Wife of the Gods (16 page)

“Hm?”

“Daddy and Mama said they’d be there when the doctor fixes my
heart.”

“Oh,
that
doctor. I see what you mean. But Mr. Ayitey is
another kind of doctor who can fix your heart better, and he won’t
even have to do an operation on you.”

Hosiah stared at her, trying to figure things out. Then he
returned to his toys without further comment.

“We have to go now, or else Mr. Ayitey won’t be there.” She
stood up and held out her hand. “Come along.”

“Okay. No, wait, I have to take some toys, Granny.”

“Choose two, sweetie.”

She waited while he made the difficult selection, and then she
took his hand and led him outside. There was no need to lock up
behind her since her houseboy was there.

Gifty didn’t drive, so she had a taxi waiting for them.

“To Madina,” she told the driver.

Hosiah sat on Gifty’s lap in the rear seat and watched the
scenery go by for a while, then he got bored and entertained
himself with the intricacies of his action figures. Gifty loved the
feeling of his little round head in the hollow of her neck.

They took the pristine, six-lane Kwame Nkrumah Highway out of
Accra, past glinting glass office blocks and luminescent hotels
that had sprouted like well-watered plants. Yet more new buildings
were going up, shadowed by the graceless skeletons of cranes.
Accra’s skyline was changing radically by the day.

Madina was twelve kilometers out of Accra, a little beyond the
University of Ghana. It was a dense town – tens of thousands of
people packed into the place like tinned mackerel. Gifty’s trusty
taxi driver already knew their destination. He pumped the horn
every few seconds to nudge pedestrians aside as they crossed the
street without any regard to vehicular traffic. The pavement was
dusty, the markets were teeming, and the sun was scorching.

Small businesses lined the roadside so densely they were on top
of one another, sometimes literally: dozens of Internet cafés, the
Heavens Motor Driving Academy, Mobile Max’s Phones and Accessories,
and the Gowin Natural Health and Computer Clinic, offering instant
computer diagnoses and cures for chronic diseases. Gifty’s
favorite, the All Shall Pass Beauty Salon, specialized in
manicures, hair weaves, and wigs. She had bought quite a few fine
wigs there.

They turned off into an unpaved lane and bounced along a few
meters, stopping outside a dull green house with
AUGUSTUS
AYITEY’S HERBAL INSTITUTE AND CLINIC
emblazoned on the
front in red lettering.

“We’re here, Hosiah,” Gifty said cheerily. “Come along.”

The taxi would wait for as long as it took. Gifty took Hosiah’s
hand. “Granny, where are we going?”

“This is where the doctor is,” she explained. “He’s going to
make your heart better.”

∨
Wife of the Gods
∧

S
amuel Boateng had
claimed Isaac Kutu had seen him talking to Gladys the last evening
she was alive and had shooed him away. That story had to be
checked, and after that Dawson planned to approach Togbe
Adzima.

As he and Inspector Fiti left for Isaac’s place, Dawson tried
Christine’s mobile. She answered on the second ring.

“I must be standing right underneath the satellite,” he
said.

She laughed. “How are you?”

“Fine. Where’re you?”

“In between classes. We have a staff meeting tonight – what
joy.”

Dawson smiled. “Hosiah at Granny’s?”

“Yes. He’s doing fine. How are things going up there?”

“Still feeling my way, tell you more later. I’m off to question
a couple people.”

“Be careful.”

“I will. Kiss Hosiah for me.”

His next call was to Chikata. Incredibly it went through
smoothly to his desk phone, and even more amazingly, Chikata picked
it up.

“Chikata. I need a favor from you. The medical student who was
murdered here, name’s Gladys Mensah, she had a room in the women’s
hall on the University of Ghana campus. I need it searched. We’re
looking in particular for a diary the family says belonged to
her.”

“Any description?”

“I was told fifteen by ten centimeters, black or dark blue
cover.”

“Okay, I’ll look into it. You owe me one case of Club beer for
this, D.I. Dawson.”

“You’re dreaming.”

“If I can’t do the search today, is tomorrow okay?”

“That’ll be all right, but no later than. Clear?”

