Saturday, June 15.
The scene opens under the harsh glare of an HD camera filming at midnight. It's the overcast, Police siren lights flash red and blue against the walls of a vintage 1970s mansion — the home of the Coombes family. Rachel Onyeka, reporter for The Guardian Nigeria, stands in front of the building with an unsettling expression on her face.
RACHEL: Good Morning Lagos, it's me Rachel Onyeka, reporting for The Guardian Nigeria by 12-prompt. It appears to be a fatal murder on Sir Somtochukwu Douglas Coombes. He was brutally murdered by no other than the notorious vigilante known as Bàbá Dúdú, as evidence proves that it was him. Warning ahead because what I'm about to show you, some viewers may find it disturbing…
The cameraman follows as she walks inside the mansion.
The murder scene was a cacophony of busybodies. Police siren lights blared across the streets of the estate. Police officers moved about; some interrogated neighbours while forensics experts worked from outside the mansion into the parlour where the murder had taken place.
Just outside the parlour stood a traumatised young woman — the granddaughter of the murder victim, Ndidi Coombes. Her face bore an intense fearful gaze. She sits shivering, her eyes glossy with tears.
A police officer approached her gently.
POLICE OFFICER: Ndidi, I'm so sorry for your loss but I would like to ask what you saw so that we… Ndidi... Ndidi?
Ndidi remained silent, staring into space as if no one was speaking to her. After a moment, the policewoman shook her head and walked away.
Nearby, Detective Doyle Edevbie from the Victorian Mesdames Detective Department, Victoria Island, Lagos, approached the grandson of the deceased, Ikenne Coombes — a young man known for his criminal records involving grand theft. Ikenne moved with a repeated swagger, his expression filled with pensive contempt. His eyes were slightly glossy with tears.
DOYLE: (Calm) Mr Coombes, we are sorry for your loss… but we would like to ask you some questions.
IKENNE: (Chuckles) Oya na...
The detective and the police officers exchanged glances of slight confusion. Doyle continued.
DOYLE: We understand your past records…
IKENNE: Ohh you think say I killed my grandpa? Look at this one o, you think say…. Oya na, na killed him…
He stretched out both arms aggressively.
IKENNE: (With rage and slight tears) Handcuff me! Na me kill am na…. Go on!
Realizing they won't get anywhere with him in this state, Detective Doyle and the police officers turn and walk away. Ikenne watches them go, his chest heaving.
IKENNE: (Shouting in anger) Motherfuckers!
In the midst of the chaos, a home bus pulled up. The duo-detectives from the Victorian Mesdames stepped out.
Ṣeun Aristotle, the sharp bespectacled thinker, carried the gift of sensing lingering presences and hallucinating fragments of past events the moment he stepped into a scene. He scanned the vicinity with a pensive, serious gaze and adjusted the Nikon camera hanging around his neck. Beside him was Gerald Tumbuktu, the militant detective — husky, elegant, and reserved. He carried a cold, unflinching stare. Tumbuktu adjusted the pistol on his left hip, folded his muscular arms, and wore a grim scowl as he stared at the mansion.
District Police Officer Anita Ovie, smart and cooperative, approached them. Ṣeun kept his gaze locked on the mansion.
OFFICER ANITA: Good morning, Detectives. I'm Officer Anita Ovie, the district officer heading this case with you and—
Ṣeun interrupted, his eyes still fixed on the mansion with an unsettling intensity.
ṢEUN: Don't you think he did it?
Officer Anita looked startled.
OFFICER ANITA: (Confused) Excuse me?
ṢEUN: I said… do you think he did it?
She glanced at Tumbuktu, who was already staring at her with his usual cold expression. She turned back to Ṣeun.
OFFICER ANITA: Well, given the evidence…
ṢEUN: (A cynical edge in his voice) Ohhh, the evidence? What did Sir Coombes even do?
OFFICER ANITA: Yeah, but I don't really support vigilante acts. They're off-grid and against the law.
ṢEUN: The law, the law, the law…
His attention shifted as he spotted Ikenne pacing repeatedly like a strategic beast. Ṣeun pointed.
ṢEUN: Who is he?
