Free Murder at Cape Three Points by Kwei Quartey Page A

is solid. The day of the ambush of the Smith-Aidoo’s vehicle, he was working at his real estate business. Two other people in the office confirmed that.”
    Dawson had allowed his eye to stray as he tried to gauge what kind of man Hammond was. A folder with papers was in front of him, as well as a pen the superintendent had apparently been using to write some kind of report. His fingernails were medium long and cut square across, but like his hair, not that recently. His desk was piled with documents, but it was neither excessively jumbled nor chaotic. One drawer of a metal filing cabinet in the corner behind the superintendent was half open. Dawson decided Hammond was probably smart enough, but maybe not meticulous. He might be a little burned out too , Dawson thought. Or else I’ve burned him out because he’s just so disgusted to see me.
    “What about a contract killing?” Dawson asked. “Sarbah hiring someone to do the job? Is that a possibility?”
    Hammond appeared uninspired by the question and shook his head. “The signature—dumping these bodies in the canoe, the beheading, and all that, doesn’t seem like a contract murder. It looks more personal.”
    “I see, sir.” Dawson paused. This was not a conversation. It was a question and answer session in which one party was uninterested in talking to the other. “The pocket watch in Mr. Smith-Aidoo’s mouth—what did you make of that?”
    “It’s a very old watch. We took it to a watchmaker and he told us it was made in England in the nineteenth century. We don’t know if the killer was trying to communicate something. I asked Dr. Smith-Aidoo if she had ever seen her uncle with the watch, or knew that he owned one. She said no. Her uncle liked modern gadgets, nothing old like this.”
    Dawson nodded respectfully. “Still, it might have been some kind of family keepsake. Maybe the murderer is saying something about family generations.”
    “Yes, I know.” Hammond barely raised an offhand palm off the desk and let it fall again. “But we haven’t discovered anything in that regard.”
    “What about at Malgam Oil? Did Mr. Smith-Aidoo have any enemies there, perhaps?”
    “We interviewed several people, including the CEO, Roger Calmy-Rey. He appeared to think very highly of Smith-Aidoo.”
    “Where is Mr. Calmy-Rey from?”
    “I understand he’s half Swiss and half English. He spends most of his time in England, coming to Ghana every so often.”
    “Is he in town at the moment?”
    “I’m not sure. My ASP will know.”
    Superintendent Hammond fished around for his mobile, found it under a stack of papers, and called the assistant superintendent.
    “Seidu, come downstairs to meet Inspector Dawson when you are finished. He has arrived from Accra.” Hammond dropped the phone on his desk.
    “And Mrs. Smith-Aidoo?” Dawson asked. “Did she have enemies?”
    “The closest we could find to that was Kwesi DeSouza, whom she defeated in the STMA elections. He might have been bitter about that, but that motive doesn’t seem to match the brutality of the murder. And if DeSouza disliked Mrs. Smith-Aidoo, why would he behead her husband? It doesn’t make sense.”
    Someone knocked on the door and stepped in. He was younger than Hammond, short and stocky with a clean-shaven head and smooth, coal-black skin.
    Hammond introduced him. “This is ASP Seidu. He’s been working on the case with me.”
    Seidu shook hands with Dawson and took a seat.
    “Inspector Dawson was asking if Mr. Calmy-Rey is around,” Hammond told him.
    “I believe he’s still abroad,” Seidu responded in a marvelous baritone. “I can email him to find out.”
    Dawson’s phone vibrated, and he checked it.
    “From Dr. Smith-Aidoo,” he told the other two. “She wants me to meet her at the Raybow Hotel. Where is that?”
    “It’s not far from the Africana Roundabout in Takoradi,” Seidu said. “It’s not far from Shippers Circle.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Dawson stood