Yeah, yeah, people. Good evening. Some of us here are familiar with this story and must have forgotten it. It's why I've created a new thread for it. It has been edited and is now complete. It comprises 12 chapters and an epilogue, so to speak, I'll post each chapter on every other day unless when the situation is quite unusual. I can't maintain a blog cos I like the interaction between us here. However, I have one, its link is in my signature.

Do well to read, comment, like, share and invite others.

Here is the synopsis:

A lawyer has a night stand with a woman
he loves and hell is loose. His wife, a model - and a
daughter of a major politician, frames him up and he
gets arrested. He comes up against his former rival
and dark echoes from his misdeed trails him
forever. However, a friend remains.


Stay hooked.


Follow my ongoing story:

www.nairaland.com/3871407/53-some-music-gallows

It's a classic!

...

First Chapter Comes tomorrow. My bed beckons.

...

Oya na, coma roll

.

Dedicated to Every troubled home out there.

You all, I feel your aches.

Someday, you'll know what inspired me to do this.

Chapter 1, MARITAL Shambles

---

The sun was smiling smugly and the sky was white as though children of God. It was harmattan and rough breeze blew at every space, whistling in a merry-like manner over roofs like a meal awaited its hustle. Any horizon provided the hot view of antiquated roofs; hustling bodies and specimens; mortuaries and hospitals; courts and religious buildings - mosques, churches, shrines -; prisons and play parks and; dark dummy shadows gadding around. It was one of those days in the ancient city of Ibadan that required - though reasonably impossible - husbands laying in beds with wives, husbands laying in beds with concubines or maybe girlfriends snuggling closer to boyfriends. One of those days that one would lick the upper and lower lips to moist them only to repeat the process a moment later. One of those days that students taunted fellows with lack of body cream to keep their skins wet and appealing.

In one of those tall estates where the potbellied politicians provided accommodations for their concubines; where rich men stayed; where the underworld men partied after their noble operations; where a man could possibly stay without the constant noises and pollution that the ancient city reeked of, Barrister Edwin Alagba could afford the palatial grace of not working on the hot day and, instead, could stay confined in his four bedroom flat. He groaned on the settee he was sitting on, his head resting on the cold feel of silk. He muttered some few words and cussed under his breath. He looked around at the dangling chandelier; the silky pieces of furniture; the bookended with crown green colored curtains; the creamy brown dining table; the overlapping shadows of the sun and; the hazy green dust that stared him in the face and a woebegone smile evaded his lips. The scenery affiche painting on the glum walls failed to catch his attention neither did the marble-designed floor. He stared at his phones and a frustrated sigh cut his figure. He hissed and wished he wasn't this way. He picked up one of the phones and dialed a number - the silver dial of his flickering watch hugging one of his hairy hands zealously; reminding him he was brooding on the aurora of a Monday. The call disconnected and he winced; he hoped fervently she would just pick his calls.
She wasn't supposed to leave. Such hope. Such favor. Such love.
He made a yell but no sound came out; his patois running impossibly dry. The situation was one of those issues that broke folks than they ever might have imagined.

Barrister Edwin Alagba held his head and tried to cry but no tears came out - probably due to his stone profession or his large period of staying in the White man country. He cut a balked figure as he stood up and his legs shlepped along as his brain made for the bedroom.
*****
Darkness was creeping in the city's tunnels and the sky was putting out the giant sun. Crickets hovered in air and mosquitoes sang in melifluos tunes in sonorous voices in swamps. The inhabitants of the ancient city had notably augmented on the streets as politicians drank from pubs and rocked their heads to the old soft songs of 'Ebenezer Obey'; husbands smiled in rusty roadside bars with ironical sobriquets at random ladies they had picked around with their hard-earned cash; traders sold their wares in all ways they could, aggression not exempted from the list; boys kissed girls in corners, some even proceeding to uncloth their moaning partners mindlessly disregarding the proclivity of being caught by parents or rivals. Sirens were heard almost every hour as political bodies sped past with escorts; criminals and framed persons folded their arms and bit fingernails in regret at the back of discoloured police hilux vans and all.

Model Niniola Fijabi looked lost in thoughts as her driver drove on. She knew the two detectives with her would easily put Barrister Edwin behind bars with the affidavit they had or, rather, she had since she had brought it in. Rape was a tight offense when committed against the rich, everyone knew. She thought of returning and touched her driver but, then, realised it was her ghost hand that did it as the old driver didn't even turn. Her hands felt too heavy to be moved and she kept them at her sides and tried to glance through the tinted Toyota Camry side glasses unsuccessfully.

'Drive faster,' she urged her old driver who merely nodded his head and increased pace a notch.

'Stop worrying, madam. We'll make sure he faces the law,' one of the detectives voice reached her ears and she hissed within. If only he knew her thoughts.

Soon enough, Edwin's house appeared before her and she swallowed lumps of guilt within. Her vision almost got blurred and she wiped her face quickly, her palms getting wet from the tears that conveyed emotions none of the occupants of the vehicle understood. She could have stopped there but she didn't. All she thought was putting the Barrister behind bars, where he would stay and regret why he had ruined what they had.

