Editorial cover photograph for Loose Ends Chapter 44, The Next House

Loose Ends — Chapter 44: The Next House

Chapter summary

Felix surrenders his surveillance evidence, accepts possible prosecution, and warns that Karo always plans escapes.

FELIX

Friday morning They took Felix into a different room, with a different calendar, and he gave them everything, in order, in a flat voice, like a man reading out a will.

The Samsung phone. The program, which he wrote himself in the spring, which logs the screen and the typing of a computer and sends it, at midnight, to an address. The thread called Aburo, with its soft, patient sentences. The photograph of the first list. He laid his own laptop on the desk and told them the password. He wanted them to have it.

Photorealistic real-person scene of a young Black Nigerian man voluntarily sliding an open laptop, Samsung phone, and handwritten password toward a Black Nigerian police officer across a plain interview desk, his face exhausted and resolute, no readable screen content, 16:9 landscape.
Photorealistic real-person scene of a young Black Nigerian man voluntarily sliding an open laptop, Samsung phone, and handwritten password toward a Black Nigerian police officer across a plain interview desk, his face exhausted and resolute, no readable screen content, 16:9 landscape. Stock photograph used illustratively; characters and events are fictional. Photo source.

“You are not obliged to say these things,” said the officer at the keyboard. He was young, with a careful moustache. “You have a right to a lawyer.”

“I know.”

“It might help you to have one.”

“It might,” said Felix. “I have not earned the help.”

Photorealistic close two-shot of a real Black Nigerian man refusing counsel and a younger Black Nigerian officer with a careful moustache pausing at his keyboard, moral exhaustion rather than melodrama, sparse police room and hard daylight, 16:9 landscape.
Photorealistic close two-shot of a real Black Nigerian man refusing counsel and a younger Black Nigerian officer with a careful moustache pausing at his keyboard, moral exhaustion rather than melodrama, sparse police room and hard daylight, 16:9 landscape. Stock photograph used illustratively; characters and events are fictional. Photo source.

The officer looked at him for a moment and went back to typing.

“Where might she go?” said Inspector Danjuma, in the doorway. He was a large calm shape against the light. “You know her best, Mr. Felix. Where does she go, when there is a door that is closed?”

Felix thought. He thought of Karo at fifteen in the back of her mother’s house, her face quite empty, counting something on her fingers. He thought of the lorry and the sack of beans, and of the way she told him the story once, at a wedding, when she had been drinking, in a voice like someone reading a menu.

“To the next house,” he said.

Photorealistic portrait of a real young Black Nigerian man answering from a police chair while Inspector Danjuma stands as a calm silhouette in the bright doorway; behind Felix, a subtle realistic reflection suggests a teenage Black Nigerian girl counting on her fingers, 16:9 landscape.
Photorealistic portrait of a real young Black Nigerian man answering from a police chair while Inspector Danjuma stands as a calm silhouette in the bright doorway; behind Felix, a subtle realistic reflection suggests a teenage Black Nigerian girl counting on her fingers, 16:9 landscape. Stock photograph used illustratively; characters and events are fictional. Photo source.

“Which house?”

“I don’t know. A rich man’s, with a wife.” He rubbed his face. “But she will have a plan. She always has a plan, Inspector. I have never once seen her walk anywhere without one.”

The Inspector wrote down plan. Then he crossed it out and wrote it again, larger, as if the word might have changed.

Photorealistic over-shoulder image of a real Black Nigerian inspector crossing out and rewriting one deliberately blurred word in his notebook while a young Black Nigerian man sits beyond the desk, surrendered devices between them, investigative stillness, no legible generated text, 16:9 landscape.
Photorealistic over-shoulder image of a real Black Nigerian inspector crossing out and rewriting one deliberately blurred word in his notebook while a young Black Nigerian man sits beyond the desk, surrendered devices between them, investigative stillness, no legible generated text, 16:9 landscape. Stock photograph used illustratively; characters and events are fictional. Photo source.

Loose Ends · Continue reading

Continue to Chapter 45

The story continues in the next chapter.

Read Chapter 45 →

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Featured and contextual photographs are used under the Pexels licence and are illustrative; the characters and events are fictional. Featured photograph source. Editorial design by akinakingbogun.com.


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