The Missing American

by Kwei Quartey

  Bruno and Nii left in silence and closed the door behind them. The military officer and the man in the suit eyed them.

  “We too, we need water to drink,” the suit said pointedly.

  “By all means,” Nii said. He got out his wallet and gave them each a fifty-cedi bill.

  EIGHTY

  On Friday morning, bathing in the afterglow of the successful meeting with Godfather, Nii texted Ponsu that things had gone very well. Hours later, the priest, not the fastest texter in the world, replied to say Nii should come to his compound that afternoon before Ponsu headed to Atimpoku for the weekend.

  “Okay, Daddy,” Nii said.

  As was typical for Ponsu, he kept Nii waiting at the compound for an eternity before showing up. He had been to a funeral and was resplendent in crimson and black cloth. He seemed unusually preoccupied as Nii followed him into the house.

  “Have a seat,” Ponsu said, casting around for the remote for his new air-conditioning unit. To his annoyance, he couldn’t locate it, so he sat down on the bed. “So, talk about Godfather. How is he?”

  “He’s fine. He was happy to see us.”

  Ponsu rolled down his cloth to his waist to help cool off. “What about Bruno? Did Godfather say something about him?”

  “He was praising Bruno. Very happy. And Godfather blessed the two of us.”

  “Good, good. Now, Bruno will see the money flowing.”

  “Yes please,” Nii said. “Daddy, I want to ask you about a certain woman who was at my house yesterday—”

  “One of your girlfriends?”

  Nii laughed a little. “No, this one is just a friend. Bruno’s sister.”

  “Eh-heh? And what?”

  “Please, she wants to do sakawa too.”

  “Is that so? Bruno trusts her?”

  “Yes please.”

  “Her name?”

  “Emma.”

  “You have a photo?”

  “Yes please.” Nii went to his recent pics. “Here.”

  Ponsu took the phone and studied the photo. “It seems I know her,” he said.

  “Please, spiritually?”

  “No,” Ponsu said. “I’ve seen her before somewhere.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Ponsu rubbed his forehead. “Wait, wait. It’s coming.” His head snapped up. “This girl is a detective.”

  Nii stiffened. “Please, you say what? A detective? What kind of detective?”

  “She’s something like an apprentice with that guy’s private investigator agency—Yemo Sowah. Both came to see me in May asking me about the white man, the one who was your mugu. This is the woman you say wants to be sakawa?”

  Nii was in state of confusion. “Please, are you sure this is the same woman?”

  Ponsu looked one more time and returned Nii’s phone. “Yes, it’s her. What did you tell her?”

  “Bruno trusts her,” Nii said, “so I told them it’s okay for her to come inside with us and I can start to show her things.”

  Ponsu’s eyes narrowed. “And what else?”

  Nii said, “She asked me if I ever used a woman before to get money from a mugu and I told her yes.”

  Ponsu leaned forward and slapped him hard. “Kwasea!”

  Nii jumped not only at the impact of the priest’s hand but the very idea that Ponsu had struck him. It had never happened before, and he felt tears prick his eyes.

  “You should know better,” Ponsu said. “This woman is investigating you, don’t you see? Because she’s fine, she has blinded you. You know you have to consult me first about these things.”

  Emotionally wounded, Nii was almost crying. “Please, I think she’s real. Even if she was a detective, she wants to do the sakawa.”

  Ponsu seemed to halfway consider that as a possibility but then he returned to his preceding stance. “Don’t talk to that girl anymore. Do you still trust Bruno? Why didn’t he tell you the girl is a detective?”

  “Please, I don’t think he even knows the kind of job she does. They don’t see each other often.”

  Ponsu was skeptical. “Find out about her, you understand?”

  “Yes please. I will do that.”

  “Okay, look,” Ponsu said, softening. “I’m sorry for slapping you, eh?”

  “No problem.” Nii managed a smile.

  “Just be careful in the future.”

  “Yes please.”

