Dawson finally escaped the congestion and got to a quieter part of town, where he managed to find a parking spot between two rusting minivans.

Taking his tote bag with him, he walked through a maze of small houses, getting progressively farther from the street until he came to a cul-de-sac occupied by a neat yellow house. Daniel Armah had built it from scratch, and second only to his wife, children, and grandchildren, it was the pride of his life.

The door was open, and Dawson called out to announce he had arrived. Having got through to Armah by phone earlier in the day, he was expected, and Armah knew what the topic of conversation was to be. Before all the developments of the past day, Dawson had planned only to ask Armah’s advice over the phone on how to “negotiate” the rural environment, but things had so radically and abruptly changed that Dawson now had to see him in person.

He heard quick footsteps as Armah approached, and when Dawson saw him, he felt even more elated than he had expected. Armah was still trim and compact, and though his hair had gone gray, there was still plenty of it.

“Darko, you made it!” he said, broad face alive with delight.

Dawson laughed as they embraced.

“Welcome, welcome,” Armah said. “I’m so glad to see you, so very glad. Come in, come in. Here, let me take your bag.”

Despite the heat outside, there was a nice cool breeze blowing through the house. The sitting room was spacious and relaxing.

“How was your trip?” Armah asked. “You must be exhausted.”

“Well, you know how the roads are.”

“Yes, yes. Maude went with the grandkids up to Mampong to stay with her sister for the weekend, and I insisted my driver take them because he’s the only one I completely trust. Would you like something to drink, or would you prefer to freshen up a bit before you have your Malta Guinness?”

They burst out laughing at the reference.

“Aha, you thought I would forget?” Armah said, winking at him. “I have a whole refrigerator full of the stuff just for you.”

“Thanks, Armah. I think I’d like to take a shower first.”

“But of course. Come along, your room is all ready.”

Dawson was a full-grown man in his own right, but Armah was still such a paternal figure to him that he caught himself making sure he didn’t move anything out of place in the bedroom or bathroom, just like a “good little boy.”

He showered gratefully; running water had never felt so good. With a change of clothes, he was revived as he rejoined Armah in the sitting room. Two bottles of ice-cold Malta were ready with a tall glass.

Armah served himself Star beer, and they drank and talked for a while about families and friends and the old days, but then it was time to get to business.

“So I gather you’ve had a rather rough time of it in Ketanu,” Armah said.

“Yes, I have.”

“I want to hear all about it. Maybe I can be of some help.”

Dawson started at the very beginning and left nothing out. As he came to Samuel’s suicide, Armah’s face showed regret.

When Dawson was finished with his account, Armah leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling.

“So,” he said. “You’ve got all these things happening, all ingredients in a mixed-up soup. There’s no solution to the murder yet, we think Adzima is connected to the silver bracelet but it’s unconfirmed, this poor boy Samuel has killed himself, Queen Elizabeth is badly hurt, and you’ve been thrown off the case.”

“That about summarizes it, yes,” Dawson said with a bitter laugh.

“Something struck me,” Armah said, “and I wanted to get it out of the way. About Samuel. Do we know for sure there wasn’t foul play? This brute of a constable, Bubo-was that his name? Yes, him. Couldn’t he have strung Samuel up out of vengeance and made it look like suicide?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him, but Constable Gyamfi’s account of the sequence of events makes that very unlikely. He took a meal down to Samuel, and at that time he was alive. Between then and when I found him, Bubo never went down to the jail cell.”

“And you trust Gyamfi?”

“Completely. He wouldn’t try to protect Bubo.”

“All right, good. That’s a relief.” Armah reflected for a moment. “You feel very bad about Samuel?”

“I can’t even tell you how terrible I feel.”

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Darko, even though I don’t think you’re to blame, if you had come here defensively telling me it wasn’t your fault the boy died, I would have been disappointed because it wouldn’t be the Darko Dawson I know. It would say to me that you had lost a piece of your humanity You see what I mean?”

“Yes.”

“I remember when I was about your age, I arrested this boy-he may have been eighteen or nineteen. I say ‘boy’ because he was so small in stature, a tiny thing. Anyway, it was a petty crime, something utterly stupid. He begged me not to put him in a cell with other prisoners, but I ignored him. One of them beat him up that same night. He didn’t die, but he was very badly maimed. Do you know I’ve never forgiven myself for that? I probably never will, but I’m glad of that, because if a day ever comes that I’m able to think back on that incident without any pain or guilt, then I might as well curl up in a hole and die.”

“You may feel glad I haven’t lost my humanity,” Dawson said, “but I personally feel worthless.”

“Because you’re in the thick of it. I have the luxury of not being you.”

Dawson laughed and began to feel a little better.

“What do you think I should do now?” he asked Armah.

“Who cares what I think? What do you want to do?”

“Solve the case, of course. I’m officially off it, but with three weeks of suspension to spare, I might as well use the time fruitfully.” Dawson reflected somberly for a moment. “I owe it not only to Gladys, but to Samuel as well.”

“There you are then. You think Chikata will cause problems if he sees you back in Ketanu? Run to Lartey and tell on you?”

“I don’t doubt he will.”

“I’ll put a call in to Chikata’s father, pull some strings, and make sure his boy keeps his trap shut.”

“I didn’t realize you knew his father.”

“I know a lot of people.”

“That’s true.”

“So what do we have so far on the case?” Armah said. “For practical purposes we’ve ruled Sowah out. We are not even considering Samuel, but we still wonder about Isaac Kutu and Togbe Adzima. I’m just worried we’ve overlooked someone. What about family? You always look at family.”

“Their alibis all fit. There’s nothing there, motive or otherwise. I need to pin down Adzima and Kutu.”

“Something doesn’t feel right about Adzima though,” Armah said. “As both the murderer and the bracelet thief, I mean.”

“How so?”

Armah shrugged. “If he killed her, we say the motive is his fear and loathing of her, not robbery. So, then, why does he steal her bracelet?”

“Because he’s a swine?”

“Well, yes, he is,” Armah said quite seriously. “But it still doesn’t sit comfortably with me. Now, I could see him taking the bracelet off just as a petty thief with no respect for the dead.”

“I get what you mean, but it would be a shame not to track him all the way down.”

“You’re absolutely right, and I shouldn’t have implied it wasn’t a lead to be followed. Now, to Isaac Kutu. I think he may have had a motive, but he’s a difficult person to peg. When I was investigating your mother’s disappearance, I had the strangest feeling about him, but I was never able to connect any dots that included him. You remember what I told you about solving mysteries?”

“That it’s a matter of making a few of the connections and the rest will fall into place.”

“A-plus. That is what solving mysteries is all about. Now, let’s eat.”

“Oh,” Dawson said brightly. “You cooked?”

“Ha, you’re funny. When have you ever known me to cook? No, Maude prepared it and left it all ready to be heated up. Which is about all I know how to do.”