Wife of the Gods (19 page)

“What happened after you came back with him?”

“He wanted to go and call the inspector, and he told me to stay
there until he came back, but I was afraid and I ran away.”

“You came back to Bedome?”

“Yes, and then I told Togbe what had happened, and he went to
the place to see for himself.”

That grabbed Dawson’s attention. “Togbe went there alone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long was he gone?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Okay, no problem. Efia, did Gladys teach you about AIDS?”

“Yes.”

“And what else?”

“She told us how women can do so many things. Like being a
doctor.”

Dawson smiled. “What do you think about that?”

“I believe it, because Gladys herself was like that.”

“Did she want to find a new life for you and Ama?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When was the last time you saw her alive, Efia?”

“The day before I found her in the forest, she came to talk to
us in the village. Everyone wanted to hear what she had to tell us,
but Togbe wouldn’t allow us to listen to her.”

“What happened next?”

“He and Gladys, they had a bad quarrel. I saw them shouting at
each other behind his house.”

“Did you hear what they were saying?”

“She told him how she didn’t like how he treats us, and she said
she could call the police to come and take him away. And he became
very angry with her and told her to get out of Bedome. He told
her…”

“What, Efia? What did he tell her?”

“That she was going to die. The gods would kill her, he told
her.”

“And what did she say to that?”

“She laughed at him and turned her back and left.”

“Did Togbe follow her?”

“No. I think he just went into the house to drink.” Efia looked
around nervously.

“No one can see you,” Dawson reassured her. “Do you know if
Togbe came out of the house a little later?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I have just one more question. Gladys’s family says she was
wearing a silver bracelet the last time they saw her. Did you
notice if she was wearing one when you found her?”

Efia cast her mind back. “I’m not sure.”

“Or have you seen a silver bracelet in Bedome? Somebody wearing
one?”

She shook her head.

Just then there was a rustling in the bush, and a man appeared
carrying a loaded sack on his head. Efia drew her breath in. The
man paused in his tracks, stared at them for a moment, and then
continued on.

“He knows me,” Efia said, panic gripping her voice. “He knows
me. I have to go. Ama, come.
Come!
”

And grabbing her daughter’s hand, she left Dawson without his
being able to thank her.

♦

No snake was ever found, of course. It was concluded that the
creature had got away. So after the excitement, things settled back
down to normal and the women finished up cooking while more
drumming and dancing began.

Dawson smiled approvingly at Fiti as they met up again. “Good
job. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Fiti tossed his head and looked pleased. “Did you have a chance
to talk with Efia?”

Dawson gave him a verbatim account of his conversation.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, “Togbe Adzima is our prime
suspect. I think he’s clever. He threatened Gladys that the gods
would bring about her death and he deliberately said it loudly
enough for others to hear. He set it up so when he killed her
himself, people would be convinced the gods were responsible,
because that’s the kind of thing people believe in. And I think he
has that bracelet too. We need to search his house.”

Fiti seemed uncomfortable. He looked away, chewing on his lip as
if wrestling with a problem, and for a moment Dawson couldn’t
understand what could possibly be the matter. Then it hit him.
Consciously or subconsciously, Fiti was afraid to antagonize
Adzima. Timothy Sowah had mentioned that even some in the police
force were fearful of interfering with the trokosi tradition
because the fetish priest supposedly could invoke some terrible
punishment by the gods. Here in front of Dawson was that fear in
living color.

“I can go in there alone if you like, Inspector Fiti.”

Fiti drew his shoulders up. “No problem. I will go with
you.”

♦

The wedding celebration was in full swing. Adzima sat smiling
and swigging down schnapps as he watched young women performing the
Agbadza
dance. Dawson waited by one of the huts as Fiti went
up to him and shouted in his ear above the din. Looking annoyed,
Adzima rose from his seat and followed Fiti to where Dawson
stood.

“Inspector, I am very busy,” Adzima said.

“It won’t take long,” Fiti replied.

“Togbe Adzima,” Dawson said, “as part of the investigation into
Gladys Mensah’s murder, I’m informing you that we will be searching
your house.”