♦

As they walked to Isaac Kutu’s compound, Dawson felt the
awkwardness between him and Fiti, and searched his mind for a
neutral topic to help break the ice. He noticed plumes of black
smoke rising from the forest in the distance and gratefully latched
onto that.

“Do people start many fires here?” he asked. “I see some smoke
over there.”

Fiti followed the direction of his gaze.

“They burn the bush so they can get room to farm, or sometimes
just before the rain to make the soil rich. It’s against the law,
but they still do it.”

Isaac’s compound came into sight. Comparing it with the memory
he had, Dawson could see it had been modernized. For one thing, the
wall enclosing the compound had been rebuilt with good-quality
brick. Outside, a woman with bare shoulders was lifting a bound
stack of firewood off her head and transferring it to a pile on the
ground. She saw Fiti and Dawson approaching and waited for them,
greeting them as they came close. Fiti introduced her to Dawson.
She was Tomefa, Isaac’s wife. Dawson recalled Elizabeth mentioning
how Isaac had blown up on discovering Tomefa giving Gladys
information about his herbal remedies.

“Is Mr. Kutu in?” Fiti asked her in Ewe.

“No, he’s not here right now.”

She was exceptionally tall, her face dripping with sweat and her
glistening arms lean and muscular from physical labor. She looked
to be in her early thirties. Dawson sensed a quiet strength and
dignity of character in her.

“When will he return?” Fiti asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe soon.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded and smiled and then went into the compound.

“We can come back,” Fiti said to Dawson.

“To Bedome now, then? I’d like to talk to Togbe Adzima and the
trokosi who found Gladys, what was her name?”

“Efia. Okay, we can go now.”

They had walked no more than a few meters when Dawson spotted a
man coming out of the forest toward them. His belly tightened.
Isaac Kutu
. Twenty-five years since Dawson had first laid
eyes on him, and yet it could just as well have been yesterday. The
walk, the carriage, the solid build, and the powerful forearms were
all still there.

Fiti too had caught sight of Isaac and waved at him. The healer
raised his hand in reply but kept his pace the same as he
approached – long, confident, and measured.

“Good afternoon, Kutu,” Fiti said.

“Afternoon, Inspector! How are you?”

Dawson wondered what was inside the canvas bag Isaac was
holding. He was possibly even handsomer than Dawson remembered him,
as if the older face had taken on a richness that had not graced
the younger. The eyes were still those dark, unfathomable pools,
but there was more buoyancy to them now.

No sign yet that he recognized Dawson.

“I’ve brought someone to see you,” Fiti said as they shook
hands.

Isaac looked at Dawson with mild interest. “Is that so?”

“Do you know him?” Fiti asked.

Isaac studied Dawson for a moment. “I don’t think so,” he said
slowly.

“Twenty-five years ago,” Dawson said.

He saw the exact instant when the realization hit Isaac because
the questioning look suddenly cleared and was replaced with a
smile.

“Darko,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Mr. Kutu.”

They shook hands.

“I never thought you would grow so tall,” Isaac said.

“Nor I.”

They laughed.

“What are you doing here in Ketanu?”

“I’m here to help investigate Gladys Mensah’s death. I work for
CID in Accra.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re a policeman now. A detective?”

“That’s right.”

“I see. Very good,” he said, but he seemed neutral. “How are
your brother and your father?”

“Doing fine, thanks,” Dawson said. “We just met your wife,
Tomefa. She’s very nice.”

“Thank you. Are you married?”

“Yes,” Dawson said. “I have one boy – he’s six.”

“Aha. I have five children.”

Dawson smiled. “I have a long way to go, then.”

Isaac laughed but then grew serious. “I heard about your mother.
I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“I went to get some herbs from the bush.” Isaac indicated the
bag he was holding. “Where were you two going?”

“To Bedome,” Fiti said, “but we wanted to ask you some
questions.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. About Gladys Mensah. The last time you saw her.”

“She was right around here,” he said.

“By herself?”

Isaac shook his head. “That boy Samuel Boateng was talking to
her. I saw them from my compound. And so did the farmers who were
working over there at that time.”

