Dawson leaned forward, happy to get this kind of information and wondering if the superintendent might be finally thawing out.
“Nana Ackah-Yensu told us that Malgam Oil wanted to build luxury villas in Akwidaa,” Hammond continued, rocking back and forth slightly in his squeaky chair-a nervous habit, perhaps. “That’s where the Ezile River joins the sea and a beautiful bay is formed, as well as some ruins of a German fort built in the seventeenth century. So, this is attractive real estate and the kind of scenery these tourists love.”
“So, did Charles Smith-Aidoo go to the chief to talk to him about the villas?” Dawson asked.
“I was just coming to that,” Hammond said, holding up his palm. “He approached the chief about the possibility of relocating Akwidaa either farther inland or farther east in return for building a new village from scratch with running water and electricity.
“Meanwhile, Smith-Aidoo went to Cardiman to tell him that if Chief Ackah-Yensu agreed to move, Malgam Oil would likely annex the Cardiman’s Ezile resort as well, in order to build more chalets. Cardiman leases the land from the Akwidaa village so he would have no legal right to stop it.”
“The prospect of losing Ezile Bay was probably terrifying for him,” Dawson said. “It would give Cardiman a strong motive. Could he have followed the Smith-Aidoos and ambushed them on the road from Ezile?”
Hammond shook his head. “They left Ezile around twelve thirty, and we have confirmed that Cardiman did not leave for Takoradi until one o’clock. The Smith-Aidoos would have been long gone by then, and Cardiman could never have caught up with them.”
“Maybe he had an accomplice who delayed them until Cardiman arrived.”
“Maybe this, maybe that,” Hammond said, with a sardonic smile. “We can’t operate on maybes. At the end of the day, there is no evidence whatsoever that Cardiman was involved.”
Discussion over, Dawson thought. He moved on. “I found an old phone in Mr. Smith-Aidoo’s study. Were you aware of it?”
Hammond looked at Seidu and then shook his head. “No, we didn’t find anything like that in his desk, and his niece didn’t mention it.”
“It was buried in a box of old equipment and cables,” Dawson said.
“What about it?” Hammond asked.
“I saw some text messages from Charles Smith-Aidoo to a Lawrence Tetteh.”
Hammond’s rocking stopped abruptly in the forward phase and he almost hurtled off his chair. “Did you say Lawrence Tetteh?”
