WEDNESDAY, January 2nd.

Friday, September 26th

 

One

       

                 HER PURSE IN HER HAND, Maxwell Rita Omosola, walked gracefully out of Mercy hospital. The rain had  stopped early enough, leaving its chilling effect.

As the cold breeze blew at her face, she thought for the umpteenth time that she could have worn a cardigan on her way out, because at the moment the cold was making her more vulnerable than normal.

She had visited her aunt, who was just recovering from one of her migraines.

Aunt has been switching from one illness to another since mum died. Mum’s death completely broke her down, Rita thought bitterly.

Her aunt, Mary-Jane Olamide Peters and her mum, Mary-Anne Ayomide Maxwell were identical twin sisters. As identical as two peas in a pod.

From the little she had heard, they were envied by friends when they were teenagers. They did everything in a similar fashion. Their walking steps, hairstyles, their choice of food, clothes, and books…even boyfriends!

All that did not change, even when they finally got married. It only did when mum died. She thought as she climbed into her Amanda jeep.

She smiled-surprised that she could manage one- as she remembered the phone call her mum got one cool Sunday afternoon after church. It was a friend from Ibadan. She called to find out how she could reach her in Ibadan, claiming she had seen her that morning, ‘in that pink suit that makes you look decades younger’, as she’d put it. She didn’t believe she had seen someone else.

            Rita was amazed beyond words herself, for her mum had also worn a pink suit to church.

And then…And then the cold hands of death had snatched her mum away. She thought, shifting in her seat as she remembered that fateful night…

“I still have that fleeting thought that someone murdered mum” She said aloud, fastening her seat belt.

“Someone who knew her well enough and was aware that she was taking sedatives”

Almost two years before her death, her mother had become paralysed with rheumatism. In an attempt to alleviate pain, relieve shock and allay anxiety, her doctor had been prescribing daily doses of Morphine, that were very strong, so that months before her death, she stayed in a sedated state that gave her no opportunity to take an interest in anything.

The autopsy reports revealed that she died of an overdose of morphine and probably asphyxia.

If that’s right, anyone would suggest that she was probably strangled. But then…she was with her just before she gave up the ghost. Could it be that…

The honk of a car horn jolted her out of her reverie. She stared in rear-view mirror as a red saloon pulled up behind her.

Driving out of the parking lot, she decided it was time she found out the cause of her mother’s death.

She drove down a few blocks and pulled up in front of a supermarket.