Hammond shook his head. “Seidu was supposed to be there, but they gave him the wrong time and performed the autopsy in his absence. I was quite annoyed.”
“Do you have any contact number for Dr. Cudjoe?” Dawson asked.
“Yes. I’ll text it to you.”
“Thank you very much, sir.”
OUTSIDE, AS SOON as they were out of earshot, Chikata looked at Dawson in astonishment. “What is the man’s problem?”
Dawson shrugged. “Insecurity? I don’t know, but if he’s more concerned about hurting people’s feelings than he is about finding out who killed the Smith-Aidoos, there’s nothing I can do about that. Honestly, I don’t care anymore. I didn’t come here to make nice.”
“Do you want me to call my uncle about him?” Chikata asked, as they got back into Baah’s taxi.
Dawson shook his head. “No, it’s not worth it.” It was a consideration, but he didn’t want Chikata to put himself in an awkward position between Hammond and Lartey. “In any case, he might just call your uncle anyway, to complain about me.”
“Massa,” Chikata said, laughing, “I thought Superintendent Hammond was about to have a stroke when you pulled DeSouza down from his pedestal.”
“What I said was true,” Dawson asserted. “DeSouza had no reason to react so negatively to me-unless he’s the murderer, of course. In that case he has good reason.”
That remark set off another round of laughter for Chikata, with which Dawson eventually joined. Meanwhile, he saw he had just received Hammond’s text with Dr. Cudjoe’s number. He tried the number twice without success.
“Where now, sir?” Baah asked.
“Let’s go to the Effia-Nkwanta Hospital Mortuary to look for Dr. Cudjoe.” He turned in his seat to address Chikata. “Hammond wasn’t telling the truth about Smith-Aidoo’s phone. Either he didn’t take it to Vodafone at all, or the Lawrence Tetteh in the address book is really the Goilco CEO.”
“How do you know?” Chikata challenged. “Is it your juju hand again?”
He was one of the few who knew about Dawson’s synesthesia and had always referred to it as his “juju hand,” half seriously and half in jest.
“That’s right,” Dawson said.
“It’s as though the superintendent doesn’t want us to succeed,” Chikata said. “Why is he trying to hinder us, or is he protecting someone?”
“It could be both.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they pulled into the uphill driveway of the hospital, and Baah parked to the side. Dawson and Chikata went into the waiting area where patients were sitting or lining up at the information booth. A sign pointed to the HIV Voluntary Testing Clinic, but there was no signage for the mortuary. After asking two people in succession, they were directed up a long flight of steps and across the road. The mortuary was in a dismal grey building with odd, inverted U-structures on its roof.
They went in the open front door. At a small receptionist’s desk to the left, a man was laboriously writing in a large notebook. He looked up.
“Yes?”
“We’re looking for Dr. Cudjoe?”
“Please, you can try the office,” the man said, pointing across the hall.
Dawson and Chikata went in and found a tech in a khaki jacket looking through a filing cabinet.
“Very sorry,” the man said, in response to Dawson’s inquiry. “Dr. Cudjoe has traveled to Ashanti Region.”
“Do you know when he’ll return?”
“I’m not actually sure. Do you have his mobile number?”
“I have a number for him.”
Dawson brought up the number he had for Cudjoe on his phone and showed it to the man to be sure it was correct.
“Oh, no-it’s five-six-six at the end, not six-five-five.”
Dawson and Chikata exchanged glances but didn’t say anything until they were outside again.
“I bet you superintendent deliberately gave you the wrong number,” Chikata said.
“Perhaps,” Dawson said, inclining his head. “It could be a genuine mistake, though. I can see accidentally switching five-six-six to six-five-five.”
“I can’t,” Chikata said with conviction. “Considering everything else about Hammond’s behavior, I don’t think he made a mistake at all.”
A pretty, young nurse walked past them and Chikata’s head turned as if drawn by a cable.
“Nice,” he commented.
“Not as nice as my wife,” Dawson said.
“Yes, but I can’t have your wife,” Chikata said with a snort.
“True.”
AS THEY RETURNED from the hospital, a thunderstorm began, their first experience of rain in the Western Region. It put Accra’s showers to shame, and to the surprise of Dawson and Chikata, everyone seemed to have large, colorful umbrellas at the ready. In Accra, your umbrella was the nearest building you could find.
After hitting a few puddles, the taxi stalled out, and Dawson and Chikata jumped out to push after the ignition failed several times. The car came to life again after a few shudders, and Baah kept the engine revved while the other two men hopped back in, soaked to the skin.
“Let’s go home,” Dawson said. He didn’t like wet clothes.
THIRTY MINUTES AFTER Dawson was back in a dry outfit at the lodge, his phone vibrated. It was Chikata texting him to say he was coming over from the hotel. Dawson went to the kitchen, opened the door, and looked out. The sergeant was walking up in the pouring rain with a large unfurled red, yellow, and green umbrella.
“Where did you get that?” Dawson asked, as he came in.
“I borrowed it from the woman at the reception desk,” he said, folding it and leaning it against the wall. “I am now officially a Takoradian. Do you know I have never used an umbrella in my life?”
Dawson thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it, neither have I. People in Accra don’t know anything about them.”
They went to the sitting room.
“Yeah, Dawson,” Chikata said, sitting down with one leg swung over the arm of the chair. “I just talked to this Peter Duodo guy in Accra.”
“Oh, good,” Dawson said, brightening. “What did you find out?”
“In fact, I thought the man was going to cry over Smith-Aidoo.”
“What do you mean?”
“Very nice, soft-spoken gentleman. His voice started to shake. Seems like he’s still in grief. He and Smith-Aidoo grew up together in Takoradi and they had been friends since secondary school. Duodo moved to Accra about ten years ago for his real estate business, but he and Smith-Aidoo stayed in touch.”
“Aha,” Dawson said, nodding. “So they were close.”
“It seems so. When the oil discovery came along, Smith-Aidoo tried to persuade his friend to open an office in Takoradi and buy up some land along the coast while it was still cheap. He told Duodo that Malgam was looking to partner with someone for development in the Cape Three Points area and that Smith-Aidoo was negotiating with the chief of Akwidaa. Smith-Aidoo said he was going to see if he could cut Duodo into a deal. I asked Duodo if Smith-Aidoo would get a kickback in that case, but he denied it.”
“He probably wouldn’t admit it if it were true,” Dawson said, “but if it is, maybe someone at Malgam got wind of Smith-Aidoo’s dealings with Duodo and didn’t like it.”
“That isn’t all. Something else came up during my conversation regarding Cardiman. After the meeting, as he and his wife were leaving Ezile, Smith-Aidoo called Duodo to say that he had told Cardiman that if he didn’t voluntarily vacate the Ezile property, it would be easy to pay off Nana Ackah-Yensu to kick Cardiman out. Smith-Aidoo said that led to a heated discussion between him and Cardiman.”