“What’s wrong?” Dawson asked. “Where are Mama and Hosiah?”
“In the bedroom,” Sly answered, in barely a whisper.
Dawson put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
“She’s angry with me.”
“What happened?”
Sly bowed his head even further and wrung his fingers. It didn’t look like the answer was forthcoming, so Dawson proceeded to the bedroom. On most occasions, these upsets were minor. Maybe not this time, he thought, as he heard Hosiah crying. He stopped in the doorway. Christine was sitting on the bed holding her son close as he whimpered and sniffled against her chest. For a panicky moment, Dawson thought perhaps something had gone wrong with his heart condition, but then they would have kept him in hospital, surely?
Dawson’s appearance apparently unleashed a fresh round of tears from Hosiah. He sat on the bed next to his son, who promptly launched into his arms and held on tight. Dawson raised his eyebrows questioningly at Christine. He wished someone would tell him what was going on.
“On Saturday when you went next door,” Christine told him quietly, “you left your docket on the sitting room table. Apparently Sly opened it and saw the picture, and today he told Hosiah about it and frightened him.”
Dawson drew in his breath sharply and closed his eyes for a moment in the painful realization of what had happened. The cardinal rule was that his sons never see any autopsy or murder photographs.
He rubbed Hosiah’s head gently back and forth. That usually comforted him. “Shh. It’s okay. Are you scared?”
The boy nodded. Dawson shifted him to his knee so they were facing each other.
“Tell Daddy why you’re afraid. You have to stop crying, though. Here, blow your nose.”
He held a hanky to Hosiah’s nose and he made a reasonable effort.
“That’s better,” Dawson said. He kissed him on the forehead. “Now what’s wrong?”
Hosiah spoke haltingly as he fiddled with his father’s fingers. “I don’t want you to go to look for the juju man.”
“What juju man?”
“The one who makes people’s heads come off. Sly told me that’s why you’re going to Takoradi.”
“I see,” Dawson said. “You’re scared that there’s a juju man who might hurt Daddy?”
Hosiah nodded, his face beginning to crumple again.
“No, no,” Dawson said, forestalling another teary performance. “No more crying. Listen to me. What Sly saw isn’t because of juju. You know I catch bad people, right?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Okay, so this bad man is just the same as all the other ones I catch. He’s afraid of me, so he’s not going to try to cut off my head. In fact, you know what he’s going to do when he sees me?”