  “And I think you have some cash for me today.”

  Nii Kwei met DI Doris Damptey at their usual spot, and as always, he treated her to a massive meal, this time of fufu and groundnut soup. The woman’s appetite was boundless, and she ate with relish.

  “I want to ask you something, Auntie,” Nii said.

  “What?”

  He showed her his selfie with Emma and Bruno. “Do you know this woman?”

  She sucked her fingers. “Emma Djan. She used to be with CID.”

  “What does she do for a living?”

  “Private investigator now. With Yemo Sowah. She’s too inquisitive. I don’t like her at all.”

  “You’re sure she’s still a private detective?”

  “Yes, isn’t that what I said? Are you doubting me?”

  Nii grinned. “I would never doubt such a wondrous woman as yourself, Auntie.”

  “Please.” Damptey rolled her eyes. “So, what about Emma?”

  “She was at my house yesterday asking questions about how she can become a sakawa girl. Kweku Ponsu thinks she’s investigating something about me.”

  “And he’s right!” Damptey said heatedly. “This girl a sakawa? Don’t mind her! She and Sowah were looking into what happened to that white man who drowned in the Volta River. Once they found the body, Sowah told my boss that they won’t be trying to investigate this any longer. So why is this girl still doing it? And Bruno, too—what is he doing with her?”

  “I don’t know,” Nii said. “I thought I trusted him, but I’m not so sure now. What should we do?”

  “I’m going to report that girl to our DCOP Laryea. He’ll take it from there.” Damptey sucked her fingers and smacked her lips.

  “As for Bruno, well, find out if he’s working with that girl and warn him to stop.”

  In the morning, Damptey found out DCOP Laryea was out of town and otherwise unavailable. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she consulted DCS Quaino. But he didn’t want to get involved.

  “Mr. Sowah was my father’s mate,” he said. “How do you think I’m going to call him with a complaint about his employee? That’s disrespectful.”

  “Yes, sir,” Damptey said. After lunch, she decided to take it to the top and put in a request to Sergeant Thelma for a meeting with Director-General Andoh. He saw Damptey a couple of hours later in his office and listened without comment while she described the problem of meddlesome Emma Djan.

  “Why didn’t you report this to DCOP Laryea?” Andoh asked.

  “Please, he’s not in. I think he has left for the weekend.”

  The DG eyed her with disfavor. “And this couldn’t wait until Monday when he returns?”

  “Please, I thought one of my superiors should be alerted.”

  Andoh scowled at her and heaved a sigh. “You let the DCOP know when he returns on Monday. Don’t trouble me with this kind of trivial issue. You are dismissed.”

  Damptey left feeling useless and embarrassed. In retrospect, it did seem a petty issue to take to the director-general, but to her, it was still very important. Damptey strongly resented Emma Djan. She needed to be silenced.

  Back in his office, Andoh got on his phone and called the IGP. “Good morning, sir. Yes, sir, thank you, sir. I wanted to keep you updated regarding the sakawa investigation. No, sir, not exactly a new development, but it seems the lady investigator from the Sowah Detective Agency is contin
uing the inquiries. Yes, Emma Djan. As far as I was aware, sir, her boss informed DCOP Laryea that they would relinquish the investigation to us. Yes, sir. So, I’m not sure if Sowah was telling us a lie, or has changed his mind, or whether the girl is doing this on her own accord . . . Okay, sir. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll take care of it.”

  EIGHTY-ONE

  On the way to work Friday, Emma called Bruno to find out what had transpired during the Godfather meeting. She could barely wait to hear. He didn’t answer initially but returned the call soon after Emma had gotten down at her tro-tro stop.

  “Yes, we met with him,” Bruno told her, “and I think I got a good video, but his face wasn’t familiar to me, so I can’t tell you who he is.”

  “And Nii doesn’t know either?” Emma asked.

  “Nii always calls him ‘Godfather,’ nothing else. But Sana will recognize who the man is as soon as I show him the video this morning.”

