Alice, the beautiful girl who disappeared

06 Jun Alice, the beautiful girl who disappeared

Abel threw himself into the investigation. He spent his days researching certain police files to which he was given access. Chief Benson had paved the way with the Commissioner. These files contained the names of suspected traffickers, interviews, surveillance records, and correspondence with police agencies abroad.

At night, Abel became a “regular” at various notorious spots in Lagos, establishments which were known to be frequented by prostitutes and their clients. These were not the expensive restaurants and clubs where high-priced call girls could be seen on the arms of rich men in business suits. The places Abel stalked were low-end dives, dark, anonymous and wretched. Places where the downtrodden and the poor came to play. Along nearby streets, young girls hung out waiting for customers. These were the girls’ traffickers preyed upon.

In a short time, Abel learned the players, recognising the teenage prostitutes and their scummy pimps. The locals thought he was some down-on-his-luck salesman because this is what Abel led them to believe. He had turned down more than one offer of sexual favours at a fair price. But so far, Abel had not met anyone who dealt in trafficking.

After days of putting up with sawdust floors, dirty cutlery served by uninterested waitresses amid the stench of fish, urine and beer, Abel became discouraged. He needed a night off. So, one cool Friday evening, he drove himself to the high-end La Scala Restaurant tucked in the centre built by the Musical Society of Nigeria.

The restaurant was known for its fresh sea food, inviting atmosphere and affluent clientele. Abel looked forward to the starched, pressed, white table cloths and delicious food served on shiny, clean, delicate China plates.

He had dined here often over the years. In fact, he was so well-known that even the managing director could predict his order of crab diable, fried prawns with potatoes and red wine. A steward seated him at a table for two opposite the entrance.

As Abel reached for the intricately folded napkin placed just so between the gleaming silverware, he casually observed new arrivals checking in with the maitre d’. Abel enjoyed watching people come and go, and he especially enjoyed the sight of elegantly dressed women with lush figures. Some would throw a glance in Abel’s direction, wondering at this well-groomed handsome man sitting alone. If they made eye contact, Abel would smile, fantasising about taking them home with him. It wasn’t just for the sex. He missed the warmth and companionship.

Abel hadn’t been with a woman since his wife died two years before, and he felt he was ready to venture out again. But such pleasures would have to wait until he had completed this assignment. It was too all-consuming, allowing him no time to start an affair. And because of the danger, he could not risk causing pain to a woman who might become his wife. So, Abel was content to flirt from a safe distance with these lovely women on other men’s arms.

Tonight especially, he was here to relax and get away from the investigation. When his food arrived, he dug in eagerly. He was so busy enjoying the fresh crab, he barely noticed when a couple took the seat in the corner to his left.

But observation was his life’s blood. Reading people and taking their measure was Abel’s default position. And so he could not help but notice that throughout the entire meal, the couple had not said a word.  He was attracted by their silence and so continued to study them.

The man, plump, clean-shaven and middle-aged, exuded an arrogant confidence. His cream jacket made him look dignified. But his taste for alcohol was a little strange. The man had consumed three bottles of stout and was ordering another when Abel switched his gaze to the lady.

She was a sharp contrast to the man, shy, jittery and very clumsy with the cutlery. Abel put her age at 13 or so and decided it must be a father and daughter outing. No wonder they didn’t speak to one another. The girl probably had an iPod stuck in one ear.

Later, while Abel sipped his after-dinner coffee, the girl returned from a trip to the lady’s room. He hadn’t been able to appreciate her remarkable figure before. But now, as she swayed across the room, it was impossible to miss. The open dress revealed a long delicate neck. The girl was quite pretty. Her full black hair was tied in a ponytail to highlight heavy brows over big, round dreamy eyes. Her nose was straight like Abel’s, her mouth wide with a stubborn jaw. Her chin had a decided dip right in the centre. An intriguing face, Abel thought.

The coffee finished, Abel paid for his meal and left the generous tip for which he was known. Once outside the restaurant, he moved to his beloved navy-blue Peugeot 406 car and got his key out.

