Children of the Street - [26]
William nodded. “Yah. Every Saturday.”
“Where do you play?” Dawson asked him.
“We take a small table over there.” He pointed to a small alcove on the farther side of Daramani’s door, where there was a little shop selling snacks and cold drinks.
“How many of you altogether?”
“Three. Me and Alex and Houdine.”
“And you played from what time to what time?”
William chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. “From about ten to after midnight.”
“Did you see Daramani during that time?”
William’s focus suddenly shifted as a buzz came from his pocket. He pulled out his phone and read the text message with a salacious grin.
“The gentleman is talking to you, William!” Sheila cried, appalled. “Don’t disrespect! Can’t you leave that thing alone for even one second?”
“Sorry,” William said, sheepishly pocketing the phone. “Please, what did you say, sir?”
“Between ten and midnight, did you see Daramani?”
“Wait. Let me think. There was one night he came with another guy… I think it was that same Saturday night. Yah, I remember they had a cart, and we asked them what they were doing and they told us they had taken something to some man in Maamobi.”
“Did they go into Daramani’s house together?”
“Yes. We asked them if they wanted to play cards, they said no, but could we watch their cart and we said okay, no problem.”
“About what time was that?”
“A little past eleven-we hadn’t been playing that long.”
“The guy with Daramani, do you know his name?” William shook his head. “No, he didn’t say.”
“What did he look like?”
William shrugged. “Shorter than me, and skinny.”
“Did you notice a gap in his teeth?”
“I don’t really remember that.” He smiled slyly. “If it’s not a girl, I don’t pay so much attention.”
“Oh, my Lord, help me,” Sheila said, rolling her eyes.
Dawson had an impulse to smile himself. “Did you see the friend come back out from Daramani’s room at any time?”
“Around midnight, I think.”
“By himself?”
“Yes. He took his cart and left.”
Good. “And Daramani didn’t come out again?”
“Oh, yah, he did.”
Not so good. “Do you know where he went?”
“No.”
“Did you see him come back?”
“No, but you should ask my two friends. They wanted to play another round, but I was tired, so I went to bed and left them out here.”
“How can I get hold of them?”
“Alex has a mobile. I can call him, if you like.”
“If you please, yes.”
William speed-dialed the number, waiting as it rang. He shook his head. “No answer. Maybe he’s sleeping.”
Sheila looked at Dawson. “You see now? They’re all like that.”
“I’ll text him too,” William said, dispatching a lightning-quick SMS.
“Thank you, William. If he doesn’t respond in the next couple minutes, leave a message that I’m trying to get in touch with him. I’ll give you my CID office number, if you would let Alex have it too.”
Dawson exchanged numbers with William, chatted for a little while more in case Alex answered, but he didn’t.
“Thank you, Sheila. Thank you, William.” He shook hands with them in turn. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Dawson left them in high spirits. Not every question was settled yet, but things had the right feel now. He was back in stride.
17
Monday morning after he arrived at work, Dawson read the Daily Graphic’s front-page article headlined ARREST MADE IN LAGOON MAN’S KILLING, with an account of the discovery of “incriminating evidence in the Nima habitation of one Daramani Gushegu, a previous associate of the deceased victim.” The presumed name of the victim had been withheld pending results of DNA testing.
Chikata’s name was all over the article, whereas “Detective Inspector Darko Dawson, his immediate superior, was not available for comment.” Dawson laughed at that. Had they really tried to reach him?
Alex had still not called.
Chikata came into the office looking pleased with himself. Some of the other detectives who had read the newspaper account began congratulating him in a playfully teasing fashion.
“Ei, Chikata! So now you’re the big man in town, eh?”
The detective sergeant grinned, showing his beautiful white teeth.
“How was your weekend?” he asked Dawson.
“Fruitful. But I’m sure not as fruitful as yours.”
Chikata caught the sarcasm. “Dawson, I’m sorry. I’m sorry this Daramani is, or was, a friend or whatever he is to you, but what do you want me to do? If the man has done something wrong, then we have to investigate it. Isn’t that right?”
“Did I say otherwise?”
“But then why are you annoyed with me? You don’t want me to be the one to find out anything, or what? It has to be only you who gets the glory?”
“Not at all.” Dawson’s desk phone rang. “One second. Let me get this. Hello?”
“Is this Mr. Dawson?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Alex, William’s friend. He told me to call you.”
“Thank you very much, Alex. I really appreciate it. Did William explain what I wanted to talk to you about?”
“Something about his neighbor Daramani-that’s the name, right?”
