“This is Alex, William’s friend. He told me to call you.”
“Thank you very much, Alex. I really appreciate it. Did William explain what I wanted to talk to you about?”
“Something about his neighbor Daramani-that’s the name, right?”
“Yes. From what William told me, Musa, the friend who was with Daramani, left his place that Saturday around midnight, is that correct?”
“Around there, yeah.”
“And then Daramani left a little later. Do you remember about how long after his friend had left?”
“I don’t know, maybe about thirty minutes.”
“And then William went to bed, right?” Dawson asked. Chikata was eyeing him with curiosity, wondering what the conversation was all about.
“Yes,” Alex said.
“But you stayed behind with your other friend, Houdine, playing cards.”
“Correct.”
“Until what time?”
“Almost two, and then we packed up.”
“You must really like cards.”
“We like beer even more. We play cards and drink and have fun.”
“Understood. So here’s my question: did Daramani come back before you and your friends called it a night?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“What time was that?”
“One-something. Maybe one-fifteen, one-twenty or so.”
“Did he go straight back to his place?”
“Yeah. Well, not exactly straight. He was drunk, paa.”
“Ah,” Dawson said. “Interesting. Alex, if I need to get in touch with you again, can I always reach you at this number?”
“By all means.”
“Thank you very much.”
As Dawson hung up the phone, Chikata asked, “Who was that?”
“Guy called Alex,” Dawson said. “He and two friends were playing cards near Daramani’s place when Daramani showed up with Musa the Saturday night before Musa was found. One of the friends, William, lives two doors down from Daramani.”
“Eh? How do you know all this?”
“I went to Daramani’s place on the weekend to look around. That’s where and when I met William.”
“Wait, wait, I don’t get you. This guy William said what?”
“Daramani and Musa came along a little past eleven after delivering the scrap metal,” Dawson explained. “At the time, William was playing cards near Daramani’s place with Alex and one other friend.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“So the three of them see Musa leaving from Daramani’s place around midnight, and then Daramani himself leaves about twelve-thirty. Just after that, William goes to bed, but Alex and the other friend, Houdine, are still playing cards. Around one-twenty in the morning, they see Daramani coming back. He goes straight to bed. Alex and Houdine finish up around two.”
Chikata was absorbing all this.
“If Daramani murdered Musa,” Dawson continued, “he must have done it at or near Korle Lagoon, because without some kind of vehicle, which Daramani doesn’t have, he couldn’t have moved the body very far. So the question is, how did he leave his house in Nima at twelve-thirty, get to Agbogbloshie, kill Musa, dump his body in the lagoon, and get back to Nima at one-twenty?”
“He could have taken a taxi there and back.”
“It’s about twenty minutes from Nima to Agbogbloshie. Forty minutes for the roundtrip. Where’s the time to commit the murder?”
Chikata’s eyes darted back and forth as his mind searched for an answer.
“Any ideas?” Dawson probed.
“Daramani could have left his house again after Alex and Houdine had finished playing cards at two o’clock.”
Dawson shook his head. “I doubt it. According to Alex, Daramani was so drunk he could barely walk a straight line.”
“Em, maybe these guys-Alex and William or whoever-are really Daramani’s friends and are covering for him.”
Dawson tilted his head side to side, considering. “Hmm. Seems unlikely, but maybe you’re right, who knows? Oh, well, we’ll see.”
He went back to his paperwork, and Chikata stared at the wall for a moment. Abruptly he got up and left the room. Ten minutes later, he was back.
“My uncle wants to speak to you,” he told Dawson tersely.
With Dawson in the execution chair in the boss’s office, Lartey said coldly, “I understand this weekend you went after information regarding Daramani.”
“Yes, sir. Two separate witnesses have given me concurring accounts that make it very difficult to see how Daramani could have killed Musa.”
“While Daramani is under suspicion of murder, Dawson, you may not conduct any investigations. Didn’t I make myself clear on this?”
“I’m confused, sir. Are you saying I’m off the case?”
Before Lartey could answer, Dawson’s phone rang and he looked at the ID. “Oh, sorry, sir, I have to answer this. It’s from Korle Bu DNA Lab. Hello, Dawson speaking.”
“Inspector, this is Jason Allotey.”
“Yes, hi, how are you, Jason?”
“I’m fine. You owe me some nice tilapia.”
“You’ve completed the DNA?”
“Yes. Record time. You have a positive match with the lagoon guy.”
“You are incredible, Jason. Thank you very, very much. I will personally deliver the best tilapia in town.”
“Excellent. I have a question for you, however. Is CID investigating avian murders these days?”
“What do you mean, avian murders?”
“The blood on this knife D.S. Chikata sent us isn’t human. The red cells are nucleated. In other words, the blood of a bird. You still want DNA testing?”
Dawson chuckled at first. Then he progressed to a full-throated laugh.
Lartey stared at him. “What’s wrong with you, Dawson?”
“Jason, would you mind speaking to Chief Superintendent of Police Lartey?” Dawson handed his boss the phone. After listening for a moment, the chief supol was visibly displeased.
“Thank you, Mr. Allotey,” he said tightly. He handed the phone back without a word.
As Dawson returned to the detectives’ room, Chikata was coming out. He gave his boss an anxious, searching look.
“My uncle just called me, and he doesn’t sound too happy. Is he annoyed about something?”
Dawson feigned ignorance. “Not that I know of.”
Chikata hurried away. Fifteen minutes later, he returned looking devastated. He went quietly back to work.
After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “My uncle says I should ask you what the next step is and what my orders are. Sir.”
“Your orders?”
“Yes, sir, Dawson, sir. He said you’re in charge and I shouldn’t do anything without your prior approval. He also said Daramani should be released immediately because the case against him is very feeble. Sir.”
“Oh.” Dawson blinked. “Okay. Well, what we need to do now is get Musa Zakari’s name and photograph to the Public Relations Office for wide media release. Also there should be a statement that charges against Daramani have been dropped. Oh, and remind Wisdom Asamoah he’s supposed to give me an extra print for Akosua.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We don’t think Musa had any family in Accra, but someone might come forward if they see the photograph in the papers or on TV. We also need to look for people who knew him, like his fellow truck pushers in Agbogbloshie and around Accra. So we go to the places they congregate, show them the new picture of Musa, and see if anyone knew him. We’re looking for enemies too. These guys are living in a very tough world. Maybe one of them hated Musa for whatever reason. Maybe cutting off his fingers was an act of spite, who knows?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll start on those things. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to look for a Dr. Allen Botswe at the University of Ghana. He’s a criminal psychologist. I want to ask him what he thinks of Musa’s case.”
“Yes, all right, sir.”
As Dawson got to the door, he turned to add, “And Chikata, stop calling me ‘sir.’ I’m not the bloody headmaster.”
18