Death at the Voyager Hotel

by Kwei Quartey

  “No, it’s okay. I’m leaving in a few minutes. We’ll see you later at the house.”

  As Paula sat in traffic again, her certainty that Heather’s death had not been accidental grew even stronger. “I’m going to find out who killed you, Heather,” she murmured. “And I won’t give up until I do.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  On her way home, Paula passed through a section of town called Adabraka. As she waited at the wide cathedral intersection for the light to change, she reflected that the Voyager Hotel wasn’t far away, and she wondered if Edward Laryea was there. Maybe she could drop by to talk to him. She had just promised Thelo that she wouldn’t go snooping around, but this would really only be a friendly visit. She hadn’t seen Edward in quite some time and it would be a nice gesture on her part to stop and say hello. As the light turned green, she called his number and he answered.

  The hotel was a unique rusty pink that Paula had always found appealing. She didn’t know another building in Accra quite that color. Neatly clipped shrubbery lined the borders of the car park. A khaki-uniformed watchman sitting by his sentry box watched her as she pulled into a perfect spot in the dappled shade of a Flamboyant tree.

  Background music was playing as she entered the lobby, where a receptionist was busy with a guest at the curved front desk. A white couple was sitting on red faux leather armchairs in the seating area filling out forms. Stacked on the wall rack were magazines and tourist brochures, including some from Tropical Expeditions. The Voyager was a favorite with backpackers and other tourists on a limited budget, but the hotel now had three upscale chalets for customers who could afford them.

  “Yes, madam,” the receptionist said to Paula after she had introduced herself. “Mr. Laryea is expecting you. You can go through to his office and I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.”

  Paula walked down a short corridor, made a right, knocked on the door with Edward’s name, and entered. He was at his desk in front of the computer. In his early forties, he was a mountain of a man. Paula and Thelo had known him since secondary school.

  “Paula, dear!” He jumped to his feet, towering over her. “Welcome, welcome. How unfortunate to meet under these circumstances.” He bent down to give her a quick hug and guided her to a pair of upholstered chairs, where they sat opposite each other.

  “It’s been a tough five days,” Paula said wearily.

  “Terrible. Awful.” Edward’s brow creased. “Are you bearing up okay?”

  “I think so, but the morale at Street Academy is low—very low.”

  He was sympathetic. “Here too. We’ve all been wondering if there was something we could have done to prevent this tragedy. As general manager, I’m ultimately responsible, so it’s been weighing heavily on me.”

  “I’m in much the same position,” Paula said in commiseration. “I keep asking myself if I missed some signal from Heather. Did you read that article by John Prempeh in the Ghana Herald?”

  Edward made a noise of contempt with his mouth. “I saw it, but I don’t believe a word of the bad things he said about you and the school.”

  “He claims he had a source who told him that Heather was depressed and having problems sleeping,” Paula said. “If that’s true, the source has to be someone closely associated with her. Did you ever see Prempeh here at the hotel talking to Diane Jones—or anyone else, for that matter?”

  Edward turned his lips down at the corners. “No, I didn’t, but if I hear something, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What else can I help you with, my dear?”

  “Thelo told me to mind my own business but I can’t rest until I’ve asked a few questions,” Paula said. “The police have rushed to close the investigation of Heather’s death, but I feel I simply have to look into it more closely. The official report says that she had a high level of alcohol in her blood and that the cause of death was accidental drowning. From what I know of Heather, none of this adds up.”

  Edward sat forward with interest. “What do you think happened?”

  “I think she was murdered.”

  “Oh!” He stiffened visibly. “That’s shocking. Why do you think that?”

  “Heather did not drink heavily, and as for her swimming naked—have you had any guests, including Heather, who were in the habit of nude bathing?”

  He shook his head. “Absolutely not, and I can’t imagine Heather doing that either. But why aren’t the police taking that into account?”

