Joshua Fela – Episode 12


Joshua Fela

Joshua Fela | Damstylee_Original picture sourced from Google


Please click the links below to read earlier episodes and get updated.

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

Episode 9

Episode 10

Episode 11



* * *

Nike moved closer to Jonathan. Her steps measured gingerly like a lioness stalking its prey.

“What did you just say?” She asked him.
He repeated his earlier statement; “Joshua is my brother.” The small group gasped again like earlier; the element of shock still very much alive. Nobody knew Josh had a brother, even his infatuated lover.

Nike turned to look at Jeff. The puzzled look on his face told her she wasn’t the only person who thought Jonathan a lunatic.

“Why do you guys keep calling me Josh? My name is Jeff.” Jeff insisted ignoring the claim Jonathan just made.
A closer look at Jonathan told him his fib could have been genuine. He had always wanted a brother and they did look alike. At least their noses and ears did, he thought.

Ronke jumped in here and asked him how much memories he had.

“What memories?” He asked.

“Do you remember the accident? Two years ago? You were out with Nath and you never came back.” The mention of the accident put him in a shocked state. He watched the rest notice his amazement and advance on him like a paparazzi ready to take notes of anything and plant them in their respective papers. He stepped back and put his hand up to stop them from getting any closer.

“How do you know about the accident?” he asked

“Who doesn’t? Oh we know. We all know.” Ronke said. She looked at Jonathan’s face and he played along. “The whole school knew. They said you died in it.”

Jeff retreated further from the group to assimilate his obituary getting recited to him orally. He paused to think and for once had enough evidence to support the claims that his dad had hid something from me.

“But my dad said…”

“Your dad?” Jonathan interrupted.

“Yes, my dad. Any problem with that?” He replied without paying much attention to Jonathan.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I believe your father has fed you so many half-truths. I’m suspecting you lost your memory after the accident.”

“Well, that’s none of your business, is it?”

“I’ll need to meet your dad in person.” Jonathan said. Jeff ignored him and continued talking to the girls. Jonathan advanced on him and grabbed his wrist to drive his point home. He sought to repeat his statement when Bayo and another officer interrupted.

Ronke saw them and turned away. This could only mean one thing. Bayo observed the duo that looked like they could get in a fight anytime and placed his hand on the hip that held his official pistol. They separated and he smiled. The glamour of being a police man he thought and walked towards Ronke.

“Miss Ronke Gbadamosi, you’ve been called in for questioning again.” She bit her lip in disgust and frowned at him.

Dozens of students in the cafeteria hovered a few feet away from them waiting for some action or an apprehensive take down. They got disappointed as Ronke obliged and they started towards the exit.

“Can I come with you?” Shade asked. Bayo turned to look at her and shook his head in disapproval. She got the message and asked Nike to walk her to their dormitory. The boys would sort themselves out; she said.

Nike pecked her boyfriend goodbye as she left. Bristles from his goatee brushed her cheek and she closed her eyes as she felt a brief twinge of excitement. He smiled at her and winked as she walked away.

“You do know the other one likes you right?” Jonathan said, abruptly disrupting whatever chemistry was left between him and his girlfriend. He turned to leave and he had gone a few steps before what Jonathan said struck him.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

“The last girl, the one that didn’t talk much. She likes you.”

“How do you know that?”

Jonathan smirked and sat on a seat. Jeff fought the urge but eventually settled adjacent to him. Jonathan’s mind travelled years earlier. He saw Josh; his brother tugging at his sleeves begging him to deduce for him. I started young he thought. He remembered telling his brother the girl that liked him and the ones that had not a care in the world as regards him. He could have vanished from the earth and they wouldn’t notice. Those however were the girls Josh…sorry… Jeff liked.

He returned from his trip down memory lane and saw Jeff staring at him.


“You were saying?”

“I was saying the other girl likes you. She’s prettier and calmer than you self-centred, attention seeking, and obnoxious girlfriend.”

Jeff took offence at the ill but fatally correct description of his girlfriend and Jonathan apologised after a few laughs. “I’m sorry.” He said and tugged at Jeff’s shoulder till he accepted his apology.

“Dumb move in knocking her up though.” Jonathan added after the awkward silence had returned.

“Knocking her up? How did you know she was pregnant?” Jeff asked. He turned his seat to face Jonathan directly. “How did you know she was pregnant?” He asked again.

“It’s obvious, don’t you think.” The latter replied.

“No, it’s not.” Jeff argued for a few minutes and only settled when Jonathan said; “Nobody else knows ‘how’ to look”

“Alright then.” Jeff said. He stood up to leave and Jonathan offered him a ride home. He refused and Jonathan followed him till he agreed. They got into a 2013 model of the Toyota Tundra and drove out of the school towards Ebutemetta.

                      * * * * * * * * * *

The dusty car with the official plate number settled in the allocated parking lot for the DPO of the station and Mike jumped out. He walked briskly towards the station and closed the automated locks in the car with the remote control.
In the station’s reception, he inquired about Bayo’s whereabouts from the office of duty and was directed to the interrogation room. He was in front of the door in one stride and opened it.
In the room were Bayo, Ronke and another officer. He ordered the officer out and waited till he heard the door shut before saying anything.

“I’m sorry for bringing you back here, Ronke.” He said to break the silence.

“It’s no problem.” She was secretly glad he was involved in the questioning process.

“Did you know Nathaniel Bassey well?” He asked going straight to the point.

“Yes, to an extent.” She replied.
He dragged a chair from the wall towards himself and opened a paper file on the table. He took out a sheet of A4 paper and a pen and scribbled something on it while Bayo and Ronke watched in silence. He stopped writing and looked up.

“Do you know he is mentally disabled?”

She started to answer and hesitated. “Yes.”

The words of the doctor rang in his ears;

“You have to be careful with this case, Mr Mike. The suspect you have in custody might not be the guilty one”

He smiled when he remembered the doctor’s native accent and wrote in the paper again.

“How did you know he was mentally disabled?” Mike’s cell phone’s ringtone interrupted her reply and he sighed before picking it from his breast pocket.

“Hello,” He said into the mouthpiece.

“Mike. It’s me, Senator Ibikunle.” The caller said. “I just want to know how the investigation is going.”

“It’s going well Sir, although we have hit some sort of brick wall.”

“How so detective?” The senator asked.

“The young man we have in custody is unlikely the murderer we are looking for.”

“Do you have another suspect?”

“No, not for now.”

“Then you prosecute that boy.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir.”

“I said you prosecute that boy.” The senator said in a measured tone. “My son just died for God’s sake. I need someone to be punished for his death.”

“But he is innocent!” Mike bellowed. His countenance had changed and his eyes flared like forest fires.

“Well, he’s not until I say he is. It’s either you prosecute him or someone suffers for it.”

“Is that a threat Sir?” Mike asked. His other fist was clenched.

“I don’t know. Let’s ask our young nurse girlfriend shall we?

The phone slipped from his hands to the concrete floor and spilled its insides in different directions. The whole room became quiet like a graveyard and the other two just stared on not knowing what to do. Bayo was first to move. He searched for the components of the phone on the floor and assembled them. He handed it back to Mike but the latter didn’t move. He just stared at the wall behind Ronke’s head.

After numerous snaps of Bayo’s fingers in his line of sight, he jerked back to reality. He got up from his seat like it had burning coals on it and headed for the exit.

“Get her back to her school.” He said to Bayo and slammed the door behind him.

                        * * * * * * * * * *

Jeff opened the door and let Jonathan in. The ante room welcomed them and Jonathan took to surveying it. The room which was neatly decorated with some furniture had a bit of elegance to it. He whistled gently as he felt the chill in the room created by strategically placed air conditioners. He saw some framed photos at the corner and observed them. This is going to be easy; he thought. Definitely the house of a government worker he observed. Jeff called him and he followed Jeff into the living room.

The living room was designed more extravagantly. A 45” plasma TV adorned the front wall and black leather couches were arranged around it. A bar stood at the far end of the room and beside it was a wall that had the family pictures and artworks. A picture frame on a side stool with three men standing in front of a picture of the president of the country and other dignitaries convinced him of his hypothesis. The immaculate brocade of the men in it screamed affluence. Politician.

He walked towards the ‘picture wall’ and observed each picture. For the first few minutes, he looked up at every sound. Then he knew nothing but the pictures. A tap on his shoulder brought him back to the present. He turned around to face the man of the house.

“Good evening Sir” He said and held his hand out for a handshake. The recipient ignored it and sat one of the couches.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

“I’m Jonathan Fela. I’m a police officer. I’m just here to…”

“What branch?”

