Children of the Street (16 page)

28

Chikata stood slightly behind Dawson in the morgue at the autopsy table as Dr. Biney looked over Comfort’s body. It was his first autopsy of the morning.

“Age sixteen to seventeen,” Biney said. “There’s a penetrating knife wound to the back on the right side, identical to the two previous cases we’ve seen.”

“Any mutilations like Musa’s?” Dawson asked.

“Yes, there are.”

George, the venerable morgue attendant, turned the corpse over.

“Here are those mutilations, Inspector,” Dr. Biney said. “Deep wounds to both knees inflicted well beyond the joint capsule, followed by excision of both patellae. In other words, wholesale removal of the kneecaps. Almost as if he scooped them out.”

“Like the amputation of Musa’s fingers.”

“Yes, but there’s something else. I see signs she was raped.”

“Raped,”
Dawson said, startled. “Oh. Now I’m confused.”

“Why?” Chikata asked.

“Rape says sexual homicide,” Dawson said, “and that’s not what the other two were.”

“Maybe Dr. Botswe can shed some light on this?” Biney suggested.

“I agree,” Dawson said. “I had him come to the crime scene, so I’ll go back and tell him about this rape thing.”

“Were there any helpful leads at all at the scene?”

“We’re looking for two people who may be involved,” Dawson said, “and they appear to know each other—the ubiquitous Tedamm and a new character known as Flash. We searched for them last night but came up short.”

Dawson glanced at his detective sergeant, whose fine forehead had begun to bead with sweat. He didn’t look too good.

“What’s wrong with you, Chikata?”

“I feel somehow hot.”

“That’s because you’re getting faint,” Biney said. “You’d better go outside for some fresh air.”

Chikata walked out quickly.

“Good call, Inspector,” Biney said, with a smile. “This place can get to you after a while. Another few seconds he would have been on the floor.”

“He’s on the squeamish side,” Dawson said, with a tint of disdain.

“Low threshold, I call it,” Biney said. “What’s next in your investigation?”

“We have to find Tedamm and Flash. If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you to do the rest of the post without me.”

“Of course. I’ll call you later with the full report.”

As Dawson got to the door, he hesitated. For several days now, he had been turning something over in his mind, something he had been planning. The only question was, When was the right moment?

“Something else, Inspector?” Biney said.

Now was the time
.

“Doctor, I wanted to discuss something with you, if you wouldn’t mind,” Dawson said falteringly. “It has nothing to do with any of the cases.”

“But of course. Let me get off all this garb and we can talk in the office.”

They went back together to a bare, echoing room and sat side by side at the table where the pathologists usually wrote up their final reports.

“How can I help, Inspector?”

“I know I mentioned my son, Hosiah, to you when we first met,” Dawson started. “What I didn’t tell you at the time is that he has a ventricular septal defect.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is he doing all right?”

“I’m afraid not. He’s slowly getting worse, in spite of his medicines and salt restriction. He needs the surgery, but we’re up against a sum of money we simply can’t afford, and what we have in savings is still meager compared to the amount we need. We made an appeal to Korle Bu for financial clemency, but that was turned down. We didn’t qualify for a personal bank loan either.”

“The Ghana Police Service can’t help?”

“They can reimburse us. However we have to pay for the operation first. I’m not asking you for money, Dr. Biney—I wouldn’t do that. I’m just hoping you might have a suggestion as to what my wife and I can do at this point.”

“It’s a dire situation for you,” Biney said sympathetically. “If I were a cardiac surgeon, I would perform the operation myself and not charge you one pesewa. Alas, I’m not that. But there still might be some way I can help. I know the director of the Cardiothoracic Center, Dr. Solomon Gyan. Let me talk to him about it and see if we can work something out.”

“Thank you so much, Doctor,” Dawson said, brightening. This sounded promising.

“Of course I can’t guarantee anything,” Biney cautioned hastily, “and it may take me a little time. Give me a few weeks to work on it. Dr. Gyan is constantly out of town.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Dawson said again. “This means a lot to me.”

