Dawson nodded. “And how far away were you from here?”

“Down there.” She pointed. “I’ll show you.”

“Was he walking toward you or away from you?”

“Away.”

They went farther down the footpath. Two women talking to each other went by them with cassavas balanced on their heads, and Dawson and Efia wished them good morning.

“I came out from here.” Efia showed Dawson.

There was a break in the bushy vegetation, and Dawson recognized it as the same access he and Inspector Fiti had used. He looked back the way they had come. “I noticed a place up there that might be another path into the forest. Come with me.”

They retraced their steps to the spot. It was true there was a split in the vegetation, but it wasn’t very pronounced.

“Could you go from here to the plantain grove?” Dawson asked.

Efia looked doubtful. “It looks tough. I’ve never done it.”

“Let’s try. You lead.”

The going was not at all easy. They had to weave and duck to get through, and the underbrush was tangled and difficult to negotiate. They arrived at the plantain grove after about eight minutes.

They stood looking around the clearing.

“This is the first time I’ve come back here since Gladys died,” Efia said.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m all right.”

“I want to show you something,” Dawson said.

He led her behind the plantain trees and stopped at the juju pyramid.

“Have you seen this before, Efia?”

“Yes, one time.”

“Are you afraid of it?”

“No, but I stay away from it.”

“What would happen if someone took all these rocks off to see what’s underneath?”

Efia shook her head slowly and disapprovingly. “No one should do that.”

“Do you know who built this?”

“No. And I don’t ask.”

He smiled at her. “Okay. Well, let’s go back the way you went after you found Gladys’s body. You say you ran?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s do that. Try to run as fast as you did. I’ll follow you.”

Dawson had to admit Efia could tackle the forest a lot better than he could. At an all-out run he almost fell twice as he tried to keep up with her.

They came out on the path again, and both were breathing heavily.

“Ei, that was hard,” Dawson said, looking at his watch. Four and a half minutes.

She smiled. “City man, that’s why.”

They laughed.

“I have to go back, Mr. Dawson.”

“I’ll walk with you. Thank you, Efia. You’ve helped me a lot.”

“Not at all, Mr. Dawson.”

On the way back to the farm, Dawson was thinking of a scenario. What if Isaac had killed Gladys that Friday evening?

Saturday morning, he returns to the plantain grove because he thinks he might have left an incriminating clue, or he wants to make sure he hasn’t. While there, he hears Efia approaching. He escapes through the bush to the Ketanu-Bedome footpath by a route that takes him seven or eight minutes. Meanwhile, two or three minutes pass as Efia enters the grove, discovers the body, and screams for help. She runs back to the footpath, which takes another four and a half minutes. Add that up and we get about seven minutes. Isaac Kutu is emerging from the forest at about the same time. That’s when Efia sees him and calls out to him.

“Let me ask you something, Efia,” Dawson said, “and if you know the answer, I want you to tell me the truth.”

“I will try.”

“Gladys was interested in Mr. Kutu’s medicine. Do you think she was trying to steal it from him?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Gladys didn’t need Mr. Kutu. She had everything in the world-what does she need him for? No, it was Mr. Kutu who needed Gladys.”

“Do you think he was in love with her?”

“Once when she came to Bedome, I saw him looking at her with desire. I can’t go inside his mind to know whether he was feeling love or not. Mr. Kutu does that with a lot of women. Sometimes he has looked at me the same way.”

“And whom else has he looked at in that way?”

Efia hesitated.

“I have to know,” Dawson pressed.

She was quiet for a moment and he waited.

“If I tell you-”

“No one will find out you told me.”

“He loves one woman from Ketanu.”

“Who? Do you know the woman?”

“Her name is Osewa Gedze.”

Dawson stopped.

Efia turned. “What’s wrong?”

He was stunned. “Osewa Gedze? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. You know her?”

“How do you know Mr. Kutu loves her?”

Efia visibly squirmed. “I’ve seen them together in the forest.”

“What do you mean by together?”

“I mean they were…”

“Having sex.”

“Yes.” She looked disgusted. “To do that in the forest-it’s terrible, Mr. Dawson.”

“When did it happen?”

“Five or six days ago.”

“Can you show me where they were?”

“Yes, but we have to be quick or Ama will start to get worried.”

The spot Efia took him to was a clearing with a light tree cover.

“How did you find this place?” Dawson asked her, looking around.

“By accident. I got lost while I was looking for a different spot to pick plantains.”

Dawson saw a little shelter-four short poles with a roof.

“Is that where they were, Efia? Under there?”

“Yes.” The look on her face was as if she had just chewed a mouthful of quinine.

Dawson now spotted a bald area on the ground with a pile of ash and partially burned wood. He knelt down beside it.

“Were they cooking?” he asked.

Efia was slightly amused. “No, that’s not the kind of fireplace to cook something. It’s not a good fire.” She picked up a couple of twigs and small leafy branches. “These are green. They don’t burn well, they just make a lot of white smoke.”

“White smoke,” Dawson said with a sudden smile. “Thank you for that, Efia.”

She was bemused. “What did I do?”

“You did a lot-in just one sentence.”

He got up and went poking in the bush. He found a small raffia mat folded in quarters. He opened it out and saw burn marks.

Efia peered at it. “They must have used it to put the fire out.”

“Eventually,” Dawson said. “After they sent the signals.”

44

DAWSON COULD NOT GET through to Chikata’s mobile that afternoon, so he went looking for him. He tried the police station first and almost collided with Inspector Fiti as he walked in.

“Didn’t Chief Superintendent Lartey tell you to go home?” Fiti said coldly.

“No, he told me I was on suspension without pay,” Dawson replied, “so I decided to take a three-week vacation in your beautiful town and spend time with my aunt and uncle.”

Fiti grunted and narrowed his eyes with suspicion. “And so what do you want here?”

“I’m looking for D.S. Chikata.”

“He went to the guesthouse. Do you need something?” He was still suspicious.

“No, thank you.” Dawson turned to leave.

“And by the way,” Fiti said, “Chikata agrees with me that Samuel killed Gladys Mensah, so the case is closed and everything is settled.”

“I see,” Dawson said. “Congratulations.”

He left Fiti and his smugness and walked to the guesthouse. The sky was setting up dark clouds near the horizon. It would probably rain by nightfall.

He knocked on the guesthouse door.

“Who is it?” Chikata’s voice.

“Dawson.”

He heard another voice, this time a woman’s, then a lot of shuffling, and Dawson knew exactly what to expect. Chikata came to the door shirtless and let out a young woman with huge breasts and a dress so tight she could hardly breathe. She slipped past Dawson and quickly left.

“Hard at work, I see,” he said drily to Chikata.

“I was lonesome,” Chikata said feebly.

Dawson waved that aside. “I want to talk to you about the case.”

He came in and took a seat. Chikata threw on a shirt and sat down on the bed.

“I hear you’re going along with Inspector Fiti that Samuel killed Gladys,” Dawson said.