In a clear-eyed manner, a prostitute murdered an owner of a speakeasy at Festac Town, Lagos, during an argument. Then she hailed a motorcycle and got away, unaware the rider has his own plan.
Grabbing his innards sprawling out furiously, Sunday Emmanuel ran after Precious the killer sex worker. How far he could run with life oozing out of his open belly was just a matter of seconds.
By the time he slumped, Precious was clean gone.
The two had been friends all along. Precious used to lie doggo there to catch her clients who came to nab a shot or two at Emmanuel’s liquor shack opposite De Haven Hotel. But her hotbed was there in the brothel, and its manager Lucky knew her.
Sept. 1, 4am, was, however, different, going by neighbours’ accounts.
Precious was out early at Emmanuel’s. Something happened, and they had a tiff. It escalated, as such situation does when hydrocarbons fuel it.
They probably went hand to hand—otherwise Precious would have remained a bedroom cougar she was. Her face reddened with anger, she brought out a razor blade, and carved a 90-degree incision down Emmanuel’s beer gut. Cold turkey.
Because it was no accident, the attack was clear as day to her. She didn’t cry or call for help—then. And even later, she refused to bat an eyelid, according to police account.
Before Emmanuel could feel the tickling sensation of the razor cut, Precious had headed out. Not to her hotel room, though.
Out on the road, she hailed an okada. And she mounted it, telling the rider, in her mind, to move. Anywhere. Anywhere a homeless lady who had been trading with her endowments could go when she did something worse with her manicured fingers.
And anywhere was okay for her so long as De Haven would become history.
She continued wandering the entire stretch of her life’s journey up till that morning at Festac. In the reverie, she hit roadblocks, detours, hurdles, then, this blind alley.
There everywhere was fenced up. The ground macadamized. It had only a gate, wide. Men in uniform stood about, hugging AK47.
The okada rider informed the Festac police what happened: how his passenger cut a man open, and wanted to get away with. Emma was thoroughly dead by then.
But the rider wasn’t done yet.
He went back to De Haven, and informed Lucky his service girl had sliced open the guy across the street. And that he had delivered her to the police.
Knowing whom the police were, Lucky reported at the station to make his own statement.
Lucky said Precious still deadpanned when he got there.
She only swallowed and blinked when she heard she might not return as the police processed her for the homicide department at Panti, Yaba.