OFFICER ANITA: That's Ikenne Coombes, the grandson of the deceased. His parents died in a plane crash. Since then, he has been one hell of a bad apple in the streets of Festac.
TUMBUKTU: (Smirks) Hmm…
ṢEUN: (With intense suspicion) Officer, I would like to see the crime scene. Shall we?
OFFICER ANITA: Oh yes, of course.
As they walked toward the parlour where the murder had taken place, Tumbuktu noticed the silhouette of an owl perched on the roof of the mansion. Its eyes appeared to blink red and blue — reflections from the flashing police sirens. Meanwhile, Ṣeun kept staring at Ikenne. When Ikenne turned and noticed Ṣeun's gaze, his eyes shimmered with unease, sending a tense, violin-like note into the atmosphere.
They arrive at the lavish, retro parlour. Immediately, Ṣeun notices some strange things: boot prints on the floor, a spray of blood against a fresco painting near the dining table, and a blood trail dragging from the dining table to the sofa, where he spots an eerie image. Officer Anita starts explaining their theory concerning the scene. She points at the sofa.
OFFICER ANITA: That's him…
The sofa bears the corpse of Sir Somtochukwu Douglas Coombes. His chest is completely soaked with blood, and his face is etched with an eerie, sinister, maniacal smile—his yellow teeth bared and his irises whited out.
Then, Ṣeun steps into the middle of the scene. Suddenly, all voices muffle out, including Officer Anita's. He starts seeing strange beings performing strange events in the parlour. Then, he recognizes Sir Coombes sitting at his dining table. Suddenly, a figure clad in a red cloak, face shielded by a hood, approaches Sir Coombes…
FIITCH!
The figure stabs him repeatedly with a machete—15 times to his chest, hacking him to death and continuing even after. Blood sprays at the fresco painting at the side. Then, the figure staggers back in late realization toward the dark hallway near the dining table as heavy footsteps approach…
THUMM! THUMM!! THUMM!!!...
Suddenly…
OFFICER ANITA: Mr. Aristotle?
Officer Anita snaps Ṣeun out of his hallucinations as he blinks his eyes and asks in an inquisitive expression…
ṢEUN: What, what was that, what did you say?
Tubuktu and Officer Anita look at him in slight confusion. Then, Tubuktu asks…
TUMBUKTU: How many stabs to the chest?
Then, Ṣeun and Officer Anita speak simultaneously…
ṢEUN: 15.
OFFICER ANITA: 15 stabs to the chest…
The officer looks at Ṣeun with intense suspicion and asks…
OFFICER ANITA: How did you know?
ṢEUN: Well, strange guess…
OFFICER ANITA: (Sharp smile) Okay, I'll leave you both to investigate.
She turns and walks away. Ṣeun and Tumbuktu lock suspicious eyes before Ṣeun begins to pace the exact same spot repeatedly, his mind racing.
TUMBUKTU: (Suspicious) What do you see…
ṢEUN: (Suspicious) I don't think it was Bàbá Dúdú that killed him… let's go interrogate the grandchildren…
TUMBUKTU: Okay…
ṢEUN: Be right behind you. Let me take pictures of these details…
He points his camera at the scattered evidence, framing the shot, and…
CLICK! CLICK!! CLICK!!!
The final flash erupts, burning bright white and washing the scene out entirely.
Over the course of twenty minutes, they manage to dismiss the rest of the police and the forensics team from the second parlour upstairs, arranging seats to serve as an impromptu interrogation room.
Ikenne Coombes is the first to be interrogated. He sits opposite the duo-detectives, who stare at him pensively. Ṣeun adjusts his glasses, never breaking eye contact. Meanwhile, Tumbuktu stands up, walks to the wall behind Ṣeun, and leans against it. He folds his arms, gazing down at the young man with an unsettling scowl. The looming presence forces Ikenne to move his body repeatedly, trying to project his usual street swagger while seated. But his eyes cannot lie—he is terrified at the way Tumbuktu is looking at him.
IKENNE: Shey na look we wan dey do for here ni? Like, why is he staring at me like that? I just lost my grandpa…
ṢEUN: I don't know, Mr. Coombes. He's just looking at you…
IKENNE: (Crashes out in fear) Like, look at his face! He looks like a fucking gargoyle!