The detectives got down after her and she rang the rubber door bell visiting friends had often used in summoning her attention when she was still a bonafide of this house she was before. Revenge kept her blinded.
She rang the bell again and waited for minutes, her hair getting blown by the soothing air. She ran a hand through it and tried to be strong. Then, she heard footsteps from inside and her heart thumped very hard in her, her anxieties growing in a million folds. Finally, the door moved and Barrister Edwin came in sight.

She moved back a little, surprised by the ruffled man before her. His black shirt paled in comparison to her white gown and she bit her lips for being so inconsiderate. He missed her greatly, that she could tell. She noticed several creased lines on his face and she turned as if to blow her nose. Edwin had really changed. God.
She saw him coming towards her and she lightened a bit. She could swear she needed him; that she had forgiven him. But the cold voice one of the detectives cut him off.

'You are under arrest for the rape of Miss Niniola Fijabi.'

She shook and guilt consumed her. It wasn't rape for heaven's sake, she knew that was betrayal but he had done that too. Impregnating another woman was out of the way!

***To Be Continued***

yorhmienerd:
Oya na, coma roll

My niggie, welcome! Abeg, move to the VVIP section. The ball has been kicked.

Bring it on following with keen interest.

......Great to have you back bro....

Missmossy:
Bring it on following with keen interest.

Welcome, miss. Have a lovely stay here.

solomonbrown64:
......Great to have you back bro....

Thanks, niggie. It's been really long. How have the Werewolves been?

Next update comes tomorrow.

Chapter 2, MARITAL Shambles
_____________________
Barrister Edwin Alagba looked at the stone faced detectives; the grey Toyota Camry car whose exhaust pipe was still blazing cigars; the nature sketched affiche; the dark clouds as if to ask for help; and begun nodding his lowly coiffured head to the wistful tones his ear buds were faintly picking from a nearby casino. Casino. This was where his travails wore shoes. Looking at Niniola was like setting foot on the sun and his heart heaved continuously.

Reasonably, he had always expected her game but this was above the curtain. It put hot iron through his arid soul and he casted sullen glances at the other houses. In those houses, most probably, were politicians with pot bellied pockets whose tummies would be undergoing some constant rubbing by ladies of the evening; noble men of the underworld making out in air conditioned hotel rooms and casinos; and a few faithful housewives like Niniola once was, gadding about their living rooms, acidly worried about their perfect soul mates - the ones they had held the phone for for long years. He shook his head, this time in sadness and not in bliss of wistful tunes from the casino. He, Barrister Edwin Alagba. His eyes wanted to pierce out of his skull even if just to glance at Niniola for a fleeting second but his brain refused to. Playing this game was going hard - dumbly painful.

This was one of the situations when a man would sob and pray for forgiveness. Hope for a new lease of life. One of the situations that a man would sit in his cell and think on what it would have been if he had been the ideal husband; if he had stayed loyal to his vows; if he had treated his rightful wife as the scriptures ordered him to. One of the situations that many believed would cost beings heaven and salvation. The blissful paradise of the higher being, the opulence of a peaceful mind. This situation would make a man whose riches had helped to doom wish he was living in a mini cubicle....with his caring wife and dreamy children and he, a faithful husband.

He eventually pursed his door and trampled on the sly lush grasses to the Toyota Camry car. This car. It looked like the one he had bought Model Niniola on their first wedding anniversary and his heart sunk further. He shuddered at how impossible he had been for the past years not to have noticed the depreciation the car had undergone. God. How deep did he sink. What Niniola wanted to play wasn't out for him to see yet but he certainly knew she had solid affidavits and, ergo, wouldn't make a fuss of the arrest - simply put. A soul as his didn't deserve the chance to ask for rights and he understood perfectly. The last time he had sex with her was way before the incident, maybe 5 months past. Events had taken place in abound of course since then and he wished things were different. He wedged himself between the detectives and laid his hammering head on the silk seat case. Encore, he wished he had been a man of her dreams enough. The soul set sail and the car rode across. Life was definitely starting to mete out karma.

****To Be Continued****

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
Thanks, niggie. It's been really long. How have the Werewolves been?

.....Yeah, too long..... ...The wolves are in real trouble this time, lol...
...Happy new year...

solomonbrown64:



.....Yeah, too long.....
...The wolves are in real trouble this time, lol...

...Happy new year...

The same to you, niggie. How bad are the wolves? I can't wait. What's happening na?