Adzima drew back.
“Never
.”

“I’m not asking you,” Dawson said evenly. “I’m telling you.”

Adzima was livid. Schnapps and gin had loosened his tongue. He
unleashed a tirade while Fiti tried in vain to placate him, but
Dawson, who had no patience for this kind of inebriated nonsense,
turned and walked in the direction of Adzima’s house. Technically
he should have obtained a warrant from the district magistrate, but
Dawson needed to search the house now, not later, and quite frankly
he didn’t care about the rules where this odious fetish priest was
concerned.

As Fiti followed Dawson, Adzima trailed them with an unsteady
gait and slurred speech. When they reached the priest’s house, he
stopped for a moment with arms akimbo and said in English, “I don’t
care, you moddafockas. Go and search it. I don’t know what you’re
looking for, but you won’t find it.”

∨
Wife of the Gods
∧

T
ogbe Adzima had been
right – there wasn’t much to his living quarters: one room with two
wooden stools, one small table, and a deteriorating foam bed
mounted on planks and old crates. He kept his clothes in a
cardboard box or hanging from nails in the wall. There was a pair
of sandals near his bed and a selection of alcoholic drinks, mostly
gin and schnapps, in another box. The place smelled musty and
pungent.

Adzima leaned against the doorjamb and glowered at them as they
searched. Fiti looked desultorily underneath the foam mattress
while Dawson checked the sleeping cloth on top of it. If only he
could find that silver bracelet, get a confession from Adzima, and
wrap this case up. He would love that.

He went through the priest’s few clothes, digging in pockets.
Fiti leaned against the wall and folded his arms, apparently done
with his search, and Dawson reluctantly admitted to himself that he
was about done too. He looked around. There had to be
something.

“Are you satisfied now?” Adzima said with a slight smirk.

“No,” Dawson said. He was staring at the box of booze and
thinking it reminded him of the way Daramani kept his own stash of
toxic elixirs in a portmanteau. He hid things in there too – stolen
watches, for instance.

And so might Adzima.

Dawson reached into the box and began pulling the bottles out –
gin, schnapps, whiskey. Fetish priests and village chiefs received
an impressive amount of alcohol as gifts.

Ah
.

Under the Beefeater gin, Dawson found a small, locked, rusty
tin. He shook it gently, and it rattled.

“What’s inside?” he asked Adzima.

“Coins.”

“Would you open it, please?”

The priest gave Dawson a slow, seething look before removing a
small key from his pocket. He unlocked the box.

Dawson found some coins, safety pins, and a watch. No silver
bracelet. Disappointing, very disappointing. He gave the box back.
“Thank you.”

Before he and Fiti left, Dawson said to Adzima, “We’ll be
back.”

He liked telling suspects that. It kept them off balance.

Dawson and Fiti walked back to the dancing circle, and Togbe
Adzima returned to his spot. As Dawson watched and listened, he saw
in action the Ewe people’s long-held fame for the drumming
tradition, and he made a mental apology to the village of Bedome
for having dismissed it as underdeveloped. In the realm of drumming
and dancing, Bedomeans were unmatched by anything Dawson had seen
before. He was not the only one impressed. Many in the thrilled
audience had evidently come from Ketanu and other surrounding
towns.

Dawson spotted John in the crowd, and as he smiled and waved, he
saw something else out of the corner of his eye. A man appeared
next to Adzima and whispered in his ear. Dawson’s heart stopped. It
was the same man who had passed by while Dawson was talking to Efia
in the bush. The man cast a furtive glance at Dawson, and the
priest followed his lead. Dawson looked straight ahead, as if he
had not seen them.

The man slipped away. Adzima rested his chin casually in his
palm, but his narrowed eyes glinted with anger.
He knew
.

He got up and left abruptly.

“I’ll be right back,” Dawson told Fiti, and he quickly cut a
path through the crowd. Not quite fast enough, because Adzima had
disappeared from view. Dawson picked up the pace. As he passed by
the wives cooking, he saw that Efia wasn’t there, and his stomach
plunged. He began to run.

