“Yes. I wonder if this is the same Lawrence Tetteh who was murdered.”
“Why do you think that?” Hammond asked tensely.
“Could there be a connection between the murder of Tetteh and the killing of the Smith-Aidoos?” Dawson asked coolly. “That’s the question I’ve been wondering myself the past few days.”
Hammond squinted at him. “Do you have the phone with you?”
Dawson took it out of his top pocket and switched it on. He took the screen view to the text message section before handing it to the superintendent.
Seidu went around Hammond’s desk so he could watch as the superintendent scrolled through the messages.
“Okay,” Hammond said, but it came out huskily and he cleared his throat. “I see what you’re saying.”
“Shall I take it to Vodafone to see if they can trace the number, sir?” Seidu asked.
“No, I can take care of it,” Hammond said. “I know one guy over there very well, and he can check it very quickly.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dawson said, pleasantly surprised by Hammond’s apparent willingness to participate.
“Not at all.”
Dawson stood up. “I’m going to look for Kwesi DeSouza at the STMA offices, sir.”
“As I told you,” Hammond said, his coldness returning, “we have looked carefully into his alibi already. Nothing is there. I don’t think it’s necessary to go back to him.”
“Just routine,” Dawson said lightly. “For my own records. You know Chief Superintendent Lartey-he scrutinizes every detail.”
Hammond’s cheek twitched, probably resenting Dawson’s invoking a superior officer, because he couldn’t very well challenge it.
“Also,” Dawson said, “I think I forgot to mention that my assistant, Detective Sergeant Chikata, will be joining me from Accra to help with the investigation.”
Hammond nodded. “Yes, Chief Superintendent Lartey has informed me of that.”
As Dawson was leaving, he kept feeling he had forgotten something, and it was as he was opening the door that he remembered.
“One more thing, sir,” he said, turning with his right hand still on the doorknob. “Mr. Smith-Aidoo’s laptop was never found, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Hammond said. “We believe whoever ambushed his vehicle also stole his laptop.”
Dawson suppressed a wince as a quick stab of pain shot through the palm of his left hand. “I see,” he said, catching his breath. “Thank you.”
Dawson left stunned, because he knew decisively that Superintendent Hammond had just lied about the laptop. The timbre of his voice had changed, not in a way Dawson could consciously define, but enough to trigger his synesthesia and reveal that his superior wasn’t telling the truth. The laptop hadn’t been stolen. The question was, where was it, and what was Hammond trying to hide?