Marital Shambles, Chapter 3

---

Ibadan was waking up, its light dimly rising. At this godly hour its demonyms were divided into parts. Some were yawning and shivering in acknowledgment of the gale harmattan wind, offering ablutions and racing to 'masalasi' to serve their one true God; some, though few, rang bells and sang - a few brave ones even taking to the knotty tarred ways - orin igbalas in the dint of offering salvation and winning souls for their one true God; some were in bizarre positions in their room, amulets and 'awire' littering the probably bared floor, making incantations and wishes to be the most blessed person in a city where folks practicing the art with him were more than a crowd miraculously fed with two loaves of bread; some were dragging the visas to bath in their dilapidated compounds whose landlords would still come to request for rents; some had purposely defied the harmattan and were in buses already, aiming to get to their place of work before others; some simply stayed put in estates and bask in the relics of an all-night sex; and some distinctly chose to be out of sorts, out of category. This last part was a mystery even to neighbors and friends. Unsolved. Then, there was the whistling gale wind and the hush it brought along always. Simply but rightly said, the ancient city of Ibadan was blistering to life faster than a hare running after carrots.

Barrister Timi Ayanda navigated his car through several clumsiness and individuals, eventually getting to his place of work at minutes past 7. Muttering a short 'ofo', he alighted and hissed at the prospect of having to come to work in this finished car and said a short prayer to 'Orunmila' to bestow his riches on him soon enough. He looked at the building and hissed more viciously. The perfect condition of the building was enough to bring him clients but these clients had refused to come and only he knew the toll maintenance was costing his shallow pockets. The landlord was on his neck already, breathing fire and brimstone on his roughened nape, threatening to pay him a friendly visit. His wife had not let him touch her for days and he wasn't blaming her as she was the one keeping the children on full - no, half full - stomachs. His miseries were piling up financially, each doing its utmost to outshine others on the pitch; he would think one was over and two would nod his tie for him. And just yesternight, after a totally unfriendly day, his bank had notified him he had a sum of 6, 245 naira only in his account. What was this, Orunmila?
He managed to get to his office and sat on the shiny silk furniture made for him, noting how neat the cleaner had worked. That could only portray a thing - month end. It was one of the few times she worked hard and not cite anything as a platform not to. His clerks were not yet around and that brought a brief smile to his lips. He could walk round his firm then and not have to counter several eyes - six eyes, actually. He made a mental note to pay them at the next opportunity, though he didn't really mean it. If he did, what would the other problems do? Have his head? He dusted a few documents like it was necessary and took off his swollen dark coat. He was supposed to down a hot pint of coffee but he made do with the little warmth he could gather from his life. Minutes later, it was 8 already and his clerks had arrived. He thanked Ifa they didn't stay in the same cubicle, that would amount to issues - serious issues. There was one of them that always looked like he would slap him if given the chance and he definitely wasn't ready for some cold brawl.
The barrister exited his office to hear some news around town and, luckily, one of his clerks was with a newspaper. Putting on his best game, he smiled warmly, 'Can I see this?'

Bosses were bosses after all, he thought.

He glanced at the headlines and then glanced harder. Niniola! Her damned husband. He had never really liked the man, maybe because he had snatched Niniola from his fingers, now was a payback. He dialed her number on his phone and whistled happily, a job was finally in place. He was set for life! Maybe, he could even get back into her life. He remembered the black soap he had gotten yesterday and thanked his stars for it. This was some good luck.

And, so, like other organizations in the city his firm began working into the wee hours of whenever, in mind that luck was finally smiling on him.

****To Be Continued****

Chapter 4, MARITAL Shambles
____________________
It was noon, mid noon exactly, and the ambience was highly hot. The harmattan induced sun heated up roofs and its rays sent light vapors running down the walls. The clouds too were not to be outdone as they wickedly rained heat waves in torrents, some even proceeding to sharpen the sun's rays in a bid to, perhaps, please their creator. A large percentage of the ancient city were working, trying and hoping fervently to work their ways out of penury while the city itself had gotten lost in the multitudes of folks that resided in it.

Barrister Edwin Alagba looked at the vacant hazy air and kept his gaze fixed. It wasn't like he had something else to do either ways. His hands shivered indecently on the wooden table furniture they were on and he rubbed them hard against each other, the brown thick patterns on them providing the necessary heat. The chair he was on rocked back and forth every minute or less. His heart or soul was far away and his nostrils perceived unpleasant odors that the interrogation room emitted arrogantly as a father would hold his child that did him proud. His insides turned out and his bowels grumbled every second in his cup-filled misery. Anxiety surged through his soul like water falling off a cliff and his lower lip reflexively twitched up and down. Fear cut through his arid mind as though a hot knife through shear butter and sweat formed hot trickles inside his dark shorts.

The metal door clanked and made stupid noise and his gaze moved to it. He saw one of the detectives come in and he cussed under his breath. He hadn't been spoken to yet and he wasn't trying to fuss over it. Niniola had to sleep and, thus, had to go home to roll in the comfort of her sheets, the sheets he had several times built a fort out of. He blamed himself for ever having to be so senseless. Who would give a random lady the chance to ruin his home, his life and most importantly......his wife, her joy. He surely didn't deserve the gift of life. He felt sorry for his actions and he hoped God would forgive his soul. Niniola deserved more, this he had realized after the proverbial kid had cut his hand with the proverbial knife.

