“Good,” Dawson said, aiming an approving finger at the sergeant. “When you come down from Takoradi, we meet up, and I tell you everything I’ve found out about this rampant corruption. You, Charles, probably didn’t know anything about it—or maybe you did. In any case, you are horrified that I’m thinking of making these allegations public. To you, this would be a disaster. You advise me not to go further, but I’m determined to do it. By phone and email, you try repeatedly to get in touch with me to warn me. You take me as a friend, but you’re also a Malgam employee, so your ultimate allegiance is to your company, your boss, Roger Calmy-Rey.”
“So I’m going to report to him everything you’ve told me.”
“Yes,” Dawson said emphatically. “By all means, you have to make Calmy-Rey aware of such a serious threat to him and his company.”
“Then Calmy-Rey is now the one who has the motive to kill you—Tetteh.”
“Good, but he’s not the only one,” Dawson said with a slight smile. “Terence Amihere is also a target. Allegedly, he has taken a bribe of at least two hundred thousand dollars, which is very serious.”
“How does Amihere come to find out about the allegations in the article you’ve written?”
“Because I—Tetteh—go to personally confront him.”
“Do you think Tetteh would really have done that?”
Dawson nodded with conviction. “No doubt. Think about the kind of man he was. Straightforward, direct, honest, and incorruptible. He sacked the people in Goilco that he found out were taking bribes. He wouldn’t have been diplomatic about this. He would have challenged everyone he believed to be involved in corruption. It was a brave move, but it also got him murdered.”
“I can see how that could happen,” Chikata said, “but what about Charles Smith-Aidoo? Where do he and his wife fit in?”
“I have always believed that their murder was connected to Tetteh’s,” Dawson said, taking his seat again. “Now I think I know what happened. After Tetteh’s death, Charles must have taken up the cause against corruption. What Tetteh had told him had begun to weigh on his mind. Once Charles began this crusade, whoever killed Tetteh had to get rid of Charles as well. And the message delivered to the Malgam oil rig in the form of a terrible double murder and beheading was, ‘Don’t even think about challenging the powers that be.’ ”
“Why kill Fiona Smith-Aidoo as well?”
“That wasn’t the original plan. The killer or killers weren’t expecting Fiona to accompany her husband to Ezile Bay.”
“So who killed them or had them killed?”
“I don’t know,” Dawson said, suddenly feeling weary. “Tomorrow we’ll think again when our brains are fresh.”
Chapter 35
THEY HAD TO GET some sleep. Chikata, like Baah, was out within a few minutes, but Dawson, exhausted but bereft of sleep, lay awake on the horrendous mattress, which was giving him a backache. His phone buzzed, and for some reason he thought it might be Christine, but he was wrong. It was Armah. Dawson leapt out of bed as he answered.
“Hello, Daniel!”
“Darko, my dear man, how are you?”
“I’m very well,” he said, opening the door to step outside. “Hold on a moment. I want to go somewhere I can talk.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I couldn’t sleep.”
“I had the feeling. I saw that you had called and took the chance you were awake. Are you troubled?”
Armah and Dawson had that kind of bond where one could almost sense the other’s worry from hundreds of miles away. During Dawson’s childhood, then CID detective Armah had doggedly investigated the disappearance of Dawson’s mother, Beatrice.
“I am troubled,” Dawson said, walking around to the opposite side of the building where the potent ammonia smell of the latrine was less pervasive. He told Armah the story from the beginning, bringing him up to the minute.
“Now I’m starting to have doubts,” Dawson said, kicking a large pebble away. “How big is this affair with Tetteh, and should I delve further? Is Amihere or someone else going to come after me, or my family? What if the BNI director has conspired with someone high up in the police service? If I’m going up against them, they’re going to crush me.”
“Hmm, this is tough,” Armah said. He paused for a while. “I don’t think you or your family are in any danger yet, so what we need to do is keep it that way. First you need to go immediately to Chief Superintendent Lartey.”
