“You have to admit the case against the boy is-or was-strong,” Chikata replied. “He and Gladys went into the forest together and he was the last person seen with her.”
“So Auntie Osewa’s version of the story goes,” Dawson said, “but two farmers who work at the edge of the forest told me that after his argument with Isaac, Samuel came back to their farm to work and never left their presence before dark. So how could he have waylaid Gladys on her way back to Ketanu?”
“Then what about your aunt’s claim? You’re saying she’s lying?”
“Painful as it is to say, yes. I think she may be trying to protect Isaac Kutu.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s been having an affair with him-possibly for years and years.”
“Are you serious?” Chikata asked, eyebrows up in surprise. “How do you know that? I’m sure she didn’t volunteer the information.”
“No, she didn’t. I found out through another channel.”
“Which I can see you’re not about to tell me.”
“Not right now.”
“Then my next question is, Why would Kutu have wanted to kill Gladys?”
“Rejection. Kutu is the kind of man who gets any woman he wants-a bit like you-but Gladys was the exception. Her only concern was how she could work with him on his herbal medicines, but he wanted much more than that from her.”
“And for that reason he killed her?”
“Crazed lust, jealousy? You act as though those aren’t strong motives.”
“They are-I know they are,” Chikata said with some exasperation. “Okay. So now what?”
“I want you to take Kutu in for questioning-not here in Ketanu, but at Ho Central. I’ll tell you exactly what to ask him when you interrogate him. I suspect he went to the scene of the crime just before Efia arrived that morning. I think he can be bluffed into confessing.”
Chikata looked unhappy. “Ah, Dawson, I’m not at all convinced. It doesn’t sound right.”
“Your D.I. is telling you what to do,” Dawson said evenly. “He’s not asking you.”
“Yes, sir, D.I. Dawson, sir-but Chief Superintendent has pulled you off the case and put me in charge. He outranks you.”
“Come on, Chikata. Stop this nonsense. Work with me. What have you got to lose? You’re not going to get in trouble over this. Lartey loves you. You’re family.”
“All right, but if you can’t get anything out of Isaac Kutu, are you going to go back home and leave these Ketanu people alone?”
“I didn’t say that. Now, get going.”
45
ON THE WAY BACK TO Auntie Osewa’s, Dawson noticed that Elizabeth’s shop door was open. Peering inside, he was astonished to see who was there stocking shelves.
“Elizabeth! You’re out of hospital already?”
“Dawson, woizo! Come in.”
Her face was still swollen, but with artfully applied makeup and one of her elaborate and colorful headdresses, she looked just fine.
“Are you all right?” Dawson said.
“All right enough to leave the hospital. I was going mad in there. If Dr. Biney hadn’t released me, I would have signed myself out.”
“Don’t overdo it, though,” Dawson said. “I know you’re tough, but…”
“Never worry, I’m fine. We have some new fabrics and dresses in, so I was just arranging them.”
Dawson took a visual sweep, and his eye lit on something familiar. He went to the shelf and touched it.
“This is the same as the one you put in Gladys’s casket. With the Adinkra signs.”
“Yes.”
“It’s really beautiful. I’ll get it for Christine.”
“Oh, wonderful.”
Elizabeth gift-wrapped a full-size length of the fabric and put it in a bag.
“This time I pay,” Dawson insisted.
She smiled. “All right. Where are you off to?”
“Home-before the rain starts.” He noticed how he had used the word home.
“I’ll be closing up soon myself,” she said. “I heard a rumor you’ve been asked to leave Ketanu. Is it true?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re still here.”
“I’m still here. When Gladys’s murderer is in handcuffs, I’ll leave.”
Dawson made it back just before the rain hit, and as he sat down to eat with his aunt, uncle, and cousin, the first grumbles of thunder began. The power was out, so they ate by lantern light. The meal was as marvelously delicious as any Auntie Osewa had prepared, yet what a difference a day had made. Eating with her just didn’t feel the same. Dawson kept telling himself that he did not know for certain she had lied to the police about Samuel. Yet he could not shake the feeling.
“Why so quiet, Darko?” she asked. “Anything wrong?”
“Oh, no, nothing. Just a little tired today.”
He had an impulse to ask her right now, point-blank, Did you really see Samuel walk into the forest with Gladys, or did you lie to protect Isaac Kutu?‘ With a shock, Dawson realized he was seeing his auntie in a different light, or perhaps a new darkness: lying, deception. It was a horrible feeling.
Not yet, he told himself. It was not yet time to confront her.
Togbe Adzima told Ama to cook his soup inside his hut because of the rain. He was well on the way to becoming drunk. He had run out of schnapps, but one of his wives had brought him some palm wine. He was hungry, so he decided to take a break to eat and then he would have some more to drink.
Everyone had gone inside in anticipation of the downpour, except Efia, who was trying to secure a tarpaulin to four wooden posts for the goats and chickens to take shelter underneath. The sky was black and angry. The first round of lightning flittered softly and was followed by a rolling, guttural rumble, like a giant cart being pushed across the heavens. The next was a bright, quick flash that showed everything in sharp relief, and the thunder that came after it was a deafening crack. Adzima watched the deluge of water outside the door and hoped it wouldn’t rise above the first step into the house. That would mean a flood.
He turned to look at Ama as she spooned his soup into a bowl. He slurped it noisily and chewed loudly on the goat meat and vegetables. He chose a morsel from the soup and held it out to Ama.
“Here. Eat.”
She seemed surprised that he was offering it. He seldom did. She ate it hungrily, and he watched her. She sat against the wall with her legs extended and crossed while she watched the storm.
Efia came in soaking wet.
“What are you doing in here?” Adzima yelled. “Get out.”
“Sorry,” she said and went back into the rain.
“Stupid,” he muttered.
“Should I go, Togbe?” Ama said uncertainly.
“Did I tell you to? Stay there.”
When he was done, she held the bowl out in the rain to wash it, and then she put it back in the corner with the rest. She made a move toward the door, but he told her to come back and sit down. He stared at her smooth black skin, the way it glowed in the light of the kerosene lantern. He turned the lantern off to save fuel, and it now was almost completely black inside the hut.
“Come here,” he told Ama.
He drew her to him and felt for her breasts. They were lovely. He had been watching them grow over the last several months. But Ama was tense and stiff. He pulled at her wraparound skirt, groping for her flesh. She tried to get away, but he held her fast, and once she began to struggle, the fight was on.
Efia felt uneasy about leaving Ama with Togbe. The other wives were busy trying to catch leaks in the roof while the children played around, but Efia stood at the doorway waiting anxiously for Ama. Togbe’s lantern had gone out, which worried Efia even more. She sighed, took a few steps toward Togbe’s hut, and turned back again. What should she do? Should she check on Ama?
She decided she would. She was already soaked, so what difference did it make? She stepped out, trying to avoid the deepest parts of the water and holding up her skirt so she wouldn’t trip over it.