Dawson hopped out, signed in at the sentry box, and went to the entrance. The lobby was spacious and quiet with a small bubbling fountain in one corner, large potted plants, and a waiting area with low-set leather seats. Dawson stopped at the front desk where two lovely young receptionists were sitting.
“Good afternoon, sir,” one of them said.
He liked her full red lips. Her manicured fingernails were the same color.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “Inspector Dawson to see Jason Sarbah.”
“Please sign in and take a seat. I will let his office know.”
She called up while Dawson wrote down his information in the large logbook on the countertop.
“You can go up now, sir,” the receptionist said. “Here is your temporary ID badge. Please wear it in plain view around your neck during your entire visit and return it at the end. Security will escort you up.”
The security man released the barrier arm and held it open. The lift took them to the fifth floor and another reception area behind a pair of automatic glass doors.
“Please have a seat,” the pretty but ice-cold receptionist said. “Mr. Sarbah will be with you in a moment.”
Jason Sarbah came out a few minutes later. He was late thirties, athletic, of medium height and skin tone, dressed in a light beige suit and matching tie, clean-shaven, and very good-looking.
“Inspector Dawson?” He smiled, but barely. “Pleased to meet you. Come this way and we can chat.”
He followed Sarbah down a carpeted corridor with glass-enclosed offices on either side. Printed boldly on Sarbah’s door was his title: DIRECTOR OF CORPORATE RELATIONS.
The office was spacious. His desk was glass-topped. He had a leather sofa, a water dispenser, a mini-bar, a coffee machine, and a bowl of fresh fruit.
“Do have a seat,” he said, indicating the chair in front of the desk and sitting down in his executive leather chair on the opposite side. “So. Sekondi police have put out an SOS to help solve the Smith-Aidoo murder, is that it?”
“Yes. A petition was submitted. As the detective assigned to the case, I do have to go over territory that may already have been covered by Superintendent Hammond, so I apologize in advance if some of my questions have been asked before.”
He nodded and appeared very willing. Not a shadow or a frown passed over his expression. “No problem, Inspector. I’ll try to be of as much assistance as I can.”
“If I’m correct,” Dawson began, “up until his death, Charles Smith-Aidoo had the job which you now hold.”