“Don’t mention it at all, Inspector. This is what friendship is all about.” With a twinkle in his eye, Biney added, “So when I show up at CID with a sticky problem, I’m marching straight to your office.”

The two men laughed together.

H
is heart uplifted, Dawson joined Chikata outside and they returned to the railway station to ask around for Tedamm. The name was from the northern regions, so they thought one of the kayaye might know him. But no one had seen him around.

“All right, then,” Dawson said, “let’s go to the Timber Market to look for this Flash guy,” Dawson said.

Wednesday morning traffic was predictably heavy along High Street. Dawson sat in front next to Sergeant Baidoo. Chikata was in the backseat.

“Wow,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at a pretty woman walking by.

“Chikata, when are you going to settle down and get married?” Dawson asked.

He laughed. “I don’t know. Soon.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“There are two women I like,” Chikata said. “I can’t decide between the two of them.”

“Maybe it’s neither, then. One of them should stand out.”

“Maybe so.” Chikata smiled. “Ei, Dawson! You surprised me. You never asked me anything like that before.”

“Just interested in your well-being.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chikata staring at him.

“What, you think I have no heart or something?” Dawson said.

“Oh, no, Dawson, I would never think such a thing.”

“Omale,”
Dawson retorted, Ga for “you’re lying.”

They burst out laughing in unison.

A
t the Timber Market, they went past buyers and sellers haggling over rows of stacked planks and logs. Wood wasn’t all there was. There was a fetish stall with herbs, animal skins, and scary looking skulls. Kayaye walked by with skyscraper head loads, and a young man with a lightweight mike and speaker system slung over his shoulder was going through the market broadcasting a get-tested-for-HIV campaign.

Dawson and Chikata split up but kept within visual distance of each other. If one of them ran into Tedamm, the other should be close by to help.

Dawson caught up with a kayayo and walked alongside her. She was much shorter than he, but the sacks of flour on her head towered over him.

“How are you?” he asked her.

“Fine.” She moved her eyes, not her head, to look at him.

“I’m Darko. What’s your name?”

“Amariya.”

“Beautiful name. From where?”

“Northern Region. Walewale.”

“You like Accra?”

“Life is too hard.” Amariya went one way to avoid an oncoming cart. Dawson went the other. They reunited on the other side. “But in Walewale I can’t make money to support my children, so I have to stay here.”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“His name is Tedamm.”

“Hmm. That man.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Have you seen him?”

“I saw him last week.”

“What about a man called Flash?”

“Him, I know where he is.” She pointed ahead and to the right. “Turn there, walk all the way to the end where there’s no more traders, and you’ll find him. Don’t tell him I showed you the way.”

“I won’t.” Dawson tucked a cedi bill in the fold of the cloth around her waist. “Take care of your children.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Not at all. Be careful.”

Dawson joined Chikata again. “Let’s go and get Flash.”

29

They followed the kayayo’s directions, walking until the heavily commercial section of the market fell behind them. They saw a few girls loitering. Dawson picked one out and beckoned to her. She was about sixteen, as bony and hungry as a stray cat. She approached them a little warily. Maybe she had caught a whiff of policeman.

In Twi, Dawson asked her how much.
“Sεn?”

She wasn’t sure if he meant both him and Chikata.
“Mmienu?”

“Only me, not him.”

“Four cedis.”

“What’s your name?”

“Thelma.”

“Is Flash there?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Follow us,” Dawson said to Chikata, “but stay out of sight.”

They rounded a corner. There, standing in front of a makeshift tent in a cul-de-sac, was Flash in a crimson shirt and bright green-striped pants. He gave Dawson the up-and-down.

“Who are you?” Flash said, his voice like a frog’s croak.

“What do you care who I am? I just want to have sex with this girl and go.”

