Wife of the Gods (24 page)

Angry. Very angry. A side of Gladys that Dawson was seeing for
the first time. She was found dead two days later, on Saturday
morning, but she was most likely murdered on the evening of
Friday
, the twenty-first, the day she’d wanted her lover to
meet her at the forest path.

Timothy was staring at the floor with arms tightly folded across
his midriff. He was rocking gently back and forth. Dawson came to
his side and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Timothy Sowah, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murdering
Gladys Mensah.”

∨
Wife of the Gods
∧

M
r. Boateng had
requested permission to visit with his son Samuel in his jail cell,
but Constable Gyamfi was busy at the police desk, so Boateng had to
wait. No one could visit a prisoner without an escort.

Finally Gyamfi beckoned to Boateng to follow him back.

“Tell your son to eat,” Gyamfi said. “He’s not taking anything,
and that’s foolish. His bones are beginning to stick out even more
than before.”

Boateng saw the evidence for himself. A plate of rice lay
untouched on the floor, not far from the filthy plastic bucket into
which Samuel was supposed to empty his bladder and evacuate his
bowels. The place stank, and the small barred window high up on the
wall did nothing to improve ventilation.

Samuel was lying on his side, facing the wall with knees drawn
up.

“Samuel, you have a visitor,” Gyamfi announced.

No movement.

“Samuel.”

He stirred and lifted his head.

“Get up. Your father is here to see you.”

As his son slowly stood up, Boateng’s stomach swooped. Samuel
had changed drastically. His cheeks were sucked in, his eyes were
bloodshot, and his ribs were sticking out like the slats of a
louvered window. The boy was starving. He didn’t move to the jail
bars in one easy stride as he normally would have. He took three
shuffling steps, holding on to his trousers so they wouldn’t slip
off his sparse hips.

Gyamfi stood discreetly to one side.

Samuel leaned against the bars, and his father tried to smile at
him. The bars weren’t far enough apart to admit a full hand, so
they shook fingers.

“How are you?” Boateng said softly.

“Fine, Papa.”

“They say you’re not eating.”

“Mm. Not hungry.”

“You have to eat something. What about if I bring some food for
you?”

Samuel shrugged. “If you like, Papa.”

Constable Gyamfi spoke up. “No outside food allowed. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay, sir,” Boateng said.

“Papa, have you talked with Inspector Fiti?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

“Try to talk to him today,” Samuel said weakly. “Ask him when he
will let me go.”

Boateng swallowed. “Samuel, have you told them everything? Have
you told the truth?”

“Of course.”

“If there’s something more to tell, you should tell it.”

“There’s nothing more.”

“They said you were talking to the girl near the forest. That
evening, I mean.”

“Yes, but I went away and left her alone. I would never do
anything to hurt her.”

“All right.”

It seemed Samuel had all of a sudden grown up into a man.

“Time up,” Gyamfi announced.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Boateng said. “But you have to eat,
Samuel. Please. Look at your bones. They are poking out like
sticks.”

♦

Just before noon, a visitor arrived at the police station.
Gyamfi knew Osewa Gedze fairly well. She was quiet and law-abiding,
attractive in a full-blooded, mature way –
not like some of the
young girls these days who relax their hair and bleach their
skin
.

Mrs. Gedze asked for Inspector Fiti, and Gyamfi told her he
wasn’t in the office.

“Maybe I can help you with something?” he offered.

“It concerns Gladys Mensah, Constable,” Osewa said.

“You can report it to me and then I’ll tell the inspector.”

He saw her appraise him quickly, and then she nodded. “All
right, that’s fine. Maybe what I have to tell you is not important,
or maybe it is. The evening before Gladys was killed, I saw
something.”

“Go on.”

“I was collecting firewood to take home. First I saw that boy
Samuel following Gladys. They started to talk, and then Isaac Kutu
the healer came and he and the boy started to quarrel. He told the
boy to go away, and after some time Samuel obeyed him. Then Kutu
and Gladys conversed before he went back to his house. At that
time, Gladys began walking back to Ketanu.”

“Yes? Continue.”