Isaac gestured in the direction of the farm plots near the edge
of the forest – the same ones Charles Mensah had described to
Dawson. At the moment, two workers were bent over busily tending to
the soil.

“What did you do when you saw Samuel and Gladys together?”
Dawson asked.

“I went to them and told the boy to leave her alone.”

“Why did you do that, Mr. Kutu?”

“He was troubling her.”

“She said so?”

“No, but I know Samuel. He’s no good.”

“So you told him to go away, and did he?” Dawson asked.

“Yes.”

“And left you alone with Gladys.”

“Yes.”

“And what happened next?”

“Nothing. We talked small-small, and then she went on her
way.”

“Back to Ketanu?”

“Yes.”

“Did you follow her?”

“Follow her? No, I went back to my compound.”

“And you didn’t see Samuel return to Gladys at any time?”

Isaac clicked his tongue. “No. I scared him too much.”

“How did you like Gladys?” Dawson asked.

“She was a good woman.”

“I understand she was interested in your herbal medicines.”

“That’s true.”

“Let me ask you something. Was she trying to steal them from
you?”

“I don’t think so. Who told you that?”

“Would it have angered you if she was?”

“Of course. But she wasn’t trying to steal anything. Look, if
you want to find who killed her, don’t waste your time with people
like me. You must look for a witch.”

“Why?”

“Because a witch kills the way Gladys was killed. Without making
any mark on the body.”

“How do you know there was no mark?” Dawson asked sharply.

“I saw the body, and I know she was not touched.”

“I see. You’re wrong, but anyway, who do you suspect is the
witch who killed Gladys?”

“Her aunt. Elizabeth.”

“Why do you think it’s her?”

“There are certain things healers know. Hard to explain.”

“Just because she makes money and she’s a widow?”

Isaac looked at Dawson in some surprise. “So you know something
about it.”

“Not really. I heard it said.”

“Do you believe in witchcraft?”

“I’ve never experienced it, so it’s hard for me to believe in
it.”

“You
think
you’ve never experienced it.”

“How do you mean?” Dawson said.

“Your son,” Isaac said, “or your wife. Is everything fine with
them?”

“Not everything, no.”

“It’s your boy, not so?”

Dawson swallowed. “He has a heart problem, yes.”

Isaac nodded. “Do you know for sure that it’s not the work of a
witch?”

Dawson laughed. “Please, Mr. Kutu.”

“Have you ever woken up with a headache or pains in your neck or
back?”

“Yes.”

“That could be because a witch has been kicking your head around
like a football, or banging on your neck with a hammer while you
were sleeping.”

“What are you talking about? I would wake up even before she
could get close to my bed to kick me in the head.”

“You don’t understand because you think things happen only in
the physical world,” Isaac said. “At night your astral body leaves
the physical body and enters the astral plane.”

Dawson looked at Fiti. “You understand what he’s saying?”

Fiti smiled. “Just open your mind and listen.”

“Do you ever dream you are flying?” Isaac asked Dawson.

“On occasion.”

“That’s when your astral body is either leaving you or coming
back to the physical body. The astral body of a witch also leaves
her at night, but while you cannot function in the astral world,
she can. That is how she carries out her malice. In the astral
world, we have ethereal forms that are exact copies of the
physical, only more delicate. If the witch kills your ethereal body
in the astral plane, your physical body will die in the physical
world. You understand?”

“Yes, but why do you need such complicated explanations when
there is something much simpler? Someone in the physical world
comes and kills someone else in the physical world. Finished. The
deed is done and no one needed to travel to any kind of astral
plane anywhere.”

“Of course it can happen that way too,” Isaac said, “but you
aren’t listening. What I’m saying is that the ethereal form is so
delicate and filmy, the witch can easily kill it without deforming
it. That way, in the physical world you will see very little sign
of how it happened, or none at all. That is the case with both
Gladys and Elizabeth’s husband. What is the single connection
between those two deaths? Elizabeth.”

Isaac’s reasoning made a bizarre kind of sense to Dawson.

“So, Darko,” Isaac said, “what do you think now?”