The Place Beyond Her Dreams by Oby Aligwekwe (english novels for students .txt) 📗

chase. There’s no time for nonsensical talk right now. Ifedi, do you know what happened to my husband?” she asked Ifedi, who was standing a few feet from her.

“Your husband? No.” Ifedi said, grimacing and shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with,” Grandma continued. “I’m going to call the police to arrest you right now if you don’t tell the truth. I’m sure they’ll be able to beat the truth out of your mouth.”

“I-I didn’t do anything, Ma.”

“You’re such a good liar,” I said, shaking my head. “Had I not ignored my instincts, I would have figured you out all these years.”

“Ifedi, say the truth,” my grandmother yelled hysterically. “The truth will set you free. Say the truth!”

Ifedi shifted nervously in her position. My grandmother’s reaction had succeeded in getting her to understand the seriousness of her situation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma,” she pleaded, dipping her index finger on her tongue before pointing it to the ceiling and swearing she did not know what happened to my grandfather.

“Don’t worry, Mama,” I said. “The person with the proof that she poisoned Papa’s palm wine is bringing it tomorrow. Maybe then, she’ll realize this is not a joke and start cooperating.”

“What proof,” Ifedi asked, her chest heaving intensely up and down.

“Ifedi, stop these denials. Your accomplices ratted out your actions to the authorities,” I lied, hoping she would fall for it and confess.

She fell for my fib and realizing the enormity of her situation, with the events from that morning and talk about poison and accomplices, a truth I learned in Luenah, she began to flail her hands and point fingers.

“It’s Ozumba and Ekema,” she screeched. “I had nothing against your grandfather. They’re the ones you should be harassing, not me.”

“Did you help Ozumba and Ekema accomplish their mission?” The first elder asked in a calm tone. “I’m asking because you haven’t said anything about your involvement. Did you poison the palm wine or not?”

“I can’t believe you’re listening to this spoilt brat,” she said, pointing in my direction. “I have a reputation to protect. What does she have? She goes around town running after two boys like she has no shame. What were you doing in Okem’s hotel? Have you no shame?”

I stared with my mouth open as she continued to rain insults on me.

“Shut up!” my grandmother yelled when she couldn’t bear it anymore. “Are you mad, Ifedi?”

“I’m not mad, Ma. I was just trying to say—”

“You were trying to say what? Enough! Anuofia, wild animal. I don’t want to hear pim from you again. One more word from you, and I’ll give you a dirty slap. Not only did you kill my husband, but you sent Albert after my granddaughter to finish her off. Instead of responding to the allegations, you’re pointing fingers at everyone. The worst part is that you stand in front of me, in my own house, and call Ona such awful names, and you say you’re not mad.”

While my grandmother was yelling at Ifedi, I felt thousands of goosebumps rising on my skin, and a feeling of déjà vu crept all over me. I recalled how Albert had treated me after he turned me into his punching bag. Ifedi’s attack was an identical scenario, only, it presented itself in a different situation. My grandfather had told me one time I was in Luenah that the culprit always looks for someone else to blame for their actions. A lot of times, they blame the victim, the one who has suffered the most already, only because they’re easy bait.

“It’s just a ploy,” he had said, “to further manipulate the victim and milk them to the very last drop. That is the way of bullies when they’re confronted.” Thank God for that lesson because I didn’t fall for the tactic this time. I pitied Ifedi and wished things could have been different. She had been a wonderful teacher and companion. Who knew she was so evil? All those years living under my grandparent’s roof, and we never sniffed her out. She will have to spend the rest of her life in jail, at least that’s the penalty for killing a human being here in Ntebe.

Chapter Twenty-two

THE POLICE SIREN jolted me out of bed later that afternoon. Through the window, I could see two armed policemen stepping out of their vehicle. My grandmother was running frantically towards them as she wrapped the ankara cloth around her chest. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I knew there was trouble when my grandmother placed both hands over her head, and the policemen rushed past her into the house. I threw on my robe and ran to the living room downstairs to see what was going on.

“She has run away,” my grandmother shrieked when she saw me.

“What do you mean she has run away,” I asked, just as the policemen returned to the room.

“Mama, we’re leaving now,” one of the men said with utmost urgency. “We have to search the vicinity before she skips town.”

Ifedi had disappeared without a trace from the home we all shared for so many years. My grandmother had asked her to pack her belongings and leave the house after our earlier confrontation. We had expected the police to arrive within minutes to interrogate her, but she beat us to it and absconded before the policemen turned up, while my grandmother and the two elders waited patiently in the sitting room. We couldn’t tell if she fled through the window in her room or through an act of magic because the only two valid exits in the home were guarded at the time she made her escape. We later heard that Ozumba had vanished too. Ekema wasn’t so lucky. She was captured by officers at the gate of the city as she tried to abscond.

* * *

Ekema’s trial was short. They sentenced her to twenty-five years in prison for murder and treason. Right before she was to leave