This sounded interesting. “For example?”
“You may have heard of Reggie Cardiman.”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Cardiman’s resort is practically legendary in the Western Region. He brings in money.” Sarbah made a tower with his fingertips. “So, in my opinion, you have to give him due respect and handle him with diplomacy. The way Charles treated Mr. Cardiman, telling him that a tentative plan was in effect to move him off the land on which Ezile Bay sits, is not how I would have approached it. There are other ways to perhaps sweeten the conditions, or offer alternatives. Is it any wonder Mr. Cardiman had no love for him?”
“Have you spoken to Mr. Cardiman yourself?”
“Yes, by phone. For now the decision is not to aggressively pursue acquiring any land on Cape Three Points, whether Ezile or Akwidaa. I’m sorry, can I offer you something? A soft drink, water?”
“Water, thank you, sir.”
Sarbah rose and went to the bar.
“Did you know Mr. Cardiman before you started with Malgam?” Dawson asked him.
“By name only,” he said, opening the small refrigerator and taking out a bottle of Voltic. “I’ve never even been to the resort although I intend to at some point.”
He poured the water out in a heavy glass and handed it to Dawson.
“Me too,” Dawson said, pausing to take a few sips. It was very good. Voltic had the market cornered in Ghana.
Sarbah returned to his desk, giving Dawson the pause he needed before tackling a delicate matter. “I know about the story of your daughter, Mr. Sarbah, sir. I want to offer my condolences.”
“Thank you.” Sarbah’s eyes softened and saddened, demonstrating to Dawson how deep his feelings went.
“Angela must have been very dear to you.”
“She was our whole world,” Sarbah said softly. “We adored her.”
“Did you-do you-hold Dr. Smith-Aidoo responsible for her death?”
Sarbah unconsciously fiddled with a pen on his desk. “The doctor could have helped us.” His tone was still professional, but it certainly was not neutral. Dawson heard the emotion creeping into it. “She should not have turned us away like that. I don’t know how she can live with herself, knowing what she’s done. Doctors are supposed to heal, not harm.”
“You were angry and hurt.”
“I think you would be too.”
“To make matters worse,” Dawson went on, so as not to lose momentum, “when you went to Charles Smith-Aidoo for financial assistance, he turned you down.”
“He made up some excuse that he had just invested money and that he didn’t have any liquid funds.”
“You didn’t believe that?”
Sarbah gave a small chortle. “No, of course not.”
“Were you close to Charles? Why did you go to him in the first place?”
“I wasn’t close, but he’s still my cousin, right?” Sarbah said, opening his arms. He had large hands. “If you are able to help a family member, you do so. It’s the Ghanaian way.”
“I don’t know any polite way to ask you this question, sir, but…”
“Did I want to avenge Angela’s death by arranging the murder of Charles and his wife?”
“Oh,” Dawson said in surprise. “Well, yes. That was what I was about to ask.”
“The question has preceded you.” Sarbah smiled. “Chief Inspector Hammond has already posed it and received the same answer. No, I didn’t kill the Smith-Aidoos. On Monday, the seventh of July, I was at my real estate office all day.”
His eyes were looking sincerely into Dawson’s, and he didn’t blink.
“Do you still have the real estate business?” Dawson asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“May I ask where it is located, and can you give me the name of someone there who can confirm your whereabouts on the seventh of July?”
“Sure. The name of the business is Sarbah Properties, and it’s on the second floor in the Providence Building not far from here. You can speak to my manager, or anyone in the office, for that matter.”
“Okay.” Dawson stood up. “Mr. Sarbah, thank you for taking the time.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, standing as well and seeing Dawson to the door. He hesitated. “Look, Inspector, I want this mess cleared up too, and it doesn’t do me any good to do a dance of deception around you. So, if there’s anything you think I might be able to help with, please call.”
“I appreciate that sir,” Dawson said. He was just about to leave when something occurred to him. “Actually, there is something you might help me with. I’d like to meet with Mr. Calmy-Rey for a chat. Can that be arranged?”
“Yes, of course,” Sarbah said. “I’ll set that up for you and give you a call.”
As he took the elevator down, Dawson reflected what a breath of fresh air Sarbah was, compared to DeSouza. Sarbah was open and willing. He had a smooth texture to his demeanor. DeSouza was the opposite-as rough and lacerating as barbed wire.
Nevertheless, as different as the two men were, they were both still suspects with strong motives. In both cases too, however, it would be difficult to prove their involvement because they appeared to have good alibis. If either of them had paid someone to carry out a contract killing, it would be tough to make that connection.
For a while at least, Dawson turned his mind to something soothing and joyful as he thought about the family joining him in a little more than a day. Christine and the boys would leave for Takoradi on Friday afternoon directly after school.
He called her as he walked to the car. “Are you getting ready?”
“Yes. Sly and Hosiah are very excited about the trip. They can’t wait to see you.”
After hanging up with Christine, Dawson called Reggie Cardiman and introduced himself.
“Oh, thank God, Inspector!” Cardiman’s voice was as deep and projecting as if he were using a megaphone. “At last we have someone competent to clear this nasty thing up.”
“How do you know I’m competent?” Dawson asked in some amusement.
“Come now, Mr. Dawson. I know about your solving the serial killer case in Accra. You must come to Ezile Bay Resort. I would like to meet you for a good chat.”
Cardiman’s British accent incorporated heavy Ghanaian inflections. He sounded hearty and friendly, nothing like the impression Dawson had formed from the minutes of the STMA meetings.
“That’s why I was calling, in fact,” Dawson said. “When are you available?”
“I’m here all the time. Just let me know when you plan to arrive.”
“My wife and two boys are joining me from Accra tomorrow, and they would enjoy visiting Ezile Bay with me. What about Saturday? We could leave Takoradi in the morning.”
“That would be perfect. I’ll be looking forward to your visit.”
It was almost three thirty. Dawson wanted to add one more item to the list of the day’s accomplishments. He called the number Dr. Smith-Aidoo had given him for her Aunt Eileen. She didn’t answer the first time, so he tried again. This time, someone picked up the call.
“Hello?”
“Is this Eileen Copper?”
“Yes.” The voice was husky and monotone.
He introduced himself and told her he was investigating her brother’s murder.
“Oh, really.” Now her tone was cutting. “Well, I live in hope that you’ll rise above the mediocrity of the Sekondi Police.”
Everyone taking a swipe at Hammond and his team, Dawson thought. “Then I’m sure you’re eager to help. I’d like to come and talk to you this afternoon.”
She hesitated.
“Around five,” Dawson pressed, not allowing her to stall.