As he got to the priest’s house, he heard two voices.

“Didn’t I tell you not to talk to them?” Adzima was saying. “Eh?
Didn’t I?”

Dawson heard the first strike and Efia’s cry. He charged into
the room. Adzima had her cowering against the wall with her hands
raised defensively. He hit her across the face.

“Leave her alone,” Dawson said.

Adzima jumped away from Efia and swung around. Dawson reached
him quickly and hit him hard in the face with an open palm. The
impact sent Adzima’s head whipping to the side as if unhinged from
his neck. He reeled and toppled, but before he fell, Dawson got him
by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Adzima kicked out, but
found only air. He swiped and groped uselessly as Dawson dragged
him across the room by the throat and drove him into the wall with
the force of a wrecking ball.

Dawson pushed his thumb into Adzima’s gullet and increased the
pressure until the priest’s eyeballs began to jut blood red from
their sockets. A short gurgle escaped his open mouth.

“This is how it feels to die,” Dawson said. “Do you like
it?”

The priest’s eyelids fluttered and his body slackened. Dawson
released some of the pressure on his neck and slapped him again
across the face. Adzima’s body shuddered.

“If you ever hurt her again, I will finish killing you. Do you
hear me?”

“Please, I beg you,” Adzima whispered hoarsely.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, yes, please…”

Dawson released him with a shove, and the priest collapsed to
the floor like a sack of yams.

Dawson turned to Efia. She had stood up but was still pressed
against the wall.

“Are you all right?”

She was trembling violently. “I’m fine.”

“Let me look.” He lifted her chin to check. Her left cheek was
swelling up rapidly, but her flawless skin had not been broken. For
a moment their eyes met and held. Dawson found her so vulnerable,
so achingly lovely. Their bodies were almost touching, and he drew
back, startled by what he was feeling.

Inspector Fiti came into the room and looked in puzzlement from
Dawson and Efia to Adzima and back again. “What’s happening?” he
demanded.

The priest staggered to his feet, screaming, “He tried to
kill
me!” He pointed a shaky finger at Dawson.

“What do you mean he tried to kill you?” Fiti said.

“He
did
!” Adzima cried, indicating his throat. “Look,
look. Do you see? He strangled me!”

Fiti, nonplussed, frowned and looked at Dawson. “What’s going
on?”

“He was beating Efia up,” Dawson said tersely. “So I took him
away from her.”

“But is it true you strangled him?”

“He
did
!” Adzima shouted again. He was now almost
weeping.

“I think
strangle
is an exaggeration,” Dawson said.

“Come outside with me for a moment, please,” Fiti said, looking
grim.

Dawson beckoned to Efia to come with him. He certainly was
not
going to leave her behind. She stood a discreet distance
away as the two men faced each other.

“What are you doing?” Fiti asked Dawson.

“Someone saw me talking to Efia, and he reported it to Togbe,”
Dawson said. “He was beating her up for that, so I came to her
defense.”

“You hit Togbe?
” Fiti asked in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“A man can beat his wife if he wants to, Inspector Dawson. Don’t
you know that?”

“Togbe was beating her because she talked to me. I won’t allow
that. She deserves our protection.”

“You could have stopped him without beating him up. He is the
High Priest of Bedome!”

“There wasn’t any time to be nice about it.”

Fiti dropped his head and rubbed it as if nursing a
headache.

“They insist on sending someone from Accra instead of our own
man from Ho,” he said, almost to himself. “Our own man from Ho is
no good. And so whom do they send? You.
You
. Beating up a
priest of this shrine. I just can’t believe it.”

Fiti went over to Efia and had a few words with her. From where
Dawson stood, the inspector at first seemed sympathetic to her, but
when he waved her away, the gesture looked callous. She looked once
at Dawson, and he could see she was crying.

Suddenly she came back and clasped his hands. “Please, Mr.
Dawson, sir. Take my daughter away from here to live a good life.
Please, I beg you.”

Then she turned and ran away.