“Who else in the office, besides you,” Dawson asked Janice, “knew or might have known about Mr. Smith-Aidoo’s schedule?”
The light from the window framed her face perfectly.
“I don’t know of anyone,” she said. “I certainly didn’t mention it-there was really no need to.”
“Thank you for this,” Dawson said. “May we keep this copy?”
“Certainly,” Calmy-Rey said.
“What about here at Malgam itself?” Dawson asked. “Could anyone have held a grudge against Charles?”
Calmy-Rey shook his head slowly. “Very small chance of that. We all work well together with mutual respect from the CEO down to the housekeepers. Of course, I don’t know every employee intimately, but I would be tremendously surprised if we harbored anyone with such murderous intent.”
“However, I’ve heard something a little troubling.”
Calmy-Rey looked concerned. “About Charles?”
“Yes. That he was carving out business deals for himself while he represented Malgam.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Calmy-Rey said, confidently shaking his head. “If that had been going on, it would have been brought to my notice. People say all sorts of things for all sorts of reasons, and I always approach any accusations with great caution. I am not convinced that Charles was operating under any serious conflicts of interest.”
“What if someone felt he was doing wrong by the company?”
The CEO flicked his head sideways. “I know of no one. That’s all I can tell you, but you’re welcome to ask around, Inspector.”
“Have you ever heard of someone named Peter Duodo?” Dawson asked. “He’s a real estate developer who was a close friend of Charles’s.”
“No, never. I’m sorry, I wish I could help more.”
“No problem,” Dawson said. “How have you enjoyed your time in Ghana?”
Calmy-Rey smiled broadly. “It has been inspiring. The work environment in this country is highly attractive. My late father, Ulysses Calmy-Rey, founded the company in 1955. In Malgam Oil, he has left a legacy of ‘capitalism with care.’ He was always very concerned about the well-being of the people indigenous to the areas of oil discovery. I strive to follow his example and maintain a responsibility to the environment and to the people. I have to care about the people of Takoradi, and I have to care about the fishermen. It’s important to me. Ghana is a very important account for us, and we want to be around for many, many years as the country grows and develops because of well-managed oil exploration.”
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
ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, DAWSON 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.