ṢEUN: Mr. Coombes, can you just please calm down? You have nothing to be scared about… right?
IKENNE: (Calms) Okay, yeah… yeah…
ṢEUN: Good. We will just ask you some questions and you're free to go…
IKENNE: Cool, oya na…
ṢEUN: …Mr. Ikenne Denson Coombes, I have read your history. You are a past convict out of Ikeja Heights…
IKENNE: (Uneasy, pissed) Why do you guys like bringing out my past in stuff like this?
ṢEUN: (Silence in dumb) Just trying to know you better…
IKENNE: Yeah, past convict from Ikeja Heights, but I'm done with all that. I've met Jesus, yeah, and I'm trying to do better through him.
As Ikenne settles comfortably into his chair, crossing his legs forward, Ṣeun's eyes drop to the floor. He notices Ikenne's Timberland boot prints perfectly match the scuff marks he saw at the crime scene, tracking from the hallway to the exit door. He looks back up.
ṢEUN: Then why did you kill him?
IKENNE: What?
ṢEUN: (Serious) Why did you kill your grandpa?
IKENNE: (Confused) As how? I don't understand, why would I kill the man who has helped me in my life?
ṢEUN: I don't know, you tell me.
IKENNE: (Annoyed) This is a man that stood for me even in my rebellious times…
ṢEUN: (Serious) Mr. Coombes, where were you last night?
Ikenne pauses. He tries to hide his fear, but Ṣeun can see it pouring out of him.
ṢEUN: (Serious) Mr. Coombes, it's best for you to answer my question…
IKENNE: (Fear) I went out, okay?
ṢEUN: (Serious) Out where?
Tumbuktu steps out of the dark shadow he had etched himself into.
IKENNE: With… I was out with my friends… I didn't want to attend his ritualistic meetings every Friday night, so I sneaked out through the back door…
ṢEUN: (Intense inquisitivity) I'm sorry, did you say ritualistic meetings?
IKENNE: Yeah, he belongs to the Red Hood Cults…
Suddenly, Ṣeun senses another presence in the room. His eyes narrow in intense suspicion.
ṢEUN: (Suspicious) Someone else is here, listening…
He glances toward the dark hallway at his front-left corner. For a split second, he sees a red cloak—a head peering out from the shadows—before it swiftly vanishes into the dark. Ṣeun sprints to the hallway, but the figure is gone. Instead, he sees a side room with its door slightly open, a warm light spilling out onto the corridor floor. Tumbuktu follows closely behind. They swiftly approach the room, and to their greatest surprise, they find only Ndidi. She is curled up on her bed, scrolling on her phone. She looks up at Ṣeun. The detective stops, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, looking down at the traumatized girl with a deep sense of pity.
Tumbuktu walks up to him and whispers…
TUMBUKTU: What do you see?
ṢEUN: Maybe I'm just hallucinating…
TUMBUKTU: Ohhh… Do you think Ikenne killed him?
ṢEUN: No, he didn't kill him, but he was there. I'm just testing him…
Then, he turns his attention back to the room.
ṢEUN: Hey Ndidi, we are Detective Ṣeun Aristotle and Gerald Tumbuktu. We would like to ask you a few questions…
NDIDI: Does it have to be like that?
Both Ṣeun and Tumbuktu exchange looks of sheer confusion.
ṢEUN: What?
NDIDI: Your names. Does it have to rhyme together?
ṢEUN: …Well…
NDIDI: Can you like… make it less dramatic? Like rearrange the names placed. Anyway… I'm coming…
She turns away, pulling her pillow over her head and leaving Ṣeun and Tumbuktu standing in the doorway in utter confusion.
TUMBUKTU: I think she's right…
Leaving Ndidi to gather herself, Ṣeun and Tumbuktu return to the impromptu interrogation setup to finish with Ikenne. Ṣeun takes his seat, while Tumbuktu resumes his standing post at the back right corner, looming behind Ṣeun.
ṢEUN: Mr. Coombes, I would like to ask all about you getting here…
IKENNE: I drove back, parked my car in the garden, then I saw someone far in the garden…
ṢEUN: Who?
