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“One last question, Nana, if you please,” he said. “Do you know of any fishermen or people in Akwidaa who wanted to harm Mr. Smith-Aidoo?”

Nana frowned. “Oh, no,” he said firmly, shaking his head and appearing put out by the question. “That’s not how we think here. You know, all this type of killing-shooting people and so on-belongs to the ways of the city. I’m not trying to offend you, Mr. Dawson…”

“It’s no offense, Nana. What about juju or witchcraft?”

Ackah-Yensu stared at the ground for a moment and then looked up to meet Dawson’s gaze directly. “That one, I can’t say. Since my time in Akwidaa, we have only had two witches. One was driven away to a witches’ camp, and the other one was killed. I don’t think anyone in Akwidaa performed juju on Mr. Charles and his wife. Maybe a jealous family member, rather.”

Dawson wished he could ask the chief if he thought Mr. Cardiman could have murdered the couple, but obviously he would have to wait for a more discreet moment.

Chapter 20

BEFORE RETURNING TO THE others, Cardiman took Dawson and Chikata up a promontory beyond the mangroves. From there, they could see the bay where Ezile was located to their left, and a second slightly larger bay to their right. The sand was pale fawn in color, the water dark turquoise rolling onto the shore and breaking into white foam.

“It’s deserted,” Dawson observed in surprise.

Cardiman looked at him, nodding with a smile. “Yes, that’s what is so marvelous about it. The most you’ll see is one or two people walking along the beach in transit from Cape Three Points village to Akwidaa.” He gazed rapturously at the bay. “Unspoiled beauty. I’m not saying don’t build anything on the land. I’m saying don’t ruin it if you do, and that’s the vision Charles had-a wholesale raping of the land for commercial purposes. On the other hand, my Ezile is constructed in complete harmony with the environment-no uprooting trees or disturbing the mangroves. Some of our power even comes from solar energy.”

Dawson had to admire Cardiman’s passion and dedication. For him there was nothing more important than this slice of paradise on earth, and he was going to fight to preserve it. At the same time, Dawson thought, that could make his motive for murder all the more powerful.

On their return, Cardiman went off to supervise the repairs on one of the chalets, and Dawson rejoined Christine and Akosua, who were still at their shady perch on the beach chatting as they watched Abraham playing in the water with the kids. Chikata and Baah were playing a noisy game of cards at the next table.

When lunch arrived, Akosua beckoned to her husband to come out of the water for something to eat. Sly and Hosiah came running up, wet and exuberant.

“I was swimming, Daddy,” Hosiah said jumping up and down.

“Yes, I saw you!” He draped a towel around his son’s shoulders. “Good for you! Dry yourself off. How’s the water?”

“It’s nice,” Sly said.

Abraham plunked down in a chair, panting. “My goodness. These kids have made me realize how out of shape I am.”

Lunch came. It was a mouth-watering spread of “Red Red”-succulent fried, ripe plantains and black-eyed peas reddened by palm oil; banku with tilapia; yam and light soup full of chunks of fish; Jollof rice prepared with chicken and an aromatic mix of spices and tomato sauce; and for Abraham, a plate of fish and chips with coleslaw, a dish he had recently acquired a taste for. After they had washed their hands, they tucked in, eating with their fingers-except for Abraham, who didn’t think his meal was made for consumption that way.

“Can we go back in the water, Uncle?” Hosiah asked as he finished his meal.

Abraham looked to Dawson for guidance.

“Only for a little while,” Dawson said. “Then we have to go back home.”

“Okay.”

“Before you kill your uncle,” Akosua added, under her breath.

Abraham went gamely back to the water with the boys, although it looked like he could have done with a nap instead.

“You want to go for a walk?” Dawson asked, looking at Christine.

“Where?”

Dawson pointed to the peninsula beyond Akwidaa. “The remains of a seventeenth-century German fort are over there. Let’s go and see it.”

“But do you know the way?” she said, looking a little doubtful.

“I think there’s a path and some signs. I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“Hmm. Okay, but if we get lost in there you’ll never hear the end of it from me.”

“Relax,” Dawson said, grinning. “I have a wizardly sense of direction. Come on, it will be an adventure.”

He reached out his hand, and when she grabbed it he pulled her out of her seat.

“We’ll be back in a little while,” Christine said to Akosua.

Before they set off, they went to the water’s edge to let Abe know. Hosiah looked immediately anxious. “Where are you going, Daddy?”

“We’re just going to walk past the village.”

“Is the bad man there?”

Dawson got a knot in his chest. “Come here, Hosiah.”

He knelt in the sand and hugged his wet son, giving him a kiss. “The man isn’t there, okay? I promise you. We went with Mr. Cardiman and saw the village with the chief and everything, and no one bad was there. Only good people, okay?”

Hosiah nodded mutely.

“We’ll be back soon. Play with Uncle Abe and Sly.”

He lifted his palm in the air and his son gave him a resounding high five, running back into the water.

Dawson and Christine held hands as they sauntered along the beach a little in front of the farthest point the waves rolled up onto the sand. The sun was high overhead, and the aqua hue of the water appeared more intense.

“This was such a wonderful idea, Dark,” she said, her eyes shining as she looked at him. “The boys are having the time of their lives, and they’re overjoyed to see you safe and sound. Thank you.”

He looked back at her. She was lovely in a loose flowered skirt and a waist-hugging sleeveless teal blouse. She asked him if he had learned anything useful from Cardiman or the chief.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I have to digest it tomorrow.”

He wasn’t interested in talking any further about it, and he knew she sensed that.

They crossed a bridge over the Ezile River, passed along the outskirts of Akwidaa, negotiated another clump of rocks, and entered the peninsula forest along a path that twisted and turned through thick undergrowth and palm and banana trees. At intervals, lengths of chicken wire stretched between one bush or tree and the next.

“What are those for?” Christine wondered.

“I think it’s to keep goats and sheep out when they plant crops,” Dawson said. “And of course, any wild animals.”

“Wild animals? What wild animals?”

“You know, forest leopards and things like that,” Dawson said casually.

“What?” Christine said, stopping in her tracks. “There are no leopards in Ghana.”

“Oh, yes there are,” he said, turning to her authoritatively. “People just don’t know about them. Just like they don’t know we have dolphins and whales.”

“Wait a minute,” she said incredulously. “There are leopards in this forest? Who told you that?”

“One of the villagers,” he replied casually. “He said they stalk people, pounce on them, and devour their flesh. Sometimes the remains of people are found stripped to the bone.”

She looked around. “Dark, are you serious?” Her voice shook slightly.

He looked back at her. “Of course I’m serious. Don’t worry. It’s not very likely we’ll run into one of them. They’re very secretive.”

Her eyes widened. She jumped and swung around as though she had heard something. At that, Dawson couldn’t keep his face straight any longer and burst out laughing. “I’m just playing with you.”