Free Murder at Cape Three Points by Kwei Quartey Page B

up. “I’ll go there now.”
    “Okay,” Hammond said. “We’ll talk later, then.”
    Seidu rose from his chair with conventional courtesy, but Hammond stayed right where he was. As Dawson walked back outside, he reflected that the superintendent seemed to be stuck in resentment thick as tar. He appeared to be taking the intervention of CIDHeadquarters as a personal insult. There’ll be little or no help from him , Dawson thought. In fact, he might be a hindrance. Dawson would have to be on his guard and ready for a fight. He was up to it, but he would prefer not to have to do it.

Chapter 8
    A S B AAH DROVE TO the Raybow Hotel, he showed Dawson more evidence that the oil industry was profoundly affecting Takoradi. The skeletal necks of building cranes dotted the skyline. The sprawling Best Western Atlantic Hotel with luxury chalets and hundreds of rooms had superseded the old military barracks on Officers’ Mess Road.
    “What do you think of all this construction?” Dawson asked Baah. “Are the locals better off because of the oil?”
    Baah sucked his teeth. “They say one day we will all see benefit, but I think they are telling us lies. Someone like me will never get any oil money. Only the oburonis , the white people, and those big businessmen and the ministers of parliament will get plenty money, buying Benzes and houses for their girlfriends. You watch. Just now when we get to the Raybow, you will see them—old men with young, young girls.”
    Baah, who lived in a section of Takoradi called Kwesimintsim, said that although his own rent of twenty cedis a month had not gone up, he knew of people evicted after their landlords had suddenly doubled or tripled their rent as higher paying customers arrived from other parts of Ghana and neighboring Côte d’Ivoire.
    They turned into the driveway of the Raybow, a three-story, ivory-colored hotel with arched columns and a bronze cembonit roof. Baah pulled up at the portico entrance, and a uniformed doorman stepped forward to open Dawson’s door.
    “Morning, sir.”
    The doorman directed Baah where to park and then held open the entrance door for Dawson. He went into the lobby, which had subtle lighting, gleaming wood floors, and a spiral staircase to the left. He stopped at the receptionist counter where a young man and woman greeted him.
    “Morning. I’m Inspector Dawson, here to meet Dr. Sapphire Smith-Aidoo.”
    The name on the woman’s badge was Violet. She was pretty, with a baby-smooth complexion.
    “Oh, yes,” she said, flashing him an infectious smile. “The doctor is expecting you. Please, come this way.”
    Violet came around the counter and led him across the lobby, opening the door onto a wide patio with cream and sienna mosaic tiling. A white woman and her two children were dog paddling in the shallow end of the pool and a white man was turning a violent pink as he baked himself in the sun on a reclining beach chair. So strange, white people and their constant sunbathing , Dawson thought.
    “The doctor is sitting over there in the corner, Inspector,” Violet said, pointing across the pool to a restaurant area with a low thatched roof and open sides.
    “Thank you, Violet.”
    “You’re welcome. Have a good day and please visit again in the future.”
    If I weren’t happily married , he thought, stealing a quick look at her derrière as she retreated.
    He crossed the patio, and as he approached, Dr. Smith-Aidoo spotted him and waved from the far side of the restaurant, which was mostly empty. The waiters were standing around chatting.
    “Good morning, Doctor,” he said as he got to her table.
    She smiled, and he was struck by how glad she seemed to see him. In a cream-colored trouser suit, she was luminescent in the sunlight reflected off the pool.
    A male waiter who had been hovering in the background came to their table.
    “Good morning, sir. Please, will you like to have something?”
    “No, I’m fine, thank you.”
    “Please,