  “Caseload,” Paula answered simply. “I know how it goes because Thelo told me about it many times when he was a detective. To be able to close a case quickly and label it as an accident or suicide is like receiving a Christmas present. The CID feels pressure when open homicide cases pile up. So when the medical examiner says Heather accidentally drowned because she was drunk, the investigators are only too happy to accept that.”

  Edward appeared uncomfortable and worried, and Paula realized that if he had to choose between the two evils, from his perspective the death of a hotel guest from accidental drowning was preferable to murder.

  “Do you mind if I see the pool?” she asked.

  “No, of course not,” he said. “I’ll take you. We can get there directly from here.”

  She sensed his reluctance but as an old friend, he couldn’t very well refuse her request. She followed him as he unlocked the back entrance door of his office and stepped into the rear courtyard of the hotel. The warmth of the evening hit them like a blast from a furnace. March was one of Ghana’s hottest months.

  “We’ve drained it and closed it down temporarily,” Edward explained to her as they approached the pool. “We’re going to renovate it and make it only one meter deep the whole length. I know you can drown even in a bathtub, but at least one has a better chance of finding one’s footing if the pool isn’t too deep. I plan to put an extra guard on duty to patrol at night.”

  The area was barricaded with bright red Keep Out tape, and without the allure of cool, turquoise water, the pool was an uninviting crater. Its gradually increasing depth was indicated along the sides to a maximum of 2.5 meters. The deck was constructed of textured concrete ending on either side in varnished wood trellises mounted with pool lights. Four chaises lounges and three sets of table-and-chairs, shaded by umbrellas, were distributed around the deck. A bar with a shade awning stood on the right hand side.

  “Was she found at the deep end?” Paula asked.

  “Right,” Edward answered. “Mr. Miedema, one of our guests, discovered the body when he came to do his early morning laps.”

  “He’s the one who tried to revive her?”

  “Yes, he did CPR until a doctor we had staying here arrived and pronounced Heather dead.”

  “Is the doctor still around?”

  “No, he checked out the day before yesterday, I believe—went back to the UK.”

  “What about Mr. Miedema?”

  “He’s staying until next week Wednesday. If you’d like to talk to him after we leave from here, we can check if he’s back from work. That’s his chalet over there. But he’s one of our most valued guests, so please be diplomatic. What am I saying? You are always diplomatic.”

  Paula beamed at her old friend. “Yes, I’d like to chat with him. And I will do my best not to embarrass you.” She turned her gaze in the direction of his pointing finger. About 200 meters away, an earth-red, thatched cottage was nestled in a thicket of bougainvillea bushes.

  Returning her attention to the pool, she noticed a large, partitioned blue-gray slab on the roof of the structure that housed the bar. “Those look like solar panels.”

  “They are,” Edward said. “Mr. Miedema works for a solar installation company and he put in a small system for us last year. The large enclosure at the right is the control station containing the battery and the inverter.”

  “Impressive,” Paula said, trying to sound interested, but she was preoccupied with the haunting image of Heather drowning and the vain att
empts to revive her. She shuddered. Naked and drunk? Impossible.

  “Do you have CCTV installed anywhere?” she asked Edward hopefully.

  “Ah, if only,” he said, shaking his head in regret. “I’m going to have it put in now that this is happened. I’m sorry it’s too late for Heather.”

  “She stayed on the second floor of the hotel, correct?”

  “Yes. Two-sixteen.”

  “I’m curious whether anyone might have seen her go to the pool that night,” Paula said. “Has anyone reported that to you?”

  “No one has said anything to that effect—not to me, at least. Behind the lobby, there’s a private hallway for hotel guests that leads to a locked rear exit. It opens out to the back garden and swimming pool. To get back in, they can use their hotel keycard. So, very late at night when there are no guests around and there’s only one attendant at the desk, she could have easily slipped out unobserved.”

  “I see.” She paused. “Edward, do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Heather?”