"You are a barrister, Mr Edwin," the voice of the detective punctuated prayers and he felt as though he was being choked. "You know the law well and it's sad to find that folks like you still exist on the earth's surface," he heard more. This was a detective out of a million struggling to live up to expectations from folks around them, striving to replace strained tears with guffaws of joy and fulfillment. He definitely wasn't going to kid with his job. "She's a pretty woman who deserved more but you chose to treat her otherwise." He caught his heart feeling a bit angered at this, what concern was it if she was pretty? She belonged to him alone.

"I'll call her in," he heard and his eyes glowed a bit at him. Maybe a glance was all he needed. He steadied his gaze more at the entrance and she entered, her art slick like the finesse of a peacock. Her light milk gown shadowed his mind and her charms further weakened his immunity. He picked up sense from the words of the detective then.

She handed over a tape to the detective with shaking hands, her mind pulsating in folds of millions. She wished she could stop it but it appeared impossible. What one would want to but would not do. Her heart sank like sledgehammers in air and tears filled her eyes. She quickly swayed as though to blow her nose and she wiped them off. How she wished she could run up to him, give him resounding slaps and lay on his shoulder. This was what women wanted but the thirst was often powerful. Vengeance was often held in good esteems.

When the lights come on sometimes, drunk in iniquities; we tend to sway in the wrong direction and belie the voice in our heads. The voice that echoes our true feelings; the voice that puts us right.

She had a prosecuting barrister already, a capable one and the media all had it around. She wondered how fast it flew.

The detective brandished the tape she brought as if it were a golden machete, most probably to torture Edwin and she quivered in her creamy shoes, the once silky objects then turning pieces of bottles to her feet. She shifted uneasily and folded her arms to steer her will higher. Edwin was a barrister and she was sure he could read her like an heavenly scroll.
The detective operated like he was with a potential terrorist; lots of grace and art. This case was going to be a headway for him. He was bringing a rich barrister to book. Fame cometh like cold spines in harmattan. He put the affidavit in a tape recorder and pressed play, his fingers stylish in operations. He smiled as he beheld Barrister Edwin squirm most uneasily on his seat and his heart leapt for joy. Fame!

Barrister Edwin Alagba couldn't lay his trust in his dumb ears, were they playing a trick on him? He felt if any wax lived in them but found none and continued listening with more aerated ear buds. His ears were right. The affidavit Niniola was using was a tape they had made a month less a year ago. It was all role playing and femdom. He acted drunk and Niniola played being raped. So this was it? Rape? It was too real as he heard it to be turned otherwise to the court and public. Who would believe him. He hated the day he committed adultery. Court was next, he knew. And he was definitely going to jail.

****To Be Continued****

Please, is anyone following?

OluwabuqqyYOLO:

The same to you, niggie. How bad are the wolves? I can't wait. What's happening na?

....Things have gone really sore for them but you have to a little longer to find out what...

....And by the way, I am reading...

Yeah, someone's following. Kudos!

Chapter 5, MARITAL Shambles

---

It was the same day, same city. The ambience was still hot and clumsy. A little changes here and there in the sun's position had set the shadows lounging than earlier. The city inhabitants were still tight, each trying more to make their headways than others. The birds hid under scoops of clouds and sang melodious tunes to the ladies delight. Lorries stayed in jams and waited for minutes - not in the most patient manner - and when it seemed the jam was never moving, it would for a split second and stop again. The ever petty hawke lamprophonised intermittently and secondary school boys un-tucked their shirts in corners and wrestled with thick accents. Girls escorted friends to boyfriends' homes - the laziest ones who had stayed home on pretext of having family problems; or the rich Alhajis who needed just some stinging moments of ecstatic pleasure. Market women sold their wares and time traveled at a working pace.

Barrister Hakeem Banks tapped the floor repeatedly and held his right palm over his head. He readjusted his cuffs and cleared his phlegmatic throat. He stared at Edwin and wiped off sweats on his brows, irritated. What kind of a friend he had bored pleasure out of him. The station added pain to his disgust. A stale smell. Puss and blood smelt arrogantly, the perfume he wore doing no bit in the mess. The chair he sat on rocked back and forth every minute. And his brown shirt poured sweats forth each moment. Hell.

"I've always warned you about her," he said, rather too soft for his looks. It was the heat, he was realizing how soaked he would be if he kept boiling. "You just never learn." he added and smiled bitterly, like a member of a nightmare had just bit him. "I knew she was evil, I always told you."

Edwin smiled for some seconds and kept his mouth shut seconds later. Tears almost rolled off his eyes but Hakeem was there. And. He. Was. A. Man. Niniola had played her best cards and he hoped he had the best answers. He was innocent, he knew, and that was enough to free him. Set his soul free. But it would not. He was a lawyer and he knew better. Blackmail. If only he had remained the one Niniola had married, he thought, he wouldn't be a mess. "I'm innocent of course and that gives us a place to start." he finally spoke out after a lot of mooting.

Hakeem whistled bitterly. He was his best friend and he knew him well. He wasn't dazed at how his friend had suddenly turn. Suddenly placing innocence over affidavits. Stupidity. But, it could mean a start truly. "Let's hope she has no further affidavits. And even if she did, you would never get jailed." he took a stance.

