He followed her out of the office to the master bedroom at the other end of the hall. A large mask on the wall by the bed startled Dawson. Made of matte blackened wood, it looked at him from dark triangular eyes set below a dome-shaped forehead and smiled at him with jagged teeth.
“What kind of mask is that?” he asked, moving closer to it.
“Interesting, isn’t it?” She came up behind, and he became aware of her lingering fragrance. “Uncle told me it’s a ceremonial mask from the Dogon people of Burkina Fasso.”
“Was he particularly interested in the Dogon?”
“Yes, but he and Auntie Fiona simply liked to collect masks, as you can see.”
He looked around. Several masks of various sizes hung on the walls. To Dawson, many were beautiful, but others were not what he would like to see late at night.
“Do you know what all of them mean?”
“Not really.”
He looked at her. “Were your aunt and uncle superstitious at all?”
“No.”
“Did they have any dealings with fetish priests or traditional healers?”
She laughed. “No, they were thoroughly modern, especially my uncle. Liked all the new gadgets-iPhone, i-this, i-that.”
“They could still have some traditional beliefs,” Dawson pointed out. “Many modern Ghanaians do.”
“Not Uncle Charles, though.” She appeared both puzzled and amused. “Their being mask collectors doesn’t mean they were superstitious-or even spiritual, for that matter. Why do you ask?”
“I was just curious.”
“Oh,” she said, as it dawned on her. “I see. You’re wondering if the beheading was related to some kind of… magical powers, or juju.”
“Yes. I’m sorry to bring up the beheading again.”
“It’s okay, Inspector. You’re doing your job.”
She turned to gaze out of the window at the view of the back garden and the beach. Dawson looked around the room. The open closets were full of male and female attire. A magazine was open on the bed, as was a container of face powder on the makeup stand, and towels were hanging on the rack in the en suite bathroom. The place looked like it was in use.
“Is someone staying here?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I left everything exactly the way it was when they left that morning for Cape Three Points. Their bedroom isn’t like the office-it’s much more personal, and I can’t bring myself to disturb anything. If you need to go through their effects, feel free.”
“Just one thing I’d like to check,” he said. “The pockets of his suits. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all.”
She watched him do that, and Dawson felt intrusive performing this necessary evil. He found nothing and was glad in a way. Some secret item in those pockets could have been awkward for them both.
