The house was situated on a luxurious hill.
It was a magnificent house. It was built low, painted white, and spread majestically up there on the hill.
It was known as FOSUAA VILLA, and the people living below the hill would tell anyone who asked that it was named after Madam Fosuaa, the mother of the house’s owner.
There were three buildings on the huge land. The main gates, which were made of golden metal, opened onto a spectacular green lawn and royal palms. A short distance into the drive, the land opened up wider to the magnificent view of a waterfall, below which was a fountain with glass mermaids floating in it, giving it a very incredible look indeed.
Round the waterfall was the main building, designed with amazing beauty.
Behind the building was a second smaller flat edifice which served as an office of sorts.
Further down, deep within the royal palms, was a smaller building which housed the aged Madam Akua Fosuaa and her younger son, Frank Larbi.
There was a glass garage that housed many cars. On the grounds too were a mini sports complex, a swimming pool, an incredible playground designed with exquisite instalments for children, and a recreational area.
Way down the northern wing of the estate was a barricaded area. It was a twelve-foot wall with a metal gate. Beyond the wall was almost sixty feet of a sheer drop to the sea below, from which rocks jutted out.
Fosuaa Villa spoke of wealth and was the envy of many a person who saw it.
It was a Friday night, and Frank Larbi, who was twenty years, opened his mother’s bedroom door and looked inside the room. The light was out, except for the night lamp.
His mother was lying in bed but was holding up her Bible and reading.
She looked up when the door opened, and then she slowly laid her Bible face down on the bed and looked at her son.
“Kwabena, is that you?” she asked softly.
Frank entered the room and walked slowly toward his mother’s bed. He was of slight build, just like his mother, whom he resembled a lot.
He sat on the edge of the bed, and his eye fell on the framed picture on the bedside table. It was a picture of his late father with his arm draped around his wife’s shoulder. Standing beside his father was Frank, and standing by his mother’s side was his beloved brother Zachariah, who looked exactly like their father: tall and extremely handsome.
At the sight of the picture, Frank’s heart missed a beat, and tears came to his eyes.
Madam Fosuaa looked at her son’s face and then held out her arms. Frank embraced his mother, and he bit his lower lip hard to stop himself from bursting into tears.
“Your heart is troubled, my son,” she said gently as she rubbed his back. “I know how difficult these past eight months have been. We lost your father last year, and a few months later we lost your brother.”
“He’s not dead, Mama,” Frank said softly. “I know he’s out there somewhere. I refuse to believe he’s dead!”
“He’s not dead, my son,” his mother said, but her voice trembled, and her hands trembled too. “My son is out there, yes. I believe in the God I serve, Kwabena. I know that Yaw will come back to us very soon. So, dry your tears, my son. Go and say your prayers! Everything will be fine, believe me!”
“Yes, mother,” Frank said and stood up. “Goodnight, Ma.”
“Goodnight, my son. May angels guard you.”
Frank Kwabena Larbi left his mother’s room.
He walked through the luxurious living room, and his eyes picked up the framed picture on the walls. Pictures of him, their parents and Zack.
Tears now fell unchecked down Frank’s cheeks as he dropped into a beautiful armchair and threw his head back.
“I miss you, big bro,” he whispered tremulously. “Where are you, Zacky? Where the hell are you? I don’t want you dead, bro! I refuse to believe that you died and the sea dragged you away! Come back, man, just come back!!”
Just then the doorbell chimed a melodious song.
Frank scowled and then he looked at the time. It was past eleven, fast approaching midnight. Who could it be? He hoped it was not Christopher Osafo.
Christopher was Zack’s accountant and best friend. He was in charge of Zack’s financial transactions. Zack, a genius, had invented many quality electronic gadgets that made him a wealthy millionaire at an early age.
Christopher lived in the main house. He had moved in shortly after the unfortunate accident that had supposedly claimed Zack’s life. Zack, Frank and their parents had all lived in the gigantic main house, but after Zack’s disappearance, Frank and his mother had moved out of the main house to the smaller house because conditions between them and Victoria had deteriorated rather quickly.
Frank walked to the door, threw the bolts, and opened it.
The person standing there was Araba, the Cook at the main house.
She looked extremely worried, and Frank quickly stepped aside and motioned her to enter.
“What’s wrong, Aunt Araba?” Frank asked anxiously. “Is everything alright? You look flustered!”
