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seriously. I would know if he visits. I know when anyone walks by. Either I see them or Sammy does,” she said, nodding to the dog, which still stared at us like the stupid little animal it was. “When he comes, he never leaves until late. He plays loud music. Very arrogant man. Sammy hates him, don’t you Sammy?”
    â€œThank you very much,” Femi said as I finished my notes.
    We were done with her, but she was not done with us.
    â€œWhat’s he up to?”
    I just smiled. “Police business.”
    She liked that. Made her feel important. She wanted more, but she wasn’t going to get it. I did not want to poison the well. Information should go only one way in an investigation—to me.
    No one answered the other two doors, but maybe one alert neighbor was enough. We went up the stairs and I knocked on the girlfriend’s wooden door. Seconds later, a slender young woman opened it.
    â€œYes?” she asked suspiciously.
    â€œUloma?”
    â€œWho are you?”
    â€œDetective Peterside, this is Detective Adegbola. State Police. Homicide.”
    Her whole reaction was to raise an eyebrow—just one. Maybe it was too early in the day for her. “You sure you’re at the right place?”
    â€œYou know Angus Sekibo?”
    Both eyebrows froze. Good sign. “What’s wrong? Has anything happened to him?”
    â€œNothing. Yet. If we get to him first. Your friend’s gotten himself in trouble with some very bad people. He helps us, we help him.”
    Her eyebrows became flat lines over her eyes. She thought itover. “Come in.” We walked past her into the modest, airless, single-room apartment. She sat on the bed, offered me a cane chair but did not offer Femi anything. She knew who had rank.
    I got out my pad. “When was the last time you saw him?”
    â€œFriday night, four days ago. He came to the club and told me he was going out of town on business.”
    â€œWhat business?”
    â€œYou said he’s all right?”
    â€œNo. I don’t know. What business is he in?”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with him?”
    â€œHe was injured in an explosion.”
    â€œInjured?”
    â€œBleeding from the ear. Maybe other wounds. When he was last seen.”
    Those nice eyes grew wider. “Last seen?”
    â€œRunning from an explosion. What business is he in?”
    She was shocked or at least appeared shocked. “I don’t see how that can be,” she said slowly, as if she did not believe it herself, and was trotting out the words on a trial run to see if we believed it.
    I was getting the impression she would not tell me what business he was in—or perhaps she did not know. “Does he have a gun? Weapons? Explosives?”
    â€œNo. No. Why would he? We’ve been together three years. No.”
    â€œYou were asked what business he’s in,” Femi said, trying to sound tough.
    She sighed. “He’s a businessman. He invests.”
    â€œIn what?” I asked.
    â€œIn anything that brings him money. He does not talk about it much, so I don’t ask. Trade secrets, he says.”
    Time to pressure her. “We’re wasting time. His time. He’s introuble. We don’t know exactly what he did but he was at the scene and it does not look good. Some people want him dead. Where is he? Tell me or I’ll take you in.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Njemanze Plot 22. He rented it just last week.”
    Njemanze was expensive. Was he already spending the money he had earned yesterday? I had what I wanted, unless she’d fed us a line. We got up to leave.
    â€œPlease don’t hurt him,” she said, hands clasped in front of her.
    â€œYou’ve just helped him,” was all I told her.

CHAPTER NINE
    It did not take long to drive to Njemanze, near Elechi Beach.
    Angus Sekibo’s bungalow was dead quiet. I decided not to bother with niceties like a warrant. A credit