The nights at the Lagos estate were usually quiet, the type of tranquility that many city inhabitants would pay a lot to enjoy. But for Madam Ngozi, tranquility had long ago turned to distrust. She was the sort to notice things that others would miss. After all, she had lived on the estate for nearly 30 years, seen families come and go. However, the Onyeka family was not like the others.
Madam Ngozi enjoyed a stunning view of the Onyeka palace from her snug, plant-filled balcony. She frequently sat there in the evenings, enjoying her warm cup of hibiscus tea as the day turned to night. To the untrained eye, her gaze seemed casual, even distant; nevertheless, behind her specs, she was alert, noting every flicker of light, shadow, and unexpected movement.
And in recent months, the Onyeka home had given her a lot to think about.
It began with the noises.
Late at night, when the estate was still, Madam Ngozi could hear faint sounds coming from the direction of the Onyeka residence. She rejected them at first, thinking they were the sound of wind rattling windows or old wood creaking. But as the weeks progressed, the noises got more difficult to ignore.
One night, she awoke to the faint sound of an automobile engine. Peering through the curtains, she saw a sleek black automobile approaching the Onyeka gate. It was far after midnight, an unusual time for guests. The gate opened promptly, almost as if the motorist had been expecting. Madam Ngozi squinted, attempting to make out the persons exiting the automobile, but they vanished inside the home too quickly.
She considered addressing it to her daughter during their morning phone chat, but opted against it. "I must be imagining things," she convinced herself, despite her senses saying otherwise.
Then there was the lighting.
On multiple occasions, she spotted an unusual light radiating from the Onyeka property's backyard. It wasn't the gentle, warm glow of a patio lamp, but something sharper and more intentional. It would flicker on for a few minutes before disappearing suddenly.
Curiosity got the best of her one evening, so she went into her own garden, which bordered the Onyeka estate. Standing as near as she could, she strained her ears. There were voices, low and agitated, but she couldn't make out the words.
"Why would anyone need to be outside at this hour?" She mumbled under her breath. Her hands clenched around the blanket wrapped over her shoulders.
Madam Ngozi's suspicions grew after a fortuitous meeting with Tayo, the Onyeka's new domestic servant.
It was a Sunday morning, and Tayo had been dispatched to the adjacent market to get fresh food. As she passed by Madam Ngozi's gate, her arms full with shopping bags, the elderly lady shouted out to her.
Good morning, my sweetheart! You must be the new housegirl at the Onyeka residence."
Tayo smiled nicely and put her luggage down for a bit. "Yes, Ma. "Good morning.
"How do you like it there?" Madam Ngozi inquired, her tone easygoing, but her keen eyes missed nothing.
"It's OK, Ma. Tayo said, "They're good people," but her voice was hesitant, which Madam Ngozi noticed.
"Good people," she said, her lips curving into a knowing grin. "That's nice to hear."
As Tayo gathered up her luggage and went on her way, Madam Ngozi couldn't help but see the girl's brow wrinkle and the way she looked over her shoulder as if someone was watching.
The last straw occurred on a wet night in June.
The rain was persistent, with thunder rumbling in the background and lightning illuminating the estate in quick, brilliant bursts. Madam Ngozi sat in her living room, curtains closed, her gaze riveted on the Onyeka home. Despite the weather, there was activity about the garden.
Through the rain, she could only see two individuals, both clad in black attire. They were digging, their shovels cutting through the saturated ground. She leaned closer to the window, her breath misting the glass.
"What on earth are they doing?" she said quietly, her pulse thumping.
The figures toiled for about an hour in the dark and rain. When they were done, they dashed back inside the house, leaving only the faint edge of disturbed earth to mark their passage.
By the time the light came up, Madam Ngozi's mind was racing with questions. Who was in the automobile that night? Why were there unusual lights in the garden? What might they be burying in the midst of a storm?
She decided she couldn't keep quiet any longer. She treasured her privacy and tried to mind her own business, but something about the Onyeka family didn't set well with her.
"I've seen too much to ignore this," she said quietly to herself, grabbing for her phone. But who could she call? What about the estate's security team? What about the police? Or maybe someone close to the family?
Her fingers hung over the phone as she paused, caught between responsibility and the dread of overstepping. Finally, she decided to wait—just a little longer—to see if additional parts of the jigsaw might fit together.
For the time being, Madam Ngozi will continue to watch. And while the Onyeka family continued to traverse their web of secrets, they were ignorant of the sharp eyes that never missed a thing in the modest home next door.