  “Okay, then call me later.”

  No sooner had Emma arrived at her workstation, Beverly called out to her from her desk.

  “Someone on line two for you, Emma. I asked who’s calling but he doesn’t want to say.”

  “Thanks.” She pressed the line two blinking button. “Emma Djan speaking.”

  The voice from the other end sounded as if it were emerging from a tin can. Emma couldn’t say whether it was male or female. It said, “Stop looking into Mr. Tilson, stop looking into sakawa unless you want to die.”

  “Hello?”

  The line cut. Emma felt a wave of icy heat pass through her. She put the receiver down. So, it’s come to this, she thought. Threats to her life.

  Bruno delivered the watch to Sana, who was preparing to move to a new location with his team. Everyone was jumpy after the assassination attempt. For a while, Sana would be moving around more frequently.

  Bruno gave an account of the visit with Godfather chapter and verse.

  “Thank you, my brother,” Sana said. “You’ve done well. Beautiful job. We are packing up now to go to our new location near Achimota Forest. When we’re there and have set everything up, probably by tomorrow morning, I’ll call you and give you directions. By that time, I will have downloaded your video along with some of the clips from the other investigators. The project is coming together nicely.”

  “Yes please. Thank you, Sana.”

  He had some cash in a crisp envelope for Bruno, who smiled and thought he would have some fun this weekend. Perhaps he might even go to Mövenpick.

  When he returned to his room at Cocobod, he felt strained and tired and lay down to take a nap. He had no idea how long he had been asleep when his phone next rang.

  “Ei, Nii Kwei,” he mumbled. “How be?”

  For a moment Nii didn’t answer and Bruno thought the call had dropped. But then Nii spoke.

  “Chaley, what’s going on?”

  “Oh, everything cool. I dey take some small nap.”

  “Your sister, Emma, I found out today she works for that Yemo Sowah detective agency.”

  Bruno’s stomach plunged. “To be honest my brodda,” he said, “she didn’t tell me where she works.”

  “Has she talked to you today?”

  “No, not at all,” Bruno lied. “Chaley, what’s wrong?”

  “Your sister is a detective and she was here asking me all kind of questions and now you ask me ‘what’s wrong?’”

  “Nii, don’t worry. She’s not after anything bad. I don’t know where she works, but I know she wants to be a sakawa girl for sure.”

  Nii was silent again for a few beats. “Watch out, Bruno. Be very careful.”

  The call ended. Bruno looked at his phone screen for a moment as if that would reveal what in the name that had all been about. Then he called Emma and told her what had just occurred.

  “And someone called the office a couple of hours ago and when I answered, he hung up,” Emma said. “It must have been Nii.”

  Bruno was alarmed. “Sis, don’t do anything more with the American man’s case unless you let me know, okay? Sana will see my Godfather video tomorrow and from there, we can see what to do.”

  Emma hesitated. “Okay. We’ll talk soon, then.”

  When Bruno hung up, he was surprised to see it was already six-thirty in the evening. He was famished. He slipped on his chale-wote and went outside where the town was loud and alive. Food sellers were out in force to feed the hungry thousands. Delicious food smells mixed with car exhaust. Music from chop bars competed for people’s ears above the hubbub of humanity. Bruno felt like kenkey and crisp-fried fish with lots of fiery shito and he walked to his favorite seller over the rough, unpaved sidewalk. She had sold from the same spot for years, but nowadays one got a smaller amount of chop for almost twice the price it was when Bruno was a little boy. But the aroma from the steaming ball of kenkey still held the power to make his salivary glands contract, and he was in a hurry to get back to his room for the feast.

  Bruno was unlocking the door when he had a sense that something was wrong. He began to turn around but never completed the motion. Something struck the back of his head and he thought his skull had been split open. He fell forward, hit the door frame and bounced backward onto the ground. He rolled over and tried to sit up, briefly glimpsing the silhouettes of two powerful men. They half dragged, half lifted Bruno to the rear of his shack.