“Akoka Sir.” He replied with alacrity. The ‘politician’ walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. The redness filled the cup like a spectre and Jonathan felt his throat ache for some. He didn’t expect the ‘politician’ to offer him some and he wasn’t disappointed.
The ‘politician’ walked back to couch and sat, this time in a different couch from where he sat earlier. Jonathan smirked at his attempt to intimidate him.

“Okay, what can I do for you?” The politician asked. Before Jonathan could answer, he added; “Let me first state that I’m a very influential and affluent person in this state. I’m sure you’ve heard of Mr Balogun; that’s me. I can make you and I can also destroy you.”

Jonathan looked away. He fought the urge to showcase his deduction skills and stuck to his plan.

“Duly noted, Sir. How is your wife?”

“Dead.” Mr Balogun replied without batting an eyelid.

“Murdered, you mean.” Jonathan muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing… Nothing.” He said and smiled at Mr Balogun. “I noticed there is a big hole in your family pictures timeline.”

Mr Balogun looked at the wall and back at Jonathan. “Hole?”

“Yes, memories not existent. I don’t see any pictures of your son during his adolescent years.”

“What are you inferring?” Mr Balogun asked. He dropped the glass of wine on a side stool. Jonathan noticed the gesture and smirked. So much for his intimidation techniques.

“The pictures of your son stopped when he was about ten, eleven maybe, I guess and suddenly resurfaced when he was much older. Why’s that?”

“We stopped taking pictures.” Mr Balogun replied bluntly.

“The boy himself, I mean the older one doesn’t have a resemblance to the younger….”

“Mr…?” He paused.

“It’s Fela Sir”

“Good. Mr Fela. I don’t appreciate you befriending my son and coming to my house to interrogate me. If you don’t mind, I need you out of my house now.”
Jonathan obliged without a word. He walked briskly out of the compound into the streets. Taking one last look at the Tundra, he called a cab and headed home. It was too early to be arrested for a criminal charge. Of all criminal charges sef; stealing a car. He snorted and relaxed in the rear seat in the cab.

The cab stopped at a red light and Jonathan used that time to purchase a bottle of water from a hawker. A white van was directly beside them and it looked oddly familiar. He caught the face of the driver and was sure he had seen it earlier. He just didn’t remember where. Little did he know that his unborn niece, her mum and his brother’s longtime crush laid chloroformed in the trunk of the van.

                         * * * * * * * * * *

In his home, Jonathan walked into a gloomy atmosphere. His father sat on a chair, his eyes buried in a newspaper and his mother stared at the TV without really seeing anything. Shade wasn’t anywhere in sight so he guessed she was in her room.

“What’s with the gloominess?” He asked.

“It’s always been like this. Ever since Joshua died in that car…” Her sobs disrupted her sentence and his father pulled her to him in an embrace.
Jonathan laughed and headed for the stairs.

“Why are you laughing? His father asked sternly.

“Joshua is not dead. He’s hardly alive either.”

To be continued next week.

Thanks for reading.

Mike Dammy

Joshua Fela 11 | Intermission


Joshua Fela

Joshua Fela | Damstylee_Original picture sourced from Google

* * *

Hey there. Its been a great year and we have come to the final episode of Joshua Fela for this year.

I’ve always wanted to infuse somethiñg different into this series and I am doing that in this episode.
I hope you like it.


* * *

The curtains adjoining the windows fluttered as the winds from the ocean gently caressed their light fabric. The room was lit by an electric candle and its flickering rendered grotesque images on the ceiling boards. These images seemed to fascinate him or he acted like they did.

His name was Jonathan Fela. Jonathan as he preferred to be called.

His smoothly cut afro created a peacock tail-shape on the pillow his head was lying on and his body length spanned the longer side of the bed. His newly dry-cleaned t-shirt was a sharp contrast to the pair of jeans he had on him and his toes played in a rhythmic fashion also creating images on the walls behind them.

At times, the ceiling looked like a work of a great sculptor and other times, the handiwork of a kindergarten pupil. The type himself and his friends drew when they were younger back in Nigeria. His mum had shown him his works and he laughed. He missed laughing. A shape formed by the dim light caught his attention but it faded as fast as it appeared. This was boring he admitted. Life was boring.

A landline rung and its sound shattered the serenity in the room like shards of glass. The antique ringtone shook him out of his trance and he almost choked to his chest a gumball that had been in his mouth all evening. He had no idea how it got there. He had no idea about many things these days. Jonathan rolled over to the other side of the bed where the phone was neatly arranged among a stack of books on a bedside stool and snatched at the receiver.

“Hello.” He said. He couldn’t avoid hearing the distaste in his voice.

“Fela?” A voice replied with a British accent. Jonathan’s eyes shone in delight when he recognised the voice of the caller.

“Inspector Gil?”   

“Yes Jonathan. Good to know you’re still alive.” Gil joked.

“I am. Just hanging on to life as it is.”

“I need you now.” Gil said with a stern voice, a deep contrast to his light tone earlier.

“There has been a murder.” He added.

“Psychopath?” Jonathan asked.
“Not sure but sure looks like it.”
Jonathan jumped to his feet and
tapped dance on the wooden floor while clutching the phone box. This was like music to his ears.

“Brilliant!” he exclaimed and apologized after realizing the situation at hand.

“Where do I meet you?”

“Block 25k, Crawford Street, Baltimore Central.”

“Okay. I’ll be right th… wait, that’s my building.” Jonathan exclaimed.

“I know. Open up, I’m standing right in front of your apartment.”

Jonathan sought to continue the conversation and ask why he didn’t knock in the first place but didn’t when he realised how stupid and economical it could be considering the caller was some feet away. He also wasn’t in the mood for a chat with the Inspector on management.

The locks on the door snapped and the door swung open.

“What are you doing here Inspector?” Jonathan asked ignoring greetings.

“To investigate a crime of course, why else would I be here?” Gil replied and stepped into the room. He took off the muffler around his neck and placed it on a coat holder.

“In my apartment?” Jonathan asked puzzled.

“No.” was Gil’s stern reply and he pointed at the apartment across the hallway directly opposite Jonathans’.

“Mrs Philips got robbed?”

“I wish she did. No Jonathan, she got murdered.”

“That’s impossible.” Jonathan replied and ate his words when he saw detectives and forensic specialists step out of the apartment. “How did that happen, I have been here all day.”

“Beats me too.” Was Gil’s reply and he walked towards the victim’s apartment that was now a crime scene with Jonathan closely behind him.

*  *  *

In the room where the body laid, Jonathan stood beside the door and observed the crime scene. He was no longer in his earlier apparel as he wore a blue overall and a pair of immaculate gloves now. He stooped and ran his fore finger along the wooden floor. The replica of the one he had in his apartment.

From the crouched position, he noticed a cracked phone and a case of gumballs lying on the floor at the other end of the room. His eyes shone with each clue he found as this was the only fascinating thing he had seen in weeks.

He looked up to see Gil peering at him through his spectacles and frowned. This was but a crime scene involving a murdered woman who also happened to be his neighbour for about months. The least he could do was show more respect and act composed.

Mrs Philips lay on her bed with her head propped against a duvet that had obviously seen better years. Her dry blood stained her pink flowery bed sheets and had dripped to the floor below. He squinted in disgust when a flash from a Kodak hit his eyes. A detective was taking shots of the crime scene as part of the investigation. Jonathan turned to look at Gils and back at the detective as if to say he was getting distracted. Gil got the message and ordered the disturber out of the room. He feigned a grin in appreciation and Gil simply nodded.

Jonathan turned back to the dead woman and held up her palm to see the wound. She had tried to stop the blood flow and had obviously failed because of the massive haemorrhage. He observed the wound and immediately knew what the murder weapon was. He had one himself. It was a butcher’s knife.

He let her hand down, ran his fingers along her arm and surveyed the room for more clues. Inspector Gil watched on in silence from his standing position at the door with his hands folded across each other.

“What do you see?” he asked after Jonathan observed an ash tray.

“It’s quite blurry. Not much evidence. Not much intent.” He replied without looking at Gil.

“What do you mean by not much intent?”

“She is a dying woman and unlike other psychopaths we’ve encountered, I have not found any motive. It might just be a simple murder case.”

“How do you know she was dying?” Gil asked.

Jonathan sighed and shook his head at the nescient question.

“She has lung cancer.” He held up a transparent plastic bag that had drugs in it. “Folex, Cisplatin, Taxil; all these are drug prescriptions for a lung cancer patient.”

“Why then would a psychopath kill a dying woman? Are we even sure this is the act of one?”

“I don’t know for sure. One thing I know though is that she knew him.” He caught the bewilderment in Gil’s expression and led him to the living room.

“If you observe carefully this living room, you would notice what I’m saying. She let him in because it was someone she knew, offered him a glass of beer and he was here for a while.” He pointed at the glass on the coffee table that still had some of the beer in it.
“Lung cancer patients are advised to stay away from alcohol.” Jonathan added.

