“Is Mr. Kutu in?” Fiti asked her in Ewe.

“No, he’s not here right now.”

She was exceptionally tall, her face dripping with sweat and her glistening arms lean and muscular from physical labor. She looked to be in her early thirties. Dawson sensed a quiet strength and dignity of character in her.

“When will he return?” Fiti asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe soon.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded and smiled and then went into the compound.

“We can come back,” Fiti said to Dawson.

“To Bedome now, then? I’d like to talk to Togbe Adzima and the trokosi who found Gladys, what was her name?”

“Efia. Okay, we can go now.”

They had walked no more than a few meters when Dawson spotted a man coming out of the forest toward them. His belly tightened. Isaac Kutu. Twenty-five years since Dawson had first laid eyes on him, and yet it could just as well have been yesterday. The walk, the carriage, the solid build, and the powerful forearms were all still there.

Fiti too had caught sight of Isaac and waved at him. The healer raised his hand in reply but kept his pace the same as he approached-long, confident, and measured.

“Good afternoon, Kutu,” Fiti said.

“Afternoon, Inspector! How are you?”

Dawson wondered what was inside the canvas bag Isaac was holding. He was possibly even handsomer than Dawson remembered him, as if the older face had taken on a richness that had not graced the younger. The eyes were still those dark, unfathomable pools, but there was more buoyancy to them now.

No sign yet that he recognized Dawson.

“I’ve brought someone to see you,” Fiti said as they shook hands.

Isaac looked at Dawson with mild interest. “Is that so?”

“Do you know him?” Fiti asked.

Isaac studied Dawson for a moment. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly.

“Twenty-five years ago,” Dawson said.

He saw the exact instant when the realization hit Isaac because the questioning look suddenly cleared and was replaced with a smile.

“Darko,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Mr. Kutu.”

They shook hands.

“I never thought you would grow so tall,” Isaac said.

“Nor I.”

They laughed.

“What are you doing here in Ketanu?”

“I’m here to help investigate Gladys Mensah’s death. I work for CID in Accra.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re a policeman now. A detective?”

“That’s right.”

“I see. Very good,” he said, but he seemed neutral. “How are your brother and your father?”

“Doing fine, thanks,” Dawson said. “We just met your wife, Tomefa. She’s very nice.”

“Thank you. Are you married?”

“Yes,” Dawson said. “I have one boy-he’s six.”

“Aha. I have five children.”

Dawson smiled. “I have a long way to go, then.”

Isaac laughed but then grew serious. “I heard about your mother. I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“I went to get some herbs from the bush.” Isaac indicated the bag he was holding. “Where were you two going?”

“To Bedome,” Fiti said, “but we wanted to ask you some questions.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. About Gladys Mensah. The last time you saw her.”

“She was right around here,” he said.

“By herself?”

Isaac shook his head. “That boy Samuel Boateng was talking to her. I saw them from my compound. And so did the farmers who were working over there at that time.”

Isaac gestured in the direction of the farm plots near the edge of the forest-the same ones Charles Mensah had described to Dawson. At the moment, two workers were bent over busily tending to the soil.

“What did you do when you saw Samuel and Gladys together?” Dawson asked.

“I went to them and told the boy to leave her alone.”

“Why did you do that, Mr. Kutu?”

“He was troubling her.”

“She said so?”

“No, but I know Samuel. He’s no good.”

“So you told him to go away, and did he?” Dawson asked.

“Yes.”

“And left you alone with Gladys.”

“Yes.”

“And what happened next?”

“Nothing. We talked small-small, and then she went on her way.”

“Back to Ketanu?”

“Yes.”

“Did you follow her?”

“Follow her? No, I went back to my compound.”

“And you didn’t see Samuel return to Gladys at any time?”

Isaac clicked his tongue. “No. I scared him too much.”

“How did you like Gladys?” Dawson asked.

“She was a good woman.”

“I understand she was interested in your herbal medicines.”

“That’s true.”

“Let me ask you something. Was she trying to steal them from you?”

“I don’t think so. Who told you that?”

“Would it have angered you if she was?”

“Of course. But she wasn’t trying to steal anything. Look, if you want to find who killed her, don’t waste your time with people like me. You must look for a witch.”

“Why?”

“Because a witch kills the way Gladys was killed. Without making any mark on the body.”

“How do you know there was no mark?” Dawson asked sharply.

“I saw the body, and I know she was not touched.”

“I see. You’re wrong, but anyway, who do you suspect is the witch who killed Gladys?”

“Her aunt. Elizabeth.”

“Why do you think it’s her?”

“There are certain things healers know. Hard to explain.”

“Just because she makes money and she’s a widow?”

Isaac looked at Dawson in some surprise. “So you know something about it.”

“Not really. I heard it said.”

“Do you believe in witchcraft?”

“I’ve never experienced it, so it’s hard for me to believe in it.”

“You think you’ve never experienced it.”

“How do you mean?” Dawson said.

“Your son,” Isaac said, “or your wife. Is everything fine with them?”

“Not everything, no.”

“It’s your boy, not so?”

Dawson swallowed. “He has a heart problem, yes.”

Isaac nodded. “Do you know for sure that it’s not the work of a witch?”

Dawson laughed. “Please, Mr. Kutu.”

“Have you ever woken up with a headache or pains in your neck or back?”

“Yes.”

“That could be because a witch has been kicking your head around like a football, or banging on your neck with a hammer while you were sleeping.”

“What are you talking about? I would wake up even before she could get close to my bed to kick me in the head.”

“You don’t understand because you think things happen only in the physical world,” Isaac said. “At night your astral body leaves the physical body and enters the astral plane.”

Dawson looked at Fiti. “You understand what he’s saying?”

Fiti smiled. “Just open your mind and listen.”

“Do you ever dream you are flying?” Isaac asked Dawson.

“On occasion.”

“That’s when your astral body is either leaving you or coming back to the physical body. The astral body of a witch also leaves her at night, but while you cannot function in the astral world, she can. That is how she carries out her malice. In the astral world, we have ethereal forms that are exact copies of the physical, only more delicate. If the witch kills your ethereal body in the astral plane, your physical body will die in the physical world. You understand?”

“Yes, but why do you need such complicated explanations when there is something much simpler? Someone in the physical world comes and kills someone else in the physical world. Finished. The deed is done and no one needed to travel to any kind of astral plane anywhere.”

“Of course it can happen that way too,” Isaac said, “but you aren’t listening. What I’m saying is that the ethereal form is so delicate and filmy, the witch can easily kill it without deforming it. That way, in the physical world you will see very little sign of how it happened, or none at all. That is the case with both Gladys and Elizabeth’s husband. What is the single connection between those two deaths? Elizabeth.”

Isaac’s reasoning made a bizarre kind of sense to Dawson.

“So, Darko,” Isaac said, “what do you think now?”