Flash grunted, his eyes darting past Dawson’s shoulder to check that there was no one else. Like a policeman, for instance. He held out his hand to Thelma, who was about to give him the fee when Dawson stopped her. He took out his badge, showing it to Flash. “Police. You’re under—”

Flash made a run for it, but he didn’t get far. Chikata appeared seemingly out of nowhere, grabbed him, and swept his feet from under him. Flash went down in a cloud of dust. He coughed and spluttered as Chikata cuffed him.

Dawson turned to Thelma, who was trembling in fear of arrest.

“Listen to me,” Dawson said. “Life as an ashawo is dangerous. These men have diseases that can kill you. Be a porter, or a sweeper, or sell on the street, but not this.”

“Please, I do all those things already,” Thelma said sadly. “Not enough pay.”

“Do you have children?”

“No, please.”

“But you want some, not so?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then don’t do this. If you die, how will you have children? Do you understand?”

“Yes, please.”

Dawson took one of Genevieve’s cards from his wallet. “Go to this place. They can help you. And I don’t want to see you here anymore. Hear?”

She walked away quickly, giving Chikata and Flash a wide berth. Dawson watched her leave and suddenly felt hopeless.
Such a hero, aren’t you
. As if he was making the slightest difference to what this girl would do with her life. In a week, she’d be back.

He grabbed a plastic chair that had been perched to one side of the tent. He plunked it down next to Flash, who was still on the ground with Chikata standing over him.

“Mr. Flash, I’m Detective Inspector Dawson. Please get up and have a seat.”

Chikata helped him up into the chair.

“We have a few questions for you,” Dawson said.

“I haven’t done anything,” Flash said wildly, his eyes bobbing and jerking.

“Then what were you doing last night at the railway station where Comfort Mahama was killed?”

“I wasn’t at any railway station and I don’t know any Comfort.”

“People saw you there, my friend, so don’t lie to me,” Dawson snapped. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Flash. For every lie you tell, I’ll give you five years in jail. You’ve just told me two lies, so you already have ten years. Next lie, fifteen.”

“You can’t do that,” Flash challenged nervously.

“Oh, yes, he can,” Chikata said without missing a beat.

“You want to spend ten years in jail or not?” Dawson said.

Flash swallowed. “No.”

“Then tell us the truth,” Dawson said, noticing a small crowd of spectators beginning to collect. “If you tell the truth, I’ll let you go. Agreed?”

Flash nodded resentfully.

“Good,” Dawson said. “So, asking the question again, what were you doing last night at the railway?”

“I live around CMB. I was walking home with my friends when I heard that woman scream. When I went there, one man was shining his light on her and I saw it was Comfort.”

“How did you know Comfort?”

“Ashawo.”

“She used your tent?”

“Yes.”

“Did she ever cheat you or try to cheat you out of money?”

“No. These girls can’t cheat me. I’m too smart for them.”

“Where were you between seven and ten o’clock last night?”

“Heh?”

“Between seven and ten o’clock last night, where were you?”

“With my friends. We went to a chop bar in Ussher Town.”

“What’s the name of the chop bar?”

“Jesus Is Coming.”

“When will that happen?”

“Eh?”

“Never mind. Maybe you’ll get it later. Where is Tedamm?”

Flash was thrown off by the sudden change in direction.

“We know you know him,” Dawson jumped in. “You pay him out of the money you collect at the tent.”

“Eh-heh.”

“So where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Dawson lifted the hem of Flash’s shirt and snapped his mobile off his belt, thumbing through the address book until he came to “Tedamm.” He dialed the number. Once it started ringing, he held it to Flash’s ear. “Ask him where he is, but don’t say anything about us.”

Dawson brought his ear close to the phone. Tedamm came on the line.

“Yes, Flash?”

“Where are you right now?” Flash asked in Hausa.

“Jamestown. Looking for that boy who hasn’t paid me. What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I call you later.”

Dawson pocketed the phone.

“Ho!” Flash cried. “My phone!”

“You won’t need it where you’re going. We’re taking you to the station.”

Flash looked as if he was going to cry. “Oh, Inspector, abeg you. Mepaaky
ε
w, you said you would let me go if I tell the truth.”