The couple exited just behind him. In the glare of the street lights, it was even more obvious that the beauty on this older man’s arm was a teenager. She looked elegant and even tempting in her black miniskirt and shiny blue blouse, cut low at the base of her pear-sized breasts. She was slim with curves in the right places, and her fair complexion shone.

Abel looked for body language between the two. Poor, was the verdict. The girl’s otherwise attractive face was now masked in a mix of anger and fear. She walked behind the stocky six-footer, and not beside him. They remained silent. Abel decided he had been right; this was father and daughter and neither was happy. But something changed that impression just as they climbed into a big Toyota SUV. The girl protested and the man yanked her arm. This was not the gesture of a father. Abel sat in his car watching them as they continued to argue. When they finally drove off, instinct told Abel to follow.

Outside the centre, Abel saw them struggle violently in the SUV, with the girl trying to open the door. Soon they pulled to a stop by the national museum, and the girl jumped out. Abel parked behind them as the man literally tumbled out of the SUV, slammed the door and sprinted towards the girl who back-peddled as if expecting a blow.

“No! Please, no!” Abel heard the girl scream. The man grabbed her by her blouse, yanking her toward him. She pushed her attacker away, and the man stumbled, temporarily losing his balance. Abel leaped from his car and ran toward them.

When he arrived, he saw the girl’s blouse had been torn in front, exposing her breasts. She tried to cover them with her elbows bent to cover her face with her palms.

The man came after her again, but Abel got between them, raising his hands in an appeal for calm.

That stopped the man in his tracks.

“What the fuck do you want?” he said with a snarl.

Abel was used to assuming roles, and he slid immediately into this one.

“I’m a cop. And this girl is under-aged!” Abel assumed a tone of authority.

The man watched Abel for a beat, unsure. “You don’t look like a cop.”

Abel reached behind him under his coat as if going for cuffs.

“You want to spend the night in jail, fine by me.” Abel was bluffing. He figured if he had to, he could win a fist fight. After all, he’d seen the number of beers the guy had consumed. But as with most bullies, this one folded.

“Shit”, the man cursed as he quickly retreated. He got back in the SUV and screeched away, disappearing into the Lagos night.

The girl heaved a sigh of relief, looked up at Abel and fell into his protective arms. “Thank you, Sir.”

“It’s okay.” Abel looked at his watch. “It’s after midnight. You should go home.”

“Nooo!” she shook her head mildly.

“Where is home? I will take you there.”

“No!” she protested again.

Abel was thrown by her vociferous reaction.

“Come on. You can’t stay here.”

When she looked at him, the tears had dried up, the fear replaced by a suppressed smile around her over-painted lips. “I’m Alice.”

Again, Abel was thrown. The girl had suddenly adopted a seductive air.

“It is too late to go home”, she said. “Besides, I have no money for a cab.”

“Where is home?”

“Yaba, but my Mum will kill me”, she stamped her feet childishly.

The scene had started to draw a crowd. Street urchins, locally known as area boys, gathered around them. Abel knew they could cause trouble if he didn’t get both of them out of there.

He made a quick decision: “I will take you home with me, but I will call your Mum later.”

“Well, maybe you will change your mind and want to keep me for a while”, she said cockily and went for the passenger door. The girl seemed incapable of relating to Abel in any other way than as a potential customer. It was disconcerting seeing this in someone so young.

As they sped along in Abel’s car, it occurred to him that Alice’s man might be lurking somewhere, waiting to take revenge. And at this time of night the usually bustling Tafawa Balewa Square was almost deserted, making it a threatening criminals’ den.

Abel drove fast through the streets and tried to not let Alice see his concern. It was not until they reached the much safer Third Mainland Bridge that he could pay attention to the girl.

When he did finally look at her, he noticed she was holding the torn material from her blouse over her breasts. She wasn’t having much success. Abel reached into the backseat and recovered a clean duster which he handed to her.

“Here.”

The girl took the duster. “You are afraid people will think you raped me?”

