Murder at Cape Three Points (26 page)

Dawson nodded. The man was very smooth.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Inspector? I’m at your disposal.”

“No. Thank you very much, sir.” Dawson stood up, and Chikata followed.

“I’ll walk you out,” Calmy-Rey said.

Just as they got to the mahogany door, Dawson had a thought.

“Oh, one other thing,” he said. “Did you and Mr. Smith-Aidoo know Lawrence Tetteh, the CEO of Goilco?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Calmy-Rey said, nodding. “We both had lots of contact with Lawrence—Charles and our chief financial officer more so than I did, but still, I knew him well, and I made sure I kept in touch with him. Goilco has a ten percent carried interest in the Legacy Oilfield. His death was another tragedy, and just a month or so before the Smith-Aidoos’ murder. It’s very sad. I understand Lawrence’s stepbrother was charged in his murder.”

“Yes. Do you know if Tetteh had enemies in the oil industry, or in government?”

“He was a perfectly straightforward, experienced, and knowledgeable gentleman. On the face of it, he shouldn’t have had any enemies at all.”

“Might you have Mr. Tetteh’s mobile phone number?”

“No, I’m afraid not. But I may be able to find it for you.”

“If you can, I would be grateful.”

“But of course.” Calmy-Rey smiled again. “I’m very glad to have met you, Inspector.”

In the lift down to the lobby, Chikata said, “He seems to be a very nice man.”

Dawson grunted. “A little too much sugar in the cup.”

“What do you mean?”

“He ‘cares about the people of Takoradi and the fishermen?’ Come on.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“I just question the sincerity, that’s all. Do any of these exploiters really care that much?”

They waited until they were outside the building before resuming the discussion.

“Do you suspect him of being involved with the murder?” Chikata asked.

“Not at the moment, but …”

Chikata looked at him quizzically. “Did your
juju
hand speak to you?”

“No. Not this time.”

“Then what is it you don’t trust?”

“I felt like he was putting on a show for our benefit. To make himself appear to be a better man than he really is.”

“People do that all the time,” Chikata pointed out. “The question is, do you suspect him of murder?”

“No,” Dawson admitted, finally. “I can’t say I do. Anyway, we’ve found out one thing, at least. We know what the Smith-Aidoos were doing in Axim that Monday morning. Now we have to follow up with the people at FOAX.”

Chapter 24

O
N
W
EDNESDAY MORNING
, D
AWSON
found himself standing at the edge of an outdoor swimming pool at the Regional Maritime University east of Accra. He was about to start the HUET session that Jason Sarbah had arranged, but a voice inside kept telling him that he still had time to back out and join Chikata on much safer undertakings. Today, the detective sergeant would be checking DeSouza’s alibi with Susana, his assistant; and Sarbah’s alibi with the staff at Sarbah Properties; and then it was on to Axim to meet Quashie Quarshie, the head of FOAX.

However, Dawson knew he couldn’t back down now. It would be cowardly. He had spent the day before in a classroom learning the basics of offshore safety and CPR. Now he faced the second and most challenging day. In front of him, suspended over the water, was a blue and white training module that would be lowered into the depths of the pool by a complicated cable mechanism. They would have several practice runs before the ultimate stage in which the module would submerge and rotate 180 degrees. Dawson and the three other trainees would then make their escape. He already had his helmet, orange overalls, and life vest on. His stomach was churning. It was hot and he was pouring with sweat. Some of it was fear.

With a harsh whine of machinery, the module moved level with the edge of the pool by remote control, and Dawson and the others got in. It seated four. Dawson took the right-hand seat of the second row. He could not bring himself to look down as the module moved out to the center of the six-meter deep pool, but in spite of staring
fixedly ahead, he could see the blue of the water from the corner of his eye. His stomach clenched, and he began to feel sick.

Agyeman, their instructor, was one of the three divers on hand in case one or more of the four trainees could not get out of the seat belt or otherwise had difficulty. He showed them how to strap themselves securely into their seats.

“First, we learn how to brace ourselves for the water landing, like this.”

Everyone followed his lead.

“Okay, good,” he said. “Now we will practice that while the helicopter is lowered to the surface of the water. We will not yet submerge. We are just going to become used to the sensation of going down. When I give the command to brace for impact, you do so immediately.”

