“Morning. I’m Inspector Dawson, here to meet Dr. Sapphire Smith-Aidoo.”
The name on the woman’s badge was Violet. She was pretty, with a baby-smooth complexion.
“Oh, yes,” she said, flashing him an infectious smile. “The doctor is expecting you. Please, come this way.”
Violet came around the counter and led him across the lobby, opening the door onto a wide patio with cream and sienna mosaic tiling. A white woman and her two children were dog paddling in the shallow end of the pool and a white man was turning a violent pink as he baked himself in the sun on a reclining beach chair. So strange, white people and their constant sunbathing, Dawson thought.
“The doctor is sitting over there in the corner, Inspector,” Violet said, pointing across the pool to a restaurant area with a low thatched roof and open sides.
“Thank you, Violet.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good day and please visit again in the future.”
If I weren’t happily married, he thought, stealing a quick look at her derrière as she retreated.
He crossed the patio, and as he approached, Dr. Smith-Aidoo spotted him and waved from the far side of the restaurant, which was mostly empty. The waiters were standing around chatting.
“Good morning, Doctor,” he said as he got to her table.
She smiled, and he was struck by how glad she seemed to see him. In a cream-colored trouser suit, she was luminescent in the sunlight reflected off the pool.
A male waiter who had been hovering in the background came to their table.
“Good morning, sir. Please, will you like to have something?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Please, Inspector,” Smith-Aidoo said. “I insist.”
“All right,” he said, surprised. “Do you have Malta?”
It was his favorite drink. Non-alcoholic, rich with malt and hops, and deadly sweet.
“Please, we have two kinds,” the waiter said. “Guinness and Schweppes.”
“Only the original,” Dawson said. “Guinness.”
“Yes, sir.” He went away.
“I’ve just been with Superintendent Hammond discussing the case,” Dawson told her.
She leaned forward with eagerness. “What is your next step?”
“I’ll be re-interviewing several people. They may not like that.”
The waiter returned with the Malta, pouring it in a glass.
“Doctor,” Dawson asked after taking the first delicious sip, “please may I ask what you have done with your aunt’s and uncle’s belongings at their home?”
“I’m still going through their documents, trying to organize them.”
“Do you mind if I look through them?”
