Kwei Quartey - Children of the Street

“Oh,” Cairo said, light dawning. “I see. Just a minute, though. What good is the lesson to his victims when they’re dead?”

“That’s easy. Whether traditional or Christian, so many people believe in the afterlife. The killer is sending them there branded with the proverbs, so to speak. Botswe called it right. It’s messianic, apocalyptic.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“I hate to admit it,” Cairo said, “but occasionally you’re brilliant.”

“It’s you who’s the brilliant one,” Dawson said, laughing. “And while we’re sitting around congratulating ourselves, we still have two more proverbs to dig up, so let’s get to it.”

They were quiet for the next fifteen minutes as they searched.

“Here’s something,” Cairo said. “Look at proverb number three-sixty.”

Dawson turned to it. “ ‘ Obi ntó ntasu ntó fam’ mfa ne t ε kr ε ma mfa ,’ ” he read. “Translation-no one spits on the ground and then licks up the spittle with his tongue. Lovely image, I must say.”

“Meaning you don’t defile yourself with what you’ve just defiled?”

“If that’s what the killer chose, maybe he’s saying the street children are sullied with the very filth they brought with them-immorality, disease, and so on?”

“Could be,” Cairo said.

“All right, we’ll take that one as a possibility. We have one more to go for the fingers.”

“I think everybody knows that one,” Cairo said. “ ‘No one points his left finger at his hometown.’ In other words, be proud of your village, town, or country.”

“The only problem with that,” Dawson said, “is that it was the fingers of his right hand chopped off, not the left.”

Cairo grunted. “Okay, never mind, then.”

“What about this?” Dawson said. “ ‘Adeo kake loko adeo enyo.’ Meaning, we must count one before we can count two. It doesn’t mention fingers itself, but he could be referring to counting on your fingers.”

“Maybe,” Cairo conceded. “A little subtler than the other two. So let’s suppose we’re right about this. How are you linking the street children to the Sankofa bird and the book of proverbs in Dr. Botswe’s house?”

“I think I have the answer to that,” Dawson said. “And that might mean I have the killer too.”

Austin was thrilled that his long-hoped-for discussion with Dawson was finally taking place. They sat in the detectives’ room. Austin seemed distracted by the noise.

“How do you work with all this going on around you?” he asked.

“We get used to it,” Dawson said.

He and Chikata were seated at the table across from Austin.

“I won’t take too much of your time,” Austin said. “I just need a little information on the deaths of these youngsters. Let’s see. The first one was Musa Zakari, then Ebenezer Sarpong, Comfort-I don’t have her last name-and finally Antwi Boasiako. Correct?”

“Correct,” Dawson said. He put the book of proverbs in front of Austin, watching for his reaction. “You know this book?”

Austin picked it up. “I’m not familiar with it. Should I be?”

“I believe so. You spent time reading it in Dr. Botswe’s study when you babysat the house for him.”

“I’m sorry, Inspector, but I’m confused. I’ve never seen this book before.”

“Turn to the first bookmarked page and read proverb number three sixty,” Dawson said.

“All right. It says, ‘No one spits on the ground and then licks up the spittle with his tongue.’ ”

“Yes. Go to the next bookmark. What does the highlighted proverb read?”

“ ‘We must count one before we can count two.’ ”

“What do these proverbs mean to you?”

“Em, well, nothing more than most proverbs mean to me.”

“You took those proverbs and modeled your signature on them, didn’t you? ‘The knee does not wear the hat when the head is available.’ That was for Comfort, so you gouged her knees out. Musa: ‘Count one before we can count two,’ so you chopped all his fingers off except the index.”

“Wait a minute,” Austin exclaimed in sudden realization. “Wait. Now I understand what you’re saying. You think I killed all those people? On the basis of these proverbs ? But Inspector Dawson, anyone could use any of these proverbs to fit with death. Watch, I’ll turn to any random page and just read any proverb that pops out at me. Oh, look, here’s one that goes, ‘Everyone climbs the ladder of death.’ Now just how fitting is that?”

Austin began to laugh, sounding like a hyena. Dawson stood up and grasped him by the collar, lifting him out of his chair and across the table until their faces almost touched. Abruptly, dead silence fell in the room as all the other detectives dropped what they were doing and turned to watch.

“Listen,” Dawson said, his teeth clenched, “kids are being murdered, and I don’t find it at all funny.”

“Please, no, yes, I’m sorry, Inspector,” Austin wheezed. “I didn’t mean to laugh…” His scar had become moist and shiny.

Dawson let Austin go, shoving him back to his chair. As if a pause button had been released, the other detectives resumed work.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to tell me the truth,” Dawson said.

“Yes, sir,” Austin said, his voice trembling.

“Weekend of Friday, fourth June, where were you?”

“Fourth of June, fourth of June.” Austin rubbed his head. “I can’t remember that specific date, I’m very sorry, Inspector.”

“Okay, try this one: night of Tuesday, twenty-second June.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Austin said, looking relieved. “I was at Dr. Botswe’s dinner party.”

There it was again: the dinner party.

“What time did you leave?”

“Actually, I stayed overnight.”

“Why?”

“I was too drunk to drive. Both Dr. Botswe and I were drunk. I said I was going home, but he wouldn’t let me. He made me sleep in his guest room.”

“What time did you go to bed?”

“Gosh, Inspector, I really couldn’t tell you. I have no recollection. I apologize.”

“Can you prove that you didn’t leave the premises sometime around two or three?”

“Inspector, I wouldn’t have been able to even if I’d wanted to, because Dr. Botswe took my car keys away.”

Dawson stood up abruptly. “Let’s go. We’re paying a visit.”

Baidoo drove them to East Legon, Dawson on the passenger side and Austin in the rear with Chikata. They pulled into the driveway. Dawson hopped out.

“Wait here with him,” he said to Chikata.

He rang the doorbell. Botswe opened the door, surprised to see him.

“Back so soon?”

“Yes, Dr. Botswe. Sorry to disturb again.”

“No problem at all. Do come in.”

Dawson stepped into the foyer.

“I won’t take too much of your time, Dr. Botswe. It’s about Austin. Did he come to your dinner party on twenty-second June?”

“Yes, absolutely. Why do you ask?”

“Do you remember what time he left?”

“The following morning. He was so inebriated that I wouldn’t allow him to drive. I had him stay overnight in one of the guest rooms.”

“Any chance he could have left the premises in the middle of the night and returned by morning?”

“How? I took his car keys away from him and kept them with me when I retired.”

“Could he have sneaked into your room at some point to get them back?”

“With my door locked from the inside? Inspector, I don’t want to infringe on your investigation, but if Austin is what you’ve come up with as a prime suspect, then you are really scraping bottom.”