THE STMA WAS AN old, two-story building painted an odd green and subdivided into three sections bordering the car park in a semicircle. A blue-uniformed guard directed Baah to an available parking space. Dawson got out and entered one of the ground floor departments, where a woman directed him upstairs to Kwesi DeSouza’s office. Marked with a sign that read CHIEF EXECUTIVE, it was the very last room at the end of the verandah. Dawson knocked and went in, welcoming the pleasant blast of cold from the air conditioner.
The secretary at the desk told him that DeSouza was in a meeting and Dawson could wait if he had a half-hour to spare. He sat down where she had indicated and used the time to check his phone, replying to a text from Christine asking how he was doing.
He also saw that Dr. Smith-Aidoo had sent him her aunt’s number.
DeSouza’s door opened. Two men came out laughing over a shared joke. DeSouza, burly, bespectacled, and shaved completely bald, was dressed in a short-sleeved white linen shirt with Ghanaian embroidery down the front. After shaking hands with DeSouza, the visitor left.
“What’s next, Susana?” DeSouza said to the secretary.
“Please, there’s someone here to see you.”
Dawson stood up and introduced himself.
“Yes, sir,” DeSouza said. “How can I help you?”
“May I speak with you for a few minutes?”
DeSouza appeared curious and wary. “Come in,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.
He ushered Dawson into the inner sanctum and then shut the door behind them. It was even colder in there than in the front office.
Dawson chose one of the two chairs in front of the desk and DeSouza went to his on the other side. His office wasn’t opulent, just comfortable.
“So, Inspector, what can I do for you?”
“I’m in Takoradi investigating the murder of Charles and Fiona Smith-Aidoo. CID Headquarters was petitioned to look into the killings.”
“What, is this a different investigation from Superintendent Hammond’s?”
“It’s complementary to it, I would say.”
“I’ve been questioned by both Hammond and his assistant, and now you want to do the same,” DeSouza said in annoyance. “I’m tired of you guys showing up at my door in the middle of my work. I mean, what is it you’re digging for? I didn’t murder the man or his wife. This should be more than obvious to you by now.”
“I apologize for the repeated intrusions, sir. I realize how irritating it must be, and that isn’t my intention. However, I’m reviewing their investigation, and I have to be thorough. I have no choice.”