Jonathan walked towards the settees and ran his hand along them.
“He was seated here.” He pointed at one of the settee. “A light weight man; about 140 pounds.” He shut his eyes to project his imaginations and saw it all. Gil saw him close his eyes and got a voice recorder. This wasn’t the first time Jonathan Fela had closed his eyes in deep thought during an investigation. What came after was pure genius. Abstract deductive thought patterns that left the best crime investigators in the county gobsmacked.

“She turned to pick up her phone.” Jonathan started and Gil clicked the record button on the device. “He grabbed her from behind and dragged her into the room. If you observe well, you’ll notice scratches on the floor made from her toenails.” A detective started talking and Gil hushed him.

“I see it now…” Jonathan continued. “Son of a bitch. He’s a psychopath. He thinks he is doing her a favour. He knows she is dying and all this was aimed at putting her out of her misery. He doesn’t like the fact that he is doing it which is strange. That’s why he shattered the mirror in the closet and any other reflective surface including her phone.”

He opened his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief. “Unfortunately Inspector, I’ll need him committing more murders before I can define his pattern. For now, I can’t help you.”

He stripped himself of the overall and removed his gloves from his already sweaty hands. He advanced towards the entrance to the apartment, threw the gloves into a bin and was halted by Gil’s voice.

“How did you know about the mirror in the closet? You didn’t go in there.”

Gil was right. How did he know that?

“Deduction.” He answered eventually and hurried out of the apartment to avoid more questions. Gil was not a genius but he did understand crime scenes.

* * *

Two a.m. and Jonathan was back to where he was before he assisted the detectives in accessing the crime scene. He had rummaged on his findings earlier and something wasn’t right.

This was not the first time he had tried to deduce a criminal’s pattern. This was however the first time his imagination had developed beyond what his eyes saw. Gil had noticed.

If it were a novel, he could have pronounced himself the murderer. The handiwork of an alter ego probably, but such things do not exist. The ceiling still showcased its art but he wasn’t interested anymore. He turned away from it and coiled in a foetal position. The least he could do was sleep.

* * *

The alarm clock rung five and Jonathan jumped out of bed red and distraught. His body reeked of fear and his shirt was damp with sweat. He wiped his face dry with a napkin and paced around the room. He had seen Mrs Philips again. He had seen the murderer. His mind meandered again and he fell into a trance.

In the trance, he saw the murderer. Black, average height and an afro that had a striking resemblance to his. He watched him drag her. He watched her scream and struggle. He watched him push her against the bed and stab her in her side piercing deep beyond her rib into her pancreas. He saw the fear in her eyes. He saw her gasp and writhe in pain. The blood gushed from the wound and he couldn’t stomach it anymore.

He reached for a bottle of aspirin and swallowed three pills without remorse. His head was banging and he felt light headed.

The murderer walked into the closet and stuck a gumball in his mouth. He threw the pack away in disgust and washed the blood clean off his gloves. The grandfather clock chimed three times and he nodded his head in approval. He bent down to the sink and drowned his head in the water from the tap. The murderer then turned to face the mirror…

Jonathan gasped when he saw what was lurking in the mirror. He rushed to the loo and sat on the toilet bowl to catch his breath. He wasn’t mistaken. He peeked again into his imagination to assure himself that he wasn’t delusional and one look convinced him he was not. 

He had seen himself. He had seen Jonathan Fela in Mrs Philips’s mirror.

He let out a yell and clasped his head in his arms. Could he have done it? Could he have been the murderer? There was only one way to find out. He stood up and walked to the kitchen. He opened the door leading into the store and the coppery scent told him everything he needed to know. That was definitely the smell of stale blood and it was splattered across the floor with his butcher’s knife in the centre of it.

* * *

The plane touched down on Nigerian soil and its tires screeched on the vast concrete tarmac. Jonathan peered out of the adjacent window and sighed. He had no place here. He had no life. Neither did he have one in the states. Not anymore. The deportation papers in the folder in his suitcase assured him of that.

His mind flashed back to that evening as passengers disembarked from the plane. He felt the first surge of imagination and let it flow. He heard the clock chime in Mrs Philips room and he grinned. He sure as hell missed it. The blood. The fear in their eyes. The sheer power.

His victims had been powerless. They had screamed, wailed and cried in pain. He had listened to their yells and felt ecstasy. Nothing fascinated him more than this. All his victims; Mrs Philips, the cab driver, the girl from the one night stand stood no chance. They had experienced a higher power; his higher power.

Only Gil had survived. The only man to witness his vigour and not quiver in fear.

A hostess tapped his wrist gently and he snapped out of his trip. The plane was empty and only he was left on board.

“We have landed sir.” The hostess said and smiled.
He apologised and hurried out of the plane.

In the airport, he located his family from afar. He saw his mum wave and race towards him exhilarated. He hugged her and they walked towards the rest.

“Jonathan, good to see you.” His father said and extended his hand for a handshake.

“I can’t say the same.” Jonathan replied and stood face to face with his father. His younger sister; Shade shook her head and went to sit in the corner.

“Jonathan!” His mother exclaimed after his reply. “That’s not how to greet your dad.”

“He’s not my dad. My dad would have come along with you to see me.”

“To see you?” His father raged. “In an asylum? You killed people for God’s sake. Why would I be proud to see my murderous son in a freaking asylum?”

Jonathan ignored his cries and continued. “I was there for three years, three good years and you never showed up. Not once.” He brought out a handkerchief from his trousers’ side pocket and wiped the sweat off his face. The stupid country was too hot.

“Jonathan, your dad missed you.” His mother intervened. “You have been abroad for over seven years; he’s just not sure on how to show the emotions.”
Jonathan ignored her, picked up his luggage and walked towards the exit. He stopped after taking a few steps.

“Where’s Josh?” He asked directing the question at his mother.

She sniffed and turned away to hide the tears that welled up in her eyes. Her husband pulled towards him and hugged her. Jonathan turned to Shade for an answer and like her mother, she turned away as well.

“Where the hell is Josh? He asked again, this time with a stern tone.

“Josh died two years ago in a car accident.” It was his father that answered. “He was coming from school; Unilag along with his friend… we never found his body.” He added after a short pause.

Jonathan dropped his bags and pulled out his wallet from one of its pockets. He wiped the sweat off his face again and walked towards the exit.

“Where are you going?” His mother asked.

“To Unilag. I’ll find my way home.”

* * *

Shade followed Ronke closely as they stepped out of the reception of their dorm.

“Where are we going?” She asked for the umpteenth time.

“The cafeteria.”

Nike received a ping while I was with her phone. He wanted to meet her by four today in the café. Its quarter past four already.”

“So, we’re just going to jump in or what?”

“I don’t know yet. Let’s get there first.” Ronke replied.

In the cafeteria, they spotted Nike and her boyfriend from the entrance and walked towards them. They arrived at their location in record time and Ronke cleared her throat to announce their presence. 

“Hi Josh.” Ronke greeted in a faint tone to Nike’s annoyance and Jeff looked up to their stupefied faces. Shade blinked a couple of times and touched his shoulder to ensure she was sane. This was definitely Josh.

“Hello. It’s Jeff though.” Jeff replied and smiled in Ronke’s direction. He had never been this close to her and he couldn’t explain his affection for her.
Shade struggled to find words and just left her mouth aghast while Ronke grabbed a seat for herself at their table and engaged Jeff in a conversation.

Jonathan walked in on their discussion and punched Jeff in the left shoulder.

“Bastard; I thought you were dead.” He exclaimed.

Jeff groaned in pain and stood up to face him.

“Who are you and why did you do that? And what the hell do you mean by I was dead? He asked Jonathan. Nike stood up in his defence and clapped her hands in a market woman fashion.

“Who the hell are you?” She asked and placed her hands on her hips ready for some drama. Ronke and Shade retreated to the background after deciding to stay out of the commotion.

“I should be asking you that.” Jonathan replied Nike.

“I’m his girlfriend.” She said with aplomb and rolled her eyes. Jonathan just smiled.

“And I’m his brother.”

The whole lot including Ronke and Shade chorused ‘brother’ which made bystanders turn to look. Nike and Ronke flashed them grave looks and they went back to their business.

Right in the corner, Mohammed and Jack observed the proceedings.

“Those are the girls, Jack.” Mohammed said.

“I know boss. Let’s wait for the guys to leave.”

To be Continued Next Year

Thanks for reading.
Do drop a comment or your views below, it will be really appreciated.
Also share 🙂 Thanks.

Merry Christmas ands a Happy New Year in Advance.

