“Can I touch him?”
Dawson glanced at Dr. Biney, who nodded.
Antwi touched Ofosu’s face with a light, brushing stroke.
“He’s very cold.”
“Yes,” Dawson said.
As he gazed at his dead friend, a smile flitted across Antwi’s face as though a pleasant memory had come briefly to mind, but then powerful grief returned. He cried with his eyes open. His body shook until it became weak and began to sway. Dawson put his arms around the boy, picked him up, and carried him out of the room.
Staring blankly into the distance, Antwi leaned against the flame tree outside the mortuary building. Dr. Biney saw Dawson off at the door.
“It’s sad, isn’t it, Inspector?” he said.
“Yes, it is. And very hard for him. He and Ofosu were very close.”
“How are you doing?”
Dawson gazed at the ground without seeing, his jaw working. “There’s a cold, heavy anger inside here.” He thumped his chest twice. “Murder is murder, but out of the four victims, Ofosu is the only one I had met, and he was also the youngest. My own son will be his age before too long.” He looked up at Dr. Biney. “What is the hatred, the fury, that drives a man to kill that way?”
Biney nodded, there to listen, not to talk.
“I’ll get him, though,” Dawson said. “He believes he’s invincible, but he’s not. I will get him.”
Dawson sat beside Sergeant Baidoo as they drove Antwi back to Kaneshie Market. The boy was very quiet in the backseat.
Dawson called Chief Supol Lartey.
“There’s just been another murder, sir. A teenager found in a public latrine. It appears to be the same signature as the other three. I just wanted to let you know.”
Silence.
“Sir?”
“Yes, I’m here. So Tedamm is not our man.”
“Except for the rape.”
Heavy sigh. “All right. I want to meet with you and Philip at eight sharp tomorrow morning. Present everything you’ve got to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ending the call, Dawson glanced back at Antwi. He was staring out the window.
“I don’t want you to be by yourself at any time,” Dawson said. “I want you to stay with someone I trust. Do you know Issa?”
“I know him.”
“What if I ask him to let you stay with his gang?”
“He doesn’t like me.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Please, no, but I know it already.”
“You don’t like him either?”
Antwi shrugged.
“He’s a good person,” Dawson pressed. “If I talk to him, he’ll be your friend.”
Antwi looked doubtful.
“Let’s branch to the UTC area before we go to Kaneshie,” Dawson said to Baidoo.
They didn’t find Issa there, but someone said they’d seen him up at the CMB building earlier in the morning. It wasn’t far, so Dawson and Antwi left Baidoo and the car parked in the Ghana Commercial Bank lot and walked up the hill past the railway station to CMB. It was going on eleven in the morning. The sun shone fiercely down on churchgoers in their Sunday best, including men who must have been pouring with sweat inside their dark suits.
Antwi spotted Issa first. He was taking a rest, sitting on his cart, which was loaded with strips of scrap metal. Dawson and Antwi went up to him.
“How are you, Issa?” Dawson asked.
“I’m fine.”
They shook hands.
“You know Antwi?” Dawson said.
Issa gave the boy something of a glance. “Yes, I know him.”
“His friend Ofosu was killed early this morning.”
Issa’s eyebrows went up. Cautious concern. “What happened?”
“Someone found him dead in the Novotel Park latrine. Let me talk to you for a moment.”
Dawson took Issa a few meters away, dropping his voice. “He’s feeling very bad because of Ofosu’s death, the same way you felt the day when Ebenezer was found. You get me.”
Issa nodded.
“I know he and Ofosu used to follow Tedamm around,” Dawson continued. “Tedamm was Ebenezer’s enemy, and yours too, but it was Tedamm who was running the show. Antwi and Ofosu were just small boys to him. If they ever disobeyed him, he beat them.”
“Yes.”
“So now Ofosu is dead and Antwi is by himself. I don’t want him to be alone right now. I want him to be with someone, and it’s you I trust most. You hear what I’m saying.”
“Yes, please.”
“You’ll do it for me?”
“For you, yes.”
“Thank you.” Dawson shook his hand. “I want Antwi to be at your base at night, not somewhere out there by himself. The man who killed Ebenezer and Comfort and Ofosu might come after Antwi.”
“I won’t let anything happen to Antwi,” Issa said. “Maybe I failed Ebenezer, but I won’t fail Antwi. And if I catch the one who killed Ebenezer, I will kill him myself.”
“No, don’t do that,” Dawson said. “Because I want him first. Rather, you hold him for me and I’ll come and kill him.”
They laughed.
Dawson called to Antwi. “Come and talk to your new older brother.”
41
Dawson left Issa and Antwi after the rules had been laid down. Antwi was to leave Issa’s base no earlier than five-thirty in the morning and be back not later than eight at night. No exceptions. During the night, he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere by himself, including the latrine. He was to wake Issa up to accompany him.
Dawson called Chikata. “How are things?”
“I’m just finishing my report. Do you need anything from me, Dawson?”
“No, that’s all for today. Chikata, thank you, eh? You’ve done well.”
“Thank you, Dawson, sir.”
“We’ll meet at CID tomorrow morning at seven to talk.”
“Sure, no problem.” Before they ended the call, Chikata added, “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you how Hosiah is doing these days with the heart problem.”
Dawson was surprised, pleasantly. Chikata had never asked him this before. “He’s holding on,” he said, “but he needs the operation. We’re hoping for the best.”
“Okay, I pray for him, then.”
“Thank you, Chikata. Enjoy your Sunday.”
It was just after noon now, so Christine would be out of church and Hosiah out of Sunday school. Dawson got her on the first ring. She told him some church friends had invited them to lunch.
“I have one more person to see,” Dawson said. “I’ll call you after that.”
“Okay.”
Next, Dawson dialed Dr. Botswe’s number, wondering what the professor’s Sunday schedule was like and whether he went to church. Compared to most other Ghanaians, Dawson was quite “religionless.” Some might have insisted he was Godless as well, but on that point he was still undecided. What he did know was that it would be over his dead body that his hard-earned money would go to a rich pastor in one of the so-called charismatic churches like Assemblies of God or Lighthouse Chapel International. Dawson regarded them with deep suspicion. Were they servants of God or Bible-wielding con men?
Botswe answered his phone. “Good afternoon, Inspector Dawson. Good to hear from you again. How are you?”
“I’m okay, Dr. Botswe, but there’s been another murder.”
“Really.”
“Yes-early this morning. I’d like to come by and discuss it with you, if I may.”
“By all means. I’m at home all afternoon.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
Botswe’s gate was open when Dawson drove up, but he parked outside on the street. As he walked in, a smiling Obi came forward to greet him. He was in a blindingly white shirt, dark blue tie, and perfectly pressed navy blue trousers. It was a transformation.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Dawson said. “You are sharp!”