“He’s going to explode,” Dawson said.
“Maybe, but it can’t be helped. He has to know about this now.”
“I almost hate to pose the question, but no way he could be involved in a cover-up?”
“I can practically guarantee that,” Armah replied. “He wouldn’t have assigned this case to you if he was, and he certainly wouldn’t have included Chikata in the investigation. And in any case, it’s not only you in the thick of this, Lartey’s beloved nephew is involved as well, so he has to take action over the information.”
“Okay,” Dawson said, feeling better.
“Now if at any time you receive a threatening note or phone call, you’ll know it’s the BNI director because that’s the way he operates,” Armah said with confidence. “Then you know it’s time to get out. You’re deeply dedicated to your work, but don’t sacrifice yourself. You have a family you love and who loves you. If you receive threats, call me immediately, because I have some options. We can discuss them if and when the situation comes up, but I don’t think it will. How does that sound?”
“Thank you, Daniel.” Dawson felt his eyes pricking. “I miss you. I have to get up to Kumasi soon.”
“You really must. Talking on the phone is not enough, and as for all this texting you young guys like to do, I will not abide by it.”
They had a good laugh and bid each other good night. Dawson returned to the stuffy, smelly room, and to his surprise, he felt himself drifting off very quickly.
IN THE MORNING, the chief superintendent was so pleased to see his nephew that Dawson might as well not have been present. Finally, Lartey acknowledged Dawson and invited both of them to sit down in the two chairs facing him on the opposite side of his desk. The office was air-conditioned, a relief from the heat outside.
“So tell me,” Lartey said, getting comfy in his luxurious leather chair. “Are you close to completing the case?”
He was a small man whose slight stature belied his toughness and effective use of power. He was very likely up for the elevated rank of Assistant Commissioner of Police.
“We believe we are, sir,” Dawson said. “I’ll bring you up to speed.”
Lartey’s demeanor remained receptive during Dawson’s account until he first heard of the connection between Charles Smith-Aidoo and Lawrence Tetteh. Then his expression began to cloud like a stormy sky.
“Last night,” Dawson went on, “we made contact with Lawrence Tetteh’s housemaid—”
“What?” Lartey bellowed, shooting forward. “What for? What the hell are you doing?”
“We had to,” Dawson said bravely. “We’re convinced the Smith-Aidoo and Tetteh murders are connected.”
“Completely different signatures,” Lartey snapped, slapping his palm on the table. “Even a five-year-old could tell you that. This is nonsense.”
“Uncle,” Chikata chimed in quickly, “the housemaid gave us the pen drive Mr. Tetteh had given her for safekeeping, and we made a discovery you should know about.”
His laptop open and ready, Chikata brought it around for Lartey to read, which he did immediately, tapping his middle finger unconsciously on his desk.
“Oh, Lord,” he said, when he was finished. He slumped back in his chair. “What have you done, Dawson?”
“It was my idea to get in touch with the housemaid, Uncle Theo,” Chikata said. Dawson opened his mouth to protest the lie, but the sergeant sent him a look that said, don’t say anything.
“You, Philip?” Lartey said
in disbelief. “Why didn’t you come to me first, eh?”
Chikata looked sheepish and kept his gaze down in submission. “I’m sorry, Uncle,” he said meekly. It always worked.
“It’s okay, Philip,” Lartey said rather gently. “What I’m most concerned about—” he turned to Dawson “—is you. You are the senior officer and you take a suggestion from a junior officer without providing him guidance, without showing him the correct thing to do?”
“You asked me to give him free rein, sir—”
“But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t exercise some common sense instead of getting up to this foolishness, does it? I’m waiting for your answer, Inspector.”
“No, sir. It does not.”
“Did you let Superintendent Hammond know about this?”
“Superintendent Hammond has been against us all the way, Uncle,” Chikata said heatedly. “He hasn’t lifted one finger to help us.”
Lartey’s expression changed. “Is that so? Why didn’t you report that to me?”