Mike Dammy

Joshua Fela – Episode 10


Joshua Fela

Joshua Fela | Damstylee_Original picture sourced from Google

Before I start… Let me first say I’m really sorry I took a long break from writing especially as regards this series. I hope you forgive me :d

I also hope you still have the fire burning.
If you’ve forgotten the story however, you can download the earlier episodes here in one single file—>>>

Episodes 1 – 9

That said… Read, Enjoy, Drop a comment and Share.



Mike walked into the reception of EKO hospital; a renowned medical clinic in Lagos. He scanned the corridors connected to the reception in view of signages that would direct him before his attention is broken by a waving receptionist. Or was she a nurse, he had no idea and her formal attire gave nothing away.

“Good afternoon.” He greeted after he had advanced on her position.

“Afternoon sir, how may I help you?” She replied. He couldn’t help but notice her cute appearance and the little freckles on her face that made her look younger than he guessed she was.

“I’m Mike Ogu; divisional head police officer of the Akoka branch police station. I would like to see a medical doctor. If possible, the one in charge.”

He saw the look on her face and quickly added; “its for an investigation.”

“I’m sure it is.” She replied and smiled at the realisation that he had tried reading her facial expression and failed. Contrary to what he might have been thinking, she was only surprised at the panache with which he spoke.

“If I’m getting you right sir, you want to see Dr. Yeboah; the medical director in charge but he’s curently on official duties to Namibia”

“Oh…Is there any other doctor I can see?”

“Yes, Dr Ogunsaye. He’s Dr Yeboah’s deputy.”

“Okay, that’ll be fine by me.” Mike replied.

“Good, sit over there for a while…” She gestured to a settee in the reception lobby. “And I’ll get back to you soon.”

“Thank you… Miss?”

“Tamara.” She answered and gently flicked her nametag albeit in an ambiguous manner. He got the hint and punched himself for not seeing it on his way to the settee.


Laughter from an adjoining room cut through the silence in Ronke’s room like a knife. She was seated on an arm chair which was opposite her bed on which Nike was seated.

“Nike…” She said in a rather commanding tone. “Let me see that picture.”

“No.” was the reply she got.


Nike sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her palm. Her eyes were red from holding back the tears and it seemed like they could burst out any minute.

“Because I’ve got something going and you want to ruin it for me by telling me its all fake.”

“Not fake Nike.” Ronke corrected.” An illusion. I only want to confirm if Jeff is truly who he claims to be or you’re…” She paused and breathed heavily.

“Say it! You want to say I’m crazy right? Well, I am. I am crazily in love with a living person not the ghost you claim he is.”

“That ghost liked me.” Ronke replied emphasizing the word ‘Liked’.

“And that is it. That’s what this has always been about.” Nike clapped once and looked at the ceiling to prevent the tears from rolling out.

“It’s always been about you. The boy wanted you but you didn’t want him. Now he likes someone else and youre jealous that it’s not working out for you. You want it all for yourself.” She grabbed her bag , walked towards the exit and opened the door.

“You’re so self-centred it stinks.” She added. “Everything must be about you. No one else can be happy but you. The gist and gossip must always be in your favour. And you wonder why only crazies and idiots fall for you.” She stepped out and slammed the door behind her.

Ronke alighted from the chair, paced around the room in no particular pattern as she tried to wrap her head around her current dilemma.

Was she self-centred? Well, yea. But nobody could blame her as to why she was curious about Nike’s boyfriend. He was a carbon copy of the guy that liked her two years ago. The same one that died in a ghastly motor accident.

Was Josh alive? Was Nath normal?

She collapsed in a heap on her bed out of exhaustion and the dizzy effect her zigzag movement around the room had caused. She grabbed her pillows tightly and as she tried to sleep away the pain, her room door swung open.

“I came as soon as I saw your message” Shade said as she stomped into the room. She stooped to remove her sandals, saw the dirt she brought in with her and gasped.

“Don’t worry about that.” An obviously famished Ronke said. “I’ll clean it later.”

Shade rose her head in shock to look at her. The almighty queen of tidyness just refused the opportunity to go all gaga at mud stains on her rug. Something definitely was up.

“What’s wrong dear?” She asked after taking a seat beside Ronke’s bed and nudging her in the side. “Is it Chloe?”

“Nah… I think Nike is right.”

“Right about what?” A confused Shade asked.

“I am a jealous self-centered crazy b**ch…”

“Nike said that?” Shade interjected.

“Not really, but that’s what she meant.”

“When did these all happen?”

“Doesn’t matter but I’m gonna solve it today.”

“Solve what?” Shade asked disgusted. “Stop putting me in the dark. Your message said I should get here fast. I’m here now, what’s the problem?

“Joshua Fela is not dead.” Ronke finally replied. She got up from the bed. Walked over to her mirror and wiped off what was left of the makeup on her face.

“I know that Ronke, I saw him myself.”

“Good. So Josh is not dead…” She repeated. “Nath is not crazy and I know all these because Nike is pregnant for him.”

Shade gasped and covered her open mouth with her hands.

“Nath impregnated Nike?”

“No stupid. Josh did and I believe I…”

“Ronke…” Shade interrupted her. “You know that sounds crazy.” Ronke shot her a blank stare and she hushed.

“Just follow me to the cafeteria and I’ll prove it.” She grabbed her bag and hung it on her shoulder. “I’ll prove to everybody that Josh is Jeff and Jeff is Josh”

“Who’s Jeff?” Shade asked.

“Stop asking questions and just follow me jor.” They shut the door behind them and headed for the cafeteria.


Sir… Sir… Mr Mike? A gentle thud on his wrist woke him from his slumber.

“Er.. Yes?” He stuttered when he saw the receptionist standing over him.

“Mr Ogunsaye is ready to see you.” She said and returned to her desk.

“Oh.. Okay, thank you.” He rose for his seat and went in the direction she pointed.

“First door to your left.” She said after him.

“Okay.” He got to the door with the name tag on it and stopped.

“Tamara.” He called.

“Yes sir?”

“Can I see you later, say Friday?” He asked while trying to be as calm as he could be.

She say back and slouched in her seat.

“See me how?” A slight grin played at the corner of her lips. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
As she expected, he broke a sweat and puffed his cheeks.

“What…what… I meant was…” He replied stuttering like he did earlier.

“You mean a date?”

“Yes… I mean no… Actually what I meant was…”

“You know what…” She interrupted him.
“Let me give you my number.” She scribbled her number on a sheet of paper and handed it to him.

“Give me a call and we’ll talk better.”

“Thanks.” He smiled after he realized what she had done.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, she cleared her throat and pointed in the direction of the doctor’s office.

“Oh! Totally forgot about that.” He said and scampered to the office.


The phone vibrated on the wooden table and an ominous hand out of the darkness snatched at it and flipped it open.


“Hello. Is this Muhammed?”

“Yes. I just got the pictures in my mail.”

“Good. I guess that’s all you need.”

“Yes, it is. Their names, pictures and addresses. That’s basically everything. Have you seen my boy?”

“Yes, he just left my house. I gave him a hundred thousand naira.”

“Hundred ke? We agreed on two hundred.”

“I know. You’ll get your balance when the deed is done.”

A deep laughter filled the small room poorly lit by a single clerestory window.

“Trust me, those girls; Nike and Ronke or whatever their names are are as good as dead.”

As soon as he dropped the call, he dialled another number.


“Yes sir.”

“Did you get the complete money?”

“Yes sir. Hundred thousand naira, no kobo less.”

“Good. Meet me in front of Unilag now. Let’s just finish the job sharply.”

“Oshey! I’ll meet you there asap.”

“Good, and don’t forget to bring the van. You know we can’t kill them in plain sight.”

“I know sir, I no be novice. See you in thirty minutes.”


After thirty minutes with the doctor, Mike stepped out of the office, waved Tamara good bye and headed out of the hospital. In the parking lot, he dialled Bayo’s number and surveyed his surroundings as it rang.

“Hello sir.” He heard Bayo say.



“Go back to that school and bring me back that girl.”

“Ronke Gbadamosi?”

“Yes, something is not right here.”

“What can that be Sir?” Bayo asked.

“We’ll discuss later at the station. Just get me the girl now.”

“Okay sir.”

To be continued.


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Mike Dammy

NEW: For Unilag Students


The Grid


The Grid

Joshua Fela – Episode 9

Joshua Fela | Damstylee_Original picture sourced from Google

Joshua Fela | Damstylee_Original picture sourced from Google

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Happy new month… Hehe… Really sorry this is coming late.. Been kinda busy with school work. I’m forgiven aiit? :d

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“What do you mean by the suspect we are talking about?”

Mike turned to look at the senator and fought the urge not to reply with a sarcastic tone.

“The one I told you she just mentioned.”