Abel looked at her to see if she was smiling. She was so casual with the thought that it stunned Abel.  She spread the duster around her neck.

“You are a kind man. I don’t even know my saviour’s name. You are a Pastor?” She cast a seductive glance at him.

“I am Peter Abel, a consultant and a writer. So why were you fighting the man? Who is he?”

She swallowed and looked out of the window. “I like Kingsway Road. See, it is all lit up and clean.”

Abel knew she was avoiding an answer.

“Answer my question, Alice.”

“They call him Sanko. He’s a businessman, the importer and exporter type. A friend introduced him to me, but he has a monster cock, too long and big. He tore me up the first night, and after hospital, we agreed no sex. But he seems to have a high sex drive. Either that or he loves me too much. He wanted to tear my pussy apart again.”

Alice had told her story casually, as if she were describing a typical teenage problem, like breaking up with a boyfriend or fighting with her parents. Abel had been so taken aback by both her tone and the facts she was relating that he had driven past the junction to his house. Alice must have sensed his discomfort because she had fallen silent.

Abel tried to decide upon a response to her. He wanted to express sympathy without approval. And he wanted to establish a relationship with her which did not make him a potential customer.

“Alice, you are a beautiful girl. Talking that way doesn’t become you.”

“You sound like my mother!”

For the first time, she was defensive and this made her more childlike.  Abel saw an opportunity to find out more about this waif.

“You never mention your father, Alice. Is he alive?”

“Yes, he is there”, she said with a tinge of hatred.

Abel made a mental note to explore this later.

“I’m hungry”, the girl almost whined. She suddenly reminded Abel of his younger sister. She had died years before of congenital heart failure. She was always sickly, and Abel had spent many hours taking care of her. He wondered if this is why he was interested in Alice. In fact, it occurred to him child prostitution might be a sore subject with him because he once had a little sister. But this was amateur psychology, something Abel abhorred. He turned to the girl.

“You are still hungry after such a big dinner?”

“I was so afraid I didn’t enjoy the food. I feel better now. At ease. And I would love a kebab.”

Abel smiled at her. He liked this softer, more vulnerable Alice.

“My house-help will buy you a kebab. We are almost there. I live on Queen’s Drive.”

“But Queen’s drive is behind us”, she said. “We are almost in Victoria Island.”

The girl was observant and clever.

“I wanted to confuse anybody who may be tailing me”, Abel said.

“Like who? That man?”

Abel could have told her about the car that tailed him several weeks ago, on the day of Tunde’s murder. But he didn’t want to scare her. And he didn’t want to explain what kind of a story he was investigating because he was beginning to think she might become part of it.

“He won’t cause any trouble”, she said. “I told him I will tell his wife if he tries anything funny.” She paused and asked the obvious question, “Are you married?”

“I am a widower.”

Alice didn’t take note of this tragedy not, apparently, through callousness, but because, like most children, she was easily distracted.  They had arrived at the gate to Abel’s imposing house.

“You live in this big house alone?” Abel opened the gate with a remote control anchored to the sun visor above his head.

“Yes.”

Alice’s eyes widened as she looked around the grounds.  Abel parked in the garage, and they went inside.

“Welcome to my home, Alice”, Abel said formally as he gestured her into the spacious living room.

She sat slowly on a settee and studied her surroundings. There were eight settees in the room and all were finished in cream to match the long heavy curtains and thickly woven rug.

“Something to drink while your room is prepared?”

“Yes, a Fanta. I think I can do without the kebab.”

Abel got her a can of Fanta from the kitchen. After handing her the drink, poured into one of the frosty beer mugs he kept in the freezer, Abel went through the courtyard to Ikomma’s room. He asked him to prepare the guest quarters for “a girl I saved from an attacker”.

Ikomma went off to do as he was asked without comment.

On his return, Abel saw Alice still looking around in amazement. He noticed she had not even touched the drink.

“Time to change, Alice. There is a robe for you in the guest room. In fact, there is everything a woman needs for the night.” He was already heading for the guest room as he spoke, giving Alice no choice but to follow.

