Category Archives: Mystery/Thriller

Who Killed Dana Bala? – 3



 FR. Chrys was staring at the boy with a stupefied expression on his face. When Cyprian made a nervous sound by clearing his throat, he jerked a bit, recollected what they were doing—having a confession.

“Please go on.” He managed to say.

Cyprian bent his head once more and started to speak…


AFTER Dana had so carelessly announced to the other boys that they were… doing it and they’d both looked at him like the worst sinner on earth, he’d left them and went back to his room, pacing, fuming and swearing. And crying in between.

Anthony had looked angry.  No, he’d looked disappointed.

Hurt and wounded at the disappointment he’d seen in Anthony’s eyes, Cyprian marched to his own bed and dropped into it. The spring underneath squeaked but he hardly paid attention. Of course Anthony was disappointed and that was because in spite of all his admonitions and counsel, he’d gone right ahead and did the one thing he always warned him not to do—broken the sixth commandment.

Who Killed Dana Bala? – 2




IT was about 6:55 p.m. The Mass for Dana had ended some twenty minutes ago. With the Mass over, the entire household had gone straight into the house to begin preparations for supper. Fr. Chrys hadn’t joined them—he had no appetite. Instead he’d chosen to lock himself in his study room to have a quiet time.

He was sitting there now—inside the small room with only a desk and three chairs, a book shelf and a wood-frame hanger for his most commonly used Priestly garment. He was reading Peace of Soul by Fulton J. Sheen. He’d read it before, but usually reread it whenever he was feeling despondent. The quiet, candid words had always been a kind of soothing balm to his heart.

A hesitant, soft tap came at the door. He raised his head and stared at the dark mahogany door for a moment.

Sighing, he said. “Come in.” Not bothering to ask who it was. He’ll find out soon enough.

Who Killed Dana Bala? – 1




FATHER Chrysostom Okeze woke up every morning at exactly 4:30 a.m. He was the spiritual director of the Good Shepherd’s home. He has been for the last seven years. The small community where the The Good Shepherd’s chapel was located loved him, the few workers in the home loved him, the children loved him, everyone loved Fr. Chrys. That was what they all called him—Fr. Chrys—and it especially tickled the fanciful young minds of the teenagers because his ‘Chrys’ was spelt with a y.

This morning he got up two minutes even before his alarm went off. He made the sign of the cross and muttering the Morning Offering, he swiftly took of his night clothes of sky-blue striped pyjamas and walked into the small-sized bathroom attached to his room.

In less than five minutes, he was out and in another five minutes, he was dressed in a pair of charcoal-grey trousers and an off-white short-sleeved shirt. He marched to the old dark walnut desk, picked up his Breviary, his royal-blue chain Rosary and his Bible and hastened out of the room and straight into the small chapel just down the hall from his bedroom. Twenty minutes of verbal prayers and Bible reading and he was out again and marching through the semi-lit sitting room and through the already opened porch door, mumbling the repetitive prayers of the Virgin Mary’s Angelic Psalter.

Who Killed Dana Bala? – Prologue

EPISODES: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. Epilogue.


DANA Bala arrived the Good Shepherd’s Home about a year and half ago. She had been dropped off by a mother who hadn’t spoken to anyone or even explained why she was leaving her daughter at the home. The woman had just parked her car in front of the gate, ordered Dana to get down, go inside and introduce herself to the Priest in-charge and she had driven off.

At least, that was how Dana had recounted it and how the old security guard had witnessed to it from his usual spot under the big mango tree beside the gate on that fateful evening. And almost eighteen months now, that car hadn’t shown up again at the gate and no one was really expecting it to.

The Good Shepherd’s Home was a home for abandoned and homeless teens. Most of them left by parents and guardians who promised to come back for them but never did. A very few came into the home on their own—seeking shelter, food, clothing and family. Many left after a while and most never came back even to say thank you to those who nurtured and cared for them. Really the tale of the proverbial ten lepers.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie – 4



“First, revelations; then come resolutions.”

* * * 



* * *

“Senator Cornelia Pius-Mbata is your…” Kufre struggled for the right word and finally, sputtered. “’She’s the woman who gave birth to you?”

Stefan gave a nod. “She is. At least, so says the Priest.”

“I don’t believe this!” Kufre gaped in shock. “He… the Priest, he actually said she was?”

“He did.”

“Oh my God, this is unbelievable! It’s just unbelievable!” Kufre shook her head, like she was trying to grasp the veracity of what she was being told. “She is… But she is the chairperson, or whatever they are called, of the Senate Committee on Women Affairs! She’s beautiful, amazing—a conscientious woman. I… she’s always talking about the rights of women in the society and the rights of children—of every child. She doesn’t talk of the one without the other.”

She turned up her palms in a gesture of bewilderment. “She’s such an admirable personality; everyone admires her. I follow her on Twitter. She’s so active there—a voice of the African woman and of the African child. She’s got at least two hundred thousand plus followers.” A gleam, akin to disappointment, snuck beneath the shocked disbelief that widened her eyes. “She’s married to Oke Pius-Mbata, the multinational businessman. They have four children—two of both sexes. The perfect family.”

Now bitterness, or was it anger, Stefan wondered, creamed her low husky voice.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie – 3



“It is revealed. So, I know.”

* * * 



* * *

 “We can’t just offer money to a man and take his baby, Uduak.” Ken Dikko-Jack rebuffed the suggestion his wife had just made.

“He doesn’t want the baby.” Uduak gripped his hand as she earnestly insisted. “Ken, I held this baby in my arms, cuddled him against my breasts, and it felt like he was mine. It felt so right holding him and he quietened once he was in my arms.”

“Uduak…” Ken shook his head, confused and worried about the whole idea. “But we are working on adopting our own already. That would be legal and straightforward. Why can’t we be patient and wait for that?”

“This baby is mine, Ken. He is ours. I’ve held him. I can’t again forget him.”

“He’s not ours, Uduak. He has a father… and possibly a mother somewhere.”

“So would the child we are hoping to legally adopt. Yet we’d still adopt him.” Uduak argued. “Ken, I don’t know what this young man would do with that baby. He’s no more than twenty-two at the most and he looked so troubled. He doesn’t want the baby. He wants to get rid of it. Somehow… anyhow.”

“And he asked you for money?”

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie – 2



“Questions beget answers; answers we might not be prepared for.”

* * * 



* * * 

“Stefan! My God, what are you doing here so late?” Kufre stepped back from her door to let him in. “I thought I was the one coming to PH on Thursday? And I’ve been calling you the last hour or so. You were going to call me after you were done with your dinner, remember?” She abruptly stopped talking and peered at him closely.

Stefan wondered what she saw—confusion, fatigue… fear?

He certainly felt all three, and worse. He could barely see her himself. He could barely make out her full curvy frame in the cotton purplish pink nightwear with its rows of centre-lined buttons.

“Darling, are you all right?” She reached for his right hand and pressed it with her own. “Did something happen? Is that why you drove down this night?”

“Kufre…” Stefan swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

Why had he come here? When he’d stalked out of the restaurant, he hadn’t been thinking of— He hadn’t been thinking. Period. He had just gotten in his car and without thought, had started driving. Then he’d ended up in front of the house she lived… at Uyo.

“Stefan, what happened?” Her fingers curled around his and squeezed.

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