Richard came forward and pressed the revolver to his head. “This is going to be just like Charles and Fiona-except there will be no second canoe.”
“Why did you do it?” Dawson asked hoarsely.
Richard giggled and stroked Dawson’s cheek with the gun barrel. “I like to see you shaking. You’re not such a big shot now, are you?”
“Why did you do it?” Dawson insisted. If he was going to die, and there was a good chance he was, he wanted to know Richard’s motive before death came.
“I don’t have to tell you anything I don’t want to, Inspector,” Richard said, grinding the muzzle against Dawson’s head. It was clear that it gave him pleasure to do so. “Suffice it to say,” he continued in a smug fashion, “that now the score between the Smith-Aidoos and the Sarbahs is settled. After generations of their maltreating us, you don’t conspire to kill my granddaughter, Angela, and not expect me to take action. Jason would certainly never do it, so I did it for him. I love that boy. He never deserved the loss of his beloved daughter. Say goodbye now, Inspector Dawson. It’s all over for you.”
Chapter 40
SUPERINTENDENT HAMMOND WAS CARRYING his pistol, but he hoped he would not have to use it because he was badly out of practice. The front gate of Richard Sarbah’s house was open and the yard was clear. Ahead, Hammond saw the light from the shed doorway. His stomach plunged when he heard the gun blast. He sprinted, gasping. Oh, God. Dawson.
In the doorway, he brought up his pistol and crouched, ready.
Dawson swung around and raised his hand. “Don’t shoot, sir!” He breathed again as Hammond lowered his weapon. Forjoe stood next to Sarbah’s dead body, looking down at it as if numb. In the few moments before Hammond’s arrival, Forjoe had relinquished his firearm to Dawson and offered his wrists for handcuffing. Dawson did not do it.
Forjoe heaved a big sigh. “I heard everything he said. A man like that doesn’t deserve to live.”
Hammond circled around the growing pool of blood. It was a fatal head wound from Forjoe’s weapon at close range.
Hammond looked at Dawson. “Are you okay?”
He checked himself. “It seems so, sir.”
“Why was he trying to kill you?”
“Because I found out that he murdered Charles and Fiona Smith-Aidoo.”
“Richard Sarbah did?” Hammond said, surprised.
“Yes.” He gestured at Forjoe. “And this man saved my life. I would have been dead by now if not for him. Sarbah was just about to shoot me in the head.”
Hammond looked at Forjoe. “Thank you, my friend. God bless you.”
As he shook hands with the superintendent, Forjoe looked at Dawson with a question on his face. Dawson shook his head imperceptibly. Do not say anything. You are, after all, a hero, Forjoe. Keep your mouth shut, and I will do the same. No one will ever know the role you played in the death of Charles and Fiona Smith-Aidoo.
Chapter 41
“PLEASE, UNCLE,” CHIKATA HAD said to Lartey in his well-practiced dejected voice, “Dawson has captured not one, but two murderers. Can we be nice to him and bring him home in a nice vehicle instead of him traveling in a State Transport Bus?”
Lartey, who could not resist his nephew’s sad eyes, had agreed, if somewhat reluctantly with a lot of grumbling.
Now a satisfied Chikata sat in the back seat of a shiny, dark blue air-conditioned police BMW, respectfully waiting for Dawson as he embraced Abraham and Akosua in preparation to leave the lodge.
“Don’t be such a stranger, Darko,” Abraham said, shaking his finger with mock sternness. “Come back and see us often and bring Christine and the boys.”
“They already want to come back,” Dawson said.
“Are they doing okay now?” Akosua asked. “No more nightmares?”
Dawson smiled. “No more nightmares.”
He got into the back seat with Chikata and buckled up as the driver started the softly purring engine. The car smelled of sweet, pristine leather.
A glossy, Jaguar pulled up, blocking their exit.
“Wait just a second,” Dawson said, alighting.
He walked over to the Jaguar as Sapphire got out. She smiled at him.
“On your way, Inspector Dawson?”
“Yes, Doc.”
“I wanted to thank you,” she said sincerely. “With all my heart.”
He nodded. “I hope you’ll find at least a little bit of peace now.”
“I think I will.”
“I learned something from the experience,” Dawson said.
She inclined her head with curiosity. “Really? What?”
“It’s all about family,” he said, nodding with certainty. “In the end, that’s all that matters.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she said. “Speaking of which, we’re having a family reunion of sorts next weekend. My father; my brother, Trevor; and Auntie Eileen will be there, and the twins will join us from the States. You’re officially invited.”
“Thank you, Doc. I appreciate your kind invitation.”
“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head. “Listen, if there’s anything you ever need assistance with-a medical consultation for your family members, anything at all, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.”
“Thank you for the offer,” he said. “Please, Doc, actually there is something you might be able to help with, even though it doesn’t concern a family member.”
“Oh, yes-of course,” she said attentively.
“Marvelous, the daughter of the man who saved my life, is suffering from kidney failure and she needs dialysis, which Forjoe cannot possibly afford. Can you see to it that Marvelous gets the right care?”
“Absolutely,” Dr. Smith-Aidoo said enthusiastically. “Have him call me today, and I’ll get things moving for him and Marvelous.” She put out her hand, and he shook it.
“Well, I suppose it’s goodbye then. If you’ll allow me a hug? A safe one, this time?”
He laughed, hugged her, and returned to the rear passenger seat of the BMW.
As they drove out after the Jaguar, Chikata lowered his voice and said, “By the way, that night I saw her coming out of the house crying…”
“That topic is off limits,” Dawson said firmly.
“Yes, massa,” Chikata said humbly, but he stole an impish glance sideways at Dawson.
The driver moved them through the heart of the city that Dawson had become quite fond of and to the outskirts sprawling with exuberant housing construction.
“Massa,” Chikata said, shifting sideways so that he could face Dawson directly, “there’s something I don’t understand. How did you know it was Richard Sarbah, and how did you know to look for a photograph revealing the pocket watch?”
“Richard told me that on Monday, the seventh of July, he and Forjoe went to Tarkwa together, and Forjoe confirmed that,” Dawson said, adjusting his position as well, “but last night, as I was thinking about the case, I remembered that Forjoe had told me that Monday is one of the busiest days of the fishing week and no fisherman misses it. That sparked my suspicion and when I recalled that Forjoe had used the same wording as Richard regarding the trip to Tarkwa, I considered that Richard might have coached Forjoe and that it was possible they were in cahoots. It fit perfectly, because Forjoe was that fisherman we were seeking who knew how to navigate the sea.”
Chikata was nodding, and then he laughed happily and exchanged a handshake with Dawson. “You have done well.”