“Oh, ok… good. Let’s go meet her then.” Dare said and headed for the exit.

Mike cleared his throat and the senator halted in his stride.

“I’ll have to talk to him alone sir.”

“Why’s that?”

“This is a murder case and…”

“I know that.” Dare interjected.

“Yes, I know you know. What I was going to add before you interrupted was that since I am the most experienced personnel in police matters in this vicinity, it’s logical I get the statement from the suspect alone.”

“But it was my son that got murdered.” Dare interjected again.

Mike shot the Senator a knowing look and continued. “I know and I promise to get to the bottom of this.”

“You better do.” Dare said. He turned to his personal assistant and called her to the corner.

“Call Sheraton now and a suite and the closest room to it. Tell them it’s urgent and we are on our way there.” He whispered to her.

“Yes sir.” She replied.

He turned to face Mike. “I will be lodged in Sheraton; give me a call when there’s a new development.”

“Yes sir.” Mike said calmly. He held his breath until he heard the door close behind Dare and his entourage and heaved a sigh of relief when it did.

“Good riddance.” He muttered under his breath.

Ronke smiled in her seat and shook her head. She had been here a short while but she didn’t need a soothsayer to know Mike was a good man. Apparently Africa magic had got it all wrong when they portrayed all Nigerian police officers as jerks and extortionists.

“So Nath’s here?” She said to break the air since nobody had said a word since the senator left.

“Yes, he has come to confess.” Bayo was first to answer.

“Yea, I heard clearly the first time the other man said it.” She responded.

Mike detected the rude tone but just ignored it when he noticed Bayo didn’t. He couldn’t blame her too; nobody liked Bayo.

“So what’s going to happen to me?” Her question was directed at Mike this time.

“You’re free to go for now.”

“What?” Bayo bawled. “Why are you letting her go Sir? She is still a suspect.”

“Would you stop me from releasing her?” Mike asked without turning to look at him.

“No sir. I’m sorry.”

A smile lit up Ronke’s face when she saw Bayo’s whitewashed face.

“What happens to Nath now?” She asked Mike again.

“Sincerely, I don’t know.”


Dare was looking at the Ikorodu roadway through the tinted glass of his Lexus jeep. He was seated in the owner’s corner while his personal assistant was seated directly in front of him in the passenger’s seat to the right of the driver.

His phone buzzed beside him and he turned to look at it. The screen read Commissioner Susan and he sighed when he guessed why she was calling.

“Hello.” He said into the mouthpiece of the phone when he had picked the call.

“Hello darling.” He heard her say. “How are you?”

“I’m fine Susan.”

“How was the meeting with the DPO?”

“It was good I guess.”

“And have you finally accepted to take my advice.”

“No.” Dare replied abruptly. He had not even given a thought once.

“Just let it go Dare.”

“And let him win? No.” The driver and his PA just stared at the traffic in front of them. Whatever was happening at the back seats was none of their business.

“Why are you so bent on making someone suffer because of your feud with your son?”

“If you put it like that, I wonder why I told you in the first place.”

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to put it that way but please explain all of this to me.”

“Okay; remember when I told you about Tope’s mum?”

“Yea, I do.”

“Well, she died when he was eleven and he never forgave me. She had leukaemia and I was busy on some official business in the UK. When I got back, it was too late and he had watched her die all by himself. I tried mending our already broken relationship but he never agreed and he always reminded….”

“You’ve told me all these Dare…” She interrupted. ” but I still don’t understand how it plays down to Tope committing suicide just to hurt you.”

Dare laughed and bit his bottom lip.

“That’s exactly what he did. That way I don’t get to have him around. And he was tired of life to be honest. I just didn’t expect him to take it this far.”

“Okay, if all you say is true; why do you need someone to suffer for his suicide?”

“So he doesn’t win. I’m not going to accept being the cause for his death. No, I won’t.”



“Please don’t do this, it’s not worth it.”

“Got to go now.” He said and ignored her pleas.

“Okay, talk to you later.”

“You too dear. “

He tossed his phone to the leather seat behind him as his car turned to enter the compound of the Sheraton hotel.


The door creaked open and Mike peeked into his office. He was a little disappointed when he saw a young man in a hoody and a pair of jeans bowed over the plywood table top of his desk. He expected a more macho appearance by the famous ‘Nath’. He tried to read emotions from the calm scene but got nothing. Even the click of the door into its lock didn’t stir up the motionless man.

“Excuse me.” He finally said after clearing his throat also failed to arouse Nath.

Nath rose up his head and Mike frowned when he saw his bloodshot eyes. He hoped it was the effect of sobbing for hours on end that made them so and not the ecstasy that accompanied smoking freshly cut marijuana.

“Nathaniel Bassey?”

“Yes sir.” Nath finally said.

“Good.” Mike strolled to his side of the desk. He felt a small hint of discomfort as Nath stared as him as he walked past him. He finally got to his wheeler chair, sat on it and held out his hands on the table in front of Nath.

“So I hear you have something for me.” Mike started.
Nath hesitated. He hadn’t slept one bit since the incident hence the sore eyeballs and he also hadn’t eaten in that same period of time. He couldn’t make any sense from what had happened or how it had happened and the only bits that fit were the dream and the murder itself. He jerked back to reality when he noticed the DPO waving at him.

“Sorry, what did you ask?”

“When last did you sleep?”

Nath looked puzzled and tried to figure out why the man in front of him was interested in his sleeping patterns. Had he been thinking aloud?

“Two days ago.” He finally answered.

“The day of the murder?”



“Why what?”

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Why would I sleep? I freaking killed someone. If it were you, would you sleep or eat?”

“No.” Mike replied. “But I sure as hell won’t turn myself in just two days after.”
Nath shrugged his shoulders and looked away.

“I guess I felt guilty.”

“Why did you kill him then?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t know why I killed him. I don’t even know when I did.”

Mike shook his head slowly. This wasn’t making any sense to him. The boy might be high after all.

“You know you’re not making any sense.” He said. “How don’t you know when you killed him?”

“It’s complicated sir; I had a dream that he was injured in his groin area and when I woke up he was dead and his private part was gone. Everybody said they didn’t see anybody do it so I just put two and two together.”

“Are you nuts?” Mike uttered. He looked stunned and pissed.

“How dare you come here and give me a cock and bull story on how you killed someone in your dream. Do you think we’re playing here? I should lock you up for dissent.”

“I’m sorry sir.”

“Good. Now, get out of my station.” He stood up to walk Nath out.

“But.. but I came to confess.” Nath stammered.

“Are you crazy? I said…”

“Yes I am.” Nath interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“I know the question was rhetorical but I answered it.” Nath said. He was standing now. “I was diagnosed with the Capgras syndrome two years back and its gets worse every day. I don’t have control over my body or my actions and like I said earlier, I believe I killed Tope.”

“Bayo.” Mike said into the intercom. “Get in here.”

“Yes sir.” Bayo replied.

Minutes later, Nath is escorted to a small cell in the station and Mike was headed out of the station.

“To where Oga?” The sergeant at the counter had asked.

“Eko hospital in Ikeja; I would be back soon.” Mike said and hurried to go get his car.


The key turned in the lock and it snapped open. Ronke stepped into her dorm room with her handbag dragging at her heels. There was a strange phenomenon with the room and even though it disgusted her stomach, she wasn’t in the mood to find out what it was. Barely five minutes after she had settled in, she heard a knock and the door swung open without warning. She cursed for not remembering to lock it behind her and turned to see Nike standing in the doorway. She tried to hide her disgust and collapsed into a chair in a bid to do so.

“Hey Nike.” She said.

“Hi Ronke; I heard you were back and I rushed here to come see you.”

There was a distinctive trait about her attitude and Ronke tried to read it off her face and hand gestures but she got nothing. Nike was not a calm person. Something was definitely wrong.

“What’s wrong with you?”


“You’re lying.” She deciphered.

“I’m not.” Nike replied and sat on Chloe’s bed. Ronke moved to her side and her arm brushed Nike’s as she sought to sit beside her.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked anxiously and put her palm to Nike’s forehead to find out if she had a fever. “You’re steaming.”

Nike turned away to wipe a tear off her face but Ronke dragged her back in time to see it. She ignored the exhaustion her body felt and knelt in front of Nike.

“Please tell me what happened.”

A teary Nike replied; “I didn’t want to… “

“You didn’t want to want?”

“Ronke… I’m pregnant.”

Ronke gasped and covered her open mouth with her hands.

“Preg-what? Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She held up the pregnancy test strip to show Ronke the two colour bands that had appeared on the strip’s indicator.

“Shit.” Ronke cursed. “What are you going to do? Chill, let me get tissue.” She stood up to go get tissue paper to wipe Nike’s raining face with and stopped dead in her tracks when a thought popped up in her mind.

