Kwei Quartey - Wife of the Gods

“You may feel glad I haven’t lost my humanity,” Dawson said, “but I personally feel worthless.”

“Because you’re in the thick of it. I have the luxury of not being you.”

Dawson laughed and began to feel a little better.

“What do you think I should do now?” he asked Armah.

“Who cares what I think? What do you want to do?”

“Solve the case, of course. I’m officially off it, but with three weeks of suspension to spare, I might as well use the time fruitfully.” Dawson reflected somberly for a moment. “I owe it not only to Gladys, but to Samuel as well.”

“There you are then. You think Chikata will cause problems if he sees you back in Ketanu? Run to Lartey and tell on you?”

“I don’t doubt he will.”

“I’ll put a call in to Chikata’s father, pull some strings, and make sure his boy keeps his trap shut.”

“I didn’t realize you knew his father.”

“I know a lot of people.”

“That’s true.”

“So what do we have so far on the case?” Armah said. “For practical purposes we’ve ruled Sowah out. We are not even considering Samuel, but we still wonder about Isaac Kutu and Togbe Adzima. I’m just worried we’ve overlooked someone. What about family? You always look at family.”

“Their alibis all fit. There’s nothing there, motive or otherwise. I need to pin down Adzima and Kutu.”

“Something doesn’t feel right about Adzima though,” Armah said. “As both the murderer and the bracelet thief, I mean.”

“How so?”

Armah shrugged. “If he killed her, we say the motive is his fear and loathing of her, not robbery. So, then, why does he steal her bracelet?”

“Because he’s a swine?”

“Well, yes, he is,” Armah said quite seriously. “But it still doesn’t sit comfortably with me. Now, I could see him taking the bracelet off just as a petty thief with no respect for the dead.”

“I get what you mean, but it would be a shame not to track him all the way down.”

“You’re absolutely right, and I shouldn’t have implied it wasn’t a lead to be followed. Now, to Isaac Kutu. I think he may have had a motive, but he’s a difficult person to peg. When I was investigating your mother’s disappearance, I had the strangest feeling about him, but I was never able to connect any dots that included him. You remember what I told you about solving mysteries?”

“That it’s a matter of making a few of the connections and the rest will fall into place.”

“A-plus. That is what solving mysteries is all about. Now, let’s eat.”

“Oh,” Dawson said brightly. “You cooked?”

“Ha, you’re funny. When have you ever known me to cook? No, Maude prepared it and left it all ready to be heated up. Which is about all I know how to do.”

D AWSON RETURNED FROM KUMASIon Monday morning after breakfast with Armah. He was sorry he had missed Maude and the grandkids, and he invited Armah and his family to come to Accra and visit in the near future. Armah’s last words were “By the way, my best advice is try not to beat so many people up.” He had said it in a humorous tone, but Dawson knew he had meant it, and it was advice well taken.

Before he went into Ketanu, he took a detour to the VRA Hospital to look for Elizabeth. He found the female surgical ward and walked down the long row of stark metal beds looking for her. He found her in a vestibule that had been converted to accommodate a hospital bed, giving her more privacy than the patients in the general ward. She was propped up on ample pillows, and the bed was covered with a bright kente spread. He hesitated at the foot of her bed because it appeared she was sleeping, but she opened one normal and one swollen eye and said, “Detective Inspector Dawson. Come along, I won’t bite.”

Her head was bandaged, and her right arm was resting across her middle in a cast and sling. He sat on the edge of her bed.

“How are you feeling, Auntie Elizabeth?”

“Like I’ve been kicked by a set of donkeys.”

“In a way you have, but I would call them asses. What does the doctor say?”

“My arm was broken, so Dr. Biney set it, and they had to sew my head up. I suppose to keep me from losing whatever little is inside.”

She tried to chuckle but winced as she realized it hurt to do so. “Ouch. I’ve just been reminded I have two broken ribs.”

“I’m not staying long,” Dawson said. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, Dawson, thank you. Dorcas and Kofi and Charles were here earlier, and they made sure I was taken care of.”

“When will the doctor release you?”

“In a day or two,” she said. “I’m so glad to see you, Dawson. I’ve been thinking over some things-since that’s about all I can do right now. When I get out, I want to continue what Gladys started.”

“Specifically?”

“She wanted to set up a shelter for trokosi women-somewhere they could escape and be protected from their fetish-priest husbands. I want to build a center to honor Gladys’s memory.”

“You’ll have my complete support,” Dawson said. “As a matter of fact, here’s what I hope is your first private donation.”

He dug into his pocket and peeled off some bills.

“It’s not much,” he said, “but it’s a start.”

“Thank you. You’re a very good man.”

Dawson was about to leave when Elizabeth said, “I haven’t forgotten about the trip to Ho to see if we can track down the bracelet. As soon as I get out.”

“Thanks, but get better first. Don’t worry about me.”

Dawson went to Auntie Osewa and asked if he could stay with them for a while.

“But of course you can!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Stay as long as you like.”

He would have to share Alifoe’s room, but he didn’t mind, nor did he care that the best mattress they had for him was made of foam as thin as a wafer.

He needed to go into town to look for Constable Gyamfi, but Osewa wouldn’t allow him to leave without a full lunch of fufu and palm nut soup. They ate in the courtyard under the shade of a piece of canvas strung from the wall to a post. Alifoe and Kweku were at the cocoa farm.

“Auntie, you’re going to make me want to take a long nap this afternoon,” Dawson said as he ate.

“You should, Darko,” she said firmly. “It would be good for you.”

“I wish I could, but I have work to do.”

“Are you still trying to find out who killed Gladys?”

“Yes.”

“Samuel was not the one, then?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why do you think not?”

Dawson took a mouthful and closed his eyes for a moment as he savored the flavor. “What did you say?”

“About Samuel.”

“Oh, yes. There are many reasons why I don’t think he did it.”

“I see. Well, you know your job…” She paused.

“But what?” he prompted.

“But from what I heard, he was… No, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead.”

“It doesn’t matter what you heard, Auntie Osewa. He didn’t kill Gladys Mensah.”

“Yes, yes, it’s all right. I believe you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing. Auntie Osewa, I might have to live with you and get fat.”

She laughed, leaned over, and pinched his cheek. “You’re a sweet boy.”

He smiled. Still a boy to her.

Dawson did not have to tackle the police station to find Gyamfi because, as he was on the way into town, the constable called him to say he was headed to Auntie Osewa’s to see Dawson. They met about halfway and found a quiet spot to talk.

“Did you find out anything?” Dawson asked.