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The Quartz grandfather wall clock chimed 10 o’clock as sergeant Ken walked to his desk from the toilet. Ken was thirty-two years old, married with two kids. He was short and thickset; he had big eyes, broad nose and an equally wide mouth. He looked stern and cop-like. He had been a desk sergeant for over two years now; he didn’t like the idea of being a desk sergeant at first because he believed a real policeman is on the street arresting crime. He was down with his job now, maybe it was better for him as his nerves were really weak now and he doubted his ability to single-handedly beat up a criminal.
He had arrived at work at about 7 o’clock that evening to take over the night shift. This was the first week and he could only change shifts after two weeks. How he hated the night shift. He hated being separated from his home at nights; nothing pleased him more than a long night sleep on his matrimonial bed.
He had gone to the toilet three times now, unsure of what was wrong with his stomach. He ate fried egg and bread before coming to work so it surprised him to find out that his stomach was behaving weird.
He sat down on his chair behind the high desk crammed with long, hard cover books, a telephone sat by the left of the table away from the books. He picked up a register and looked across to Juliet who was sitting on a separate desk doing her paper works, their eyes met and she said.
“What is wrong with your stomach?”
“I wish I knew.” Ken replied, writing on the open book.
Juliet was twenty-seven years of age, attractive without being good-looking. She was detective Nick’s personal secretary, she wasn’t in the force nor did she like it, she hated the way the police handled criminals.
She was always making passes at the younger officers and that galled Ken. But he liked her, each time she went out with a man she always came back with some goodies for him. He talked with her a lot about everything, including telling her what his wife did. Each time they had a quarrel, which they often did, Juliet was sure to know first.
She had a lot of paper work to do on this day, so she stayed past her closing time.
“Why don’t you take some medicine to stop the stomach ache” Juliet advised rather than asked.
“Oh! I don’t think I need any drug for a mere stomach ache.” Ken answered smiling.
Just then the phone rang. He picked it up and said into the mouthpiece.
“Hello, area police department, this is desk sergeant Ken. Who is on the line?” Ken listened but there was no reply
“Who is on the line? Say something.” He yelled getting tired of waiting for a reply.
“Who are you yelling at Ken?” Juliet asked.
“They didn’t say anything. Some freak just dialed our number but wouldn’t say anything. Can you believe that Juliet?” Ken answered. “Hello, are you mute?”
He heard a sharp click and the phone went dead. Ken made a face, shook his head at Juliet and dropped the phone.
“They hung up.” He told Juliet laconically, gesturing at the phone.
“Maybe it was a wrong number.” Juliet explained.
“I guess so. Whatever, I am tired of answering calls.” He answered returning to his register. He began entering some figures.
Juliet smiled at his gesture. What a wacko, she thought. She had to quickly finish the days work and head for home. She picked up her ball pen and began to scribble in a book, the expression on her face changing into a mask of sheer concentration.
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kevin M
I am a Nigerian and an avid reader who also take great pleasure in putting pen on paper. I believe that with the right expression of words written with my pen people could change for the better and correct or curb some ills eating deep into our system of government or life in general. Poverty and corruption have always been Africa's most dreaded diseases and Nigeria is no exception. I write fiction and non-fiction and also write articles on any subject, especially that concerning the well-being of the poor masses. I wish to be an acclaimed writer and author and a motivational speaker
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