" Alex, put that down now!" Charity screamed at her toddler that had taken the T.V remote to his mouth. Seeing he wouldn't oblige her, she scooped him into her arms and took away the remote, dropping it on the sofa she was sitting on. His piercing cry shattered the evening silence that wrapped itself around the sitting room already choking with the smell of baby food.
" isn't it cute how babies think that everything they see is meant for their mouth?" Rosy Lawson said, finding the situation hilarious.
" it's cute, till they swallow a razor blade, or bite on something worse." Charity said as she rocked him to quietness.
" Mothers would make the best vigilantes you know." Rosy said, taking a sip of her tea.
"I agree." Charity said, And it doesn't stop, even at adulthood."
The last part reminded Rosy of their mother. And she guessed that was her sister's intention; the way she raised her eyebrows and the mock smile that sat on her face. She remembered the last fight between her mother and her elder sister. Her mother, Margaret, had stopped her from going to see Rice Pierce–her fiancé at that time—at his house at Coventry , a small district notorious for crimes and drugs. She had hidden her car keys and punctured one of the tires; things she happily fixed the next day after her goal of stopping her daughter from seeing that rascal that night was achieved. But, of course, that was after Charity had unleashed her dissatisfaction on her, reducing her to a sobbing mess. Her elder sister apologized afterwards. She was the only family they had. Their father left them when they were still toddlers and eloped with a gold-digger. Margaret had raised them up all by herself, her family assisting her to see them through high school and college. It was probably the reason they both cut her some slack with her overbearing behavior—she had the right to: it came with the territory.
" Mum would gladly head such a vigilante outfit," Rosy said, smiling at her sister.
"Always in panic mode? She won't last cause of heart attack." Charity said, clicking her tongue.
When Margaret died five years ago at eighty-three, she didn't die of heart attack. She had simply slept and decided not to wake up. The smile on her face the morning she was found said it all. Perhaps, seeing her two daughters succeeding in their career of choice against all odds was her greatest reward as a mother. Rosy stood up and went to the fridge, taking the four plastic bags of groceries on the table, two on each hand. A huge chunk of her salary was funneled to this end—food-while her sister took care of the rent and utility bills. Since Charity lost her husband, Rice, in a ghastly motor accident last year, the two sisters have been living on the fringes of abundance. It didn't help that charity, being pregnant at the time, was already on maternity leave. A top level anesthesiologist at the state-owned Luton Bay clinic, Charity would only return to her work last month. Rosy couldn't be more relieved. Her salary had been carrying them all those months that some days, she wished she could just disappear, just for a moment, to relax. Despite the inflation and increasing cost of living, her salary has remained the same. She was not complaining. Joining the police force was a decision based on purpose and not monetary gain, yet, she wished she was paid something higher than the two hundred ether she received weekly.
Done with her assignment of stocking the fridge with the items from the grocery bags, Rosy came back to the sitting room rubbing her forehead. She had barely sat down when her phone rang. She dipped her hand inside her jacket and brought the phone to her ear.
"Detective Rosy… what!.… Okay. I'll be there… twenty minutes."
Rosy slowly removed the phone from her ear and caught her sister's gaze.
"what happened?" Charity inquired.
" A colleague of ours was found dead in his apartment. My God! I waved him goodbye before he left this evening." Rosy said, surprise sketched on her face.
Charity covered her mouth with her palm.
"I have to go." Rosy announced, jolting to her feet and grabbing her car keys on the table.