“I was finishing up tying the firewood, when I saw Samuel come
out of the bush and again he started to walk and converse with
Gladys.”

“And then what happened?”

“He tried to hold her hand and put his arms around her, but she
didn’t let him. But after a while he went into the bush with
her.”

“Did he force her?”

“No, she just followed him.”

“And you? Did you follow them?”

She looked puzzled. “Why should I follow them, Constable?”

“I’m just asking.”

Gyamfi looked up, and Osewa turned around as Inspector Fiti came
into the station. He stopped when he saw her at the desk. “Mrs.
Gedze,” he said. “It’s been a long time. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Inspector.”

“She has something you should hear, sir,” Gyamfi said.

∨
Wife of the Gods
∧

T
imothy Sowah was
booked into the Ho Central Prison. Dawson tried several times to
reach Inspector Fiti on the phone. The line was busy until his
seventh attempt, when he got through and told Fiti about Timothy’s
arrest.

“You’re making a mistake, Inspector Dawson,” Fiti said coldly.
“Why would Mr. Sowah do such a thing?”

“Because he was having an affair with Gladys. She wanted it to
be more serious than he did, and she began to threaten him.”

“Inspector Dawson, that happens every day. It doesn’t make him a
murderer. I’m warning you, okay? Sowah knows people in Accra. You
could get in big, big trouble.”

“So be it.”

“You sound so confident. Maybe you won’t be when I tell you your
aunt Osewa has just come and told us she saw Samuel and Gladys
going into the forest together that evening. That may have been the
last time anyone ever saw Gladys.”

Dawson was momentarily stunned. “Auntie Osewa told you
this?”

“Yes, sir. I tell you, this boy Samuel is guilty – no one else.
He has done the thing. Mark my words, he will confess.”

“Inspector Fiti, I hope you remember that you can’t hold Samuel
longer than forty-eight hours without charging him.”

“He will confess today, and he will be charged today. And my
advice to you is to release Mr. Sowah before – ”

♦

At that point, the connection was lost.

At the other end of the line, Fiti shook his head as he hung
up.

“They say we need someone from Accra to help us investigate,” he
muttered, gesturing at the phone as if Dawson was still there, “and
this is the fool they send. Forty-eight hours. Okay, you will get
your forty-eight hours.”

Constable Bubo, who was manning the desk while Gyamfi went on an
errand, said, “What’s wrong, sir?”

“Never mind,” Fiti said. “Bring Samuel up to the interrogation
room and lock him inside until I’m ready to question him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Inspector Fiti went back to his office and studied Osewa’s
signed statement. Gyamfi had written it out for her, and she had
signed her name to it. Fiti had never had any problems with the
Gedzes. They were honest, hardworking people.

The statement was very detailed. The most important item was
that Osewa had seen Samuel
return
to Gladys as she walked
along the pathway toward Ketanu. Samuel had tried to embrace her or
something like that, and then they’d disappeared together into the
bush. This was crucial. Osewa didn’t use a watch, but the
description of the sun’s position in the sky put it at around a
quarter to six. Osewa had even described what the two had been
wearing. Fiti believed her. She had stuck to the facts and had not
changed any of the details, even when questioned repeatedly.

There was no doubt in Fiti’s mind that Samuel had killed Gladys.
He just had to get that confession out of the boy.

Bubo knocked and put his head in.

“He’s ready.”

Fiti nodded. “Let him be there for a while.”

The more uncertain and anxious Samuel became, the better. It was
only a matter of time before he broke down.

On the way into the interrogation room, Inspector Fiti called
Constable Bubo to assist. The man was not as good a constable as
Gyamfi, but he was big and intimidating and useful for generating
fear when needed.

Fiti sat down opposite Samuel at the interrogation table, but
Bubo stood behind Samuel, deliberately just within peripheral
vision. It was more nerve-racking that way.

Samuel had become gaunt. His eyes were oversize full moons in
his face, and his cheekbones were knife-sharp ridges.

“Samuel,” Fiti said softly, “I want to talk to you about what
you did to Gladys Mensah.”

“Please, sir, I didn’t do anything to her.”

