“Do you mean I should keep searching for connections in Axim?”
“I’d like you to go to Cape Three Points village tomorrow and ask around. You might come up with a possible lead-maybe someone who had a confrontation with Charles. You’ll probably have to visit the chief to introduce yourself, just like we did at Akwidaa.”
Chikata nodded. “I’ll do that.” He made a face. “I’ll have to buy some gin.”
Dawson smiled. “Yes, you will.” He returned to his seat and shifted the laptop over. “Let me check if Dr. Taryque has emailed me the postmortem pics.”
Chikata reached over to the refrigerator while Dawson logged on and went to his web mail. “Do you want a Malta?”
“Yes, thank you. You sure your uncle is paying for all this?”
Chikata snorted. “He’d better be, because I certainly am not.”
“Ah, the doc has sent me a message.”
Dawson turned the laptop slightly so Chikata could see better.
Dear Inspector Dawson,
Here are the images you requested. As you will observe, powder burns are present around the head wound of the male but not the female.
Please let me know if you have any questions.
Best,
WT
Dawson opened the file and went through the fifteen slides-seven for Charles and eight for Fiona. Each of them had descriptive captions. Two slides each pictured their full-length bodies lying on the autopsy table. In Charles’s case, one was the headless version and the other was with his head placed contiguous with his neck.
“Oh, dear Jesus,” Chikata said, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “Terrible.”
Another image was a close-up of the ragged decapitation site. Dawson shuddered. On the close-up of Charles’s right side head wound, the ring of soot was visible even against his dark skin.
Even in death, Fiona’s body was curvaceous with large, firm thighs. Besides the bullet wound to her head and the ligature lines at her wrists, she was unmarked. Most importantly, in contrast to Charles, no soot appeared around the entry wound at her left temple. She was lighter in color than her husband, so there was no question about it.
“The way I see it,” Dawson said, “two men took part in the murder. They ambush Charles’s vehicle on his way back from Ezile with his wife. They kidnap them that afternoon and transport them to a spot near a secluded beach somewhere. Night comes, they take Charles and Fiona down to the beach and order them to kneel or lie on the ground.” Dawson formed the shape of a pistol with thumb and index and aimed downward. “The gunman stands at Charles’s side, presses the nozzle to his temple, and shoots him, but with Fiona, he stands where he is and shoots her from a distance of two or three meters. Then one of them decapitates Charles. It takes a strong stomach and a cold heart to do that. It’s not easy, and it’s a bloody mess.”
“If only we knew what beach the kidnappers took them to,” Chikata said, perching on the arm of the sofa.
“Why?” Dawson asked, studying him.
“Then maybe we could locate the place where they held the Smith-Aidoos throughout the afternoon and evening. It might be close to the beach, and it might have been some kind of house or shack or enclosed structure where they could keep them concealed.”
“Go on,” Dawson encouraged him.
“I asked people in Axim if they knew of any beach that was exclusive-just one or two houses, for example. No one gave me any useful answers.”
Dawson snapped his fingers and sat bolt upright. “I’m such a fool.”
“What, what?”
“I’ve been thinking the kidnappers took the Smith-Aidoos to some faraway place like Axim in order to make it harder to track them down, but no. What do you meet on the road just before you get to Axim?”
Chikata thought about it for barely a second. “Oh! I went there twice and didn’t think of it. I’m the fool, rather. There’s a customs checkpoint. Not even an idiot would take the risk of trying to get through that with two kidnapped people in the boot of the car.”
“Exactly,” Dawson said, nodding. “In fact, Chikata, it’s the opposite. The kidnappers would want a spot as close to the ambush point as possible.”
“But not Ezile Bay, because there are people there at the resort.”
“But remember the spot Mr. Cardiman took us where we had a view of Ezile to the left and a second bay to the right?”
“Yes, yes,” Chikata said nodding.
“The second bay is mostly deserted-remember, Cardiman said only occasionally does someone walk along the beach between Cape Three Points village and Akwidaa. We need to go there. Call Baah and tell him to get down here quick.”
Chapter 32
AFTER THEY HAD CALLED Baah, Dawson had a brain wave that they should borrow Abraham’s 4×4 to tackle the unpaved section of the road to Cape Three Points. He was glad they did because Baah drove at a speed that would have split his taxi in two over the treacherous surface. In spite of his making it in record time, evening was fast approaching the way it always does at the equator. They reached the sign pointing to Ezile Bay Resort, and Dawson instructed Baah to keep going west.
“Slow down, though,” he said. “We’re looking for some kind of access on the left-hand side that someone could use to get to the beach.”
They went past an unbroken sequence of impenetrable bush.
“I don’t see any way you can get through this to the beach,” Chikata muttered.
They came to the crest of a hill, below which they could see Cape Three Points village in the distance.
“That means we’ve gone too far,” Dawson said, looking at the dashboard clock. It was almost five thirty. “Let’s go back, Baah. Maybe we missed it.”
They turned around in swirling red dust and slowly retraced their course.
“Oh, there,” Baah said, the first to spot a gap in the bush that hadn’t been visible from the opposite direction.
“Good work,” Dawson said. “Let’s turn in.”
Not a constructed road, it was more a vehicular path with a track for the wheels on either side of a crest of grass. The three men were silent, not sure what to expect.
“I can go small-small,” Baah said, slowing down, “but the bush start to make thick.”
Chikata drew in a breath as, after another 300 meters, the shell of a house appeared on the right side of the path as if it had sprung from the bush like a mushroom.
“Look at that,” Dawson said, almost not believing it.
The roof was in place, but the doors and windows were unfinished and the brickwork was raw and unpainted. It wasn’t uncommon in Ghana to come across a random, unfinished house in a relatively uninhabited area, but this was especially isolated.
“Let’s park and walk,” Dawson said. “I want to get to the beach first, before it gets dark, and then we’ll come back and look at this house.”
Wispy clouds glowed orange as the sun began to set. They followed the footpath that led away from the house, noticing mangroves and hearing the sound of crashing waves as they got closer to the beach. They emerged abruptly onto the shore, surprised at how close the water was. The tide was evidently cresting. A few more meters and their ankles would have gotten a soaking.
The beach arced gently, terminating at each end with a peninsula. Dawson pointed to the promontory on their left. “On the other side of that is Ezile Bay, where we were. Cape Three Points village is over the peninsula on the right. This bay here is secluded, and it would be perfect for the killers to launch out to the oil rig in secret.”