The cabin dropped, not very fast for the first time, and they practiced the brace. The second time, the drop was more rapid, and Dawson felt his insides float up. After the third and fastest drop, they were ready for partial submersion, where Dawson and the other trainees learned how to take a deep breath in preparation for going completely under.

A
FTER A BREAK
,
it was time for the most anxiety-provoking segment of the training: full submersion and rotation of the module. Here Dawson learned the extra step of placing his right hand on the window frame before the rotation began to help keep him oriented once he was upside down.

The module went out to the center of the pool.

This is it
, Dawson thought.

The descent began and Agyeman yelled, “
Brace!
”

Dawson gripped the front of his seat with both hands and pushed himself hard against the seatback.

The splash came sooner than he had anticipated, and then the cabin was filling with water fast. Dawson hyperventilated a few times as instructed, and took a deep breath. As the water reached his neck, the module turned upside down.

It felt to him as if they were spinning multiple times. His arms reached out instinctively. He had to get out.
Seat belt.
He was feeling
for the clasps on the belt and realized he had shut his eyes tight. He needed to open them. He released the buckle and freed himself. Was he facing up, or down? The window was still to his right, and he pushed against it. It opened, but at the instant he was preparing to swim out, he felt someone clawing at his back. He turned to look and saw the trainee who had been sitting to his left. He was on the wrong side, trying to exit through Dawson’s window, and he was in a state of panic. His eyes were wide open and afraid, his arms and legs flailing wildly and provoking turbulence.

Dawson’s impulse was to push the man back and make his escape. Instead, he grabbed the frantic trainee by the waist and forcefully propelled him to the window, giving him a final shove to eject him. One of the divers appeared, grasped him, and took him swiftly to the surface. Dawson followed in their track.

Life vest.
He tugged at the red hook and it inflated.

He clawed at the water as he rose, his chest about to explode, and then he burst the surface and felt his head free and clear in air. He drew in his breath in a gasp and looked around. He had made it, and now he felt surprisingly calm. Two of the other trainees were floating around freely in the water, but the fourth, the one who Dawson had collided with, was spluttering and coughing as someone helped him out of the pool.

H
OURS LATER
, D
AWSON
was lying in bed with Christine. The HUET center wasn’t far out from Accra, so he had decided to spend the night. The boys had gone to sleep, and she was dozing with her head in the crook of his arm.

He was thankful the HUET was all over. His certificate was safely next to him on the bedside table. He was surprised that this was one of the proudest moments he could remember in quite some time. His getting through something he had been afraid of almost to the point of paralysis was an achievement. In addition, the diver who had witnessed him push the other trainee out through the window toward safety had given him a special commendation for his actions.

Christine had begun to snore lightly. He smiled down at her. Silly girl. She never believed him or the boys when they told her she snored. He moved her head over to her pillow and rolled over. No
need to switch the lights off because there had just been another power cut.

Oh, Ghana
, he thought as he drifted off,
what are we going to do with you?

T
HURSDAY MORNING
,
HE
saw that he had missed a call from Dr. Smith-Aidoo. He tried her number. She didn’t pick up, so Dawson left her a text to say that he would try calling her again later on.

Before returning to Takoradi, he paid a visit to a friend of his at the Vodafone store on Oxford Street.

“Confidential, okay?” he said to Emmanuel in his deliciously chilled office.

“Always,” Emmanuel replied, leaning back. With his hefty weight, his executive chair went all the way back with a squeak.

“Do you remember the story of Lawrence Tetteh?” Dawson asked. “The CEO of Goilco who was shot about five months ago?”

“Of course.”

“I need the mobile number he was using.”

“Was Vodafone his provider?”

“Yes.”

“Then I can get it for you, no problem. By the way, what phone service are you using these days?”

Dawson winced. “
Chaley
, sorry. Still with MTN.”

“
What!?
”

“Okay, let’s make a deal. If you get me that number, I’ll switch to Vodafone.”

They shook hands on it.

I
T WAS LATE
afternoon when he got back to Takoradi by bus. Dawson wanted to give Dr. Smith-Aidoo an update on the investigation, but each time he had tried to call, he had gotten an error message that the “subscriber’s phone has been turned off.” Dawson doubted that very much. It was much more likely a problem with the network. On the off chance that Dr. Smith-Aidoo was at home, he took a taxi to her house at Airport Ridge. Her car wasn’t in the driveway. He got out and knocked on the front door. He waited a couple minutes and tried again, but everything was quiet.

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.