  “Not at all,” he said, looking mystified. “Everyone liked her and that’s why it’s hard to imagine anyone hurting her, let alone killing. She was so friendly—maybe even a little too much.”

  That piqued Paula’s interest. “What do you mean?”

  “I worried when I saw her chatting with everyone from the housemaids to the gardeners and the security guards. You know, sometimes our people try to take advantage of foreigners who are kind to them.”

  “Did you ever express that to her?”

  “On one occasion, yes,” he said, with hesitancy.

  “What was her response?”

  “She just smiled and thanked me—said she would be okay.”

  But Paula was still curious. “Was there someone in particular you were concerned about? Someone she was friendly to?”

  “I didn’t like the way Amadu, one of the security guards, used to stare at her and go out of his way to engage her in conversation,” Edward said, his distaste showing. “It wasn’t his place to do so, and I warned him to stop.”

  Good, Paula thought. I may be getting somewhere. “Do you think there was anything more? I mean, something between the two of them?”

  Edward seemed repelled by the idea. “No, I don’t.”

  “Is Amadu here today?”

  Edward shook his head. “I sacked him.”

  “Oh,” Paula said in surprise. “Because he was being forward with Heather?”

  “Not that. I’ll explain. The guards are mostly occupied at the front of the hotel—they sit near the sentry box and keep an eye on who comes and goes—but they’re also supposed to patrol the rear of the hotel at least once every two hours during their shift.

  “Amadu came on duty as usual at nine that Sunday night. He admitted he went to the back around ten but not after that. If he had, he might have found Heather before it was too late, or maybe even before something happened. That’s why I sacked him. Neglect of his duties.”

  An idea leapt into Paula’s mind. “Is there any way I could get in touch with him?”

  “I suppose,” Edward said, clearly taken aback. “I can text you his number if you want, Madame Detective.”

  She smiled at his playful jab. “Thank you. Again, I’m sorry for being so nosy. I’m still so troubled by Heather’s death, and I really want to understand.”

  “No, I understand completely,” he said, nodding vigorously as he scrolled through his phone contacts. “I’ll send you the number now, and then we’ll go to see Mr. Miedema.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jost Miedema welcomed them into his chalet, cordially shaking hands with Paula as Edward introduced her. He was a tall, tanned, lean white man with a bony face and a rugged nose that might have been broken at some point in his life. His brown hair, styled with gel, had strands of gray.

  “Please, do sit down and make yourselves comfortable,” he said, a slight Ghanaian lilt to his underlying Dutch accent. “Can I offer you anything? A soft drink or water?”

  His visitors politely declined as they took their seats. The sitting room, carpeted lushly and furnished with soft leather armchairs and dark mahogany side tables, was deliciously chilled by a whisper-quiet air conditioner. The compact, gleaming kitchen was visible on the other side of a small dining section. Paula assumed the bedroom was at the end of a short hallway on the other side of the sitting room.

  “This is really lovely,” she said to Miedema. “Much more spacious than it looks from outside.”

  “Thank you.” He patted Edward on the back. “I’m grateful to my dear friend here. He takes good care of me.”

  “You deserve it,” Edward said. “You and your company have been our faithful customers for years.”

  Miedema looked soberly at Paula. “I know Heather worked with you at the High Street Academy, so I want to say a special sorry for your loss.”

  “That means a lot to me,” Paula said. “I owe you special thanks as well for trying so valiantly to save her.”

  “If only,” he said with obvious regret. “I’ve been reliving that morning with nightmares. I felt so futile and despairing as I was trying to bring her back to life, because in my heart, I knew I couldn’t. And all the time I was asking myself how this could have happened.”

  Paula saw his eyes cloud up and she felt moved. “It must have been a terrible feeling.”

  “It was,” he said softly. “You know, Heather and I met soon after she had arrived in Ghana. I saw her swimming laps in the pool and I complimented her. We chatted for a while, and when she found out that I’d been a triathlete and swimming trainer, she asked if I would help her work on her stamina and speed. Of course, I said yes.”

