“Listen,” Dawson said quietly. “Don’t pretend you don’t understand English, because I know you do. If you don’t answer my questions, I will take you down to the station again and lock you up for two days. Am I clear?”
Wei nodded apprehensively. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.
“Good,” Dawson said, releasing him. “Take a seat over there, please.”
Wei obeyed, sitting down in one of the armchairs, and Dawson took his seat opposite him.
“Is Lian here?”
“Lian?” He was puzzled.
“The Kia outside is not hers?” Dawson asked.
“Ah,” Wei said with an uneasy laugh. “She give me the Kia; she say she like to drive Bao Mercedes.”
“I see,” Dawson said. “I was at your mining site today. It was deserted. Where were you and your workers?”
Wei looked bitter. “Those boys, they run away because my brother die there and they ’fraid juju. Anyway, now, no more gold there. Have to find other place.”
So that’s the real reason Liu’s site was abandoned, Dawson thought. It still didn’t disprove his theory of the existence of police informants, though.
“When Bao was still alive,” Dawson said, “and all the boys were working at your site, did the police or military ever come to ask questions or arrest you?”
Wei turned the corners of his lips down and shook his head. “No.”
“Did anyone ever come to tell you that the police were planning to raid your camp?”
“Raid? No. Never raid me and Bao.”
“What about other miners at other sites? Did they know when the police were coming because someone informed them in advance?”
“I hear something like that before,” Wei said with a dispirited shrug, “but never happen to us.”
Dawson could see that his line of questioning was fruitless. The Chinese man was listless and distracted, and Dawson watched him as he seemed to slump further and further into his chair-a chubby, broken man who had lost so much. Not everything, though, Dawson reflected, looking at the HDTV.
He got up to look at a picture on the wall of Bao and Wei together. They could not be more different.
Dawson turned to look at Wei closely. “You miss your brother?”
Wei didn’t answer. He stared at the wall photograph for several seconds, and his face began to crumple as his eyes moistened. “Why I don’t wake up that morning?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Why I no hear alarm?”
He put his head in his hands and suppressed his weeping so that his body heaved as he wheezed and gasped.
“I’m sorry,” Dawson said. He understood the man’s anguish. After a few minutes, there wasn’t much for Dawson to do but take his leave. The visit had been quite anticlimactic. As he got to the door, Dawson noticed a bunch of keys in a porcelain bowl on the sideboard to the left, including a car key with that famous logo. Seems like Wei has driving rights to the Benz, as well, Dawson observed. The death of Bao Liu was a mixed blessing for Wei: grief and financial gain both.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
In his chilled office Monday morning, Commander Longdon carefully read through Dawson’s account of the shooting incident at the illegal mine on Friday. Spectacles half down his nose, he flipped back and forth between the three printed pages, and Dawson waited tensely.
The commander finally looked up over his glasses. “So you see the folly of your ways.”
Dawson swallowed. “Yes, sir. And I apologize.”
“Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“All I can say is that I committed an error of judgment.”
Longdon leaned back thoughtfully for a moment and rocked gently in his executive recliner for a few minutes. Finally, he sighed. “Chief Inspector Dawson, your excellent performance as a detective per se is not disputed.”
But, Dawson thought. There’s always a but.
“But what has happened in this situation,” Longdon continued, “is a demonstration of your persistent issue, which is your arrogance and disregard for authority. Many of your superiors have commented on this.”
“It’s something I have to work on,” Dawson acknowledged.
“A word to the wise,” Longdon said. “If we are to work well together, I expect you to heed my instructions, advice, and warnings. Is that understood?”
“Of course, sir,” Dawson said. “And one other thing I wanted to mention is that I found out that Wei Liu’s mining site was deserted because he is relocating, not because of informants forewarning him about our raid.”
Longdon nodded with satisfaction. “Just as I said.”
Dawson dipped his head contritely. “You were right; I was wrong, sir.”
“We must move on to other items,” the Commander said. “Now that you’ve had enough time to reorganize the office downstairs, I would like a detailed written report on the changes you have made. I go for the regional meeting next week, and I want to report the progress.”
“Yes, sir, I can have that for you.” Dawson hesitated on his next point. “Sir, that reminds me. I found three cases in the office that were started by my predecessor and Sergeant Obeng and remain open. They are incompletely written, and I wonder if you know about them.”
“Do you have the files?”
“I’ll get them, sir.” Dawson excused himself, ran downstairs, and returned with the documents.
“Two of the files concern armed robberies,” Dawson said, opening one of the three folders. “The first is a British national by name of Colin Wilshire who was allegedly attacked at gunpoint in Santase, Kumasi, and robbed of up to seven thousand dollars’ worth of gold when he was returning to his house after a buying deal. Do you recall that case, sir?”
“No,” Longdon said, looking puzzled. “What is the date on the file?”
“It happened in March of this year, sir.”
“That’s when Chief Inspector Addae was very sick and work became disrupted,” Longdon said. “Some of the reports were not passed on. We have to look at reopening the investigation. What is the other one?”
“It’s an American ex-basketball player called Beko Tanbry. He too had some dealings in gold. His SUV was ambushed between Obuasi and Kumasi around Pakyi. He made a report, but there is no follow-up.”
Longdon looked regretful. “I put Sergeant Obeng temporarily in charge when DCI Addae was ill, but little did I know that the alcoholism was impairing his abilities.”
He takes no responsibility whatsoever for any of these investigation lapses, Dawson thought. Pitiful. This man is not a leader; he’s a worthless figurehead. No wonder the morale of the place was in the toilet.
“And the third case?” Longdon asked.
“It concerns the death of Amos Okoh.”
Longdon nodded. “An unfortunate accident.”
“Please, there are two versions,” Dawson said gently. “One is that it was an accident, the other that it was deliberate, but no real attempt at closing the case was made. I would like to do that, sir.”
Longdon nodded. “Good. I think we should get that completed.”
“I can begin work on all of these,” Dawson said.
The commander frowned. “That might make your plate too full.”
“If you would spare Constable Asase to assist me,” Dawson said, “I can take it on, sir.
“Because the cases are a lapse on our part, I want Regional to handle them,” the commander said abruptly.
“I don’t quite understand, sir. Since it’s Obuasi’s lapse, shouldn’t we be the ones to fix it?”