***THE ADVENTURES OF BIMPE***
EPISODE 5
Alhaja: “You gold digging tramp, if you think Alhaji is going to die soon so you can inherit his wealth, you are in for a long ride. Soon he is going to get tired of your smelling c–t, and when he does, he will abandon you. Mind you, as his wife, you are not allowed to keep small boys, what will you do when your be-d gets so cold and you forget how it feels to be a woman?” she sneered at Bimpe.
Bimpe: “That is for me to worry about. I also know about the little stunt you pu-ll-ed with those men you s£nt to my house, I have not forgotten and at the appointed time, you shall have your reward”
Alhaja: “How did you feel when they took turns at you, well watch your back. I do not back down from a fight”
Bimpe: “We shall see” she spat and walked away briskly. She felt vexed by Alhaja and she promised herself she would have her revenge, what form it would take she didn’t know yet.
That evening, she pampered herself with a long bath in scented waters, laced with relaxing oils. After which, she wore a lacy black lingerie, oiled her b©dy with her favorite Egyptian oil, and donned a furry jacket over it. She walked from her house in the estate to Alhaji’s house, which was just beside hers. Alhaji was in the living room with his b©dyguards and some of his business as-sociates, when Bimpe strutted in, with her polished feet clad in a nûd£ colored pair of louboutins. Alhaji made to dismiss her, but Bimpe dropped the fur jacket she was wearing, leaving only the lacy lingerie. Everyone had their mouth wi-de open, and their eyes popping out of the socket.
Alhaji: “Everyone out, this meeting is postponed” he ordered and everyone left the room.
Bimpe: “You want some?” she asked as she walked to the kitchen and brou-ght out a jar of ice cream.
Alhaji: “I don’t regret marrying you, you are good for my heart rate” he said as he undressed. They froli-cked throu-ghout the night; Bimpe was surprised at his energy level.
That fateful day, the day that would be remarkable in Bimpe’s life, she woke up very early before the sun. She looked at Alhaji still snoring away and went out pu-lling on her fur coat; she walked to the extreme p@rt of the estate close to the water embankment. The sea, she saw, was peaceful, but inside her, there was a raging storm. The phase two of her plan was solidifying in her mind, anything could go wrong at this moment. She sli-pped out her phone from the pocket in her fur coat and dialed a number.
Bimpe: “Is it done?” she listened for a moment and sli-pped the phone back into her phone. She walked briskly to her house; it was daybreak by the time she reached her house. She could see Alhaja at the balcony of her house. At that moment, she remembered that today was Alhaja Zainab’s turn to be with Alhaji Dambazzau.
Bimpe: “What would this fat cat do in be-d? Roll around?” she chuckled as the imagination made her giddy. She went in, took her bath and dressed up, it was time to pl@ystudent. She instructed her driver to take her to University of Lagos.
By the time she got back, she met a gift wra-pped elaborately in pink wra-ppers, she picked it up and re-ad the note, and it was from Alhaji. He was a generous man, but not generous enough to give her ten million naira without explanations. She really nee-ded to give the man who gave her a surname, his life back. She was still looking at the gift when something caught her eye, she turned and saw Alhaja Zainab looking at her, and leaning on the balvstrade. She gave Bimpe the stink eye when their eyes met.
Bimpe: “She would kill me, if she had the chance” she sighed and entered her house.
That same night, at midnight, a loud cry rent the peace and serenity of the estate. Its inhabitants rushed out of their houses, in their slee-ping garb, everyone but Alhaja Zainab. Bimpe rushed out of her house, people were gathered in front of Alhaji’s house. Bimpe rushed down, and pushed everyone to get to the front. There on the staircase was the housekeeper, a middle aged woman, she was crying profusely.
Bimpe: “Why are you crying, where is Alhaji?” she yelled. The housekeeper kept crying, and pointing to the living room. At that moment, Alhaja Zainab c@m£ out of her house, she was wearing a jalabiya which she usually used for slee-ping.
Alhaja: “What is going on here?” she asked and rushed into the house, the other wives, including Bimpe went in with her. There on the staircase leading to the be-drooms was Alhaji Dambazzau, spla-yed on the floor, in the midst of his own lifeblood, with a dagger buried halfway in his che-st. It was obvious from where they were standing, that he was dead.😲🙆
Question: Who killed Alhaji Dambazzau?🤔
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