Dawson raised his eyebrows. “I never said that. Did I say that, Chikata?”

“I never heard you say that, sir.”

They escorted a protesting Flash along what turned out to be his walk of shame. Men, women, and children jeered at him as he went by, even if they had no idea who he was or what he had done. The fact that he was in handcuffs was enough reason to join in the fun.

D
awson booked Flash into Korle Bu Police Station. Then Sergeant Baidoo drove Dawson and Chikata toward Korle Lagoon, where Tedamm had said he was.

Chikata texted him,
whre r u?

“Let’s hope he responds,” Chikata said. “If he isn’t in the habit of texting Flash, he might get suspicious.”

The phone buzzed ten minutes later with the reply
nr fi stn
.

“Dawson, he’s near the fire station.”

“That must mean the one at Jamestown,” Dawson said.

T
hey were only minutes from the fire station, which was on the north side of Cleland Road, where Jamestown trailed off. On the south side were the beach, the fishing harbor, the slave-era James Fort, and the Accra Lighthouse.

Baidoo pulled over onto the pavement opposite the fire station. Dawson and Chikata got out, heading toward the unoccupied expanse of land between the station, the edge of the lagoon to its west, and the beginning of Agbogbloshie to its north. A developer’s dream was that expensive chalets would one day populate the banks of a crystal clear lagoon. Until then, the Accra Metropolitan Assembly deemed the area off-limits for any new construction. A few unauthorized buildings on the edge of the property had been shut down and condemned, including one warehouse belonging to Woodcrest Services, a gypsum board and acoustic tiling company. When the demolition would actually take place, Dawson thought every time he went past the warehouse, was anyone’s guess. It was like the bola truck on Kojo Thompson Road, the old railway car, or the UTC building—all doing nothing except deteriorating with time and the elements.

“What’s going on up there?” Chikata said.

Two hundred meters to their north, about a dozen boys stood in a circle watching something. Dawson and Chikata faintly heard someone screaming. They broke into a run. Closer, they saw a muscular, shirtless young man kicking a boy on the ground. Rolled in a ball, skinny, and probably no more than about thirteen, he was crying out as he clutched his head, trying to shield himself.

A boy in the crowd shouted, “Tedamm, beat him well!” and a couple others guffawed.

So this is the infamous Tedamm
.

Each time Tedamm drew his foot back, he shouted, “You think you can trick me? Eh? You think I don’t know you’re trying to cheat me?”

He kicked the boy again, this time in the head. The boy appeared to lose consciousness. Something expanded in Dawson’s chest, like a parachute opening. The old, terrible rage came out of hibernation. He changed direction in an instant, circled around, and came up behind Tedamm so quickly that few people saw his approach. Left forearm behind Tedamm’s head, right arm across the front of Tedamm’s throat, hand anchored to his left shoulder. Dawson did it very quickly and tightened the noose.

Tedamm was a mass of muscle. He pushed back, kicked his legs in the air, and twisted his body, throwing Dawson off balance. They went to the ground together, Tedamm on top, faceup. He tried to writhe out of Dawson’s grip, but it was steady and deadly. After seven seconds, Tedamm went limp.
Five seconds more will kill him
.

Dawson didn’t release.

Let him go
.

Dawson didn’t release. Time seemed to stop. His hearing deadened and his surroundings darkened.

Suddenly he realized Chikata was screaming at him. Dawson looked up at his sergeant’s terrified face. He released his hold. Chikata pulled Tedamm off. Dawson got to his knees. Tedamm didn’t move.

Chikata’s mouth was open in shock. “Dawson,” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

Dawson slapped Tedamm’s face. His eyes fluttered open. He tried to sit up.

“Stay where you are,” Dawson said, pushing him back down. To Chikata he said, “Check if the boy is okay.”

Chikata went to attend to him. Dawson rolled Tedamm over and cuffed him, leaving him facedown. The audience was stunned and silent. They had just witnessed the felling of the most powerful tree in the forest.