“It was pettiness, sir,” Dawson said quickly. “Not worth your time at all. Anyway, he has apologized to me and has promised to be more helpful. We also had some, um, worries that maybe he has some knowledge of the conspiracy, but we are not certain how deeply involved he is. I don’t want to incriminate him more than I should.”
Lartey nodded. “There’s time to investigate what’s going on in that regard. Let’s get to the bottom line. Who do you think murdered Tetteh and Smith-Aidoo?”
“We have three suspects,” Dawson said. “The Honorable Terence Amihere, the BNI director, and Roger Calmy-Rey.”
“Or all of the above could be involved in some way,” Lartey added.
“Yes, sir.”
The chief superintendent took a deep breath and sighed. “I want to shield you from the BNI, especially. They can be vindictive.”
He got up abruptly, sending his executive chair shooting back. He stood at the window for a long time, gazing down at the browning lawn at the front of the CID building. Neither Dawson nor Chikata dared move, but both knew that the chief superintendent was on their side and ready to act. It was just a matter of deciding how.
“Okay,” Lartey said finally, turning back to them. “I have to get everything lined up here in Accra before you make any moves on anyone in Takoradi. It can’t be the other way around, so you have to wait for word from me before you act. I know two members of the opposition political party who would love to make the party in power look bad with a juicy corruption story. That way, the accusations will appear to emanate at the parliamentary level and keep the two of you safe. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Dawson said. “Thank you, sir.”
“Anything else you’re hiding up your sleeves? If so, for goodness’ sake, speak now. I don’t want any late revelations.”
“Nothing, sir,” Dawson said.
“Good. Now get out. I have a lot of work to do in a very short time.”
Chapter 36
BACK IN TAKORADI, DAWSON and Chikata waited for two days, doing nothing while knowing there was so much to be done was a strange and agonizing experience. On each of those two days, Dawson checked that Calmy-Rey was still in town. One of his assistants had mentioned that he would be around for maybe another week. Dawson was worried about such vague wording.
He was in Chikata’s hotel room when he received the call at 11:35 of the third morning. It was the chief superintendent.
“Everything is set,” Lartey said. “Get to work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Chikata, guessing that the signal had come, jumped up.
“Let’s go,” Dawson said.
Having given Baah a couple of days off, they grabbed a taxi and told the driver to take them to the Malgam building, where they went straight to the top floor.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the receptionist said. “Mr. Calmy-Rey isn’t in. He’s leaving for the UK today.”
No, Dawson thought. “What time?”
“Two o’clock.”
It was 12:02, so they were cutting it close.
“He may already be at the airport,” Dawson said, as he and Chikata ran down the staircase to the ground floor. “You go there, I’ll go to his house. We can’t let him leave the country.”
They split up, taking taxis in opposite directions.
DAWSON RANG THE bell at the gate and a guard opened up the pedestrian entrance.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon. I’m here to see Mr. Calmy-Rey.”
As Dawson went through, a houseboy came out of the house carrying a three-piece matching set of luggage to the waiting SUV, with Roger Calmy-Rey close behind him.
“Good afternoon, Inspector!” he said, cheerily. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
“Good afternoon, sir.”
As they shook hands, Dawson slid his left palm up Calmy-Rey’s arm. The Ghana Police regulations manual stipulated that the arresting officer must make every effort to physically touch the suspect. “You are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Mr. Lawrence Tetteh, Mr. Charles Smith-Aidoo and Mrs. Fiona Smith-Aidoo.”
Calmy-Rey turned sheet white.
FOUR HOURS LATER, the charge officer at the Beach Road police station took Roger Calmy-Rey out of his jail cell and handed him over to Dawson and Hammond, who walked on either side of him to the waiting police vehicle.
“Mr. Calmy-Rey,” Dawson said as they proceeded, “a warrant has been issued by the district magistrate for the search of your residence and property. You’re free to examine the warrant if you wish. You are now accompanying us there, where Detective Superintendent Hammond, Detective Sergeant Chikata, and I will conduct the search. Is that clear?”