“Please don’t tell me it’s that guy you just met. What his name again… Je… Jeff…yes, Jeff?”

Nike swung her head to look at her and Ronke didn’t need a word to know her friend had been stupid enough to get impregnated by a guy she just met.

“Nike… Nike… I warned you about this idiot.”

Nike fought back. “He’s not an idiot and he loves me.”

“Bulls**t!” Ronke cried. Nike shrieked and her elbow hit her purse and it fell on the floor spilling out all its content onto the floor.

“I’m sorry”. Ronke apologised and bent over to pack up the items that fell out of the purse. As she did, she picked up a photograph that was faced downwards and froze when she saw what was on the other side of the paper.



“When did you take this picture?” She held the photo in Nike’s face.

“Last week, why?”

“Are you crazy? Did you go to heaven and come back?”

“ I’m saying where did you see Josh to take a picture with?”

“Who’s Josh?” Nike said and snatched the photo from Ronke’s hand. “This is Jeff, my boyfriend.”

“Hell no… that’s not Jeff; that is Joshua Fela.”

To be continued next week


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Joshua Fela – Episode 8

Joshua Fela | Damstylee_Original picture sourced from Google

Joshua Fela | Damstylee_Original picture sourced from Google

Click the links below to read older episodes

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

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Also, do drop a comment when you’re done.

The door opened and a man in his late forties stepped into the room. He spotted a short goatee and adjusted his glasses every now and then to reassure himself of his countenance and youth. The glasses had no recommended lens on them but only he knew that. He had told the doctor it was meant to help him remain young and vibrant in the eyes of the world.

The interrogator seated at the table immediately got to his feet and saluted the DPO of the current branch.

“Morning Sir.” He said after the physical salutation.

“Morning Bayo; is this the girl?” He asked concerning the girl seated at the other end of the desk. Her face was clasped in her palms and her hair was in a mess.

“Yes sir.” Bayo replied.

“Okay, what’s the situation?”

“She has refused to own up sir; still insists she had nothing to do with the murder.”

“She better do or we would have to answer to the senator. No…” he added after thinking. “I would have to answer to the senator.”

He smiled faintly and collected the file of the murder case from the outstretched hand of the interrogator. After rummaging through the documents, he snapped shut the file and looked at the terrified girl.

“Miss Ronke.” He said.

She looked up at this instance and squinted to see the face of her caller through her tear laden eyes.


“Ronke Gbadamosi right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, I’m Mike Ogu; the divisional police office of this branch.” He dragged the chair the interrogator stood from to himself creating a screeching sound in the process that made the interrogator flinch. He took off his glasses and put on a reassuring look. He noticed it calmed her down and managed a faint smile.

“So, tell me what happened.”

“Where do I start?” Ronke asked.

“From the beginning.” Mike replied.

Ronke took a deep breath and cleared her throat.
“It all started on Friday. I was gisting with my friends in my room.”

“Which friends?” Mike interjected.

“Nike, Shade and Chloe.” She said. “Chloe is my roommate…” she later added when she saw the look on Mike’s face.

“And these girls can vouch you were with them at this point in time?”

“Yes sir.”

“Carry on.”

She went on to describe her ordeal with Tope; how he called her and asked her to dinner. How the entire female dormitory went wild when the well-dressed driver arrived in the Aston Martin to pick her. How they spent money that rounded up to 56,000 naira during the course of the evening, how Tope asked her up to the suite he had booked and how she had refused.
Mike who had been quiet throughout her account stopped her at this point.

“You refused?”



“I didn’t want to follow him. I only followed him to have an experience of dining and Sheraton and…” she paused and looked away from Mike’s focused gaze.

“And what?” Mike inquired.

“… And to waste his money.” She muttered under her voice but the others in the room heard it clearly. “Don’t get me wrong…” she quickly added. “Tope is a proud person. I only wanted to make him pay and teach him a lesson.”

“Don’t you think killing him was too much of a lesson?” It was Bayo that spoke.

“I didn’t kill him.” She barked in his direction.

“Of course you didn’t. He died in the male hostel and unless you’re in Hollywood, you couldn’t have pulled that stunt. So, who did you employ to do the dirty job for you?”

“I didn’t kill him.” Ronke repeated.

“Then who did?” He banged the metal table in frustration and realised what he had done. His eyes met with that of the Mike who was looking up from his seated position and saw the disappointment in the eyes of his superior.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“You better be. Get out.”

Bayo reluctantly walked out of the room and Ronke heaved a sigh of relief when the door shut.

“Now, tell me what happened after that.” Mike said when the tension had dissipated.

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and continued talking.

“After dinner, he paid the bill and I stood up to go. He then looked at me and asked me where I was going. I told him I thought we were supposed to head back to school because it was getting late and he laughed and told me we weren’t going back to school that night. When I asked him why, he said he had booked a room and that did I think he had brought me all the way to Sheraton to just have dinner. I got angry and started walking to the door and he dragged me back and threatened to wreck me and my family.”

She wiped a tear from her right eye but Mike stared on without any reaction. She searched his eyes for pity but found none, so she continued.

I tried to pull away and he called security and accused me of being a hooker. The security men threw me out and I found my way back to school.” She made an expression to show she had finished but Mike fixed his gaze on her.

“Did he have enemies?” He asked when he noticed she was getting uncomfortable with all the attention.

“Not that I know of.”

“Even in your class?”

She shook her head in response.
Mike leaned back in his seat and rubbed his sweaty hands against his trousers. His instincts told him she was innocent but the job required him to prove it.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”


“So apart from Tope, there is nobody wooing you?”

“Actually, there are a few but what does it matter?”

“It does matter because one of your numerous suitors could have killed Tope out of jealousy. So, is there any one among them that doesn’t like Tope?”

“Well, there’s Nath.”

“Who’s Nath?”

“Nathaniel Bassey; He was also in my class and he never for once liked Tope.”

“How do you know that?”

“It was obvious; they showed it every day, in class, church, anywhere they found themselves.”



Mike opened the file and scribbled something on an A4 paper.

“Any other thing you think I should know?” He waited for a response and when he didn’t get any, he looked up to see Ronke with her mouth aghast and her gaze fixed on the wall behind him.


“Nath was a cultist in his former school and he threatened me the day Tope died. Actually, the afternoon before he did.”

“Hmm…” was all Mike said. His face was buried in the paper her was jotting in.

“Is it possible Nath killed Tope?”

“Anything is possible dear; anybody can be a murderer; even you.” He put his pen back on the paper again to write and was halted by a knock on the door.

“Yes, come in.”

“DPO…” he heard Bayo say; “the senator is around.”

“Okay.” Mike replied calmly. “Tell him I would be with him soon.”

“In other words, he should keep me waiting.” Senator Dare said as he stepped into the room.

Mike turned back to see the youngest senator this country had ever had in his full regalia. His sky blue agbada screamed affluence and his charisma was one to be admired. A young lady Mike perceived to be his personal assistant stood behind him in a grey suit and two military officers stood behind her.

“I’m sorry sir.” Mike said and stood up in respect.

“Keep your apology to yourself. Has Bello called you?”

“Bello?” Mike asked bemused.

“Your boss.”

“Oh, Inspector Bello. Yes, he has sir.”

“Good. So who is she?” He pointed at Ronke.

“That’s Ronke Gbadamosi. She was brought in for questioning.”

“So, she killed my son?”

“No sir.” Mike answered. “She was only brought in for questioning.” Bayo cast a glance in his direction. How his boss had picked sides early on in the case surprised him.

“So, who did?” Dare asked.

“We don’t know yet sir.”

“What? Are you dumb? What do you mean by you’ve not found who killed my son?”

“I meant investigations are still on-going and no sir, I’m not dumb. You would like to mind your language around here Sir.”

The senator swivelled to face Mike.

“Are you talking to me?”

“I won’t have to if you had spoken well in the first place Sir.” Mike placed emphasis on the sir whenever he addressed arrogant people.

“What’s your name?”

“Mike Ogu Sir.”

“Mike, Mike… I like you Mike but you better watch your manners or I’ll have your ass on the street and I’ll make sure nobody employs you.”

Mike opened his mouth to reply but Bayo tugged at his shirt and he let it go.

“Good, now that we’ve reached an understanding, someone with a little bit of respect in here should brief me on what this investigation has uncovered.”

“Well… Mike started. I’ve interrogated her and we’ve come up with a new suspect.”

“Who?” Senator Dare asked.
A sergeant stepped into the already stuffed room, saluted his bosses and proceeded to speak.

“Sir, one Nathaniel Bassey is waiting for you in your office. He has asked to speak to you.”

“Nathaniel Bassey?” Mike asked.

