Children of the Street - [18]
He hesitated, then wrote a note asking Daramani to call him. He slipped it under the door.
10
Dawson asked Baidoo to drive to Agbogbloshie to drop Akosua off. On the way there, Dawson tried Wisdom again and got him this time, explaining the new development with Akosua and the picture on her friend’s mobile.
“I will email the photo to you,” Dawson told him.
“I need you to crop it to show Musa’s face by itself,” Dawson said, “and send it back.”
“Can we publish it after we’ve cropped and enhanced it?”
“As soon as we get DNA confirmation that the lagoon boy and Musa are the same person. Not before.”
“Where are the DNA samples going-South Africa?”
“No, we can get them done at Korle Bu.”
“Hmm, good luck.”
“Don’t be so cynical. Also, I need another favor from you.”
“Anything, my dear Inspector.”
“Please make a print of the uncropped photo-with Akosua in it-so I can give it to her to keep.”
“I can do that. Shoot the pic over.”
“Thank you, Wisdom.”
As he ended the call, Dawson asked Akosua how long she would be able to keep her friend’s mobile.
“I promised to take it to her this evening,” Akosua said.
Dawson thought about this for a moment. He might need to get back in touch with Akosua. He stole a look in his wallet and winced. He was down to almost nothing. He’d be lucky if he made it to the next paycheck.
“Stop at the Ecobank ATM up there,” he told Baidoo, “and then take us to the Vodafone shop near Nkrumah Circle.”
Dawson bought the cheapest available bare-bones phone for GHC35, but since Akosua had never had her own mobile before, she was thrilled, thanking Dawson profusely. A small amount of prepaid time came with the SIM card. Dawson begged her not to run through it making jubilant calls to her friend Regina.
“This is for us to get in touch with each other,” he pressed. “You hear?”
“Yes, please.”
Before they dropped Akosua off on Abossey Okai Road in Agbogbloshie, Dawson thanked her again for coming forward and promised he would let her know when he received the photo print of Musa and her together.
“Where now, massa?” Baidoo asked.
“Korle Bu Hospital.”
Dawson had never been to Korle Bu’s brand-new DNA lab, which had been installed in a remodeled space in the Central Lab. The technicians and medical director had both been trained in South Africa.
“Detective Inspector Dawson from CID,” he told the receptionist. “I’m here to talk to the one in charge of police DNA samples.”
Lifting her eyes languidly from her computer screen, she said, “Is he expecting you?”
“No, but he will be if you tell him I’m here.”
“Then please, you can have a seat,” she said, indicating the chairs behind him.
“Thank you, but I don’t have time to have a seat. This is police business. I need to see the person in charge now, please?”
Looking insulted, she got up and left, returning sulkily a few minutes later with a man in a white lab jacket.
“Good afternoon.” He had a wide face and a boyish voice.
“Afternoon. I’m D.I. Dawson.”
“Jason Allotey at your service. Do you have a case registered with us?”
“Yes,” Dawson said. “It should be in your system.”
“Please, come with me, Inspector.”
Dawson followed Jason around the corner to the lab proper, which, though compact, was very impressive. It was colder than the inside of a refrigerator. The floor gleamed white. Three spotless sequencing machines with matching flat-screen computer monitors stood on a central stainless steel counter. Along the sides of the room were glass cabinets, centrifuges, pipettes, reagents, and test tubes.
Jason went to one of the computers. “You know the case file number?”
Dawson rattled it off from memory. Jason matched him by typing it in just as fast.
“Okay, yah,” he said. “I know this one. The guy found in the lagoon. We are working on two blood samples sent to us from the Police Hospital Mortuary. No results yet, Inspector.”
“I brought you a present,” Dawson said, producing the plastic bag containing the tooth necklace.
Jason peered at it. “Whose tooth?”
“The victim-or the person we believe is the victim-lost a tooth, and his girlfriend made a necklace out of it.”
“Wow.” Jason’s face lit up as if someone had just dropped the Asantehene’s gold in his lap. “This is a dream source of DNA.”
“Just one thing, though,” Dawson said. “She wants the tooth back in one piece.”
Jason went over to the microscope to examine it, leaving it in the bag.
“Yeah, we can get material from it without any problem.”
“And without putting a big hole in it?” Dawson asked.
“Eh? You say a big hole?” Jason looked offended. “We deal in microns here, Inspector.”
“Sorry,” Dawson said, sufficiently chastened. “So, how long to find out if we have a DNA match?”
“For you, two weeks, Inspector.”
“Two weeks! Why does the test take so long?”
“It’s not the length of the test, Inspector, it’s how many tests are waiting in line to be done. You know we have a backlog of a whole bunch of specimens that were originally going to South Africa and the U.S.”
“Do you like tilapia?”
“Oh, by all means! Why?”
“I’ll bring the best tilapia to your house if you speed it up for me.”