Deep in our hearts or minds maybe, there's always that spot that needs to be tendered and treated by someone else. We feel helping the people we like is a beautiful thing. His stance was for the best, Edwin hoped. "I'll get words out. We've to start work immediately. Firstly, I'll visit the house when I leave here. She's a model and she's bound to keep diaries. She might have moved out but it's worth it." his plans were plain. "She'll suffer for this, Ed. She will."
******
Barrister Timi Iyanda left work early, business was on ground. He smelt dollar wads in the air along with the crickets that hovered. The swamps always got filled up around dusk, it was confusing but it was normal. It was past 7 already. School boys had changed their raiment and were then gambling. Smoking. A little of the city's demonyms still worked fully as most
paraga sellers were out, each's face murdered with smears and rubs of facial balms and cosmetically improvised wears. An Abass Obesere song played from an old speaker and rocked the gentle eardrums of most old men. The city was known for cheating. Cheating wasn't a vice at all, it seemed, to many.

Barrister Timi walked the last bend to his house, his leisure strides showed easily how well he was. At each corner, he heard silly sounds and purrs, irritating as though the palms of a mad woman. He knocked his door and walked in with no caution. He rubbed his eyes to make sure the television set was really absent. Something told him it had been sold.
*******
Ibadan woke up again, and its troubles did too. The harmattan never knew when not to be severe, the city inhabitants of course knew and they gnashed their teeth wickedly. It blew gales and whispers of gossips whistled across and above roofs. Some buildings were homes and some were just with a man and a woman. Several birds still cooed on treetops and few played with the snowy cloud scoops. Many people had money troubles and were on the government's fat neck already, her nape bruised here and there. The night still had hungs on the morning and fire and brimstone fell off eyes.

Barrister Hakeem alighted his AUDI VB and had quickened steps across the now not-so-really green lawn. He made a mental note to keep the house in good order then. He put in the BOT key Edwin had given him the day before in its hole and clicked. He walked in and gritted his teeth in disgust as dust flew on him, his perfume really not efficient. The bulbs were lit and the air was conditioned. He chewed his lower lip in annoyance. He got to the living room and halted a bit to stare at the grace of it. The large scenery affiche had always had his heart and it still did, he planned to get one too. He walked to Edwin's room and drew open the private drawer with a mini key. He picked a diary and walked back to the" living room, a bit relieved at the relief he suddenly was getting. With a wishing heart, he clicked the model's door open and pushed. The air smelt pink and artificial. The room didn't have a lot of dust and he toyed with the idea of laying on the bed for minutes. He got to work instead and searched for long minutes, a hour almost elapsing. The room had lost a lot of touch then. There was no personal diary. Shitty.

His phone rang and broke his thoughts. He picked and placed it to his ears, a bit confused. It was Barrister Timi on his client's behalf, they had a date for a court visit already.

****To Be Continued****

solomonbrown64:


....Things have gone really sore for them but you have to a little longer to find out what...

....And by the way, I am reading...

I will wait patiently.

Good. That keeps me ticking.

yorhmienerd:
Yeah, someone's following. Kudos!

Thank you, man.

Please, guys.

I worked myself a lot before I completed this story. It's quite unfit that you'd then read and fail to comment. Please, it is necessary that a change occurs.

Chapter 6, MARITAL Shambles

---

The city was becoming colder each passing day. Each night, the temperature went lower a notch. The atmosphere had refused to be appealed and skins had torrid times remaining warm. The gossip among the elites were hot - the harmattan had little contention with it.

Every bar Lawyer Edwin had visited - though really few - grunted, muttered and spoke on it for long. Each friend often ended with hisses and cuss words, apparently thankful they didn't have partners like the model. Female acquaintances too had loves for him. Some though didn't really mean it. He knew in the mini cubicle he was tied in. A lot of them had offered him the slot of a minty night and he had refused almost all. Almost all. Funny how a single undoing could ruin years of understanding and good living.

The media had hotter gossips. Several blog owners wrote blighted stories on the lawyer and the model. The story had been gifted springboards in the social world and comments filled blogs on how evil men were. A stubborn percentage held the Barrister guilty, stating how wicked he was for performing sorcery with his Marital vows. How evil he was for forcing a lady in his bed after the devilish act. The stories had been bedeviled and the public ate with gusto. Few though saw the fault Niniola had. She should have considered the bond they had, they argued weakly. Apparently connections didn't sneak up on her like most folks.

Barrister Edwin held his breath and blew out. The air that escaped felt hot and his eyes appeared strained. He hadn't slept since his arrest. He mooted on the several ladies he could have had in his bed but didn't. Many had often told him how good he looked; how good he was; how lucky Niniola was to have him. But there he was, shaken. And he pondered if Niniola was right for him. A couple acts had marred him. If only he had resisted her like the others but he couldn't. There was a warm sparkle he always saw in her eyes, it made him feel great always. It just wasn't lust, he knew but he didn't hope it was love too. He wasn't ready to love her and love Nini then. Her presence earlier that day made him smile. She was having a slight baby bump already and he didn't know why but it felt him good a bit. She cried hard and sobbed well, it appeared she loved him of course. He felt so too. He was sad he hadn't felt the sparkle often the past days like he did that day. He was more sad he was confined.

