Sam Daniels leaned back in his chair and yawned. “I’m done for the day,” he thought, as he gathered the files on his table and tied them into a bundle, ready for dispatch the next day. The clock on the wall chimed twelve.
“Time to retire for the night. It’s been a very long day.”
When the doorbell rang, Sam reached for his service revolver. He was the Inspector General of Police and had recently busted a Drug Syndicate, killing the young lord and his deputy and throwing several of his men in jail. He knew there would be repercussions and was always on the alert. The frantic ringing of the bell continued as he walked towards the door. If the situation got dangerous, he could press the emergency button which was connected to several police stations in the vicinity and help would arrive pronto.
The woman standing outside fell into his arms as he opened the door.
“For Goodness sake! Who are you? Why have you come here in the middle of night?”
“I’ve killed him,” she sobbed, “I had to do it.”
Blood stains dotted the front of her dress which was partially torn. Sam led her in and settled her in a chair. Her disheveled hair partly covered her swollen eyes.
“Just relax for a minute. Take a few deep breaths and lean back. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
Handing her the water he asked, “Whom did you kill and where is the body?”
She gave him her address.
“That’s a long way off. Why didn’t you go to the nearest police station?”
“Because the police would lock me up. I would receive no sympathy from them.”
Sam dialed the police station near her home and asked a team to visit her flat and do the necessary investigations.
“I must drive you back to the police station and record your statement there.”
“No.” she begged, “You first listen to my story. I’m not a murderess. It was self-defense.”
“Whatever! How did you arrive here and how did you know where I live?”
“I pass this road every day to work and had seen your nameplate. I just jumped into my car and landed here.”
Sam led her back to the car and said, “Get in.” The keys were still dangling from the ignition and he drove to the police station. He led her into the office.
“I’ll do the questioning. I want the truth and remember whatever you say will be recorded. Now give me your name and address.”
“I’m Lilian Dias, a journalist, working for the Times. As a reporter, I cover important events.”
“What is the name of the man you have murdered?”
“Rueben Gomes.”
“Now tell me your story and don’t leave any details out. I may interrupt with questions if I think you aren’t telling the truth.”
Lilian’s story began three years ago. A party was in progress at the Marriot Hotel to celebrate the acquisition of Glen Max Company by Medi Lupa Pharmaceuticals for $150 million. All eyes were focused on the new CEO, a handsome young man with a stunning personality. He seemed to be basking in the admiration of the crowd.
“I was determined to get an interview however brief, before the evening was out. When most of the guests were moving towards the food tables, I thrust my microphone almost in his face.
“Sir, how does it feel to hold such an important position at such a young age?”
He pushed the mike away and glaring at me with his dark eyes said, “I’m not particularly fond of the Media. Perhaps you should ask me a few months later.”
He walked away leaving me so embarrassed that I wanted to flee. No, I thought, I’m going to stay here and gather as much gossip I can about the man.
Reuben Gomes was the cynosure of many young female eyes. Several times during the rest of the evening, Lilian caught him staring at her. She decided to make her exit. As she was walking towards the door, he called.
“If you want a proper interview, call at my office in a day or two.”
And so began a relationship that grew over the months. “Reuben said he found me not just attractive but also intelligent, and would like to build on our relationship. He seemed very interested in my life as a journalist and came through as a kind and thoughtful person who concurred on my views on Feminism.”
Lilian stopped to take a deep breath and wipe her tears. “Would you like moving in with me?” he asked one day. “No strings attached. Marriage is outdated. There will be no shackles that bind. It will be a non-interfering relationship, more or less independent of each other.”
This would be a case of social defiance as ‘living in’ was still frowned upon by society. Lilian’s parents lived far away in another city and would never know.
“Cohabiting without marriage seemed quite exciting and appealed to my feminine ideology,” said Lilian, “Our relationship started with a bang and was smooth sailing for the first three years. My work as a journalist put me in contact with people from different walks of life and I was popular in social circles. Reuben had his own friends and his forms of entertainment. We never interfered in each other’s affairs.”
Then Reuben met with a patch of bad luck. Audited accounts showed some glaring discrepancies. Though he was not directly responsible, he along with the entire staff of the accounts department were sacked. It was a terrible blow to his pride. His frustration and depression brought about a total change to his character.
Lilian sobbed, “I became a target of his frustration. He turned possessive and wanted me to stop socialising so much and be available to him whenever he desired. His love making became an act of aggression rather than love. I thought it best to move out. Reuben started spying on my activities.”
“I want you to stay at home for a few days,” he said, “We need to spend more time together.”
“Whatever for? You’re not my boss. Stop acting as if I’m your possession. Remember what you said – No shackles that bind?” Lilian answered.
“The day you chose to move in with me you became my possession,” he retorted.
Lilian wondered if the Domestic Violence Act extended protection to live-in couples.
“I decided to consult a lawyer after work the next day. I reminded Reuben how his character had changed completely and asked him to go for Psychiatric counselling. Instead, he locked me up yesterday and confiscated my mobile. So I couldn’t call for help. Now I was truly afraid. The papers had recently reported two ghastly cases where the men had dismembered the bodies of their live-in partners. I was sure that Reuben was mentally disturbed. He hadn’t retuned until 11 p.m. I got into bed and pretended to be asleep. He pulled down the coverlet and dragged me out of bed. Then came at me with a long knife with a pointed tip. He aimed at my neck but injured my chest instead. I don’t know where I got the strength. I grabbed his hand and turned it, so that the knife now pointed at his chest. The I struck with all my might. Luckily he was inebriated. I left him there on the ground as blood was oozing all over. I’m sure he is dead. I jumped in my car and came to your house.”
Inspector Daniels was stunned by her story. Then the phone rang in another room and he went to take the call. There was the hint of a smile on his face.
“You can plead self- defense. You must get yourself a good lawyer”
Lilian seemed agitated. “How can I? I have come away with nothing.”
“Then let me give you some good news. Reuben is not dead. My men have taken him to the hospital where he is being attended to. He will be arrested. But you must first file a complaint before we can arrest him and take him into custody. I’m sending you home with police escort. But before that, you must sit here and write out your complaint as a case of domestic violence and attempt to murder. Then go home and find a lawyer who can help you legally.”
Long after Lilian had gone, Sam Daniels was lost in thought. Here was a woman in her early thirties, well-educated and holding a good job. Why on earth did she settle for such a relationship? A relationship lacking commitment, with no lasting emotional stability or security? Was this some kind of bravado? In a way, I’m glad she came to me. The police would have had no patience to listen to her story. She would have spent a night in custody.
“I wish the government will outlaw ‘live-in’ relationships,” he thought,”but society would scream that individual liberty was at stake.”
Eva Bell a gynaecologist is also a freelance writer. Her short stories are published in magazines, anthologies and on the internet.
Books published are “Silver Amulet,” “When Shadows Flee,” “Halo of Deceit,” “Runaway Widow,” “Power Surge in Eden,” “Portraits in Dignity,” and “Knee Jerks and Gallop Rhythms.”
You can find Eva at:
Website: www.evabell.net