Kwei Quartey - Children of the Street

“You stay in the servants’ quarters at all times?”

“When the doctor has dinner parties, or if he needs me early in the morning, then I don’t go home.”

“Where do you live?”

“In Madina, please.”

“When was Dr. Botswe’s last dinner party?”

“Twenty-second June.”

“And you waited for all the guests to leave?”

“Yes, around two o’clock, and then I cleaned everything after that.”

“What time did the doctor go to bed?”

“I said good night to him about three in the morning.”

“That’s very late.”

“He doesn’t sleep well. Since the wife died, you see. Sometimes he stays up for hours listening to his music. I go to bed only when he tells me he doesn’t need me for anything more.”

“I see. You’re one of the most devoted people I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you, Inspector. I just try my best.”

“Wait for me here.”

“Yes, please.”

Dawson went outside, where Chikata was making phone calls. “I got hold of the sister, Eloise,” he told Dawson. “She wasn’t happy about hearing from me at this time of the night, but she confirmed Botswe’s Kumasi visit. I got one confirmation on the dinner party.”

“Thank you, Chikata. That’s probably enough for the night. We’ll follow up with the rest later on.”

Dawson returned to Obi. “You’re free to go,” he told him.

“That’s all?” Obi was surprised. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. A constable will drive you back home with the doctor and Mrs. Kusi.”

Obi’s eyes dropped.

Dawson nodded. “It’s okay. The secret is safe.”

The Daily Graphic reported that Detective Inspector Dawson of CID had led a raid of world-renowned Professor Allen Botswe’s home and “arrested” the criminal psychologist for possible child abduction. The professor was later released when it was discovered that his only crime had been an “act of pure compassion and humanitarianism.”

On Joy FM’s Super Morning Show , Kojo Oppong-Nkrumah and his sidekick dissected the newspaper stories and pointed out the irony that D.I. Dawson and Dr. Botswe had been on the Drive Time show together only two days before. What was this detective inspector thinking ?

Dawson got to work in a foul mood that wasn’t improved by practically everyone talking about him. He was the overnight sensation in all the wrong ways. Chikata didn’t dare say a word when Dawson walked into the office like an ogre. They both knew that at nine o’clock sharp Dawson would be summoned to Lartey’s office.

“What happened?” the chief supol demanded.

Dawson was able to tell him only a portion of the story. Lartey cut him short as he snatched a copy of the Graphic from his desk. He held it up to Dawson’s face.

“Have you read this?”

“I glanced at it.”

“ Glanced . Well, I suggest you read it to see just how much of a fool you look.”

“It’s the press, sir. That’s what they do.”

“Oh, now it’s the press’s fault? D.I. Dawson, competence is our responsibility and in competence our burden.”

“Nothing incompetent about this, sir. Just because Botswe has social status doesn’t mean he doesn’t get investigated. Taking a child off the street and bundling him into a car does not look aboveboard to me.”

“But it turned out it was , and the sad thing is that you could have figured it all out with just a few minutes’ chat with Dr. Botswe at his house . You did not have to arrest the man, not to mention the other two.”

“I didn’t arrest him, sir.”

“It amounted to the same thing, especially in the public’s view.”

“He came voluntarily.”

“Just barely. You threatened to handcuff him first. Don’t think I don’t know every single detail of what happened, Dawson. Botswe called me himself early this morning.”

“Did he really.”

“Oh yes. He said you were arrogant, cocky, and insolent. And I believe him because that’s exactly what’s on display right now. What happens to you, Dawson? You’re going along nice and steady with the investigation progressing smoothly, and then it’s as though someone turns a switch and you go off the rails and everything is out of control. Why is that?”

“I don’t know how to answer that. I’m sorry you feel everything is out of control.”

“I do, Dawson. And if you had a little humility, you would see it yourself. Have you checked Dr. Botswe’s alibis?”

“I have,” Dawson said soberly. “He’s telling the truth. He was in Kumasi at the time Musa Zakari was killed. He was also holding a dinner party the night Comfort was murdered.”

“Exactly correct.”

“You looked into it yourself, sir?”

“Of course I did, Dawson. When he called me, I asked him for the details of his alibi and then I did my own little bit of detecting-probably even faster than you did. I didn’t get to be chief superintendent of police by being an idiot, you know.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that.”

Lartey sighed. “This is what you’re going to do. You’re to issue a public apology to Dr. Botswe and his guest and staff member through the press. That’s number one. Number two, you will visit Dr. Botswe and personally apologize for maltreating and disrespecting him. Three, you will from now on report to me every single morning what your plans are for each day before you embark upon them. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”

Lartey pointed a finger at him. “You’re lucky that practically everybody is tied up with the Ghana Petroleum affair, otherwise I might have removed you from this case. So be thankful.”

“Yes, indeed,” Dawson said, standing up. “Every day, sir, I count my blessings.”

In the afternoon, Dawson made his atonement pilgrimage to Dr. Botswe’s house. Obi came to the gate but did not open it. He was cold, and his previous deference toward Dawson was gone.

“The doctor is not here,” he said flatly. “You have to wait.”

“When will he be back, please?” Dawson asked politely. “About four o’clock.”

“All right,” Dawson said, glancing at his watch. Only about thirty minutes away. “I’ll wait.”

Since he was now persona non grata, he wasn’t expecting to be invited in. He wasn’t. Obi turned away and went back to his gardening or fixing things, or whatever it was he had been doing.

Dawson sat and waited while he thought dispiritedly about things. His concentration on people like Socrate, Austin, and Botswe seemed misplaced. Maybe this murderer is just some lunatic roaming the streets of Accra. You might not just be looking at the wrong trees, you could be in the wrong forest completely .

What should he do now? Should the surveillance continue, and for how long? As long as Lartey would tolerate it, Dawson thought, which would not be much longer. He was feeling deflated and listless. Maybe he was out of his depth. After all, he had never had a serial killer case, rare as they were in Ghana.

Botswe showed up about four-thirty in his lovely Infiniti. He glided into the garage. He had evidently spotted Dawson because Obi came out a few minutes later to tell him that the doctor would be able to see him now.

Botswe was at the window in the sitting room looking out onto the garden.

“Good afternoon, Doctor,” Dawson said.

The professor turned slowly. “Inspector.”

“How are you?”

“As well as could be expected, I suppose. Please, have a seat.”

They both sat down.

“Dr. Botswe,” Dawson began, “I owe you a big apology for my actions last night. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. It was a complete blunder on my part.”