Hakeem hadn't found Nini's diary, he told him and then he would be tried a day later. He didn't look forward to the brown wigs and dark overalls anymore. Evidence was poor, honestly, but he somehow felt a bit fine. His diary wasn't entirely ridden. She had put the incident down in it by herself but he wondered if the court wouldn't see it somehow. He had received a few calls and visits. He knew those who were sincere and those who would pray for him like his pastor friend promised. In doubts and hopes, he awaited his trial. And how strongly he refused admittance, he knew deep in him how his freedom waned weak.
*********
Model Niniola weighed her thoughts heavily. She despised how things were with her, with Edwin, with them. He was a good man but a mistake could ruin the perfect man. She wished she could turn the tick of the clock backward. Backward until Edwin was still ideal. He wasn't a rapist, she knew, but he wasn't a saint either. It wasn't a sin if he paid a price for his wrongs, she thought. And she knew she was in the right path.

"Hi, dear. What's up? Have a nice night. You know we can't lose. Sweet dreams. I'll dream if victory."
She sent Timi a message. She suddenly felt hard. A certain type of hardness. Like the type the pound of salt felt before dissolving in cold waters. Maybe love was finding her again.

****To Be Continued****

Chapter 7, MARITAL Shambles
_____________________
The harmattan was almost silent, tiny sounds as though it were a leaking mug. The city's spell had long been repelled. The sun slept dreamily in the clouds, its smug face unfazed by the cold ambience. And then, it woke again. People had trudged out of their beds hours ago and were breaking little sweats already. Miracles too were happening. The food vendor somehow had a premonition of things to come. Sina, the auto-repairer boy, laughed around his stall and aeroplanes flew across the sky.

The court didn't look completely sickening but it wasn't desirable to Edwin. He sat in a lone chair with his legs tapping the floor repeatedly unconsciously. He looked like he was out of breathe or cigarettes. But smoking never made him pale, he was light, not an addict. Or maybe he was the one who thought that way. Hakeem gave him a manly smile and sat more grimly, his gaze almost choking he himself.

The judge then walked in, his dry movements suggesting he was sick. Not in his body, but somehow unwell apparently. So much to wait for, Hakeem hissed under his breath.

The court stood and acknowledged his presence. The magistrate assumed bench in full attire and the officers hung in plare.

"May the state summon her first witness," his voice came out in hoax, soaring through with the aid of his dark attire. A sick dark air hung hover him.

It was preliminary day. A few people and journalists occupied some spaces. Then, she arrived and Edwin felt a tinge of smile round his lips. Her belly drew his eyes and he perceived his cologne from where she sat. Edwin groaned. His unborn baby was gracing his hearing. Then, there was the Model.

Barrister Timi got up with all the poise he could gather. His big moment had finally arrived, he was determined to use it well. After the hearing, he'd have a talk on the national TV with a broadcast that ran across the nation - he had requested for it and how his client had pulled it in such a few hours, he didn't know. But that didn't surprise him; after all, only very few things would be difficult for the popular daughter of an influential politician. He adjusted his wig and began his telltale. The defense attorney killed him in his mind. At that moment, he wished he was a photographer - he'd have shot and cut him into pieces.


"The state calls Detective Sunday Okoro." Attorney Timi's voice was crystal clear and carried a powerful conviction, like he knew the judge. Hakeem suspected.

The detective moved into the witness box. The suspect recognized him as the one who had come to cuff his freedom. There wasn't much difference but his clothes looked better. The witness positioned the microphone well and began narrating. He added spices in some places: like how Niniola had cried and looked while she came to report which alerted his acute mind she wasn't faking; how the accused himself had looked completely guilty but unrepentant when he and his colleague, Shola Oladele, had gone to make the arrest. He, Sunday, had handled a lot of rape cases and he knew perfectly the look rapists put on.

Hakeem and Edwin exchanged glances and the attorney caught that his client was passing through the court fright he had always put in others.

"Any witnesses?" The judge voice sounded dark and grim.

"No, your honor. But we have an alibi as Miss Fijabi had the sharp sense of having the ugly incidence recorded on her phone. The alibi is here and he presented it.

Also, we were able to gather the places the accused went that day before the incidence. We gathered that the accused had been in a bar, Frosty Froth Spot, and had tried to assault a bartender in his drunken state. So, him going on his wife he strongly disliked is completely possible."

Edwin thought hard and hard. And he remembered he had truly met a client in a bar that day, but it wasn't Frosty Froth Spot or was it. The client was making complaints about a fraud allegation leveled against him and how he was being put through sufferings for it. True, but he couldn't remember at all any moment he had done a thing like that. He snapped out of his reverie when he heard Timi's voice boom again. So, the detective was done.