IKENNE: I couldn't see. It was dark and rainy, and the person had a flashlight which flashed right in my direction.
ṢEUN: Like the person saw you?
IKENNE: Yeah, he was approaching me. But I noticed something strange when he got closer.
Ṣeun leans closer in curiosity, and Tumbuktu subtly mirrors the movement from behind.
ṢEUN: What?
IKENNE: The flashlight…
ṢEUN: The flashlight?
IKENNE: The flashlight in his hand was up high. So high, I thought I was tripping…
ṢEUN: Bàbá Dúdú…
IKENNE: Yeah… so it scared me. I quickly walked to the back door, entered the house, went to my room, held my bat, and closed my door. Then I heard massive wrecking footsteps in the hallways. When it passed, I opened the door and I looked. It was the massive silhouette of Bàbá Dúdú. I couldn't tell whether he was looking in my direction or the other way because he was walking away. Then I saw something… something very strange… omor, my eye clear sharp.
ṢEUN: What was that?
IKENNE: Well, Bàbá Dúdú's massive appearance obstructed my view, so it was just between him and the wall…
ṢEUN: What?
IKENNE: I saw someone clad in a red cloak robe, like a red jalamia but with a hood. The person ran out of the house…
ṢEUN: You saw someone in a cloak… running out?
IKENNE: I'm not sure ooo. Well, come closer…
Ikenne leans his head forward over the table, and Ṣeun does the same.
IKENNE: (Whispering) I think this… all this is a good riddance… like my grandpa had it coming…
ṢEUN: (Whispering) I thought you said he was a good person…
IKENNE: (Whispering) Well, good people go down the rabbit hole…
ṢEUN: (Whispering) Why are we whispering?
IKENNE: (Whispering) Shhh, walls have ears…
They both lean backward, breaking the huddle.
IKENNE: Well, when they both got out, I rushed to the parlour and found him dead. Am I free to go?
ṢEUN: (Serious) I'll keep an eye on you…
IKENNE: Hmmm…
ṢEUN: You'll be with me in some investigations…
IKENNE: (Comical) Aiit, I'd also like to join you in some Benoit Blanc typeshii…
Ikenne stands up just as Ndidi walks into the parlour. Ṣeun suddenly stops him.
ṢEUN: (Curious) Mr. Coombes, where did you find Sir Coombes dead?
IKENNE: Hmmm, on the sofa. Maybe watching TV or something…
This was the moment Ṣeun knew a crucial piece of the puzzle was missing. In his hallucinations—which past cases had proven were always accurate—he distinctly saw the red-cloaked figure stabbing Sir Coombes at the dining table. Yet, in reality, Sir Coombes' corpse was resting on the sofa directly in front of it. What exactly happened in the space between?
Ndidi Coombes enters the room carrying two cups of coffee for the detectives. She hands them over and sits where Ikenne had just been standing, carrying herself with a warm modesty. Her eyes are bloodshot from frequent crying, though she feels far more approachable now than she did last night.
ṢEUN: (Warm smile of pity) Ndidi, I'm so sorry for your loss. Please accept my greatest condolences.
NDIDI: Thank you, sir.
TUMBUKTU: My condolences also, Ndidi…
ṢEUN: We would like to ask you a few questions…
NDIDI: It's not him…
There is a heavy pause in the room. Ṣeun and Tumbuktu exchange looks of slight confusion. Deep curiosity etches itself across Ṣeun's face as he presses further.
ṢEUN: Who… who are you talking about?
NDIDI: (Contempt) That's not my grandpa…
Ṣeun turns to look at Tumbuktu, who is already watching him with deep concern.
ṢEUN: (Concern) Ndidi, look, I know you're going through an incredibly hard time, and I understand…
Her face eerily hardens into a deep scowl through her tears.
NDIDI: (Serious) But I'm serious. That's not him.
Ṣeun and Tumbuktu stare at her in stunned silence.
NDIDI: (Breaks down in tears) I'm for real… that's not my grandpa… that's not him…
Ṣeun leans forward and gently takes her hand.