“Listen to me. Someone saw you go into the forest with her, and
that was the last time she was seen.”

Samuel sat up straight. “Who said that? It’s a lie.”

“Stop calling people liars and tell the truth yourself. If you
continue to lie, the gods will curse you and something bad will
happen.”

“Who is the person who said he saw me with Gladys? Let him come
here and say that to my face.”

“We know what happened. After Mr. Kutu chased you away from
following Gladys, you came back and accosted her as she was on her
way to Ketanu. Not so?”

“No, Inspector. You have to believe me, please.”

“And then you made her go inside the bush with you.”

“No, no, no.”

“You wanted her to be your girlfriend, we know that already, and
you tried to force yourself on her, and when she refused, you
killed her.”

Samuel put his face in his hands and groaned over and over, as
if in physical pain.

“Look at me, Samuel,” Fiti said. “Stop covering your eyes and
look at me.”

Bubo stepped behind Samuel and pulled his hands away from his
face. His cheeks were moist with tears.

“He’s crying,” Fiti said to Bubo. “Crying like a girl.”

Bubo laughed.

Fiti pushed a pen and a sheet of paper in front of Samuel.

“If you sign this, we will stop questioning you and you will
feel better.”

Samuel frowned at it. He could read and write English, but this
thing they were showing him was beyond his comprehension.

“What does it say?” he asked.

“It just says everything that happened. You only have to sign on
the bottom.”

Samuel shook his head.

“If you don’t sign it,” Fiti said, “I’ll throw you in jail and
keep you there until you rot. But if you sign it, I can tell the
judge who takes your case to pardon you and then they will set you
free.”

Fiti could see Samuel was thinking hard about what to do. He
looked confused and afraid, which was perfect.

“If you don’t confess and sign this paper,” the inspector went
on, “I will have to go to your father and tell him how you killed
Gladys.”

Samuel stiffened, and his brow twitched at the thought. “I beg
you,” he whispered. “Don’t tell my father.”

“Then sign the paper.”

“I can’t sign it, Inspector.”

“You can’t write your name? We can help you.”

“Yes, I can write my name, but…”

“But what?” Fiti handed him the pen. “Just write your name there
on the bottom. You’re not really signing – just writing your
name.”

Samuel held the pen for a moment, but then he put it down.
“No.”

Fiti glanced at Constable Bubo, who delivered such a hard blow
to the back of Samuel’s head that the boy was thrown forward and
his face bounced against the table. Bubo planted a foot in Samuel’s
side and sent him hurtling to the floor.

Fiti stood. He would not be staying for this. As Bubo picked
Samuel up by the neck, the inspector said, “When you are ready to
sign your name, just tell the constable.”

As he returned to his office, Fiti heard the heavy thuds of
Bubo’s blows and the crash of Samuel’s body against the walls of
the small room as he screamed and begged for mercy After each
round, Bubo could be heard asking the boy if he would sign the
confession. He would not, and so the next round of beatings began.
The boy would confess. He had to
.

∨
Wife of the Gods
∧

T
imothy Sowah asked
that his lawyer be present during his interrogation, but it turned
out that counsel was in Lagos and wouldn’t be able to make it to Ho
before the next day at the earliest. So Timothy would be spending
the night in jail, and Dawson decided to find somewhere to stay
overnight in Ho rather than go back to Ketanu. He called Chances
Hotel but found their prices were far beyond his reach.
Hence
the name
, he thought wryly.
Chances are you can’t afford
it
. He should have known. That hotel was every tourist’s first
choice when visiting the Volta Region.

He found another place called Liberty Hotel, an establishment of
dubious credentials, but he wasn’t that bothered. After filling up
with a meal of yam and fish stew, Dawson spent some time in his
hotel room looking over Gladys’s diary and the two letters from
Timothy that she had kept with it. The more Dawson read, the more
it became clear that Gladys was smitten with the kind of
infatuation that makes a person blind to reason and reality. The
more she closed in on Timothy, the more he drew back in alarm, and
that hurt Gladys, as it always does in these cases. Pain quickly
turned to anger.