"Your honour, I humbly request from this court not to listen to this tape in my client's presence," Timi continued professionally.

"Any reason for that, Attorney?" The judge was obviously interested in this part, Timi managed a smile.

"My client is still traumatized by the incidence and the few times she's listened to it, she's broken down badly."

"So, the alibi won't be used in her presence at all? Is that what you are saying? The judge's tone had a slight irritation and anger.

"Your honor, I hope she'll be ready before trial day as she's currently undergoing therapy with Dr. Fasheun Akobi of Fad Specialist Hospital."

"Any report that indicates this?" Edwin noticed the tone was softening.

"Yes, my Lord. Here is a medical report of her session. The psychotherapist is here too, in case of necessity."

"No need for that. The magistrate should hand me the report."

The judge collected it and went through the file and several times, he saw 'schizophrenia', 'severe chill', 'violent shaking' and others. He was sure the report was exaggerated but the therapist's signature was there. Fine then.

"Any other thing?" Edwin was jelly in his seat already. He was sure he was being punished by God for maybe something he did several years back. Only courage had not make him cry out.

"No, your lordship. That'll be all for now." The prosecutor sat down, fulfilled.

"The court requests a short session for hearing the tape with the prosecutor and defendant." The judge declared and Attorney Hakeem and Timi went in the judge's box and wore headphones each.

The minutes were gruelling and abominable but the accused, Edwin, bore them all. They were short though. He managed a turn and smiled at his pregnant mistress, she was almost crying. Niniola wore dark shades and he couldn't see her eyes. He cussed inwardly.


"Now, does the defendant have anything?" The judge woke him again.

"A bail grant, my Lord." The defendant was also shaken with the turn things had taken and his dark gown looked ash somehow.

"Request Overruled." Short and grim. And its effects travelled around the courtroom.

"In absence of further issues, the trial has been fixed for December 17, same year we are. I rise."


"Court Arise!"

The court rose and bowed. Then, the dark sick figure exited. And the accused was whisked away but only after he had managed a few words with his pregnant mistress and had comforted her, he even found himself hugging her paternally and for a brief moment he wouldn't deny, he had felt alive. Then, he was briefed by his lawyer on what the detective said at the end. According to him, the client he was meeting in the bar would be in court for the trial and so was the owner of the bar. The in question bartender had allegedly left the bar after the incidence. Poor Edwin.


Later that day, the prosecutor was on national TV, making a oath to make sure justice would be served. And then, he had taken his client out and they both spent the night in each other's arm. He was still single after all.


*****To Be Continued****

Nice work. Continue please. & thanks for the mention.

Chapter 8, MARITAL Shambles

---

It was dawn already. Edwin sat in his rocky chair and stared, as though he were scrutinizing, at the hideous wooden table and the repulsive dirty pillow on it, he had managed to sleep in the night. The harmattan was fresh, maybe like the previous day's court hearing. It could have been winter though, there was no way harmattan could sting like this - it was like undergoing piercing in Manhattan. He was convinced others were getting to their places of work already or maybe not. They could all be sleeping: mocking him, asking him to go out and work since he was awake already. Then, he wondered if Iwo road would be busy already as it always was. He figured maybe it was mocking him too. He had felt the sun rise some moments ago, maybe minutes, maybe hours. He was lost.

Then, the usual ear-jarring clutters of the cell's padlock reached his ears and he cringed a bit. He raised his head and his attorney came in, in sweats, with a look on his face that said he'd wanted to come earlier. He then saw how bewildered his friend looked for some seconds at the pillow and he managed a smile. He was sure the pillow had an attractive mien around it, same way the officer in charge had looked when he requested for it. He had wanted to say it was too unclean, maybe it had been used to peg the buttocks of a cell owner while a dirty policeman rammed in. The mere thought had given him creeps and he had just let his irritated grievance go.


"Cowboy, you're doing fine!" Hakeem pointed out. He laughed too and Edwin was amused, slightly. Even if the relief was little, he appreciated it. He smiled in return and offered him a seat as one would a King, as one would a devil, not dressed in cape and horns but as everything one ever wanted.

Sarcastic bastard, Hakeem thought. He sat down, and smiled, sincerely, that his friend was coming around.

"Sorry I'm late. Today is the last Saturday, WAI troubles, you know." Then, Edwin remembered his thoughts. Obviously, he was being mocked. Hakeem dropped some newspapers on the table and he picked one from the little pile. His story was on the cover page of this one.

"Attorney turned Rapist denied bail at preliminary hearing! Is justice finally in our country? Pg 2." He smiled bitterly, whoever was his prosecutor's strategist was definitely good.

"The media is insane," he stated in an almost normal tone that surprised Hakeem. "Yellow bull news and shits all around." He supported and expected Hakeem to continue the discussion. When normal, Hakeem would gainsay him and both would argue for minutes. They always argued on an issue for few minutes and they were on another. Hakeem was a red devil, he was a gunner, so they always traded words. Then, they would go on and discuss whomever was in the news, stating things and things that were real and funny.