ṢEUN: (Softly, out of pity) Hey, I'm so sorry for all of this. But we will get justice if we can figure out exactly what happened last night, okay?
She nods through her tears.
ṢEUN: (Warm smile) Okay… Where were you last night?
NDIDI: It was raining. Grandpa called me to join him for a meeting with his friends…
ṢEUN: His friends?
NDIDI: Yes. They form a fraternity called the Red Hood Cults…
ṢEUN: And what do they do in this cult?
NDIDI: They just gist and eat dinner with each other every Friday night…
ṢEUN: Do they practice anything strange in this cult?
NDIDI: Other than wearing red cloaks? No.
VKUM!
Ṣeun drops his cup of coffee onto the table between them, the sudden clatter echoing through the tense room.
ṢEUN: Okay. What happened last night?
NDIDI: Grandpa told me to join him at the meeting today, but I refused. Usually, he would force me or command me, but this time he didn't. He just left calmly, which felt completely off. After about two hours, around 10:30 PM, I heard a knock on my room door…
ṢEUN: A knock?
NDIDI: Yes. I asked who it was, but the person didn't answer. So I went to the door and opened it. That was when I received the greatest jumpscare of my life…
Tumbuktu and Ṣeun both lean forward, gripped by intense curiosity.
ṢEUN: (Intensely curious) What did you see?
NDIDI: (Fearfully deep in intense thoughts) It was his face… his face was like… a zombie. I moved back, scared. He smiled. His teeth had been milky and white up until his old age, but last night was different. They were yellow and jagged. His face was pale, and he looked skinnier than before… then…
Intense shock etches itself onto the faces of both detectives.
NDIDI: Then he told me to get to bed, that he was off to watch the late-night news… Then I swiftly bounced to bed and covered my face with my blankets. I heard the door shut and the lights switch off. I opened my blankets, and suddenly… I still saw him. He was merged into the dark spot near my door in the room, standing strangely…
Tears begin to drop slowly from Ndidi's eyes as she stares intensely at the table, reliving the terror.
NDIDI: Then I swiftly covered my face back up with the blankets. And then he said, "Don't let me meet you alive again. JUST DIE!"
The horrifying statement jolts Ṣeun and Tumbuktu like an electric shock.
NDIDI: Then he left, and I heard him walk slowly to the dining… sorry, the parlour…
ṢEUN: So, did anything happen after that?
NDIDI: Well, I couldn't sleep after that. My mind was racing, so I put on my earpods and listened to some music to calm myself down. For a long while, even through the music, I could hear these footsteps…
ṢEUN: Footsteps?
NDIDI: Yes, they were so loud. At first, I thought it was part of the music. Then I removed my earpods and immediately knew it was Bàbá Dúdú because of the rumours I've heard concerning him. So, I hid under the bed because I was really scared… like, my mind felt like melting. Then he passed my door… and I was relieved for a second, but then I realized the steps were coming from downstairs. After some time, I ran out of my room and headed downstairs. That was when I saw him… (Tears) dead with blood all over his chest, lying on the sofa…
Ndidi breaks down into heavy tears once again, completely overwhelmed by the memory. Ṣeun consoles her, effectively ending the interrogation.
It is already 5:00 AM. Ndidi has retired to her room, though sleep eludes her. Ikenne, while scrolling on his phone, notices the duo-detectives heading downstairs and decides to follow them.
IKENNE: Are you guys leaving?
ṢEUN: No, not until we find the killer.
IKENNE: What if it takes a while? A week, a month?
ṢEUN: Then I'll be here for a while. That's why we packed our home-bus directly in front of the mansion. Believe me, I've never spent more than a month on a case… well, rarely.
IKENNE: What if you don't find him, guy?
Tumbuktu turns to look at Ikenne with intense suspicion; Ṣeun mirrors his gaze.
ṢEUN: (Intensely serious) Mr. Coombes, I will show you that we will catch him and make him rot in jail. But the scariest part of this is Bàbá Dúdú. He will come for the killer, and we won't allow that—or perhaps he's too strong, and we won't be able to protect the killer from him…
The remark makes Ikenne stagger backward in shock. They arrive downstairs. An ambulance has already removed the body, but the forensics team has marked every piece of evidence, including the sofa where the body was found. Sitting on a chair in the parlour, Detective Doyle Edevbie gazes pensively at the crime scene. A cameraman and Rachel Onyeka, the reporter, approach Ṣeun and Tumbuktu.
