Max took in the physical appearance of the woman sitting opposite him. She was wearing a black tight fitted silk gown and a red wig on her head. The rather large golden earrings dangled from her ears and the emerald locket on her necklace beamed luxuriously. The gown hug her and did well to reveal a stunning figure, one which seemed to be well below thirty-five years of age. She had apparently done an amazing job to keep herself in shape.

She sat with the elegance of a wealthy businesswoman who had hurriedly arrived from travel at the news of her husband death.  She was earnestly wiping her face with a handkerchief and whimpering mournfully.

"Okay now," Max said after a moment, "I'll need you to compose yourself. I'll like to ask you a few questions."

"My husband is dead, how ever can I get myself composed?" she sniffled bitterly but Max could see that there was not really much tears to match how badly she appeared to be crying.

She straightened her gown and held her neck up. "Okay you can ask whatever you want to ask now."

Max took out his pen and paper. "I need you to tell me all you know about your late husband. First off, how long have you been married to him?"

"Two years and two months now." She replied with a far away tone, like someone who was having other thoughts.

"It is known that he has been married before. Do you know his first wife?"

"I've only seen photos of what she looked lije. When I first met Anthony, he was already a widower."

"And how did you two meet?"

The woman hesitated and looked away. "We met at a party in the city."

"Excuse me but I said how, not where." Max remarked. Did he come to meet you or you went to him; and in what situations, indulge me."

"Well, I was invited to this party by a friend who happened to be acquainted with Anthony. He introduced us and since Anthony was alone, he wanted me to keep him company. From then onward we started seeing much of each other."

"I see. You were with him for two years. What can you say about him?"

"He was a respectable and hospitable person, a man of honour and magnanimity. He had a passion for hardwork which was why he made his only son go through school as any other average child would but at the same time he took optimum care of the boy's financial needs. However, Josh kept demanding for money all the time and when he wasn't given what he wanted, he gets angry like a spoilt little brat. When he gets angry he becomes so fierce."

"Hmm. Mrs. Murvelli, I asked about what you knew about your late husband," Max remarked when the woman paused, "but it seemed you've told me more about the son and less about the deceased."

"Well, what exactly do you wish to know, detective?" Rose snorted.

"What do you know about his life before he got married to you?"

"He hardly speaks about his childhood or his life before he got married. The only thing he tells me is how lucky he thought he was. He never knen his parents. Said he was on an orphanage until he left and started making a living for himself. Then his luck completely turned around and he became wealthy."

"Does he keep much friends? If yes, what kind of friends does he keep?"

"He is mostly with his business associates. He doesn't keep friends outside his business."

"Have you met them and do you think any of them would have a reason to murder him?" Max was observing her closely.

"He often takes me along with him to some official cocktail parties and I've met with several of his associates. They all seem friendly but who knows, there may have been the envious one who couldn't stand him. But why, the only suspect I see here is the one who was heard quarrelling with him the same night he was last seen alive, the person whose fingerprint was found on the murder weapon."
She had began to speak quite passionately about the whole affair.

"Suspect, yes. Why do you think he did it?" Max asked. It was a tactic of his to throw baits to his suspects so as to make them very objective  in their response, baring whatever they have in mind.

"I actually think he feels that his father was making life difficult for him by not letting him have whatever he wants," Rose replied. "On the evening he came, during dinner he demanded for money. His father refused. Next day, he must have demanded and again denied. He gets angry and out of rage he stabs his father with a dagger."

"You are so sure."

"Well, what do you expect me to think? Besides I wasn't there the night it happened."

"Where were you?"

"I can't--I mean I was not around as I traveled yesterday to Abuja for an official meeting with someone--with a business prospect."

Max was staring hard at her, making her feel more uncomfortable. "A meeting with you and a businessman?"

"I don't understand where you're driving at, detective." She rolled her eyes and tried to regain her composure. "Look, I have boutiques and malls where I sell antiques and jewelleries amongst other things, and as such I often meet people willing to invest, purchase, supply or partner with me."

"Oh. That's wonderful," Max smiled cheekily. "You started this business yourself?"

"My husband did. Oh I miss him already." She was beginning to mop again.

"Well, Mrs. Murvelli, have you ever been married before?" He asked.

She again regained her composure before replying. "Absolutely not. Too many disappointments and so I gave up on men until I met Anthony." she paused and next thing she broke into tears.
"Oh my lovely Anthony why did you leave me? "Oh God why?"

Max walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "May his good soul rest in peace.

"Amen," the woman replied and straightened her face. "If that will be all, I'll like to go now."

"I'm sorry but one last thing," Max got up. "Did Your late husband stay up late at nights?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact he does."

"Does he ever leave his window open?"

"When he stays up late in the study, he often leaves the window open."

Max's eye glistened with satisfaction."
"And does he smoke cigarettes?"

"He told me he used to smoke a lot when he was a boy. But now he hardly ever smokes unless he had caught a cold or feel sick. And when he smokes it is mostly marijuana and less of cigarettes."

"And was there anything he was in the habit of drinking at night?"

"Coffee. The cook brings it." She was about turning to leave and then she turned back. "Oh why, yes, there's a syrup he drinks too. He says it helps him stay alert."

"Where is the drug now?"

"I thought you checked his study. It must be on the shelf. Can I take my leave now?"

"Yes, Mrs. Murvelli, you've been most helpful."

The elegant woman bowed and walked out.

*******

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