"Dude, get it on. The media is always sick." Hakeem supplied. "Timi is a thick strand of phlegm."

Edwin nodded. Then, Hakeem continued, "I used to know him, he was a pain in the ass." Edwin was interested in this part, Hakeem could see he sat well. "We once worked together under Justice Adekogbe, remember?" Hakeem was starting to sweat, bad omen, Edwin noted.

"Of course, how could I forget him! Your second boss!"


"Timi worked in his chambers too and we were always clashing. The guy was good, really good and then, it was time for promotion. Do you remember he was starting to have an eye for Nini? And that she was starting to take to him too?"

Edwin felt a sore throat this time. He was vividly recollecting. He was scared Hakeem might have done something crazy. He nodded. Hakeem didn't miss the tenseness in it.

"I thought, how could he win her? Well, maybe if he has no job, it'll be over. So, I spoke with some other guys who didn't like his conceited brilliance too and he was thrown out. The rest, you know." He was totally sweating then, he felt hot, really hot but there was harmattan or was it winter?

Edwin just stared. He was struck, he never thought he had a friend like this. His insides were slippery and giddy. So, Timi was out for two bloods: him; Hakeem. Wow, he spoke out. "Wow," he repeated.

"One of the guys I spoke with now works for Timi." Another bombshell. Edwin was starting to realize he sat on a crate of explosives. Kaboom.

"We're in it, man," Hakeem offered when he saw Edwin wouldn't say anything. "But we're fighters."

Yes, fighters, Edwin smiled.


"We're going to pull through, old boy!" Edwin motivated, even if his sweats then were like the big hideous washed paintwork on the cell's walls.

"Yeah, let's talk on the case presently." Hakeem was back to being an attorney. "This guy has us framed. I believe he'll stop at nothing to win. Niniola is seeing him already, he's winning."

Edwin winced. His name wasn't Edwina, it was Edwin, he had known. "Niniola is a loss, she'll run him down." He stated simply. "Right now," he continued, "I need a good mattress, nice pillows, a transfer to a nicer cell and a hug from Aduke. I can't fall through now, we need a win."

"I like your spirit, client." Hakeem taunted, "Consider them done before tomorrow."

"Then, we'll need a private investigator. Let's surprise him." Edwin stated and smiled as his friend understood him.

"A good one will be here tomorrow. It's action time."


____________________
Niniola woke up first and met Timi's hands around her. She lay back and drew in his Cologne, her senses refreshed thoroughly. She found herself giggling like she was a teenager. Then, she noticed he pulled her closer and placed his upper arm around her chest region. She held her breath and exhaled slowly, her senses dazed by excitement. She couldn't get more of this new feeling. It was like migraine, getting her system addicted. She wriggled free from him and sat on the edge of the bed. Edwin was gone, a sputum dropped in an ocean, maimed and whirled off with the ocean's acidic offsprings.

Then, she heard a ruffle behind her and she turned. He was slightly awake, his hazy eyes drawing her in immensely.

"I love you, Nini." His first words.

She loved him too, she replied inwardly and pecked him, even if she didn't know how. Edwin, die. Just go to Mars.
_____________________
Marital Shambles - 8B


A person's behavioral ethics wasn't relevant. Behaviors - a separate room; work ability - a very distant block. Roland Rolando was very good, not in his person but with the job he did. It didn't matter, or maybe it did. One thing Hakeem knew was Rolando would put Edwin in surfing freedom - like a freestyle. So, as soon as he left Edwin's cell that afternoon, he drove straight to his contacts and employed Rolando. He then fixed an appointment for the good investigator with his client the following day. The meeting was brief, almost like a breeze that picked up papers and dropped them immediately. Then, he drove to Aduke's mansion
_______________________
The Sunday was lit. Maybe because it heralded the festiveness of the new month or was it the pastor's sermon delivered in Nini's church. It could have been because he and Nini looked like a couple in their outfits. It was slippery to pinpoint but that Sunday was definitely beautiful, almost like an enchanted island in a fairy-tale. Even the gale wind that blew wasn't stinging, rather it soothed.

Timi was a good person and a better professional. He had the senses to sniff and point. The relationship between his job and person wasn't distant for he was a lawyer. And a wronged fiance on a dark African night. So, as Hakeem left with Rolando after the investigator met his client, Timi Ayanda received a call. It must have come from a police officer in Edwin's cell or a mole around the station, he anyway knew a different face had come with Hakeem to the station that day. This new face, according to his informant, looked shaped and sharp. At a time, he had been overheard promising he'd do everything to make the truth surface. Timi understood immediately and everyone had a tag.

The night of that Sunday, the one Nini termed her happiest in a long while, the one she slept with Timi, Rolando began working. Then, his table creaked as his cell vibrated and he accepted the incoming call. It was one Timi asking for an audience. Timi and Rolando thought alike - great men.

***To Be Continued***

Ikdbabie:
Nice work. Continue please. & thanks for the mention.

You are welcome. You made me continue.
Thank you.

Obinnau, I would very much appreciate if this made the front page.

Nice story....