Investigation was just starting and he was already frustrated. The cigarette he had lit some minutes earlier laid idle in the ash tray and he watched as tendrils of smoke escape into the air. Detective Olaore suddenly wished he could just escape somewhere he wouldn’t be bothered with murder investigations. Just a day and it felt like a noose had been placed around his neck, choking him. He was hitting blank everywhere he turned to for answers and that was not good at all. No one saw any strange movement around the canal that night or during the day. Even if they did, he knew nobody would talk. Everyone feared being arrested and detained in the cell for nothing. The terrible police men amongst them had succeeded in giving the Nigerian Police Force a bad name. He wouldn’t blame them for ‘not seeing anything’. The ID card found on the girl had been useless too. It had only RUBY O8; which he was very sure was not her real name and her passport photograph on it. No other thing was written on it to indicate where she got the ID card from and the kind of work she did.
Confused, he leaned back in his chair and pulled the first button of his shirt continuously till it fell off. He looked at the button on the floor like it would give him a solution to his problem. His phone rang and he quickly pressed the green button when he saw who was calling him.
“How far? Anything interesting?”
He listened for a while and when he was sure nothing the caller said was making sense, he decided they should meet face to face.
“I’ll meet you in ten minutes at your office”.
He ended the call and took some seconds to put the cigarette out, picked his car keys from the desk and rushed out to his car.
Dewale would have laughed if his friend was not wearing that deep scowl on his face. His face told him he was very serious and he was there for business and not pleasure. The scrubs, gloves and masks Olaore was wearing made him look a pathetic surgeon in a low budget nollywood movie. As his friend of almost twelve years, dewale knew Olaore never mixed business with pleasure. He led him into the autopsy room. There was a gurney with a sheet covering the dead lady and dewale looked at his friend. There was no emotion on his face, just the deep scowl.
“Guy, are you ready?”
“Of course. You think I came here to play baby sitter for a dead girl”.
“Relax joor. Why all the tension na?”
“Just open the body and tell me what you found out”
Dewale shook his head and pulled back the sheet covering the lady. The Y-incision running from her chest to her pubis made the body looked like it had been unzipped. Ruby’s body organs had been removed, weighed and analysed. The block of organs, muscle and tissue had been unceremoniously bagged and dumped back in the body cavity. The face drooped like a doll whose supporting stitches had given way. Detective Olaore swallowed the spit that had formed in his mouth and willed his breakfast to stay back in his stomach. He would not give his friend the pleasure of seeing him throw up like a sissy. He held his stomach while he listened to Dewale talk.
“Well, from my autopsy, it looked like she died from an overdose of heroin.
“Heroin?”, Olaore asked, disbelief in his voice.
“Yes, heroin. There was congestion and a foamy mucus in her airway that showed that she overdosed on a respiratory depressant. The fact that there was 6-monoacetylmorphine; a metabolite of heroine in her body confirmed that the respiratory depressant she overdosed on was heroin. There was a needle mark on her forearm that further proved that.
“Couldn’t she have been overdosed by a boyfriend or something that just used the murder note to put the police off course?”
“I actually thought that too. Like she was having drug induced sex in a car when she had a heart attack and died in the process, right?”
“Well, I found something that changed that thought. Two superficial puncture wounds were found on her chest. Like two needles set barely an inch apart. Like a patterned injury.”
“Dude, see why I had to come to your office. I don’t understand a thing you’re saying. Talk normal english and leave all those oyinbos jare. My blood dey hot”
“The needle marks looks like what a taser gun would leave where the electrified darts impacted the body. My dear friend, she was shot with a taser gun and then injected with an overdose of heroin. The heroin would not have worked that fast if she had not taken so much alcohol earlier that day and her lungs were already weak from the abuse of nicotine”.
“That means, she was definitely murdered.”
“Exactly. To be 100 percent sure it was heroin she overdosed on, I’ve drawn blood and urine from her body and sent them to the lab for toxicology report. That would come back in two weeks and we would know just how much of the drug she was injected with”.
“Wale, two weeks is too long. I don’t have that much time. Can’t they make it three days or so?”
“No o. It’s not that easy. I will try and make them to do it in one week”.
“Alright, thanks man. I appreciate this. Let me rush back to work.”
“Wait, there is one more thing. About that ID card that came in with her body and her stuff for fingerprints….”
“Nothing dey there, abi you know person wey they use that kain card?”, olaore cuts in.
“Yes, actually. One yeye assistant the hospital just hired for me said he saw that kind of card at one syrup night club on one of the waitresses. Just a funny fruity name and passport photograph”
“I need to meet that your assistant now!”, Olaore shouted, excitement coursing through his body.
“He’s no longer on duty o. He left like twenty minutes before you got here”
“Shit, give me his number. I need to meet with him urgently”