WHO IS GUILTY?

WHO IS GUILTY?

Iya Oyo was smiling. That was frightening. I knew I was in great trouble.

Iya Oyo never smiled. When she looked like she was smiling, trouble was brewing, and the only one that trouble could brew for that quiet evening was me.

The only way I knew she was smiling was because I turned and looked at her as she tapped her pipe on the arms of the seat on which she reclined with my grandfather, who was still quietly smoking his pipe.