Kwei Quartey - Murder at Cape Three Points

Thinking he’d try Charles Smith-Aidoo’s home, he had the taxi skirt the center of town, back to Shippers Circle and past Planter’s Lodge to Beach Drive. The taxi driver blew his horn, and after a few moments, Gamal opened the gate and they pulled in.

“Good eve’ng, sir,” Gamal said, saluting to Dawson as he got out.

“Good evening, Gamal. Have you seen the doctor today?”

“Please, I have not seen her.”

“If she comes, can you ask her to please call me? You remember me?”

“Yes, please.”

“Thank you very much, Gamal.”

Dawson was just about to turn and leave when he realized he would be missing an opportunity.

“How long did you work for Mr. and Mrs. Smith-Aidoo?” he asked Gamal in a conversational tone.

“About fifteen years.”

“Really. A long time, eh?”

“Yes, please,” Gamal said.

“They treated you very well.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sorry what happened to them.”

Gamal nodded, looking down for a moment and back up. “It pained me. Too much.”

Dawson thought he had never seen anyone look so crumpled and sad, and he realized how devoted Gamal must have been to Charles and Fiona Smith-Aidoo.

“You take care of all this?” he asked Gamal, gesturing toward the manicured grounds with hibiscus and frangipani trees.

“Yes, please.”

“You do a very fine job. It looks beautiful.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gamal said, smiling broadly.

“Is there a garden in the back?”

“Yes, please.”

“Can you show it to me?”

“Oh, yes sir.”

He walked with Gamal around the side of the house toward the rear. “What’s going to happen to you now that Mr. and Mrs. Smith-Aidoo are no longer here?”

“Please, I think the doctor will sell the house, and then I will work for her.”

“I see. Do you stay here all the time?”

“Yes, please. I dey for boys’ quarters.”

The high wall enclosing the rear of the house had both razor wire and bougainvillea running along its top edge. The garden was shaded and green, just as well tended as in the front of the house. On its far side was an exit door, which Gamal unlocked and opened inward. Dawson went through and emerged to open space very unlike the confines of the garden behind the wall. The vegetation was wild and free, with hardy scrub in patches down an incline to the beach barely 500 meters away. He stood for a while looking out across the Gulf of Guinea to the horizon. It was a spectacular view. He realized he would love to own a home with a view like this.

“Who uses this door?” he asked.

“Sometimes when people used to come to visit the house, they pass here to go to the beach. ’Specially the white people.”

“Which white people used to come here?”

“One Mr. Cal-… Cam-”

“Calmy-Rey?”

“Eh-heh, that one. Him and his wife.”

“How many times were they here?”

“Anyway, I’m not so sure. Three times or so.”

“When was the last time they came here?”

Gamal turned the corners of his mouth down, thinking. “Please, maybe some six months.”

“And who else? What about one white man with red hair, they call him Mr. Reggie Cardiman?”

Gamal shook his head slowly and sucked his teeth three times in a row. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, now, what about the Ghanaians? Do you know one Jason Sarbah?”

Gamal seemed unsure, so Dawson described what Sarbah looked like.

“Oh, yes,” Gamal said, nodding vigorously. “I know the one. He too, he come here one time to make argument with Massa Charles.”

“You heard them arguing?”

“It was that man Sarbah cause the palava. At that time, I was in the kitchen, so I heard what he said.”

“Did he threaten Massa?”

He shook his head again. “No, he was just shouting say why Massa don’t give him money.”

That confirmed Jason’s desperate quest for funds to save Angela, his daughter.

“Who else used to come here?” Dawson persisted. He didn’t want anyone left out.

“Another man too,” Gamal said, “but now I forget his name. One night, I came to the garden to get the water hose. I heard some people talking behind that bush.”

He pointed to a large jasmine bush with its fragrant, star-shaped white flowers. “I went there with my torchlight, and I found the man with the madam.”

“You say you found the man with Madam. Doing what?”

Gamal looked away, apparently deeply embarrassed. He was squirming with so much discomfort that Dawson decided to move on. “Was Massa Charles at home at that time?”

“No, please.”

“But he was in Takoradi?”

“Yes, please.”

“You say you can’t remember the name of the man who was with Madam. Can you describe him?”

“A little fat. Not so tall. At that time, I didn’t know him, but some two months after Massa and Madam die, when I was walking in Takoradi town with my friend, I saw that man again, and I ask my friend if he know who the man is. My friend say the man own one stationery shop in Takoradi.”

“Stationery shop. Which stationery shop?”

“They call it Abraham Stationery. It dey for Kofi Annan Road, near Barclays. The man who own that store be the man who was with Madam.”

Dawson’s blood turned to ice.

HE SAT IN THE lodge sitting room with his elbows on the table and his head between his hands. A little fat, not too tall. He owns the Abraham Stationery Store. The words kept echoing. Gamal had described Dawson’s cousin. Two people-DeSouza and Chikata’s fellow partygoer-had claimed that Fiona had been having an affair with a “businessman” in town. Is it Abraham? It must be a mistake , Dawson thought desperately, but no matter which way he tried to twist it, he came right back to his cousin.

He went to the kitchen as he heard light knocking on the door, opened up, and was surprised to see Dr. Smith-Aidoo on the step.

“Good evening, Inspector. Gamal told me that you came by earlier, so I thought I would return the favor.”

“Thank you very much, Doctor. Please come in.”

He invited her to take a seat in the sitting room and he sat opposite her. She was dressed in a sleek, all-black pants suit.

“Long day at work, Doctor?”

“Yes, very much so. I just returned from Kumasi yesterday. I’m sorry I missed your calls.”

“No problem. I just wanted to update you on our progress.”

Not that he had an enormous amount to tell her, but Dawson knew that keeping in close touch with her at each stage of the game was the best way to maintain good relations. He suspected that Superintendent Hammond had failed to do that, perhaps giving the doctor a false impression that he was doing little or nothing in the case. After briefing her for a few minutes, Dawson had a question for her.

“I hope I don’t offend,” he said, “but my sergeant and I have both heard that your Auntie Fiona might have been having an affair with a local businessman. Do you know anything about that?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to be naïve, but I would never have thought it of her. I suppose I’m idealizing her. This local businessman-do you know who?”

“Not yet.”

An awkward pause hung briefly in the air. Dr. Smith-Aidoo hurried to fill it. “How’s Hosiah recovering from his surgery?”

“Very well, thank you. You’ve never mentioned a husband or children. I hope you don’t mind my asking?”

“I don’t mind. No children, never been married, and not attached. I was seeing a fellow physician for a while, but he turned out to be too domineering. Wanted to get married and start me churning out the babies like a factory. I’m not ready for that. I’d like to set up my own practice in Takoradi before that ever happens.”