They went down a short staircase to a small comfortable bedroom where  Ikomma was making up the bed. Abel introduced Ikomma and then the two men left, allowing Alice to change in private.

As Abel returned to the living room, he reminded himself to keep his distance from this child. In the past when he patronised prostitutes, Alice would have been a good dish served on a silver plate. No more. That she triggered an unexpected memory of his sister embarrassed and worried him at the same time, especially because he had responded to her sexually in the restaurant. He couldn’t allow an emotional entanglement to grow here.

He also knew he might be using this young teenager in his investigation. If she provided a way into the world of trafficking, he would have to allow her to take him there. Ultimately, this was about avenging Tunde’s death. That was never far from Abel’s mind. But using a child in a dangerous mission made Abel uncomfortable nonetheless.

A final reason to keep his distance was his distrust of the girl. He knew she was perfectly capable of accusing him of rape if he did not treat her with tact. Bringing someone her age to his home was risky. The look on Ikomma’s face when he saw her said as much.

Alice appeared beside him in a white robe she had tied tightly at her waist to accentuate her curves. On the thick, soft rug, her bare feet made no noise. Extremely beautiful after a bath, she looked delicious.

Abel turned to the coffee Ikomma had brought in.

“You drink coffee like you are from Brazil, where they grow it”, she said. She drew closer to him and caressed his back.

Abel fought his emotions. She was the first woman who had been physical with him like this since his wife died. And he had to admit, it felt good. He stood.

“Your drink, Alice. I’ll get some ice for you.”

“No, I don’t need it”, she said.

“Then, let’s sit and talk.” He moved to the settee opposite her.

Alice sat coquettishly letting the robe part and then her legs. She was well versed in seduction. It was how she survived, he supposed. And probably the only way she knew to gain acceptance and affection.

Abel decided if he was to survive this encounter unscathed, he had to let her know he wasn’t interested in sex. He looked at her impassively. She was able to match him in this game, too. With a smile dancing on her lips, she winked.

“Alice, close your robe.”

“You don’t like what you see?” She managed to sound hurt.

“Of course. But that’s not why I brought you here.”

Alice shrugged, sullen, and closed her robe.

“So, what do we do? Play drafts?”

The question was partly meant to cover the rejection, but also meant to put Abel on the defensive. He realised this was how she dealt with the world that had used her so badly. It gave her the illusion of control. And it allowed her to maintain an emotional distance. Who could blame her after the life she was forced to lead? Abel wanted to keep his distance, but not to hurt her feelings. So he decided to engage the young girl.

“Tell me your surname.”

“Udor”, their eyes were locked now and Abel felt intense heat running wild in his nerves.

“Tell me about yourself. Who is Alice Udor ?” he took some more coffee.

“I am Alice Udor, my Mum is Mary Udor. We are originally from Edo, but I was born in Lagos, and we have been here since then. I am 15 years old and I have just finished from Yaba Mixed School. I am looking forward to an offer of admission from the Lagos State University, where I hope to read English.” She crossed her legs slowly and sipped her drink. “Any more?”

“I was correct to have threatened your attacker that you are underage?” He stared hard at her. This time, she swung her face away in discomfort.

“It never stopped anyone before.”

This sudden flash of vulnerability actually made it harder for Abel to keep from putting his arms around her. Did he want to comfort her or sleep with her? Did the girl even make that distinction? Abel sat up straighter.

“Okay, but what is Mr. Udor’s first name. Obviously, you like your Mum more.”

Life drained from her face. She put her glass of Fanta down and took a deep breath.

“He is Winston Udor, a retired civil servant. He says he was once well-to-do. But with irregular pension payments made valueless by inflation, today he is a poor man. I have two brothers. We all live on my Mum’s foodstuff business.”

When she finished speaking, Abel noted that the spark in her eyes was gone. She suddenly burst into tears.

This seeming total collapse moved Abel more than he realised.