Araba glanced around her furtively, and then she put a hand on Frank’s shoulder.
“Last week I took a call at the house,” she began, speaking earnestly in a low voice. “It was that bank man, the one that used to come here, Mr. Christopher’s friend.”
Frank scowled darkly.
“I remember him, Henry Offei, that scoundrel!” Frank said with feeling. “Branch Manager of one of Zack’s banks. I’ve always suspected he’s been pilfering from Zack’s account!”
“Shh, Kwabena, please keep your voice down!” Araba said, shushing him down and glancing furtively around her again.
“He wanted Mrs. Larbi, but I informed him she had travelled to Australia. He asked me to inform Mr. Chris that he called, but I forgot to. Well, this afternoon Mr. Chris was quite furious, something he found in the accounts, and he called Mr. Offei! I was in the kitchen when I heard Mr. Chris shouting on the phone, and so I drew nearer. What I heard almost made me die!”
“What?” Frank asked fearfully, his face terrified now.
“What are those two planning now?”
“No, no, Kwabena, nothing like that!” Araba whispered.
“From what I heard, all the money was transferred from some account into another account where Mr. Chris cannot reach it! He was so angry, and when he was on the phone he seemed to hear something, and then he became scared!”
Frank was shaking now.
He shook his head dazedly as he took a step back, his face shocked.
“Transferred?” he asked hollowly. “The court put a hold on all Zack’s accounts until the police finished their investigations into his disappearance! Only one account at Royal-Gold bank was left open for Victoria, Chris and me to withdraw from to run the Estate! And you say someone moved the funds? That cannot be possible! What the hell are those two up to?”
Araba took Frank’s hand and drew him to the seat and made him sit down. She stood in front of him, extremely worried.
“I don’t know what Mr. Offei said to him, but afterwards Mr. Chris was so agitated! He took his phone and called Aunt Vic! He went to the outside porch to speak, but I followed him! I didn’t hear much, but he told Aunt Vic that apparently, the money was moved by Uncle Zack!”
It was as if Frank had received a blow in his stomach.
The air whooshed out of him and he almost fell out of his seat.
His eyes opened wide, and he could barely breathe.
“Jesus!”
“Yes, Kwabena!” Araba whispered. “From what he said, I think Aunt Vic is cutting her holiday short, and she’s coming back this weekend! I heard Mr. Chris saying he’ll take care of it, but she should come back! I had to flee because he was coming back into the room. Soon after, he left, informing me that he would be gone for a couple of days!”
“Jesus!” Frank whispered, his body numb. “What’s going on? If indeed these are the circumstances, why didn’t Chris inform any of us? He was supposed to call Chief Inspector Kwaku Tsegah and inform him!”
“I don’t think he did, Kwabena!” Araba cried, absolutely distraught. “Why is Uncle Zack doing this, Kwabena? This is so unlike him! I’m beginning to be scared! First, they said he was insane, and that he jumped down the cliff into the sea and the sea took his body away! And now this! I’m so scared, Kwabena!”
Frank stood up and paced, his face agitated.
Finally, he took out his phone and called Chief Inspector Tsegah.
He narrated everything Araba had told him to the policeman.
“So that’s what is going on, Chief,” he ended in a wretched voice. “I was wondering if Chris informed you about it.”
“No, he didn’t Mr. Larbi,” the policeman said thoughtfully. “Listen, it is late. Here’s what I’m going to do. Early tomorrow morning I’ll go to Axim and follow up on this.”
“I want to come, please,” Frank said.
“No, Mr. Larbi, this is police investigation. You stay put. I’ll update you.”
“No!” Frank shouted into the phone. “This is my brother we’re talking about here, sir, my only brother! If you go in a police car it will take hours! You come over here. I’ll call the airport to get flight clearance tomorrow. We’ll go to Axim in our private jet, please! My brother, if indeed it is him, he is behaving so strangely in a way I don’t understand, so unlike him! If he’s in trouble, then we need to get to him first before anybody else, please!”
There was a long pause at the other end.
“Chief Inspector!” Frank said, agitated. “Please! Please!”
“Alright, my brother. Tomorrow at dawn I’ll be there. You get your clearance, and get the pilot ready.”
“I’ll do that,” Frank said with relief. “Thank you so much!”
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