Wife of the Gods (26 page)

Dawson’s stomach lurched. “What day last week?”

“Friday, sir.”

“How are you so sure it was Friday?”

“Because it was my birthday and I was conversing with him and
when I told him it was my birthday he gave me some extra dash.” Ato
grinned.

Dawson’s mouth had gone dry. “What time of day was he here?”

“I don’t remember exactly, but it was getting to evening
time.”

“And he left when?”

“He was our last customer and it was already dark. After him, we
closed, so I think maybe about almost seven.”

“What kind of car was he driving?”

“Audi Eighty.”

“Color?”

“Like a silver or gray color.”

That was what Timothy drove. A silver Audi 80
.

“And you remember that was his car for sure?”

“Oh, yes.” Ato’s eyes went wistful. “I love that Audi Eighty
toooo much.”

Dawson was shattered. His heart was pounding as he went back to
the car.

“Do you remember that boy over there?” he asked Timothy.

He nodded. “I do. I gave him a couple cedis for his birthday –
as he claimed it was.”

“What kind of car were you driving?”

“My Audi, of course. What else would I be driving?”

Dawson was asking these questions in the futile hope that he
could somehow stitch his case back together, but he knew he
couldn’t. The brutal fact was that Timothy’s alibi was now
established beyond a reasonable doubt.

“What’s going to happen now?” Timothy asked.

Dawson stared at him, feeling chilly even in the hot afternoon
sun. “You’re free to go,” he said.

“Oh, super. Um, if it’s not too much of a bother, can I have a
ride back to Ho?”

∨
Wife of the Gods
∧

S
amuel dreamt he was
trying to get away from his father, but he seemed to be running in
place and Papa got closer and closer to him, reaching with grasping
fingers as he called out his name.

“Samuel.
Samuel!
”

He started awake and realized it was Papa calling him in real
life. He got up and went to the bars. This time, Mama had come too.
Samuel ached to be on the other side with her.

Constable Bubo leaned against the wall and watched them with
folded arms.

“Mama, Papa,” Samuel said, “I’m so glad to see you.”

He could tell his mother had been crying, and it made tears
prick the corners of his own eyes. Papa looked sad, but it wasn’t
like anything Samuel had seen before. This was deep, and there was
pain and anger.

“Papa. What’s wrong?”

“Why have you brought us this shame, why have you disgraced
us?”

“Papa, I’m not trying to – ”

“
Quiet!
Do you hear me? Keep quiet. You have always been
a troublemaker and a liar. Tell the truth just for once, eh? Tell
the inspector what you did to that girl. They already know you did
it, eh? Someone saw you going into the forest with the girl, so why
are you trying to deny it?”

“Papa, it’s not
true
,” Samuel said desperately.

“Confess, Samuel, please. If you confess, they will give you a
lighter punishment and the gods of Ketanu will forgive you.”

“But Papa,
I didn’t do it
.” His voice broke and rose to a
high pitch that bounced off the cell walls.

“Samuel, stop,” Mama said. “You can’t hide it anymore.”

Samuel hit the jail bars with his open hand and turned away in
fury and despair. He put his forehead against the dank wall and
wept.

“Take me out of here, please, Papa, take me out. They’re going
to kill me, I swear, they’re going to beat me to death.”

“Then tell them the truth!” Papa shouted.
“Tell
them!”

Samuel stopped crying and sank to his knees with his head bowed.
Mama was weeping now.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Bubo said, “Time to go.”

They left, and the cell became ghostly quiet again.

♦

Timothy was released and cleared of all charges. Dawson drove
despondently back from Ho to Ketanu. For the first time since
beginning the case, he was starting to doubt himself. What if it
was
Samuel who did it? Maybe Dawson didn’t want to believe
it because Samuel was
Fiti
’s suspect and not his. Was he
perhaps prejudiced against Fiti because the man was just a “bush
policeman?” Wouldn’t it be ironic if it really was Fiti doing the
solid detective work and not Dawson?

Now that he had no case against Timothy, Dawson wanted to find
out more about what Auntie Osewa had told Inspector Fiti – or what
he
said
she had told him.

