It was after lunch that Chikata phoned.
“I tried calling you earlier,” Dawson said.
“Yes, I see that,” Chikata said. “Sorry I couldn’t take it. I was questioning that guy, Daramani.”
Dawson sat bolt upright. “Daramani?”
“Akosua spotted him at the Nima Market earlier on today. She tried to call you but didn’t get you, so she got in touch with me through CID. At that time she had kept Daramani within sight, so I told her to follow him if she could while I was on my way there. We stayed in contact on the phone, and by the time I got to Nima, he had gone into the public WC-the one on Alata Street. So I just waited for him to come out.”
Dawson swallowed. “Where are you now?”
“At CID. I brought Daramani back with me so we could interview him.”
Dawson’s heart began to race. “Has he said much to you so far?”
“He says he knows you. In fact, he says you’re his friend.”
Dawson’s mouth went dry.
“At first I thought he was bluffing,” Chikata continued, “but then he told me he knew your wife’s name is Christine and your son is Hosiah.”
A sheen of cold sweat burst out over Dawson’s forehead. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
When he got to CID, neither Chikata nor Daramani was in the detectives’ room. Instead, one of the corporals had a message that Dawson was to report to the chief supol. His heart sank. This was getting worse by the minute. He went down to the second floor with the sick feeling of a pupil going to the headmaster’s office.
“Sit down,” Lartey said as Dawson came in. “Philip picked up this man Daramani, who I understand knew the Korle Lagoon victim.”
“Yes, sir,” Dawson said. “That’s what the victim’s former girlfriend told us.”
“Mm-hm, yes. Now, when Philip was questioning him, Daramani claimed he’s a good friend of yours, and even named your wife and son correctly. Is it true he’s your friend?”
“He knows me, I know him,” Dawson said. “Maybe you call that a friend, I don’t know, sir. I arrested him years ago, and after he had served time, he acted as an informant for a while. After that, I kept an eye on him to make sure he stayed out of trouble.”
“That’s laudable, I suppose, but why the interest in him in particular?”
Dawson shrugged. “Sometimes I see potential in the unlikeliest people.”
“You brought him in on marijuana possession, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you seen any, em, potential-as you call it-realized in this gentleman?”
“Well, he’s stayed out of trouble, learned better English. And now he has a better job.”
Lartey tapped the end of his pen on his desk, looking skeptical. “I see. And the marijuana? Tell me about that.”
Dawson had to be careful. Was this a trap? What had Daramani told them?
“He knows all too well it’s against the law,” Dawson said.
“Has he stopped using it?”
“If not, he could be arrested all over again.”
“So if you were to catch him smoking marijuana, you would of course arrest him.”
“Use, possession, and sale of marijuana is against the law,” Dawson said firmly. “He knows that and I know that.”
“Yes.” Lartey stared at him for a moment without blinking. “Do you understand how your relationship with Daramani is a conflict of interest in this investigation?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Did you not realize on Wednesday that you knew Daramani when the young lady showed you his place of residence in Nima?”
“Since he wasn’t there, I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure it was the same person. People move around.”
“But you planned to make it known as soon as you discovered it to be true.”
“Not doing that would jeopardize the investigation.”
“Correct.” Lartey leaned back. “In that regard, I won’t have you interrogate this man, nor do I advise you have any further contact with him while we are investigating him. Is that understood?”
“Of course, sir. Who will do the interrogation, then?”
“Chikata will.”
13
There is only one official interrogation room at CID Headquarters. It is reserved for “cases of national significance.” The murder of a presumably unimportant teenager in the slum of Agbogbloshie did not make the grade. Normally, Daramani would have been interviewed in the detectives’ room like everyone else, but Lartey had decided to use an assistant superintendent’s room that was empty for the moment while the ASP was on assignment in Tamale. Even though Lartey was going to “sit in” on the interrogation, it was Chikata who would be doing the talking.
Dawson didn’t think that was a good idea. Chikata was too inexperienced, and he didn’t have the skills. But Dawson knew what was happening. The detective sergeant wanted to “prove himself,” and his uncle was going to let him have a good try.
They proceeded to the ASP’s room down the hallway. Dawson followed them, but as they reached the door, the chief supol turned to him and said, “So as not to bias the suspect’s answers, it would be better if you’re not present in the room.”
So Daramani is officially now a suspect?
“All right, sir.”
Uncle and nephew entered the room. There were two tables, one piled with papers. Daramani, tall and lean in his chair, sat at the other with his back to the louvered windows where Dawson stood observing.
Chikata sat down opposite Daramani, Lartey stayed out of sight, sitting behind Daramani.
“Your full name is Daramani Gushegu?” Chikata began in Twi.
“Yes, please.”
“And you live in Nima?”
“Yes, please.”
“Do you know one Musa Zakari?”
“Please, yes, I know him.”
“How do you know him?”
“He is a truck pusher, and I met him one time at Nima side.”
“How long ago?”
“Maybe… some six months, something like that.”
“Do you know where he is right now?”
“No, please.”
“Do you know that a man resembling Musa was found dead in Korle Lagoon?”
Daramani drew back. “No. Serious? When?”
“It will be two weeks ago this Sunday. You never saw it in the newspapers?”
“No, please. But is he the one in the lagoon for sure?”
“Do you know his girlfriend, Akosua Prempeh?”
“Yes, please. I know her.”
“When was the last time you saw Musa?”
“Please, I saw him… two weeks ago.”
“What day?”
“Hmm.” Daramani thought back. “Friday. No, Saturday.”
“Where did you see him?”
“Nima Market.”
“Was he by himself?”
“No, please. He was with Akosua.”
“What time was that?”
“Evening time. Like six o’clock.”
“And then what happened?”
“He asked me to help him to take metal pieces to one man in Maamobi, so I said okay I can help you.”
“How did you take the metal scraps there?”
“With a cart from my friend in Nima.”
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“Yaw.”
“After you used his cart to take the stuff to the man, what did you do?”
“We went to my house.”
“You and Musa?”
“Yes, please.”
“What did you do at your house?”
“We were just talking.”
“And smoking marijuana?”
“Please, no. I don’t smoke that.”
Chikata grunted, looking skeptical. “Okay, we’ll see when we search your house. How long did Musa stay with you?”