“Yes sir. He said he has come to confess to one murder case or something.”

“Well, that’s wonderful.”

Senator dare looked on puzzled and Mike put him out of his misery.

“Nathaniel Bassey sir; is the suspect I was talking about.”


“Okay baby, talk to you tomorrow.”

“You too dear.” Jeff replied and cut the call. He flexed his arms and smiled to the ceiling. He really liked the girl after all.

“So, you still talk to that girl.”

Jeff sighed and turned to look at his father who was standing at the entrance of the door.

“I’ve told you I love her.”

“And I’ve told you love doesn’t exist.” He turned to leave the room.

“Yea right.” Jeff muttered under his breath.

“I heard you.” He heard his father’s voice echo in the lobby.

“I know.”

Jeff stood up and put on a pair of jeans. He took another long look at his girlfriend’s picture on the homepage of his phone and smiled.

“Dad.” He said when he got to the living room where his father was already seated.


“You promised to tell me about the accident today.”

“What’s left to know?”

“Don’t pretend now.” Jeff grumbled. “You never told me where I was going to before the accident or where I was even coming from.”

“Well, that’s because you never kept our deal.”

“Which is?” Jeff asked. He moved to the bar and poured himself a glass of wine.

“I thought I told you not to drink.” His father said without looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

“You’re deviating dad.”

“Oh, you mean the deal?”


“We agreed you would never step foot in that school again.”

“I thought we talked about that dad. For some reason, I’m drawn to that Ronke girl.”

“But you’re going out with her friend; you must be really drawn to her.” The father said albeit sarcastically.

“Well, I fell in love with Nike and I don’t regret it.”

“Break up with her, stick to our deal and I promise to tell you.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I’m not telling you.” The father slouched in the settee and shielded his face with the newspaper.

“I didn’t say I won’t. I said I can’t.”


“Meaning she’s pregnant.”

“She’s what?”

To be continued next week Tuesday.


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Joshua Fela – Episode 7

Joshua Fela | Damstylee_Original picture sourced from Google

Joshua Fela | Damstylee_Original picture sourced from Google

Click the links below to read older episodes

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

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Dare lay naked on the king size bed. The duvet was mussed and it barely covered his phallus after all the tossing and turning during the night. Susan lay beside him and was also deep in sleep. Her hair was packed in a hairnet and her face still had traces of last night’s make up.

The sun came up early and it let itself in through the tiny gap between the drapes. That single ray attacked Dare’s face and he was forced to jump out of bed. He tried going back to sleep after re-directing the light to Susan’s face but sleep wasn’t forthcoming.

Susan woke soon; the light causing her to. She looked in his direction and saw him standing over the bed. He looked like he could burst into laughter anytime and she didn’t need a mind reader to know he had done something mischievous.

“Dare; you did that curtain thing again right?” She asked with a stern look. He turned away and clasped his lips tightly to prevent them from betraying the act.

“You’re just a cow.” She said when he didn’t reply and threw a pillow in his direction. He caught the pillow and smiled.

“And you’re my lovely gecko.” He relied and tossed it right back at her. Those were their pet names. They had coined them during their first night out in London.

“Don’t you think we have taken the word pet too literally?” He had asked that night when she laid in his arms after a few bouts of sex.

“I know right.” She had replied.

She rolled up on the bed and backed the sunlight. The light fell on her hair this time and rendered it a taint brown. He noticed the colour gradient in her hair and smiled. Thoughts of going back to bed crossed his mind but he brushed them off. The alarm clock read 6:26. The time was 6:11 then, he calculated. It was fifteen minutes late. An error incurred by himself on purpose the night they arrived here in Burj al Arab.

He moved to the working closet and spent some minutes jostling on which shorts would be perfect for the day. Today was Tuesday, or was it Wednesday; he had no idea. Work was overbearing and he had no time for dates. Last night’s mini rendezvous with the other senators had left him with a slight headache this morning; the result of taking more than two glasses of tequila than his body could afford. He had learnt that the hard way some years back.

He settled with a pair of lemon coloured beach shorts and rose it up like a trophy. Humming the UEFA Champions League theme in his head, he moved his arms like he saw the conductor do at a live rendition of the Moulin Rouge in Paris last week.

“This is childish, Dare.” He told himself. “You’re forty seven for heaven’s sake.”

He stepped out of the closet and the room into the patio. The gale last night was nowhere to be found and all that was left was a soft breeze that was soothing to his skin. He rubbed his stomach in ecstasy and admired the orange sun. Today was perfect. He undressed and stepped into the suspended pool while clutching between his fore and middle fingers a cigar with his name emblazoned on it. He found his perfect spot in the pool with ease and made himself comfortable.

The shores of Dubai looked scanty this morning and he cursed for forgetting his binoculars inside. He procrastinated however and promised his conscience he would get it later. He couldn’t miss work for today. At least, this was work; spending a week in Dubai’s most extravagant hotel, smoking his customised cigar, resting in the pool all week long and no phone calls or emails. Sleeping with Nigeria’s ambassador to the United Arab Emirates in the most expensive suite in the whole of the Middle East was also an add-on. He couldn’t have wished for better. He didn’t even need to be the president; his earnings as a senator was sufficient for him.

The door leading to the patio opened and out stepped Susan. Looking at her now, he couldn’t quite see the class he noticed the first day they met at the official meeting in London last month. She held his phone and he frowned.

So much for no phone calls.

“You have a call. It’s from Nigeria.”
He grumbled and reluctantly collected the phone from her. Where was his personal assistant when he needed her?

“Hello.” The voice at the other end said.

“Yes, this is Senator Oludare Ibikunle.”

“Good day sir, this is Inspector Bello.”

“Inspector; how are you doing?”

“I’m very fine sir.”

“Good. To what do I owe this honour?”

“I just called to inform you of an urgent matter… or rather issue.”

“Yes, what issue?”

“Sir, I don’t know how to put it but your son was moved to the morgue last night. He had been murdered.”

“What? Where?”

“In his school; we don’t know who the murderer is yet but my boys are working on it.”

“See Inspector, I don’t care what investigations are running now but you must who killed my son. Make sure you’re in charge of the investigation.”

“Definitely sir.”

“I’ll take the next flight to Nigeria. Interrogate anybody you have to; his friends, lecturers, arrest the whole school if you see the need to sef.”

“Yes sir.”

“See you soon.”

“Okay sir. Good day sir.”

“Good day.”

“Dare, what’s wrong?” Susan asked after he dropped the call.

“Tope was killed last night.”

“What?” She held her hands to her mouth in shock.

“Yes. I’m going to Nigeria now.”

He got out of the pool, left his shorts behind and walked towards the penthouse. She watched him walk butt-naked into the house with puddles of water formed at each step he took and hurried after him.


“Are these delusions only caused by injuries or accidents to the head?” a male student asked.

“No.” the aged looking professor replied. His big spectacles adorned his round face and balanced themselves neatly on the crane of his nose. Nath devised he was almost or above seventy because the only black hair he could find on him were little patches on his moustache and he could have sworn the old professor looked like the Penguin; a villain in the Disney Batman series.

“Sometimes, these diseases are hereditary.” The professor’s monotone voice echoed in the classroom.

“Examples are the Huntington and the Gaucher diseases…”

The freshers looked on in awe as the oldest lecturer in the medicine department and current head of department wowed them with his vast knowledge.

“The Huntington is very devastating; it slowly impedes the affected individual’s ability to walk, talk and reason. According to research, it’s hereditary; that means it is passed down from generations to generations and there is no cure for it. One good thing though is that it’s rare in Nigeria. We have had just one case in about fifty years. I guess that is a good ratio right?”

The class nodded in the affirmative.

“At least I shouldn’t be prescribing treatment for any of you for it in my lifetime.”

The whole class laughed at this statement. Nath however stared on stupefied. How the fellow students found that humorous was really strange to him. He had to admit though; the man did have a charm on his students. It must be a departmental thing, he reasoned after Josh yawned for the umpteenth time.

“Other examples are the traumatic brain injury which is predominant in children unfortunately.” The professor continued. He went on to explain how the diseases were diagnosed and whether scientists had found cures to them or not.

Nath slouched on the bench himself and Josh were seated on. Sleep was beginning to creep up on him and he was fighting a losing battle against it. He had come here to learn more about his predicament but it seemed he was going to leave worse.
Josh laughed beside him when he saw the look on his face.

“I told you this was going to be a wasted effort. Now, we have missed our history class.”

Nath ignored him and focused what was left of his attention on the professor. If only he could mention what he wanted to hear. He had stayed up all night buried in thoughts over Tope’s death. It couldn’t have been a coincidence; it all had to be connected.
He checked his wristwatch for the time and knew the class was going to end soon. He had to act now.

