“No, sir. It does not.”
“Did you let Superintendent Hammond know about this?”
“Superintendent Hammond has been against us all the way, Uncle,” Chikata said heatedly. “He hasn’t lifted one finger to help us.”
Lartey’s expression changed. “Is that so? Why didn’t you report that to me?”
“It was pettiness, sir,” Dawson said quickly. “Not worth your time at all. Anyway, he has apologized to me and has promised to be more helpful. We also had some, um, worries that maybe he has some knowledge of the conspiracy, but we are not certain how deeply involved he is. I don’t want to incriminate him more than I should.”
Lartey nodded. “There’s time to investigate what’s going on in that regard. Let’s get to the bottom line. Who do you think murdered Tetteh and Smith-Aidoo?”
“We have three suspects,” Dawson said. “The Honorable Terence Amihere, the BNI director, and Roger Calmy-Rey.”
“Or all of the above could be involved in some way,” Lartey added.
“Yes, sir.”
The chief superintendent took a deep breath and sighed. “I want to shield you from the BNI, especially. They can be vindictive.”
He got up abruptly, sending his executive chair shooting back. He stood at the window for a long time, gazing down at the browning lawn at the front of the CID building. Neither Dawson nor Chikata dared move, but both knew that the chief superintendent was on their side and ready to act. It was just a matter of deciding how.
“Okay,” Lartey said finally, turning back to them. “I have to get everything lined up here in Accra before you make any moves on anyone in Takoradi. It can’t be the other way around, so you have to wait for word from me before you act. I know two members of the opposition political party who would love to make the party in power look bad with a juicy corruption story. That way, the accusations will appear to emanate at the parliamentary level and keep the two of you safe. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Dawson said. “Thank you, sir.”
“Anything else you’re hiding up your sleeves? If so, for goodness’ sake, speak now. I don’t want any late revelations.”
“Nothing, sir,” Dawson said.
“Good. Now get out. I have a lot of work to do in a very short time.”
Chapter 36
BACK IN TAKORADI, DAWSON and Chikata waited for two days, doing nothing while knowing there was so much to be done was a strange and agonizing experience. On each of those two days, Dawson checked that Calmy-Rey was still in town. One of his assistants had mentioned that he would be around for maybe another week. Dawson was worried about such vague wording.
He was in Chikata’s hotel room when he received the call at 11:35 of the third morning. It was the chief superintendent.
“Everything is set,” Lartey said. “Get to work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Chikata, guessing that the signal had come, jumped up.
“Let’s go,” Dawson said.
Having given Baah a couple of days off, they grabbed a taxi and told the driver to take them to the Malgam building, where they went straight to the top floor.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the receptionist said. “Mr. Calmy-Rey isn’t in. He’s leaving for the UK today.”
No, Dawson thought. “What time?”
“Two o’clock.”
It was 12:02, so they were cutting it close.
“He may already be at the airport,” Dawson said, as he and Chikata ran down the staircase to the ground floor. “You go there, I’ll go to his house. We can’t let him leave the country.”
They split up, taking taxis in opposite directions.
DAWSON RANG THE bell at the gate and a guard opened up the pedestrian entrance.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon. I’m here to see Mr. Calmy-Rey.”
As Dawson went through, a houseboy came out of the house carrying a three-piece matching set of luggage to the waiting SUV, with Roger Calmy-Rey close behind him.
“Good afternoon, Inspector!” he said, cheerily. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
“Good afternoon, sir.”
As they shook hands, Dawson slid his left palm up Calmy-Rey’s arm. The Ghana Police regulations manual stipulated that the arresting officer must make every effort to physically touch the suspect. “You are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Mr. Lawrence Tetteh, Mr. Charles Smith-Aidoo and Mrs. Fiona Smith-Aidoo.”
Calmy-Rey turned sheet white.
FOUR HOURS LATER, the charge officer at the Beach Road police station took Roger Calmy-Rey out of his jail cell and handed him over to Dawson and Hammond, who walked on either side of him to the waiting police vehicle.
“Mr. Calmy-Rey,” Dawson said as they proceeded, “a warrant has been issued by the district magistrate for the search of your residence and property. You’re free to examine the warrant if you wish. You are now accompanying us there, where Detective Superintendent Hammond, Detective Sergeant Chikata, and I will conduct the search. Is that clear?”
Calmy-Rey nodded mutely. He seemed detached, or perhaps he was in a state of shock. He had said nothing more than necessary since his arrest, but he had been polite and cooperative. Just as he had been for Jason Sarbah, Mr. DeGraft was Calmy-Rey’s counsel.
Hammond sat in the front passenger seat next to the driver, while Dawson and Chikata sat in the back seat with Calmy-Rey in the middle. They pulled into the driveway of his residence and as they got out of the vehicle, the watchman, houseboy, and gardener watched with wide eyes, aware that something had gone very wrong.
Inside the house, it was obvious that the spotless sitting room was unlikely to yield much in a search.
“Do you have an office?” Dawson asked Calmy-Rey.
“Yes, it’s this way,” he said softly.
He took them up white marble stairs to a carpeted, immaculate office with a polished desk, a widescreen TV, a love seat, neatly arranged bookshelves, and a scanner and printer in a separate cabinet. Framed photographs of his wife and three children adorned the walls and the desk.
Chikata stood in the doorway just behind Calmy-Rey, who watched as Dawson and Hammond put on their latex gloves and began to go through the drawers in his desk.
The contents of the desk were unremarkable. Calmy-Rey was painfully tidy. Each drawer had designated contents, like printer paper, stationery, or business letters and memos, which Dawson read and found to be of no importance.
“Do you not have a computer?” Hammond asked Calmy-Rey.
“A laptop. It’s in my carry-on luggage downstairs.”
“Okay, we’ll look at that later.”
“We’d like to check your bedroom now, please, sir,” Dawson said.
Calmy-Rey led them there. As Dawson had expected, the bedroom was a picture of perfection with a mahogany platform bed flawlessly made up by the maid, ornamental rugs on a lustrous wood floor, a matching wood-framed full length mirror, two walk-in closets, a writing desk, and of course, a wide-screen TV facing the bed. The fixtures in the ensuite bathroom gleamed.
Again, Chikata positioned himself in the doorway behind Calmy-Rey, who stood to one side and watched Dawson and Hammond go to work. They shifted the heavy mattress together to have a look underneath. Dawson did not seriously expect to find anything there, and his prediction proved correct.
Calmy-Rey accompanied them now to watch them search the walk-in closets, which were full of business suits. They checked all the pockets, inside and out. The chest of drawers contained neatly folded socks, underwear, and casual wear. Everything was in plain view and neither Dawson nor Hammond could find any hidden spaces or false drawer bottoms.
Calmy-Rey resumed his previous position by the door, and Hammond began to sift through the writing desk.