“Yes. From what William told me, Musa, the friend who was with Daramani, left his place that Saturday around midnight, is that correct?”
“Around there, yeah.”
“And then Daramani left a little later. Do you remember about how long after his friend had left?”
Darko Dawson, Chief Inspector in the Ghana police service, returns in this atmospheric crime series often compared to Alexander McCall Smith's The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency novels.Darko Dawson has just been promoted to Chief Inspector in the Ghana Police Service – the promotion even comes with a (rather modest) salary bump. But he doesn't have long to celebrate because his new boss is transferring him from Accra, Ghana's capital, out to remote Obuasi in the Ashanti region, an area now notorious for the illegal exploitation of its gold mines.When Dawson arrives at the Obuasi headquarters, he finds it in complete disarray.
At Cape Three Points on the beautiful Ghanaian coast, a canoe washes up at an oil rig site. The two bodies in the canoe – who turn out to be a prominent, wealthy, middle-aged married couple – have obviously been murdered; the way Mr. Smith-Aidoo has been gruesomely decapitated suggests the killer was trying to send a specific message – but what, and to whom, is a mystery.The Smith-Aidoos, pillars in their community, are mourned by everyone, but especially by their niece Sapphire, a successful pediatric surgeon in Ghana's capital, Accra.
Опорск вырос на берегу полноводной реки, по синему руслу которой во время оно ходили купеческие ладьи с восточным товаром к западным и северным торжищам и возвращались опять на Восток. Историки утверждали, что название городу дала древняя порубежная застава, небольшая крепость, именованная Опорой. В злую годину она первой встречала вражьи рати со стороны степи. Во дни же затишья принимала застава за дубовые стены торговых гостей с их товарами, дабы могли спокойно передохнуть они на своих долгих и опасных путях.
Как часто вы ловили себя на мысли, что делаете что-то неправильное? Что каждый поступок, что вы совершили за последний час или день, вызывал все больше вопросов и внутреннего сопротивления. Как часто вы могли уловить скольжение пресловутой «дорожки»? Еще недавний студент Вадим застает себя в долгах и с безрадостными перспективами. Поиски заработка приводят к знакомству с Михаилом и Николаем, которые готовы помочь на простых, но весьма странных условиях. Их мотивация не ясна, но так ли это важно, если ситуация под контролем и всегда можно остановиться?
Из экспозиции крымского художественного музея выкрадены шесть полотен немецкого художника Кингсховера-Гютлайна. Но самый продвинутый сыщик не догадается, кто заказчик и с какой целью совершено похищение. Грабители прошли мимо золотого фонда музея — бесценной иконы «Рождество Христово» работы учеников Рублёва и других, не менее ценных картин и взяли полотна малоизвестного автора, попавшие в музей после войны. Читателя ждёт захватывающий сюжет с тщательно выписанными нюансами людских отношений и судеб героев трёх поколений.
Александра никому не могла рассказать правду и выдать своего мужа. Однажды под Рождество Роман приехал домой с гостем, и они сразу направились в сауну. Александра поспешила вслед со свежими полотенцами и халатами. Из открытого окна клубился пар и были слышны голоса. Она застыла, как соляной столп и не могла сделать ни шага. Голос, поразивший её, Александра узнала бы среди тысячи других. И то, что обладатель этого голоса находился в их доме, говорил с Романом на равных, вышибло её из равновесия, заставило биться сердце учащённо.
Валентин Владимиров живет тихой семейной жизнью в небольшом городке. Но однажды семья Владимировых попадает в аварию. Жена и сын погибают, Валентин остается жив. Вскоре виновника аварии – сына известного бизнесмена – находят задушенным, а Владимиров исчезает из города. Через 12 лет из жизни таинственным образом начинают уходить те, кто был связан с ДТП. Поговаривают, что в городе завелась нечистая сила – привидение со светящимся глазами безжалостно расправляется со своими жертвами. За расследование берется честный инспектор Петров, но удастся ли ему распутать это дело?..
Если вы снимаете дачу в Турции, то, конечно, не ждете ничего, кроме моря, солнца и отдыха. И даже вообразить не можете, что столкнетесь с убийством. А турецкий сыщик, занятый рутинными делами в Измире, не предполагает, что очередное преступление коснется его собственной семьи и вынудит его общаться с иностранными туристами.Москвичка Лана, приехав с сестрой и ее сыном к Эгейскому морю, думает только о любви и ждет приезда своего возлюбленного, однако гибель знакомой нарушает безмятежное течение их отпуска.