WHO, KILLED MADAM (Kitchen series)

SCENE 2Interrogation Room B. 2:13 p.m. The folder on the table is thicker now. Fashola has not eaten since morning. The Male Cook — Tobenna. Questioned fourth.He came in with his chef whites still on, looking as though he’d been pulled from a simmering pot. He sat carefully and clasped his hands on the table. Fashola noticed his knuckles were pale, the kind of tightness that comes from a man holding his breath with his whole body. "Tobenna." "Sir." "How long have you cooked for the Okafors?" "Two years and eight months, sir." "You knew Madam." A small nod. "She brought me here from the hotel I worked at before. She liked my food enough to come into the kitchen herself." He looked down briefly. "People in her position don’t really do that." Fashola let the silence sit, heavy and expectant. "Thursday. Walk me through your day." "I served lunch at one. Madam ate with Mr. Chidi in the dining room. They were working while they ate, so I left them alone." He rubbed his thumb once against his palm. "Dinner was at seven-thirty. Only Oga came down." "Madam didn't eat dinner." "No sir. I kept the food warm till nine. After that, I covered it and left it." "And then?" "I slept, sir." Fashola opened the folder halfway, then closed it again. "Mr. Chidi. How often was he around?" "Almost every day. Sometimes before Oga woke up. Sometimes till late evening." "That felt normal to you?" Tobenna shrugged. "Madam worked all the time, sir." "And him? What kind of man was he?" The silence that followed was long. Too long. "He liked things done a certain way," Tobenna said eventually. "Sometimes he came into the kitchen himself to carry Madam’s food upstairs." Fashola’s pen stopped. "He carried her food himself?" "Yes sir. Maybe four or five times." "And that never bothered you?" Tobenna opened his mouth, then stopped. "I just didn’t think about it." Fashola tapped his pen once against the table. "The gateman. Sunday. Did you ever see Mr. Chidi with him?" "Sometimes. He would call Sunday over to help him open the back entrance for deliveries." "The back entrance." "Yes sir." "Not the main gate." "No sir." Fashola finally wrote something down. The ink seemed darker on the page. "One last thing. Did you ever notice anything strange between Madam and Mr. Chidi?" Tobenna leaned back. "Once. About three weeks ago. They were outside the kitchen corridor. Mr. Chidi was speaking to her in a way I didn't expect. Firm. Too firm. The kind of voice you don't use with your employer." "And Madam?" "She just listened. Madam wasn't the type to keep quiet when somebody crossed a line. But with him... she was softer, sir." Fashola studied him for a moment longer, then stood. "Thank you, Tobenna." The Female Cook — Chika. Questioned fifth.She looked frightened before she even sat down. Not guilty frightened.. she was obviously scared kind of freightened. Her apron was twisted into a tight rope between her hands. "Chika. Thursday night. Did you see Madam?" "In the afternoon, sir. She came through the kitchen. I had a cold. She told me to drink ginger and honey." Chika swallowed hard. "Did she seem upset?" "Not upset. Just... distracted. Madam was always busy." "Did you see Mr. Chidi that day?" "Yes sir. He was around till evening. Maybe six, or six-thirty." "And after that?" "I didn't see him again." Fashola flipped a page. "Did you see him leave?" Chika looked up quickly, then away. "I saw his car. From the kitchen window. Around eight o'clock." The room went still. "The car was still outside at eight?" "Yes sir. But maybe somebody else drove it," she added breathlessly. "I don't want to cause trouble for anybody, sir." Fashola watched her. She wasn't lying; she was simply terrified of being important. He closed the folder slowly. The "thud" it made was final. If Chidi’s car was there at eight, the timeline was a lie. He stood up. Outside, footsteps moved past the corridor. Life continuing beside death. "Alright," Fashola said quietly. Then louder: "Next person in."

Who, Killed Madam?

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