Gold of Our Fathers - [8]

“Dark,” she said reproachfully. “My mother’s not going to ruin everything.”

“Did I say that?” he protested.

“You were thinking it.”

“Not at all,” he denied, lying badly. “But do you think she can really accommodate us?”

“Why not? I don’t think she has a tenant in the guesthouse right now.”

Gifty lived in Accra, but she was a proud Ashanti woman. Kumasi was her hometown and she had a lot of family in that city as well as some property. Gifty, who was quite well off, used the guesthouse from time to time as either a rental or a place for family members to stay, or both, perhaps.

Dawson had never been able to shake the feeling that his mother-in-law condescended to him. Before Christine had met him, she had been dating a doctor whom Gifty highly fancied as her future son-in-law. A policeman was a big step down in Gifty’s eyes, and Dawson was convinced that she had never gotten over her daughter’s change of mind.

All this mutual resentment between Dawson and his mother-in-law had come to a head years ago when Gifty had decided she would take the troubling problem of Hosiah’s heart disease into her own hands. Acting without the permission of the boy’s parents, she took him to a traditional healer-with disastrous consequences. That had sealed Dawson’s discomfort with Gifty.

“I’ll call her to ask if she can accommodate us,” Christine said, bringing him back to the present.

Dawson was surprised at the way she was taking this. “So you would actually consider moving to Kumasi for a year?” he asked in surprise. “In the past, you were fit to be tied whenever I had to go somewhere on assignment. What’s changed?”

She leaned back, contemplating. “I still don’t like it, but ever since your promotion, I’ve been thinking differently and realizing maybe this is the price we have to pay for your moving up in the force. It was different when it looked like you were stuck at the same rank and getting nowhere. So I’ve decided to have a positive outlook on it. Within reason, of course.”

“But what about your job here?” Dawson asked. “You don’t want to leave that, surely?”

“I can get a leave of absence and then find a job in Kumasi.” She thought it over for a moment. “But for the kids’ sake, we have to secure some good schools up there before we do move. Maybe I should go up for a few days and see what I find. Hopefully we can get them in for the start of the school year in September.”

Dawson agreed. As a schoolteacher, Christine was the ideal person to look into this.

“What about relocation expenses?” Christine asked. “Has the Ghana Police Service gotten any better at paying for that?”

Dawson shook his head in annoyance. “No. They’re supposed to, but it never happens in practice.”

Christine sighed. “This is not a family-friendly organization,” she observed.

“You’re right,” Dawson said, gazing at her in admiration. “You know something?”

“What?”

“You have no idea how relieved I am at the way you’re taking this. It’s wonderful. I love you, woman.”

He dived across the table and planted a fat kiss on her lips. She began to giggle as he awkwardly slid onto her side of the table and pulled her onto the floor on top of him in a heap.

“Darko!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Making love to you,” he said, nuzzling her neck in her ticklish spot.

Convulsing with laugher, she wriggled out of his clutches.

“You’re terrible,” she said, staggering to her feet.

Flat on the floor, he extended his right hand to her. “Help me up.”

“Oh, no,” she said, knowingly. “You think I’m that stupid? You’ll just pull me right down again.”

He watched her as she left the kitchen. “Hey, where are you going?” he called out in protest.

“To bed,” she said. “Good night.”

“I’m still coming to get you,” he said, getting up.

She shrieked as she saw him coming and raced to the bedroom to lock him out.

OBUASI, ASHANTI REGION

AUGUST

CHAPTER FOUR

Six a.m. on a Thursday morning, Dawson got out of bed bleary-eyed and weary for his first day at work. Leaving Accra the day before had been chaotic and delayed as Dawson had scrambled to tie up all the loose ends at CID Central. There’s always more than you think to do. He had taken the last-scheduled VIP bus, the most comfortable intercity service available, from Accra to Obuasi via Mankessim, getting into his hotel at almost midnight. Miners’ Lodge was the cheapest place that Dawson had found with the help of Google Maps, and it was on the same street as Obuasi Divisional Headquarters, meaning he could skimp on transportation costs.

In the dead of night, the surroundings had not meant very much to Dawson, but he began to get his bearings in the light of day as he dropped his key off at the front desk and stepped out onto Obuasi High Street-the main thoroughfare of the city. It ran east to west flanked on either side by neighborhoods like Wawasi, where Dawson’s hotel was, and Tutuka, the location of the police station to which he was about to report.

Dawson glanced at the gray sky, wondering if it would clear. Heavy rain earlier on, and now the drizzly remnants, made High Street slick and glistening. The morning was cool, so the walk of less than one mile to the station, even at a slight incline, would be pleasant. He took mental snapshots of the town. Ordinary, clean, and quietly paced. Open-fronted, canopied stores with corrugated metal roofs, sidewalks better constructed than many in Accra. On Dawson’s side of the street, a group of navy-and-white uniformed girls hurried to school while on the other, a young woman walked by a fast-food kiosk called David & Goliath, a wide tray of pots and pans balanced easily on her head. She moved nimbly aside without having to steady the tray with her hands as a passing car splashed muddy water in her direction. She was unfazed.