Gold of Our Fathers - [27]

The woman added to this by curtseying several times to the doctor while elaborately performing the traditional supplicant gesture of gently patting the palm of the left hand with the back of the right.

“What you have to do,” Dr. Prempeh said with patience that surprised Dawson, “is go back to the one who told you no autopsy is needed, and tell him to write a letter to the mortuary director explaining why. Then the director will make the final decision.”

They thanked him profusely and left. Prempeh looked at Dawson. “If I had said no, I won’t release the body, they would blame me. Now I’ve tossed the ball back in the other guy’s court. But honestly, they are never going to get the body released without the postmortem, and the trouble is they have no money to pay for it. It’s sad, but there it is.”

Dawson agreed-the sad, battered life of the poor and powerless in Ghana: wasting time and money traveling back and forth to no avail.

“On the other hand,” Prempeh continued, “there should be no problem with this Chinese guy going to the top of the line. I’m assuming his folks have money.” Prempeh leaned back. “Well, let me ask you this, Inspector. How important is this case to you?”

“How do you mean, Doctor?”

“I mean, realistically, this is not really a high-profile case to you, is it? Some illegal Chinese guy murdered? These galamsey people are murdering each other every week for some stupid reason-both the Ghanaians and the Chinese. You want to move fast on the case, or would you rather put this on low priority and get to something else?”

Dawson felt his blood chill a little. “Prostitute, bank executive, illegal gold miner-it’s all the same to me. Murder is murder.”

“Got it,” Prempeh said, smiling. He leaned forward and unconsciously spun his pen in circles on the desk. “Here is what I will do for you. I could perform the post on this man, but you know, I’m not really a forensic pathologist, which is what you need here. There’s a woman in Accra at Korle Bu-brand new Edinburgh graduate and first Ghanaian female forensic pathologist in the country-they say she’s sharp as a tack. She was supposed to come up here and teach us some new stuff, but all the stupid bureaucracy has got in the way. Let me try and expedite it, and maybe we can get her up here to do the Chinese man as her first demonstration case in the posh facility in the new building-not here in this dump.”

“I appreciate that very much,” Dawson said, standing up. “I think you need to talk to the Chinese man’s family to explain the situation.”

“I will do that,” Prempeh said. “Please show them in.”

Dawson called the Chinese trio in but stayed out himself. Prempeh could handle it through Mr. Huang, and besides, Dawson did not want to be there if and when money changed hands. See nothing, hear nothing, say nothing.

Lian wanted to return home, but did not want to be alone, so Wei offered to stay with her a while. But first he had to pick up his laptop. Mr. Huang said it was no problem to swing around to Wei’s house. Perfect, Dawson thought. Wei directed Huang to take a right at Pine Avenue off Bantama Road, and then a left on West End Hospital Bypass. The streets of Kwadaso were somewhat serpentine with neat houses quite close together on either side. At length, Wei pointed out his house and told Huang to blow the horn at the gate. A few seconds later, a watchman pulled it open so that Huang could drive through.

Wei alighted and the other three waited for him. The house, a pinkish color, and the unpaved yard were clearly smaller than Lian’s, but just like hers, the property was protected by an electric fence running along the top of the wall, which encircled the house and space around it.

It was stuffy in the car, so Dawson got out and casually looked around, making sure to exchange a few friendly words with the watchman sitting on a stool at his post near the gate. He said his name was David. A small, padlocked wooden shed stood behind him to the right. Dawson supposed it held tools for maintence work around the house, as well as, perhaps, a machete David might find handy if a burglar ever somehow wormed his way into the compound.

Wei came out with his laptop and a tangle of connecting wires. “We go now,” he said to Dawson.

Yes, we go, Dawson thought. It had been a long day on his first case. Was it to be simple, solved in a matter of two days or so, or was it to be more complicated? He laughed to himself at the question. Having needed a Chinese interpreter already seemed an indication that complexity awaited.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The galamsey boys who had discovered Bao Liu’s body were such an important element of the puzzle that it was vital Dawson locate at least one of them. He thought the chief of Dunkwa might be able to help, since chiefs often knew everything that was going on in their village or town.

On Saturday morning, hoping to make time and leave some of the day free to get to Gifty’s guesthouse, Dawson engaged Kofi’s taxi services and set out for Dunkwa at seven with Obeng. During the trip, Dawson found out a little bit about him. He was married with four children and was born and brought up in Aniamoa. He had managed to stay in primary school despite his father’s attempts to keep him working on the farm, and then he had moved to Kumasi to live with an aunt while in secondary school.