All of a sudden, Dawson felt a powerful need to talk to
Christine. He pulled over and got his phone out.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, even before he had the chance to tell
her how miserable he was.

“Everything,” he said gloomily. “Not getting
any
where
with this case.”

“No leads?”

“I’m either following them wrong or they’re just not the right
ones.”

“Are you and the local police chief or head or whatever he’s
called getting along?”

“No.”

“Something you think you can smooth over, or has it gone beyond
the point of no return?”

“I don’t know, quite honestly. I was supposed to be here to
clear up this case, but I’m beginning to think it’s really me
making the blunders.”

“I wonder if…”

“If what?”

“If you might call Detective Armah, see if he has some ideas.
After all, he was in Ketanu himself those years back – maybe he has
some tips.”

“You see? This is why I married you. For your brains.”

“Oh,
really
. What’s wrong with my looks?”

They both laughed.

“You know what I want right now, don’t you,” Dawson said,
lowering his voice.

“I have no idea,” she said airily.

He groaned. “Christine, I’m dying.”

“Focus, focus. Don’t you men ever get past adolescence?”

“Well, obviously I’m not getting any sympathy out of you,”
Dawson said in mock resentment.

Christine giggled. “Sorry.”

“I’ll be going now. You’ll find me sulking in a corner.”

Christine let loose a peal of laughter.

“I’m glad you find it amusing,” Dawson said. “Good-bye, and kiss
Hosiah for me.”

“Yes, of course I will. Be careful, Dark.”

“I will. Bye, love.”

After he hung up with Christine, he tried to reach Armah on his
mobile, but the circuits were busy. He would try again later
on.

♦

No one was around as Dawson entered the station. The front desk
was unattended. He heard an odd, low-pitched thud rather like the
impact of a bass loudspeaker. Gyamfi suddenly appeared from
somewhere in the back of the building, walking quickly and looking
distressed.

“Gyamfi? What’s wrong?”

Gyamfi stopped, shoulders slumped, arms limp at his sides, as if
all vigor had been flogged out of him.

“I tried to stop them, sir,” he said. “I swear I tried.”

Dawson heard another thud and then a muffled scream, and now he
realized it was coming from the interrogation room. He moved fast.
The door was shut. He shoved it open.

Bubo was whipping Samuel with a thin bamboo cane frayed at the
tip to deliver maximum sting. He drew his hand back to strike
again. Samuel, torso naked and trousers almost coming off, leapt
away and collided with the wall. The cane hissed through the air
and made contact, raising an instant stripe of inflamed flesh.
Samuel cried out, lost his balance, and fell.

Inspector Fiti was watching from a corner of the room. “Are you
ready to confess?” he asked Samuel calmly.

Bubo raised the cane, and Samuel cringed. “I beg you, stop,
please.
Stop
.”

The cane landed again, and Samuel jumped as if jolted by an
electric shock.

Dawson felt a tidal wave of rage rising and sweeping him along
on its deadly crest. He knew the sensation well – the muffling of
sounds around him, the crimson heat erupting deep in his chest and
spreading quickly up into his neck while the surface of his skin
turned cold with a thousand icy pins and needles. He could
seriously hurt Bubo this instant. A good choke hold, he could kill
him, and he felt a strong impulse to do it.

He moved in close behind the constable. “Beating him won’t bring
your mother back.”

Bubo swung around like a whirling flywheel.

“Hey!” Fiti
shouted at Dawson. “What are you doing?”

But Bubo was frozen in place. His eyes had gone wide with
distress and astonishment. His eyelids twitched as he began to
speak.

“You s-s-s-say what?”

“It won’t bring her back.”

“How do you know about my m-m-mother?”

“I lost mine too.”

Bubo jerked his head back, and his eyes narrowed as if an eerie
suspicion was slowly dawning.

“Are you a w-w-wizard?” he whispered.

“Maybe.”

Bubo dropped the cane on the floor and scrambled for the exit,
giving Dawson as wide a berth as he could in the small space. He
pushed past Gyamfi, who was standing in the doorway.

Fiti gaped at Dawson. “What did you do?”

Dawson didn’t answer. He went to Samuel, who was on his feet
again.

