THE MISSING MONEY (A Prose) By: Onuegbu, Charles Izundu

CHAPTER

CHAPTER 1:
THE CALL THAT RUINED MY SATURDAY

If anybody had told me that I would spend my Saturday night inside a police station because of another woman’s marriage, I would have slapped the person’s mouth with a loaf of Agege bread.
My name is Nneka, and I have one weakness: I cannot mind my business when my best friend is crying.
That Saturday morning, Amaka called me from her husband’s house in Enugu.
“Nneka, please come before I kill this man!”
I jumped up.
“What did Chike do this time? Did he marry another wife?”
“Worse!”
“Did he sell your wrapper?”
“Nneka, stop asking questions and come!”
I dressed immediately, collected my handbag, and rushed out. My mother shouted after me, “If husband and wife are fighting, don’t carry their problem on your head!”
I ignored her.
After all, Amaka had been my friend since secondary school. We had shared secrets, clothes, food, and even one boyfriend whom we later discovered was dating four girls.
I arrived at their house around noon.
The front door was open. Chike was sitting in the sitting room with a face like somebody who had swallowed a live frog.
Amaka stood beside the television, crying.
“Good,” Chike said when he saw me. “The judge has arrived.”
I smiled.
“Your Honour is here. Everybody will explain themselves.”
Then Chike looked me straight in the eyes and said something that made my smile disappear.
“Ask your friend where she kept the three million naira.”
Three million?
I turned slowly towards Amaka.
She stopped crying.
And that was when I knew I had entered a matter bigger than ordinary husband-and-wife quarrel.

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