Brian looked away, a slash of pain striking his expression. “He deliberately excluded me as much as he could. He put the knife in me, and he twisted it side to side.”
Dawson paused, watching the spectacle of wretchedness before him. “You called him after you found out about Sapphire’s new job,” he said, “and when you tried to take Charles to task, he insulted you. Was that the last straw? Was that as much as you could take?”
“You’re asking me whether I killed my brother,” Brian said wearily. “Honestly, I felt like doing it. But no, I didn’t.”
“Where were you on Monday, the seventh of July, the day Charles and Fiona were killed?”
“At home.”
“Where is home?”
“The Cocoa Marketing Board flats. I work for the CMB. I stayed home that day. I suffer from gout and was having a bad attack.”
“Can anyone else confirm that you stayed home on both days?”
“I don’t think so. I live alone.”
“Do you own a pistol, or have you ever used one?”
“No,” he said, looking startled. “Never.”
“Did you hire someone to kill your brother?”
Brian pulled his head back. “Of course not.”
“Do you know anyone who wanted him dead?”
“Any of the people who hated him, Inspector Dawson.” He shrugged. “Environmentalists, fishermen and their advocates, all kinds of meddling NGOs in Ghana and from abroad-the whole bunch of them. Basically, anyone who hates the entire oil industry. Charles was one of its most public faces.”
“What about a more personal vendetta against the Smith-Aidoo family as a whole?” Dawson asked.
“I don’t know anything about that,” Brian said, his voice weak.
“Do you know Richard Sarbah? The son of Tiberius Sarbah?”
“Sarbahs are all over the place in Takoradi, and whichever one that is, I don’t particularly care. Are you done with me, Mr. Dawson? I’m sorry, but my gout is beginning to flare up. I have to get home now.”
“Thank you, sir. Oh, one other thing-your phone number.”
Brian supplied it and then limped away as his gout got the better of him. Dawson watched the troubled, confused man leaving.
DARKNESS HAD FALLEN BY the time Baah and Dawson reached New Amanful. Its name spoke to its recentness as a suburb. Very little street lighting existed, and the brand new single-family homes and gated communities in the middle of untended, overgrown plots appeared as looming, bulky shadows. With its proximity to the beach, the suburb was prime real estate, but not all of it was newfangled construction. In contrast, the original Amanful was an old fishing community clinging to the shore with its shacks, canoes, and non-potable water.