“Cheer up, Alice”, he moved into the seat beside her. “It may not have been a coincidence that I was the person to save you.”

That put some life back into her. She rubbed her eyes and looked up at him. “So you love me? You are a good man.”

This caught Abel off-guard. There it was again. Her immediate presumption was he wanted sex, and her eagerness was to provide it.

He reached for his coffee.

“You are a very beautiful girl”, he looked up and saw her blush. “Now, if you think back, you would remember that many of the boys and men who said they loved you, really wanted you for sex …”

“Yes, like that man you saved me from”, she sounded cheerful. “Thank you very much.”

“You are welcome. Listen to me, Alice. At my age, I know that love grows. Some people see a flower they admire, pluck it, smell it, hold it for a while and throw it away. Or even if they don’t throw it away early, it soon withers and becomes unattractive, then they throw it away. Did you read some biology?” He saw her listening intently, her head cocked to the left.

“Yes”, she said.

“Good, if the flower is not picked, it will stay attractive for a much longer time and in the end be pollinated to produce more flowers. Alice, you are very attractive, but my primary concern is to help you first.”

She sighed and cupped her head in her hands. Abel could see she was crying.

“What is it, Alice?” he asked with concern.

“Since I was born, no man has treated me kindly like this.” More sobs. “They all want to take advantage of me. Even my teachers. But you are different.” When she looked up at him her eyes were red.

Abel decided to change the mood. “Come. Let’s go to the kitchen where you can find something to eat.” He pulled her up.

“I will take tea and some boiled eggs”, she said.

She brightened as he held her hand, leading her to the large kitchen. Alice looked around then ran her hand admiringly over the smooth counter tops.

“With such a home, you don’t think you need a wife, Mr. Abel?”

“A widower should not rush into marriage, otherwise, he ends up calling his new wife by the former wife’s name. You women hate that, don’t you?”

“Yes, we do”, she broke up into ripples of laughter.

“Sit there”, he pointed to a cushioned stool, “while I prepare everything.”

“Your place is so fine that I don’t want to break anything.”

“I trust you.”  Alice smiled broadly at this.

Twenty minutes later they were eating and cracking jokes like old friends. Abel glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost two.

“Help me clean up.”

The girl happily began scraping the plates and washing them off, enjoying the familiarity. Sharing this most common of domestic chores created an unspoken bond between them. And familiarity bred, in this instance, friendship, and more importantly, trust.

“Do we agree that I will take you home tomorrow morning?” Abel asked as they cleaned the kitchen.

“No, that is not possible. You said you would call my mother.”

“I thought I said your father”, Abel lied for her reaction.

“No!” she protested, turning pale. “Please. You mustn’t!”

Abel noted her distress. It was already clear that Alice’s father was somehow the source of her troubles.

“Okay, we call your mother”, he said, reassuring her.

Alice finished cleaning the counter tops, washing them carefully with a dishrag, then drying them with a towel until they shone. She wore a smile all the while, happy being the woman in the house.

“Thank you”, Abel said as he drew closer to where she stood.

“You are welcome, good man.”

“I think it’s time you got some rest. My boy will get a nice dress for you in the morning, and then he will bring your mother here.”

Alice seemed to acquiesce, and Abel turned and led the way to the guest room.

When they reached the bedroom door, Abel turned.

“I will leave you now. Goodnight.”

She remained rooted to the spot, her mouth parted with surprise and hands akimbo. “So we are not sleeping together?”

“Alice!”

She responded in a stone silence. She was insulted in spite of what he had tried to tell her.

He took her hand and whispered in her ear. “Alice, remember all I said about love. Give me the opportunity to help you first.”

It seemed to work. She nodded.

“I will not forget this night”, she said simply. Abel was moved and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Goodnight, then.”

After watching her shut the door, Abel retreated to his own bedroom and had a quick shower. But he didn’t sleep in his own room, which was far removed from the central area of the house. Instead, he returned to the living room and settled down on one of the settees.

She sounded sincere, but I can’t leave my house to a total stranger, he thought. He slept very lightly that night.