RACHEL: Mr. Aristotle, what is your experience or final conclusion regarding this murder?
Ṣeun glances back at Tumbuktu and Ikenne before turning to the camera.
ṢEUN: The case is still open, but I assure you, we will find the killer and bring him to fair justice.
Rachel and the cameraman exchange looks of frustration at the non-answer.
RACHEL: That's it for the 5:00 AM headlines. I'm Rachel Onyeka from The Guardian Nigeria, and we will be right back after this notice.
The camera cuts. Rachel immediately sprints over to catch Ṣeun as he approaches Doyle.
RACHEL: (Pissed) Why would you abstain from sharing that information with the—
ṢEUN: (Stressed) The information I have isn't sturdy yet, and what I do have, I'm not sure of. By the way, who are you?
Rachel looks at him in disappointed realization before extending her hand.
RACHEL: I haven't introduced myself. I'm Rachel Onyeka, reporting for The Guardian Nigeria.
They shake hands.
RACHEL: I'm putting all this on paper.
ṢEUN: Well, nice to meet you… Rachel.
He turns to Doyle.
ṢEUN: Hey Doyle, things are really strange here.
DOYLE: (Smirks) Are you telling me?
Ṣeun sits near Doyle, while Tumbuktu remains standing, pensively scanning the room.
IKENNE: (Louder) Yeah, for real. Take it from someone in the midst of it—things get bizarre here.
DOYLE: You know, my investigation suggests this goes deeper than today. Like there's a remote cause.
RACHEL: Well, nothing is stranger than knowing the killer is Bàbá Dúdú. Will we ever actually catch him?
ṢEUN: (Smirks) That is exactly what the killer wants you to believe.
TUMBUKTU: (Smirks) Yeah…
ṢEUN: They want you to believe that Bàbá Dúdú killed Sir Coombes.
Doyle, Rachel, and Ikenne look puzzled as Officer Anita walks in.
DOYLE: But the evidence proves it's Bàbá Dúdú…
Ṣeun stands up to articulate his theory.
ṢEUN: Look, this is like The Wolf's Tail—a fatal grand opening, a deception, and a deal of no return all at once.
OFFICER ANITA: How can you prove this, Mr. Aristotle?
Ṣeun offers a warm smile.
ṢEUN: Around 10:30 PM, Sir Coombes walked out of that hallway to the dining room for a bite. After a while, the killer arrived and stabbed him in the chest. His blood sprayed onto that fresco painting over there. The killer realized the vigilante, Bàbá Dúdú, was coming—he is always watching—so the killer fled. Bàbá Dúdú walked from the back door to the hallway, but the killer was already gone. Bàbá Dúdú followed him out into the rain. Later, we find Sir Coombes dead on the sofa. Ikenne, what did you do then?
IKENNE: I ran out to check what was going on but saw no one in the heavy rain. I ran back inside and called the police.
DOYLE: That adds up. I saw large boot prints trailing from the hallway to the exit, with normal boot prints on top of them.
ṢEUN: That's Ikenne boots on top of Bàbá Dúdú's prints.
Officer Anita points to the faint, smeared blood trail leading from the dining table to the sofa.
OFFICER ANITA: Now, what you're saying adds up.
They all crowd around to look at the blood trail.
ṢEUN: The killer carried Sir Coombes to the sofa to cover up the crime scene.
DOYLE: That's what we're going to find out.
ṢEUN: My dear friends, I conclude by saying that this entire scene was staged by the killer to frame the vigilante known as Bàbá Dúdú.
Thirty minutes later, the group disperses. Ṣeun and Tumbuktu remain alone in the mansion. Ṣeun switches on his camera to study the photos he took. One image is particularly jarring: it shows the dining table, and beside it, the dark hallway. Deep in the shadows of that hallway, a faint light catches the silhouette of the red-cloaked figure. Ṣeun's expression turns to one of cold, deep suspicion.
TO BE CONTINUED…