Daniel, the detective raised eyebrows at seeing him, for the lawyer was the thinnest man Lot had ever la!d his eyes upon. Okafor was a tall, slender man with bushy grey hair; he could have been someone’s conception of a biblical prophet if not for the size of his upper body, which was not in agreement with the lower. He could have been a professional runner if he had put those tentacles he called legs to good use. Like his legs, the lawyer’s neck was long and very slender, giving the head the hieratic appearance of a bird of prey his spectacles with diamanté rims showed that he was well to do in his profession.

In the years that had passed, Chike Okafor had risen in stature to one of the most reliable lawyers in the country because of his continued work with defending the political thugs, his profession had attained him connection with citizens of higher echelons.
He stepped into the room with a smile which seemed particularly inappropriate to the shape of his rather smallish head, with ears that stuck out almost at right angles. He saw Lot, gave a broader smile and extended his hand for a shake. Lot immediately grabbed his paw in an iron grip, shook it up and down, and by the time he would release it the lawyer was already close to tears in anguish.

“You’re welcome, Barrister Okafor.”
“It’s a privilege to meet you, Detective Lot,” Okafor replied with renewed smile, “I’ve heard a lot about you, sir.”
“You’re the deceased’s lawyer, right?”
‘Which one of the deceased are you referring to? I heard that two people have been killed.”
“Mr. Jamal Malik.”
“Of course, of course. I manage all his legal issues. He was my client.” His eyes wondered around the room with curiosity and they rested on the picture of the deep-cleavaged golden Goldie.
“For how long had he been your client?”
“For about five years now.”
“Did the deceased write a will before his death?”
“Oh yes, he certainly did—a couple of times.”
“A couple of times?”
“Mr. Malik had written and rewritten his will four times since the last five years.”
“What brought you here today?”
“I received a call last night from someone anonymous telling me about the demise of my client. I came to confirm the veracity of the information. I had been calling Mr. Malik’s number since last night without much success.

I’d have called Mrs. Malik if I’d had her phone number.”
“Do you know the name of the caller?”
“No, I don’t.”
“What about the voice? Do you know whose voice it was?”
Okafor shook his head no.
“Was the caller a male or female?”
“It’s very hard to tell. I think the caller made it a task to hide his or her voice. The voice could easily have been either a man’s or a woman’s. besides, I was paying more attention to the words than the voice. It was a very short call actually, less than a minute’s.”
“Barrister, how close are you to the Maliks?”
“Not very close. I don’t come here much. As a matter of fact, this is my second time of stepping my feet into this compound. The family members don’t even know me. Mr. Malik kept his will a secret—not even the wife knew about it. He strictly instructed me to make the content of the will known only after his demise.”
“When did he create his first will?”
“That was in 2007.”
“What was the content of that first will?”
“Fifty percent of every of his property should be shared among his four offspring—Ruth, David, Gabriel and Esther. He had it altered in 2009 where he excluded all his family members and bequeathed the whole of his properties to charity.”

“Charity? Why would he do that?”
“That was the same question I asked him. All he was able to tell me was that he did it as atonement for his sins; whatever that might have meant. But again, he had it changed in 2011.”
“To what?”
“he left everything to his wife—Mrs. Hannah Malik.”
“That’s quite interesting. He must have loved the woman so much.”
“The kind of love he had for that woman was unshakable.”
“His doctor wouldn’t agree with you.”
“What?”
“Never mind. When did he have the will changed for the fourth time?”
“That was last year November.”
‘What is its content?”
Okafor stared at Lot, “It’s confidential.”
“Then un-confidentialize it; we’re investigating a murder case for crying out loud.”
“Okay. The fourth change is remarkably different from all the others because a new name was added among the beneficiaries.”
“By the new name, I suppose you meant ‘Abel’.”
The lawyer was astounded, “How—how did you know that?”
“Again, never mind. What is the full content of the will?”
“Twenty percent of his whole property is to be equally shared between Ruth Brown and Esther Malik. Forty Percent should also be equally shared between his two sons—David and Gabriel. The remaining forty percent goes to Abel. I was surprised that he bequeathed the lion’s share to this Abel. When I asked him he told me Abel was his first son whom he thought was long dead but he was not sure. He decided to include him in the will now because he had reasons to believe that the so called Abel was alive. However, he later added that if any of the offspring was confirmed dead at the time of the reading of this will, the deceased’s share should be passed directly to his or her child. Otherwise, the portion should be distributed equally among the remaining surviving offspring. This is the news I’m here to share with Jamal’s family members.”
“So, Abel was the codicil. What about Mrs. Malik? Why did he cut his wife off the will?”

“He smiled strangely at my question when I asked him, then he made a rather queer comment, ‘She won’t be needing it’—that was the statement he made.”
Lot had received the photographs of the corpses. He selected the pictures of the second corpse and scattered the photographs on the table for the lawyer’s view.
“Do you recognize the man in this picture?”
Okafor picked up a photograph and held it close to his face. He studied the image therein for some time and shook his head as he dropped it. ‘No, I don’t know him. Who is he?”
“That is the supposed Abel Malik whose name had been included in the new will.”
The lawyer picked up the picture again and whistled, “Oh my God! Abel is dead!”
“I’m still having some reservations about the identity of the man until a potential witness step forward to declare that the man is really the estranged son of late Jamal Malik.”

“Are you saying that none of Mr. Malik’s children recognize him?”
“None whatsoever. Abel had been away from home for about twenty years. And the dead man isn’t in any position to explain his own true identity.”
“And nobody has stepped forward?”
“No one. That is why you’ll have to put a hold on the reading of the will for now. Do I have your co-operation?”
“Of course, you do. I understand what’s at stake.”
“Thanks a lot, Barrister Okafor. Before you go, I’ll like to ask you one last question.”
“Shoot.”
“I was told that Mr. Malik placed a call to you on the night of December twenty-fourth, asking you to come the next day. The call was about his intention to change his will. I’m wondering why you refused to appear the next day as scheduled.”
The lawyer listened attentively to the detective. When Lot had finished, he leaned forward, stared straight at his interrogator’s eyes and said, “Detective, I swear with everything I hold dear in my life, Mr. Malik did not call me that night you mentioned. He didn’t call me at all.”