The Crooked Bullet - Rotimi Ogunjobi

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costs four hundred pounds, but you can buy for only two hundred and forty-nine pounds and ninety-nine pence at the discount price if you buy today. “, Mandy went straight to business.

       “That’s a lot of money, is there an installment payment option?” Frank asked.

       “No, unfortunately. It’s a bargain though, and there is a certificate inside the package. After you are done with your studying you just print your name on the certificate put it in a frame and hang it in your office to prove that you are a real detective”, Mandy actually failed to see how ridiculous she sounded. She went into a store behind the office, came out with a box which she placed on the table in front of Frank.

       “Heck, I can’t read all this,” Frank told her. Mandy shrugged her shoulder.

       “In any case for ninety-nine pounds extra you could purchase the entire courses recorded on CDs and listen to be trained as a detective,” she advised.

       “That sounds better. Okay, I will just have the CDs then.” Frank happily offered. Mandy firmly shook her head.

       “No, the CDs must be bought together with the books, not alone. Don’t be lazy with your studies; it is not easy to become a detective you know.” she playfully scolded.

       “That’s a lot of money,” Frank scratched his head thoughtfully.

       “Well, the advertisement did say that you could actually earn a hundred quid per hour as a private detective so this is cheap. You get all your money back in four hours.” Mandy shrugged and giggled some more.

       The man in the portrait appeared to glare at him with much disapproval. Frank handed his bank card to Mandy for payment. Mandy was glad to pass Frank’s card through a processing machine which dutifully deducted three hundred and forty pounds from his bank account. Mandy cheerfully wrote him a receipt.

       “Who is the bloke in the picture? Is that the owner of this business? Out of curiosity, he pointed to the portrait.

      “I don’t know; I met him here,” Mandy replied, returning to reading her OK Magazine.

      Frank left Eagle Detective Training. He checked his phone again and found that he had another missed call. He called his voicemail; Nancy had left another message. Frank grimaced.

      Lugging the parcel home took all the energy out of him. Nevertheless, back at home, he ripped open the seal of one of the boxes. He popped one of the CDs into a portable player. It was topic number two of the detective course and the title from the cover said: Tracing Missing Persons. Frank thought this could be the most interesting part of the entire course. He grimaced at the badly recorded voice of the instructor, who had obviously been reading from the course notes. He sat on the couch to listen nonetheless and was soon lulled to sleep.

      When he woke up, it was around six o’clock in the evening. Taking a quick shower, he decided to visit his girlfriend. He took a bus for Stratford Station, and at the station, exit bought a bunch of flowers, and walked up to a nearby block of flats. He took the lift to the second floor and pressed the bell at the second door to the right of the lift, which was where Sade Leigh lived Hers was a two-room job, a room of which she had converted into a garment design studio. Sade was a vivacious Nigerian dressmaker, with a very colorful taste, in clothes. Frank would often wonder what she admired in him since they seemed exactly opposite in almost every way.

       “Vegetables again,” Sade groaned, taking the bouquet Frank had brought and putting it in a vase.

       “They aren’t vegetables honey, they are the best. They cost me a bunch at the station”. Frank laughed.

       “Pity you can’t eat them, which is even worse than paying so much of good money for a bunch of vegetables, Sade playfully nagged.

      “Oh, you impossible witch,” Frank contrived an agonized groan.

      “Yes, I’m now going to cast a spell on you and make you take me to dinner,” Sade purred.

      “Yes, yes o wicked witch, I am under your evil spell. I will take you to dinner.” Frank agreed with her.

      A great film was showing that night at the Stratford cinema, and they decided to watch the film first, after which they went to Nando’s; just a stone throw away. Sitting at a feast of flame-grilled chicken and baked potatoes, Frank had more than a bit of update for Sade.

      “You mean you were arrested for a bank robbery?” Sade was incredulous.

      “Yes, my dear,” I knocked off a high street bank all by myself and the police let me off on good behavior,” Frank told her.

      “And before that, you lost your job; so how are you going to survive Frank? Not by weekend party gigs obviously.”

      “Not enough to sustain me honey; and I couldn’t certainly afford you by doing weekend party gigs.” he laughed

      “So what are your plans, Frank?” Sade sounded genuinely worried for him.

       “I was coming to that. Today I bought a detective course. I found that working as a detective isn’t quite different from what I did as a journalist and it certainly looks like you could make a lot more in that business. Do you know that people actually fork out as much as a hundred and fifty pounds an hour to get a private detective?” Frank told her.

      “Wow!” Sade sounded full of suspicion. “A hundred pounds an hour? I don’t believe that.”

      “Better believe, because it’s true. So I am going to start building myself a new and enduring profession honey”.

      “So what are you going to call yourself? What is your...erm.... handle going to be like”?

      “Handle? I am not a mug, sister”

      “You are a really smart dummy you know; what are you going to call yourself? Under what handle will you be working ...Sam Spade…Colin Fetchit..? What is it going to be like? I personally am not going to employ Frank O’Dwyer to find even a lost cat.”, Sade was sincere.

      “Yeah, you’ve got a point there. I was thinking something like Frank Xero”.

      “Xero? That sounds awful”

      “No, it doesn’t. Like a private investigator zeroes in on a crime and gets it solved real quick; Gerrit?”

      “Well, it’s your business, not mine. It still sounds like a photocopy shop to me, like Xerox. Are you sure you aren’t going to get sued by some of these business creeps in black suits?”

      “Never worry Sade. On the positive side, it is going to make me easy to remember”.

      “No it’s crappy, and I don’t like it” Sade confessed “Try something more sensible like Frank Wire. It is also easy to remember I think. And it sounds rather cool. Like you are the new British werewolf – Frank Wire by day, MC Wire by night”, she giggled.

      “Hey what will I do without you, o witch” Frank nipped her ear with his teeth.

      “Don’t Snoop Dog me dude; not here” Sade pushed him away. “I think you are forgetting something though. Don’t you need a license for this? “

      “Not as far as I know, “Frank told her. He had indeed checked earlier on his computer. Anyone with the wish could become a private detective.

      Sade had updates of her own.

       “I am happy for you then, and I hope you make a lot of money. I am participating in a fashion exhibition at the Barbican in a couple of weeks. It is an ethnic fashion show; I am so excited about the opportunity, Frank. It would be nice to have my designs break the ethnic barrier though. I am wishing for good contacts at the event”, she told him.

       “I love your designs SADE, especially the Dashiki tops. Trevor absolutely loves them too. I hope you are going to have a lot of them on display. Very nice to wear in summer.” Frank encouraged.

       “Yes, you both put a lot of business my way. I think it is

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