YELLOW BAG : chapter four - by Sewuese Adason

That is the bag.” Dessy’s voice was barely audible. Mr. and Mrs. Job remained frozen. The small yellow bag sat quietly at their doorstep as though it had always belonged there. Mr. Job slowly closed the door. “Everybody stay inside.” “Ken, what are you doing?” Mrs. Job asked. “Martins told me not to touch anything.” He immediately called the police officer. But before Mr. Martins could arrive, another knock came. This time, it was louder. Three quick knocks. Mr. Job looked through the window. A man stood outside. It was Mr. Martins. He entered the compound quickly and looked around before walking straight to the yellow bag. “You didn’t touch it?” “No.” “Good.” Mr. Martins bent down carefully, examined it from a distance, then looked at Dessy. “Are you absolutely sure this is the bag you saw?” Dessy nodded. “Yes.” Mr. Martins stared at him for a few seconds. Then he asked, “What exactly did the man say to Mike?” Dessy frowned. “I told you. He called his name.” “No.” Mr. Martins stepped closer. “What did he say after calling him?” Dessy hesitated. “I can’t remember.” Mr. Martins’ expression changed. “Try.” Mrs. Job immediately stepped between them. “He’s already scared enough.” “I understand, ma’am. But every detail matters.” Mr. Job watched Martins carefully. Something about his behaviour felt different. Too urgent. Too interested. Mr. Martins picked up his phone. “I need to make a call.” He walked a few steps away from them. Mr. Job couldn’t hear everything. But he heard one sentence. “It’s here.” Mr. Job’s eyes narrowed. Martins ended the call and turned around. “Who did you call?” Mr. Job asked. “My superior.” “About the bag?” “Yes.” There was a brief silence. Then Mr. Job asked, “Martins, how did you know there would be a yellow fabric at the crime scene before I told you about Dessy’s memory?” Mr. Martins stared at him. “I already told you. We found it there.” “But how did you know it was important?” Martins didn’t answer immediately. “I’ve been investigating this case from the beginning, Ken.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” Mrs. Job looked between the two men. “What are you saying?” Mr. Job shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just asking.” Mr. Martins looked at the yellow bag again. Then he said quietly, “You should be careful who you trust.” He turned toward the door. “Where are you going?” Mrs. Job asked. “To check something.” “What?” Martins paused. “The old provision shop.” Dessy’s eyes widened. “The place where I saw Mike?” “Yes.” “Why?” Martins looked at him. “Because whoever took Mike may have left something behind.” He walked away. Dessy watched him leave. Then he suddenly remembered something. “Daddy.” Mr. Job turned. “What?” “The man with the yellow bag…” “What about him?” “He wasn’t alone.” Mr. Job’s heart stopped. “What?” Dessy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember. “I think… I saw another person.” Mrs. Job stepped closer. “Who?” “I don’t know.” “A man?” Dessy shook his head. “I couldn’t see.” “Then how do you know someone was there?” Dessy looked toward the gate. “Because when the man called Mike, somebody was standing behind the shop.” Mr. Job immediately reached for his phone. But before he could dial, it rang. It was Mr. Martins. “Ken.” “Yes?” “Don’t come to the provision shop.” “Why?” “I found something.” Mr. Job’s stomach tightened. “What?” A pause. Then Martins spoke quietly. “Mike’s shoe.” The call ended. Mrs. Job covered her mouth. Dessy began to cry. Mr. Job stared at the phone. Something wasn’t right. A few minutes later, Mr. Martins returned. He was holding a small transparent evidence bag. Inside was a single shoe. Dessy immediately recognized it. “That’s Mike’s.” Mr. Martins nodded. “We found it behind the old shop.” Mr. Job stared at him. “Martins…” “Yes?” “You said you found it just now.” “Yes.” “Then why is there mud on it?” Martins looked at the shoe. “So?” “It hasn’t rained in days.” Nobody spoke. Mr. Job slowly looked at Martins. For the first time, suspicion crept into his mind. How had Mike’s shoe gotten there? Why had the yellow fabric been found at the body? Why had the yellow bag appeared at their doorstep? And why did Mr. Martins seem to know so much? Mr. Martins suddenly looked at Dessy. “Did you tell anyone else about the yellow bag?” Dessy shook his head. “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Martins nodded slowly. “Good.” He turned to leave. But as he reached the door, Dessy noticed something. A tiny yellow thread was caught on the sleeve of Mr. Martins’ shirt. Dessy stared at it. Then at the yellow bag. Then back at Martins. “Mr. Martins?” Martins stopped. Dessy’s voice trembled. “Where did you get that shirt?” Martins slowly looked down at his sleeve. His face changed. For one second. Just one second. Dessy saw fear in his eyes. Then it disappeared. “I’ve had it for months.” He walked out. Mr. Job rushed to the window. But Mr. Martins was already gone. On the floor outside the door was the yellow bag. And underneath it… was a photograph. Mr. Job picked it up. His hands began to shake. It was a picture of Mike. Standing beside the old provision shop. And beside Mike was the man with the yellow bag. But there was something else. Someone had written a message across the photograph. “ASK MARTINS WHO TOOK THE PICTURE.” Mr. Job looked at his wife. Mrs. Job looked at Dessy. Nobody spoke. Because suddenly, the question wasn’t only— Where was Mike? It was— What was Mr. Martins hiding?

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