“Yes; you at the back”. The professor said. Nath’s hand was up.

“Good afternoon sir.”

“Good afternoon. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in this class.” Josh tugged at his trouser but Nath shrugged him off.

“Yes sir, I’m not a student in this department. I’m from the ICT department. I just came to learn a thing or two about a particular brain delusion.”

“Okay, carry on.” The professor urged.

“I have a relative and he’s diagnosed with a brain disease. The doctors called it the Capgras syndrome.”

“Capgras syndrome.” The professor reiterated. “Peculiar brain delusion I would say. What are the symptoms your relative has showed?”

“Well, he claims his dead best friend is still alive and that he actually sees him.”

“Hmm… I would have loved to meet him. Has he showed any form of violence?”

“Not that I know of.” Nath replied.

“Then that’s good. He still has a little time before he finally loses it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Victims diagnosed with the Capgras syndrome resort to violence after a while. They break stuff or cut themselves. They might even kill someone without knowing they did. That’s when it’s extreme though, but if your relative hasn’t gotten to that stage, good for him or is it her?”


“Good for him then.”
Nath bath his eyelids to prevent tears from pouring out of his eyes and embarrassing himself further, it was bad enough that he was in another department.

“Okay sir, one other thing.”


“My cousin claims he sees the future.”

The professor smiled at this and shook his head slowly. He removed his glasses and wiped them on his blue cotton shirt before putting them back on. The whole class including Nath stared on anxiously.

“There have been claims of Capgras delusion victims seeing the future but there are no facts yet and so many disprove it as a logical notion.”

“What do you mean sir?”

“I mean the dream and premonitions these patients claim to have could just be a figment of their imagination. They are already mentally impaired, who is to say this is not one of the side effects of the delusion? Give me an example of when he claimed to have seen the future.”

Nath racked his memory for a befitting example that would suit his case. Stating anything similar to his case or Tope’s death would just raise suspicion around him.

“One day, a vase was broken in the house and we were wondering who got it broken. Meanwhile, he was sleeping in the room. When we went to ask him, he looked in shock and told us how the vase had broken and which side it had broken without seeing the vase itself. When we asked him how he knew, he said he had seen it in a dream.”

“He broke the vase.” The professor said without warning.

“He did?”

“Yes; the reason why he knew the vase was broken was because he broke it and then taught he saw someone else do it.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes. I hope I’ve answered your questions well.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.”

“You’re welcome son. “

The whole class heaved a sigh of relief. What they just experienced in the last hour was mind-blowing. A short boy said aloud that this was why he chose to study medicine and the rest of the class nodded their heads in approval

The professor smiled at their enthusiasm, took a look at his wristwatch and said;

“I guess my time is up.”

“Yes sir.” Some students retorted.

“Good. Class dismissed.”


“You should have seen how he sparked for me. You would have thought I was his girlfriend.”

“Ehn, you don’t mean it?” Nike replied.

They were in Ronke’s room and they were talking about her conversation with Nath the day before. Ronke wore a yellow blouse on bum shorts and was knitting a scarf for herself while Nike was seated in the corner and was chatting on her blackberry. She smiled every other minute and Ronke wondered what was making her so delighted.

“Who or what is making you smile?” She asked.
Nike looked up from her phone and with her expression, you would think she had been caught in a shameful act.

“Who are you chatting with?” Ronke asked again.

“Nobody.” Nike replied and shone her teeth in an attempt to depict ignorance.

“That’s a lie.” She stood up and tried to snatch the phone but Nike hid it behind her.

“Just tell me now. I thought we were best friends.”
A smile lit up Nike’s face as she heard Ronke’s declaration. Being the best friend of the hottest girl in school had always been her dream.

“It’s my boyfriend.” She said reluctantly.

“Your boyfriend?” Ronke reiterated sarcastically.” If you didn’t want to tell me, you could have just said so.”

“I’m serious.” Nike replied with a straight face.

“Really; how long is your relationship?”

“Two months.”

“Hmm… Two months? Prove it.”

“How am I supposed to prove it?” Nike asked.

“You’ve had a boyfriend for two months; prove to me that he’s not some fantasy character you just created to prevent me from knowing what you were actually doing.”

“Well, his name is Jeff, we met on twitter…”

“What?” Ronke interjected.

“You see, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Sorry, continue.”

“That’s all. There is nothing else to say”

Ronke thought for a while and asked; “have you slept with him?”


“Wow, you’re stupid.” Ronke exclaimed. “How do you sleep with someone you just met? Do you have his picture?”

“Yes.” She enlarged his display picture and stretched to hand her phone to Ronke when a knock at the door halted her action.

“Hold that thought.” Ronke said and went to get the door.

She opened the door and in stepped the hall porter and two police men clad in their complete official uniforms. The two officers were two different personalities entirely. The first one was short, fair and looked very much like a man from the south of the country. She didn’t need to guess what tribe the taller and darker one was from. His tribal marks said it all.
The shorter officer spoke first.

“Good day ma’am. I suppose you’re Miss Ronke Gbadamosi.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Good. You are under arrest for the master minding the murder of one Mr Temitope Ibikunle.”

“Murder ke? Me?… Wait, Tope is dead. Jesus! I didn’t kill him o”

“We can discuss that at the station. We would like to be on our way immediately.”

“Mo daran (I’m in trouble)… Can I please call my father first?”

“You can do that at the station ma’am. Can we go?”

“Yes, just let me change.”

The taller policeman hadn’t said anything and she cared less about hearing what his voice sounded like. She hurried into the room, changed her shorts to full length corduroy jeans, grabbed her phone and followed them.

“Nike, take care of my room and keep the key for Chloe before she comes back.” She said to Nike as they left the room.

“Okay; take care.” Nike bade her farewell and shut the door behind them. As soon as she was sure they had gone quite a distance, she updated her BBM status.

    Ronke Gbadamosi has been arrested for the murder of “Tope Murano”!!!! :/

To be continued next week Tuesday.


Thanks for reading.
Do drop a comment or your views below, it will be really appreciated.

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the series, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

Mike Dammy
Ff @damstylee on twitter
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Lets play the game: Truth or Dare?

Hey there…

Today we introduce a new writer on Damstylee.

You would be seeing more of her so you could call this her Red-Carpet Intro. Make sure you post your comments and views afterwards.

Enjoy…………… and be Inspired! 😀


Just few years into my stay on this planet and I’ve inadvertently examined the everyday life of the people around me and seeing the hustle and bustle of the
world-people working so hard to get what they want, its hard to imagine if thats what our purpose’s meant to be. Waking up as early
as possible and jumping from bus to bike all in a bid to get to work
on time. Eating quarter of a three-square meal in order to save up to
make ends meet or to have enough money to purchase new clothes, shoes,
accessories, a car or even a house.

The struggle of the world as everybody -young and old- tries to meet
up with the standards of where they find themselves, trying to fit in.

Children crave the best clothes, accessories and games.
Teenagers and youths want to have the latest gadgets as soon as they
are released. Some want to be the ‘coolest’ kids in school while some
others want to be known as the nerds with the cool toys.

Ah! Females…they would do ANYTHING to belong-steal, starve, beg, go
to any length to have the clothes they see in shops online, get the
latest Louis Vuitton shoes ang bags(but they are really hot though!).
Not to talk of their expensive weaves- Brazilian, Peruvian, Indian,
even Italian (iyaff tire me sef).

Hmm… The males of this generation…most aren’t interested in getting
decent jobs, they just want to club and party all night, drink out
every sense of intellect so they’ll be acclaimed as ‘high’ and tweet
stuff like ‘bad ass hoe’ and the likes…

Mm-mm… That’s not the end oh! All these ‘owambe’ mummies and daddies…
I once heard of an ‘owambe’ madam who stole cash from her ‘owambe’
husband who embezzled the money from the government to buy the
‘aso-ebi’ for her regular saturday parties where they’ll all tie their
head ties and see whose looks more like a DSTV dish(I didnt say that
oh!)…she called it tit-for-tat, saying ‘I must belong oh!’

Her ‘owambe’ counterpart, in his bid to fit in, will carry Blackberry
torch, bold 2 and 5 in hand and iphone 3, 4 and even 5 on the other(on
top wetin?!)

The Truth…
Yes, everybody wants to belong. We all want to fit in, be identified
with a group. We want to be known, be heard and be proud. Most people
dont have reasons why they want to belong, they just want to belong.

Wanting to belong is a constant of human nature but I DARE YOU. No, I
dare myself first…

I dare to be different. I choose to be great. I desire to set a
standard upon which everybody would like to fit in, where they’ll like
to belong.

Where would you like to belong? Or what and whom would you like to
belong to you? Now, I DARE YOU!!! 😛

Tofunmi Onaolapo



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