“Are you all right?” Dawson asked.

Samuel nodded.

“Let me see. Turn around.”

There was a crisscross pattern of welts and bloodied streaks of
raised skin all over his back.

Dawson looked at Fiti. “You see this? You see what you’ve
done?”

Fiti glared back defiantly, and without taking his eyes off
Dawson, he said to Gyamfi, “Take the boy back to the cell.”

“Leave him alone,” Dawson said.

“I say take him back!” Fiti
shouted.

Samuel’s face contorted with pain, and his body seemed to
shrivel like a shrub dying under the scorching sun. “No, I beg you,
please. I don’t want to go back – ”

“Then confess and we will send you to a better place to stay in
Ho,” Fiti said.

“Samuel, don’t say anything,” Dawson warned.

Gyamfi took Samuel by the arm to lead him away, but he crumpled
to the ground weeping.

“I did it,” he moaned. “I did it.”

“Did what?” Fiti said.

Dawson crouched on the floor near him. “No, Samuel,
stop
.”

Samuel slapped his head repeatedly with both hands. “I killed
her, I killed her, I killed her.”

Fiti knelt beside him.
“Killed whom?
”

“
Gladys
. I killed her.” Samuel’s body shook with
sobs.

Fiti looked at Dawson and stood up with a grim smile. “There.
Now you have heard him confess.”

“Because he doesn’t want to be beaten anymore,” Dawson
cried.

“Look, I know this boy and I know how these people are in
Ketanu.”

“You’re just a bush policeman, Fiti,” Dawson shouted. “You don’t
have a clue. All you know about is children stealing chewing gum
from the market – ”

Fiti banged his fist on the table in fury. “Get out!
Get
out!
”

Gyamfi looked pleadingly at Dawson, and at the same time he
flicked his head to one side with an oblique glance meaning
Meet
me outside
.

Dawson leaned close to Samuel. “I’ll do everything I can for
you, do you hear? I’m not going to let anyone hurt you anymore. I
know you can be strong.”

As he stood up, Dawson got his phone out, pointed the camera at
Samuel’s back, and took three photos in rapid succession.

“What do you think you are doing, Inspector Dawson?” Fiti
said.

Dawson brought his face within six centimeters of Fiti’s. “I’m
reporting you for this, photographs and all. And if you lay one
finger on Samuel again, I’ll drag you to jail.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Fiti said, without flinching. “You’re a
fool. You’re not above me. You think you are smart, but you are
nothing but a fool. Now, get out.”

∨
Wife of the Gods
∧

O
ut of sight at the
side of the station, Dawson waited for Gyamfi. He paced, his pulse
still racing from the confrontation and the pain of seeing Samuel
being whipped.

Gyamfi appeared a few minutes later. He glanced over his
shoulder to be sure he wasn’t being followed. “I want to make sure
you believe me, Dawson. I tried to stop them from beating Samuel,
but I couldn’t do anything against them.”

“I believe you.”

“But I don’t understand what you said to Bubo. You say he lost
his mother? How do you know that? He’s never mentioned such a
thing.”

“It was just a lucky guess. Something about him made me think he
might have had some sort of tragedy as a child. And even if I was
wrong, it would have been such a strange thing to say to him he
would have stopped to ask me what I was talking about.”

“You’re right,” Gyamfi said. “And by the way, he still thinks
you’re a wizard.”

They laughed, grateful for a chance to relieve tension.

“What are you going to do now, Dawson?”

“I want to work on getting Samuel’s name cleared, but for now
I’m going to get him transferred to Ho Central. It’s too dangerous
for him to stay here with Inspector Fiti.”

He pulled out his mobile and called Ho Central Prison. The
constable who answered said the commanding officer wasn’t in. After
some persuasion, the constable released the commander’s mobile
number, which Dawson tried immediately. No answer. He left a
message and made a note to himself to call again later.

♦

When Dawson arrived, Auntie Osewa was outside hanging clothes on
a line. “Darko!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly. “How are you? I
thought maybe you had forgotten about your poor old aunt
again!”

“No, Auntie,” he said, stooping to kiss her on the cheek. “Not
at all. I had to go back to Accra on an emergency.”