  “We know what you are doing,” they said together in Twi, punching him repeatedly in the face. His nose cracked and he tasted his salty blood. He fell back and they kicked him in the head and in his guts. “You better stop or we kill you next time.”

  Bruno waited for the next strike, but it didn’t come. He was suddenly alone. His mind told him to get up, but his body refused, and he sank into unconsciousness.

  EIGHTY-TWO

  On Saturday morning, Emma went to Madina Market to shop for the week. The frenetic hustle and bustle were typical of any Saturday and everything was selling from pots and pans to freshly butchered goat meat to wide-screen TVs and microwave ovens. At a fabrics shop, Emma was irresistibly drawn to a gorgeous purse made of red leather and a contrasting black-and-white strip of kente along one edge. She bargained obstinately with the vendor until she got the price she wanted. Returning home laden with heavy shopping bags, Emma wondered when Bruno might call her. Perhaps in the afternoon after he had viewed his secretly recorded video with Sana Sana.

  Having put her provisions away, Emma texted Bruno and waited about twenty minutes before trying both a voice and video call. Still no response. She began cooking, but not hearing from her stepbrother was bothering her. After trying one more time, she made up her mind. She needed to go to Cocobod to find him.

  Emma knocked on Bruno’s door, but no one responded. She looked around and then walked over to the marijuana-smokers’ corner. Bruno was nowhere. She went back to his door and banged harder this time.

  “Are you looking for Bruno?”

  Emma turned to find a man in his mid-forties. She remembered him as one of Bruno’s neighbors. “Yes,” she said. “Good afternoon. Do you know where he is?”

  He looked pained. “Oh, sorry to tell you. They found him this morning at the back of the house and took him to the hospital. Somebody beat him very badly last night.”

  Emma drew her breath in sharply. “Awurade.”

  “I think they took him to the Military Hospital.”

  “But, but was he okay?”

  “Anyway, I can’t say exactly. He could talk a little bit, but his face was very bad.”

  Emma felt sick. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll go there now.”

  When Emma got to the Military Hospital, someone told her that Bruno was most likely in the Trauma and Surgical Emergency ward. Emma wandered into the middle of a chaotic place with patients in various degrees of distress and pain lying on beds in the open ward. Young long- and
short-coated doctors worked on patients alongside senior physicians. A nurse told her she was supposed to be back in the waiting room.

  “I’m looking for—”

  “Go! You can’t be in here, don’t you understand?”

  Emma went back and found the receptionist’s desk, where she asked for Bruno.

  “He’s not here,” the receptionist said flatly.

  “Please, do you know where he is?”

  “They took him to the general medical ward. You can go there.”

  After some confusion over where that was, Emma located it and again asked for Bruno at the front desk. “He’s on the other side,” the receptionist said, pointing behind her and then adding, “but it’s not visiting hours, so you can’t see him.”

  Emma ignored her and went looking. They would have to drag her out if they wanted to make her leave. She put her head into each of three open wards and thought she saw Bruno at the far end in the third. But she wasn’t positive. She gingerly approached and looked at the name on the foot panel. It was Bruno. He lay on his back, his shirt off. His face was swollen and almost unrecognizable with one eye completely shut and multiple sutured lacerations. There were black and blue bruises all over his torso. Emma caught her breath in shock.

  Bruno opened the good eye and when he saw her, he attempted a smile. “Emma,” he whispered.

  Tears streaming, she took one of his hands as gently as if it might break. “How are you?” she said, choking on her voice.

  “Don’t cry,” he said. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  That attempt to reassure her only intensified her shock, grief, and the pain she felt for him. She sat at the side of the bed and leaned closer. “Who did it?” she whispered. “Did you see?”

  “Not well,” he said through inflamed lips, “but it was two of them, I think. Very strong. I went to buy kenkey and when I returned, they were waiting for me. They dragged me to the back of my place and beat me there.”