So he called his driver and closest friend, Kelechi, and told him to wear his watches, drive his car, and enter the Balogun house as Tunde Okorie.
—You want me to pretend to be you?
—Only until I know who they are when they think nobody important is watching.
Kelechi had stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. In Lagos, madness and wisdom often wore the same clothes.
That evening, the 3 sisters came out for their usual walk, dressed like women expecting cameras. Their mother, Madam Folashade, had warned them never to appear careless while the Okorie family was deciding. They walked slowly, spraying expensive perfume into the hot air, laughing loudly enough for neighbors to notice.
Tunde lifted his bowl.
—Please, sister, I have not eaten since morning.
Amara stopped first. Her eyes traveled from his torn shirt to his dusty feet.
—Since morning, and how is that my business?
Bisi covered her nose.
—This area is becoming useless. Even beggars now have confidence.
Nnenna stepped closer, looking disgusted.
—Move away before your bad luck touches me.
Tunde lowered his head.
—Please, anything will help.
