The Cellar Read Online Free PDF Page B

lawyer says we must find a way to prove he was alive. He told me to ask you which crisps and sweets you put in his lunch box that morning?
    Muna wriggled her shoulders in pretended discomfort. I didn’t put in any, Princess. Abiola stole all that were left when he came home from school the day before. He took them outside and ate them in the little house in the garden.
    Yetunde glared at her. Why didn’t you tell me?
    You’d have beaten me, Princess. It made you angry when Abiola stole food.
    Yetunde rattled her bracelets in annoyance. You’re not to tell the white that. Say you put the crisps in his lunch box on Thursday. Better still, say you saw me doing it. What colour packets were they? How many? The police know the answer so be sure to remember accurately.
    There were three red ones, Princess. Abiola kicked me because he only likes green and blue.
    Why were the stores so low? I bought enough to last a month.
    Abiola stole crisps every afternoon, Princess. If I tried to stop him, he hurt me. He wasn’t a nice boy. I think the white knows you and the Master didn’t like him either. She asked me twice why you don’t weep for him more.
    Yetunde’s glare hardened. Can’t she see our anguish?
    I don’t believe so, Princess. The Hausa speaker said the Master keeps trying to blame others for Abiola being missing … and men who do that want to hide their own guilt. She pressed me over and over again about whether he went out in his car between coming home and calling the police. I didn’t know how to answer so I said nothing.
    Wretched girl! You should have said he didn’t.
    Muna raised her head. But the white would have known I was lying, Princess. My mattress is not in the cellar any more, and only the Master could have taken it away. Will she not have pictures of the journey he made in his car? Will she not ask him if he took Abiola as well?

Five
    Inspector Jordan informed the Songolis the next day that she was removing her team from the house. Ebuka and Yetunde greeted the news with relief, but not Muna whose naïve wish had been that the police stay for ever. Her sense of power had been very brief. Olubayo had been right, and she wrong, and despair overwhelmed her as she thought of being returned to the cellar.
    It was Mr Broadstone’s fault. He had refused the Inspector any further contact with his clients unless she produced evidence implicating them, and he guarded the Songolis closely to ensure that happened. It meant the Inspector never found out that Ebuka liked visiting whores, and her suspicion remained that he was responsible for his son’s disappearance. Only the liaison officer said goodbye, giving a small wave as she left through the front door, and Muna knew her last chance of help had gone when it closed behind her.
    Mr Broadstone tapped his watch, saying he had an appointment elsewhere, and then advised the Songolis in an undertone to be careful what they said and did. The police might have left but it didn’t mean the investigation was over. There were ways and means of monitoring conversations and the Inspector had had plenty of time to apply for permission to install listening devices in the house.
    Ebuka took offence at the remark but he kept his voice low when he spoke. There was nothing they could say, he muttered, accusing the lawyer of not believing him and his wife when they said they were ignorant of what had happened to their son.
    Mr Broadstone was unmoved. ‘It’s not my job to believe or disbelieve,’ he answered drily. ‘I merely take instructions. You asked me to get rid of the police and that’s what I’ve done. It won’t change anything. Your car, your computers and mobiles will still be examined and if anything untoward is found, you’ll be arrested and asked for an explanation.’
    ‘There is nothing.’
    ‘I hope you’re right. They’ll be looking doubly hard at your car if they already know you went out again on Thursday evening between arriving home and