  This was new information for Paula. “You swam together?”

  “Most of the time I’d stand at the side of the pool and time her,” Miedema said, miming the use of a stopwatch, “or use a camera to take shots that we could analyze later—not that she had a lot to improve on. She was very good, but she was getting even better. We did race every once in a while for the fun of it.”

  “When did you find the time to do all this?” Paula asked. “I imagine you’re very busy.”

  “In the evenings, mostly. I swim regularly in the mornings, but Heather said that would be too much of a rush for her.”

  “The papers reported that you found Heather naked,” Paula said, finding it awkward to bring this up with a man she had only just met.

  He nodded, looking almost as uncomfortable.

  “Forgive me for asking so many questions,” she said hastily, trying to put him at ease, “but you see, Heather was very dear to us at the Academy. We’re all trying to understand what could have happened. The nakedness alone…well, it’s just incomprehensible.”

  He met her eyes squarely. “I’m with you. I’ve been going over that question in my mind and thinking back on the events on Monday. I woke up at five forty, my usual time. As I got to the pool, I saw her body at the bottom near the deep end. I dived in and within a few seconds I brought her up and out onto the side, where I started to do CPR. But she was cold and stiff, so I knew I was too late.”

  “Did you notice if her clothing was anywhere around the pool?”

  “I could have missed it in the excitement, but I didn’t see anything.” Miedema let out a long sigh. “I don’t know how to make any sense of it. Why was she naked in the pool without any sign of clothing around? Even if she was drunk or tipsy, I can’t imagine her leaving her room naked. That wasn’t like her.”

  Paula paused before phrasing her next question. “Mr. Miedema, I know this may sound a little strange, but were you aware of anyone who might have wanted to harm Heather? Or even kill her?”

  He contemplatively chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Look, I’m not making any accusations, but I think she was having trouble with the gentleman she was seeing. I’m aware he works at your school, Paula, so I don’t want to offend anyone.”

  “You won’t,” she replie
d easily. “When you say ‘having trouble,’ what do you mean?”

  “I don’t know how bad it was,” Miedema said, “but I can tell you that on Sunday evening, when I was coming back to the chalet from dinner at the hotel restaurant, I saw Heather arguing with him near the hibiscus bushes over by the pool—what’s his name again?”

  “Oliver,” Paula said. “Did you hear what they were saying?”

  “Not all of it, but at one point Heather said something like, ‘I don’t want to do this anymore.’ ”

  “Oliver didn’t…hit her or anything violent like that?” Paula asked, almost wincing with the fear that the answer might be ‘yes.’

  Miedema shook his head. “No—not that I saw, at least.”

  She felt relieved. “Did you hear any commotion or disturbance much later that night, by any chance? Maybe by the pool?”

  “I wish I had,” he said regretfully, “but the way the chalets are built, the two bedrooms are located to the rear, so there could be a pool party going on and I would hear little or nothing.”

  Lost in their individual thoughts, they were all quiet for a moment until Paula thought of something. “Those solar lights around the pool—are they on all night?”

  “Yes,” Edward said. “They’re set to turn off at six in the morning.”

  “I understand you installed them,” she said to Miedema with a smile.

  “Yes,” he said, looking pleased. “I work for a small solar power company called Greenlight, based in Amsterdam. We offer cost-effective solar installations to sub-Saharan Africa. I put in solar lighting around the pool last year for Edward. They’ll recoup the upfront cost of the system in no time at all without the electricity bills and the headache of the constant power failures you’ve been having here in Ghana. Hydroelectric power is not the best thing for this country.”

  “I think I was only half paying attention when Edward was explaining the system,” Paula said. “You have the solar panels, the battery, and what else?”

  “The inverter,” Miedema said, clearly relieved that they had moved to a happier topic. “The panels convert the sun’s energy and charge the batteries. The batteries discharge to the inverter, which switches the direct current to alternating. That’s what powers the lights around the pool.”