I had barely gotten to my room when my phone began to ring.
I looked at the caller and it was the receptionist at Hilly Zander guest house.
Instantly, my heart skipped 3beats and my breath rhythm increased.
The reason why she was calling me was clear to me and this added to my anxiety.
But then I had to pick or else I would be tagged the chief suspect without any waste of time.
With trembling hands I picked the call.
“Hello,” I said on picking.
“Yes, am I speaking with Cindy?” The female voice at the other end of the line asked.
“Yes, you are,” I replied.
“What did you do to Alhaji? Alhaji was found dead this morning after you had left. What did you do to him?” She asked nearly precipitating a spontaneous cardiac arrest in me.
I nearly slumped on hearing the receptionist’s question but to God be the glory I didn’t.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I replied with all the courage my failing heart could muster.
“Please can you come over to Hilly Zander guest house?” She asked sending my already weakened heart beating anew.
“Sorry I’m not in town,” I lied nervously.
There was no way I could go back to that guest house for any reason not to talk of now that a murder case was involved.
“The best thing you can do for yourself and this guest house,” the receptionist continued. “is to bundle yourself back to this place and clarify things or risk turning yourself into a fugitive. Alhaji came in here healthy and hearty till this morning.”
“The Alhaji was sleeping when I left,” I countered defending myself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I’m currently not in town.”
Angrily, the receptionist ended the call.
It was obvious that the guest house was in big trouble as the deceased person was no small individual.
Imagine a senator of the federal republic of____found dead in a guest house?
The case was indeed no small case and the guest house was bound to answer for it.
No wonder they wanted me at all cost.
But then truth be told, I didn’t kill Alhaji and all of you can bear me witness.
But all the same I wasn’t going anywhere.
As far as I’m concerned, I was out of town and out of sight.
The police arrested all members of the hotel management including the manager.
They also sent Alhaji’s body to a well known hospital for autopsy. News was sent to the media about a wanted prostitute named Cindy.
Luckily for me, my real name wasn’t Cindy so I only had my picture to contend with.
Once or twice some friends called to confirm whether I was the one been shown all over the news in connection to the murder of one reputable senator.
I strongly denied being the one and waved aside the picture as mere resemblance.
Even my roommate Stella was shocked about the whole development.
My only saving grace was that the name all over the news was Cindy not Linda.
Funny enough when the autopsy result of the dead Alhaji came out, it showed that the Alhaji had died of circulatory arrest resulting from the complications of his intake of one locally made aphrodisiac known as buruntashi.
This cleared both the hotel management and “I” of the crime but the news nonetheless spread all over the country that a senator had died in a guest house after a marathon s€x session with a prostitute after taking a locally made aphrodisiac they called buruntashi...
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