Chapter 3: The Yellow Notebook

The salvage people check quick, talk say the person na murder—big wound dey the belle.

I bend near, my stomach turn. The wound fresh, but water don soak body. I remember the news wey dey town—say kidnappers dey use river dump body.

I no know why, but my mind just go back to that dagger wey I see for my hand that morning, even though e don disappear.

My hand start dey shake again. I dey reason: e fit be coincidence? Abi na my village people dey play trick?

Who go even bother to thief am? Na person wey know about the knife.

I dey list people wey enter house—cleaner, maybe Ifeoma spirit, or Obinna? I dey suspect everybody, even myself.

That cleaning lady wey no wan gree go—fit be say she get hand inside, dey delay me while another person enter through window?

E fit be set up. For Naija, anything dey possible. I dey blame mysef say I no carry the bundle go dump for gutter.

"At least no be Ifeoma. That one dey give us hope." Obinna tap my shoulder.

He try smile, but I see pain for him eye. Na so family dey support, even if dem suspect you small.

I come back to myself, just nod.

My mind dey race. I try look normal, but inside my stomach, wahala dey dance.

Since no be Ifeoma, police take over the rest.

Two officers appear, dey do their work. Dem no too talk, just dey snap picture, ask small question. I give dem answer, but my eye dey ground.

For road as we dey go back, na one casual question from Obinna make my mind shake.

I relax small for car, dey think say everything don cool. But as he open mouth, tension come back.

"I hear say you go our hometown two days ago. Na because of Ifeoma?"

E pause, voice steady but sharp. I fit see say he dey observe my every move.

‘I hear’—the way he talk am, e be like detective wey dey wait make I lie.

His eye no blink. My hand dey sweat, I dey wipe palm for trouser. My palm dey sweat, I wipe am for short like say na normal heat.

"Work matter. One project dey wey I must check. My oga don already try for me give long leave—I no fit say no."

I dey talk, but my voice dey shake. I no sure if he believe me.

Obinna just grunt, no ask again.

He just turn radio loud small, like say na football commentary dey interest am. But I sabi say he dey reason my answer.

He drive straight reach underground garage. I come down, greet am, but he no even ready go.

Garage cold, small smell of petrol dey air. I try smile, wave hand, but Obinna no shift for seat.

"Why you no come up small, brother?" I even dey hope say he go refuse.

For my mind, I dey beg—make he talk say e get work. But he just unlock door, grab phone, say "Let’s go."

But Obinna just gree.

Na so wahala start. I dey pray make house dey neat, make nothing dey expose.

I brace myself, carry am upstairs. My heart dey beat anyhow as I dey press code for the lock.

My finger dey shake. Ifeoma fit use code sharp, but me, I always forget. As I type am, I dey reason if blood stain still dey floor.

"Wetin dey do you? You dey sick?" Obinna notice as I dey tense.

His voice soft small, but concern dey. He dey peep face, na so elder brother dey behave.

I shake head, talk say the code lock battery don low, so e dey slow.

I for talk true, but I no wan give am reason to suspect more. The lie dey sweet for mouth.

"I tell you before, no use all this electronic lock. Ordinary key sure pass."

Obinna like old school. He dey believe say if thief wan enter, code no go save you. He fit argue this matter for bar till morning.

"But if you lose key, you still go lock outside," I talk under breath.

I remember that day I forget key for office, na neighbour help me climb fence. Technology get its own wahala too.

Ding—the door open. He no talk again, just waka enter with serious face.

The bell sound loud for my ear, like warning. My body cold, my mind dey race.

I dey watch where he dey look. Lucky say he just sit down for sofa soon.

He drop bag, arrange shirt, look around. I dey thank God say parlour no get blood stain.

"Where you put Ifeoma things?"

He dey look round, eye sharp. For Igbo tradition, woman property dey important—no touch am anyhow.

"I never touch anything. As long as her things dey here, I fit pretend say she fit come back any time."

I talk am with small voice. The memory dey heavy for chest. I no even fit sweep room, na so pain dey catch me.

I drop the glass of water wey I pour for am, but he no even look am before he stand, head straight for bedroom.

Obinna stubborn—if he wan see something, nothing fit stop am. I dey beg God say make nothing show.

Fear grip me. I rush block the door.

I stretch hand, stand for front. Sweat dey drip for my back. My voice dey tremble small.

"Brother, I wake late, never clean. Inside dey rough." I scratch my head.

I try laugh, but e no sweet. For my mind, e dey suspect me more.

Obinna no talk, no vex—he just stand, dey look me.

He cross arm, stand like teacher wey dey wait for answer. My leg dey shake.

No choice, I open door for am. He enter, no even look the rough bed.

He waka straight, open curtain, check wardrobe, everything. He dey do inspection like landlord.

"Ifeoma no carry her clothes?" He open wardrobe.

He dey turn hanger, count shoe, check bag. I dey look his face, dey pray make he no see anything wey no suppose show.

Inside, everywhere full with Ifeoma clothes. Me, I no get plenty—just one small space for my own.

Her Ankara wrapper, lace, even the wig she like, still dey inside. The scent of her perfume dey hang for air.

He smell the sleeve of one Ankara gown, nod like say he dey remember village festival.

He notice am, see the hangers wey nobody dey use.

He dey count silently. For him mind, e dey try calculate how many days since she disappear.

"She rush commot, no carry anything. I think say she just go cool off, go come back."

My voice crack. E no easy to say these words. Ifeoma no be person wey dey run.

"She like fine, even for house she dey change cloth every day since small. I dey wonder how she dey manage now."

Obinna laugh small, but sadness still dey him eye. He dey remember childhood for village, how Ifeoma dey borrow him shirt go school sometimes.

But if she don die, which cloth she wan change?

The thought shock me, na so I sneeze loud.

I rub nose, try cover up. For my mind, I dey shout—God abeg, make she no die.

Obinna still dey check the clothes, no even look back, just ask if I catch cold last night, say make I take medicine.

He dey talk like elder brother, but his voice dey gentle. I just nod, no talk anything.

As I wan leave, something just fall with gbam for wardrobe shelf.

E loud like thunder, my heart jump reach throat. The sound loud—like book drop. I turn, dey fear. E fit be clue, or juju. My heart dey pound.

"Na Ifeoma own be this?"

Obinna voice sharp, curiosity dey there. I dey pray make e no be anything wey go incriminate me.

He talk, na that time I fit turn look.

He bend down, pick one yellow notebook. E fresh, like person just buy am for market. My mind dey race.

He hold yellow notebook wey I never see before.

I dey wonder—when Ifeoma start to dey write diary? Or na one of her work things?

"E fall from her cloth sleeve. You never see am before?"

He dey look my face well, try catch any lie. My mouth dry, I shake head slow.

As he see my confused face, Obinna open the first page.

He open am careful, like say him dey find cheque. I dey peep—my eye dey red.

My heart fly enter my mouth, my leg just stiff.

My whole body freeze. E be like say power leave my bone.

He turn some pages, then look up at me with one kind eye.

His face change—like person wey see ghost. He dey wait make I explain.

"Na you hide Ifeoma?"

His voice cold. E no be question—na accusation. My mind blank. I dey sweat from head to toe.