Calmy-Rey nodded mutely. He seemed detached, or perhaps he was in a state of shock. He had said nothing more than necessary since his arrest, but he had been polite and cooperative. Just as he had been for Jason Sarbah, Mr. DeGraft was Calmy-Rey’s counsel.
Hammond sat in the front passenger seat next to the driver, while Dawson and Chikata sat in the back seat with Calmy-Rey in the middle. They pulled into the driveway of his residence and as they got out of the vehicle, the watchman, houseboy, and gardener watched with wide eyes, aware that something had gone very wrong.
Inside the house, it was obvious that the spotless sitting room was unlikely to yield much in a search.
“Do you have an office?” Dawson asked Calmy-Rey.
“Yes, it’s this way,” he said softly.
He took them up white marble stairs to a carpeted, immaculate office with a polished desk, a widescreen TV, a love seat, neatly arranged bookshelves, and a scanner and printer in a separate cabinet. Framed photographs of his wife and three children adorned the walls and the desk.
Chikata stood in the doorway just behind Calmy-Rey, who watched as Dawson and Hammond put on their latex gloves and began to go through the drawers in his desk.
The contents of the desk were unremarkable. Calmy-Rey was painfully tidy. Each drawer had designated contents, like printer paper, stationery, or business letters and memos, which Dawson read and found to be of no importance.
“Do you not have a computer?” Hammond asked Calmy-Rey.
“A laptop. It’s in my carry-on luggage downstairs.”
“Okay, we’ll look at that later.”
“We’d like to check your bedroom now, please, sir,” Dawson said.
Calmy-Rey led them there. As Dawson had expected, the bedroom was a picture of perfection with a mahogany platform bed flawlessly made up by the maid, ornamental rugs on a lustrous wood floor, a matching wood-framed full length mirror, two walk-in closets, a writing desk, and of course, a wide-screen TV facing the bed. The fixtures in the ensuite bathroom gleamed.
Again, Chikata positioned himself in the doorway behind Calmy-Rey, who stood to one side and watched Dawson and Hammond go to work. They shifted the heavy mattress together to have a look underneath. Dawson did not s
eriously expect to find anything there, and his prediction proved correct.
Calmy-Rey accompanied them now to watch them search the walk-in closets, which were full of business suits. They checked all the pockets, inside and out. The chest of drawers contained neatly folded socks, underwear, and casual wear. Everything was in plain view and neither Dawson nor Hammond could find any hidden spaces or false drawer bottoms.
Calmy-Rey resumed his previous position by the door, and Hammond began to sift through the writing desk.
Dawson went into the alcove of the bedroom. A chaise lounge and coffee table were by the window, which provided a marvelous view of the beach.
A small bookcase with a varied selection stood against one wall. The larger books were on the top and paperbacks were on the lower shelves. Calmy-Rey appeared to enjoy reading detective novels.
The hardcovers on the top shelf were all serious, with titles like Statistics for Business and Economics and Oil Rig Design, which was the largest of them. Dawson idly wondered how many types of oil rig designs existed. He should have been diligently conducting the search of the room, but he pulled the book from the shelf with some curiosity. Had he never had a tour of the Thor Sterke, he probably would not have been the slightest bit interested.
He glanced at Calmy-Rey and noticed he appeared rigid, as though bolted to the ground, as he watched Dawson. He rested the book on the coffee table and opened it to the title page, and then to the first chapter, after which he attempted to turn to the midsection. In fact, no midsection existed. Beyond a certain point, the pages did not turn. They were stuck together like a block. A slim metal lockbox rested in a cavity cut into a block. The book was actually a disguised safe.
“What is in here?” Dawson asked Calmy-Rey in surprise.
He hesitated. “A weapon.”
“What kind of weapon?”
“A pistol. I have a permit for it from the Minister of Interior, so it’s perfectly legal.”
“I’m sure it is,” Dawson said. “Do you have a key to open this box?”
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