Children of the Street - [23]

“Where did you kill him?” Chikata said. “We know you did it. Did you kill him near the lagoon? Where?”

Daramani turned his palms up and lifted his shoulders. “I didn’t kill him! What do you want me to say?”

“You did. Someone saw you.”

“What? Who? It’s a lie.”

Dawson rested his brow against the wall for a moment, eyes closed. This was horrible.

“You liked that Akosua so much,” Chikata said, lowering his voice, “and when you saw Musa with her that Saturday at the Nima Market, you decided to kill him.”

Daramani put his head between his hands.

“So after you left your house,” Chikata continued, “you went with him to Agbogbloshie and late at night you killed him. We know that’s how it happened. If you confess, it will be better for you. You’re going to jail. Why not tell the truth now and we can help you?”

“Please,” Daramani said wearily. “I am telling you the truth.”

Chikata pushed his chair back abruptly and stood up. “Okay, we will see about that.”

He and Lartey came out, shutting the door behind them and joining Dawson. The three of them went up the hallway a few meters to be out of Daramani’s hearing.

“I believe he is our prime suspect,” Chikata said.

“You didn’t give him a chance to establish an alibi,” Dawson pointed out. “You do that first and then you follow it up. If the alibi proves false, you come back to him and challenge him.”

“His alibi is implied,” Lartey interjected quietly. “Daramani says Musa was with him in Nima for two hours and then Musa left. That means Daramani is claiming he was in Nima when Musa was killed.”

Dawson looked away. He didn’t agree. And thank you for cutting me down in front of my junior officer. He wasn’t going to waste any more time arguing. What was the point? The chief supol would defend his nephew to the death no matter what Dawson or anyone else said.

“Go and get the search warrant, Philip,” Lartey said.

Chikata left the two men.

“I think your detective sergeant does have a case, Dawson,” Lartey said, lifting his chin imperiously. “You are probably blinded by your bias toward your, em, friend. It’s a normal human tendency.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And one word of advice to you. Be very careful who you mix yourself up with-not just on duty but off duty too. The kind of company this Daramani keeps-truck pushers, Agbogbloshie people-is unsavory.” Lartey made a face, as if bile had just erupted into his mouth. “It isn’t fitting for you to associate with such base elements of society. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. That’s all for today. You may go.”

14

Dawson didn’t go home immediately. Instead, he took a walk. He would have liked to escape to some wilderness setting with fresh air and beautiful vistas, like Mount Afadjato or Wli Falls, but the streets of Accra would have to do for now. He turned away from noisy Ring Road, heading past the vehicle yard to the relatively quieter neighborhood roads behind CID Headquarters. Here, where a street called Myohaung formed a shady alcove, policemen and women parked official vehicles while stopping for a meal from the outdoor food vendors.

Pulling out his shirttails, Dawson thrust his hands in his pockets as he walked along Myohaung Street. Curious about the name, Dawson had once researched it, finding out it referred to the part Ghanaian troops played in defeating the Japanese at Myohaung, Burma. Over 65,000 Ghanaians had fought abroad with the Allied forces during the Second World War. One of these days, Dawson would tell Hosiah about such historical details, which western textbooks often left out.

And Dawson? What would his contribution to the world be? What would he leave behind when he was gone? Would his name be in a textbook or on a street sign somewhere? Did it matter? Conflicts with Chief Superintendent Lartey often brought on these existential crises for Dawson.

Sometimes too, in these situations, Dawson thought about his mentor Daniel Armah, the detective who had first investigated the disappearance of Dawson’s mother when Dawson was a boy of twelve. What would he have become if he had never met Detective Armah? Now retired and living in Kumasi, Armah had been a sergeant back then. It wasn’t so much Armah’s abilities as a detective that had inspired Dawson to go into the same field. In fact, Armah never did find out what had happened to Dawson’s mother, and in that sense, some might have said that Armah failed. But no matter, it was the care Armah had shown to Darko the boy that had been so moving, care Darko never received from his own father.

Was Chief Supol Lartey right that associating with “people like Daramani” was unfitting for Dawson? Did Dawson have some kind of moral failing? Defensively he thought, I could be a worse man. After all, he was a good father and husband, was he not? But if that was the case, he should completely drop the vice that he strenuously kept hidden from his family.

As Dawson turned in to Rangoon Lane, he felt the existential crisis fading for now, but he knew it would be back sooner or later.

Chikata and Issifu, another detective sergeant, were gloved up and searching Daramani’s small, messy dwelling. Chikata went first for the thin foam mattress on the floor. Issifu was looking through a box of clothing. There was a hot plate on the floor with some battered cookware.