“Good evening, sir,” Dawson said.

The watchman had a head shaped like a bullet. “Good evening.” “Do you know where Augustus Ayitey lives?” “The herbalist? Down there.” He pointed. “Take a right turn at Jesus Is Lord Chop House.”

Dawson stopped the car just after the chophouse, locked up, and went the rest of the way on foot. The watchman outside Ayitey’s house saw Dawson approaching and trained a flashlight on him.

“Who goes there?”

“Detective Inspector Dawson.”

“Stop.”

The watchman scanned him up and down with the powerful beam and then approached warily, armed with a club.

“Show me your ID.”

Dawson held it out, and the watchman examined it.

“Detective Inspector Dawson… Yes, sir, how can I help you, sir?”

Dawson explained he needed to question Ayitey about a case that couldn’t wait till morning. The watchman listened carefully, nodded, and then opened the gate to let Dawson in.

He banged on Ayitey’s front door. A couple of minutes later, a light came on inside the house.

“Who is it?” Male voice.

“Police.”

There was a pause, and then two locks were released before the door opened a crack and two eyes peeped out.

“Yes?”

“Detective Inspector Dawson, CID.” He showed his badge. “Are you Augustus Ayitey?”

“Yes?”

“Open the door, please.”

“What is this about?”

“I need to speak with you. Open up, please.”

Ayitey undid the latch on the door and it opened into a sitting room furnished with fat leather sofas and armchairs. There was a washroom and toilet in a short hallway to the right. Ayitey, in ice blue pajamas, eyed Dawson with wariness and curiosity.

“What is this about, Officer?”

Dawson hated being called “Officer.”

A woman’s voice called out from the next room. “Gussy? What is going on?”

“Nothing,” he replied over his shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

“Do you know a woman by the name of Gifty and her grandson, Hosiah?” Dawson kept his voice soft, trying to modulate his anger like the escape valve on a pressure cooker.

“Yes, I know them,” Ayitey said cautiously. “Why?”

“You recall they came to see you yesterday?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you remember the boy suffered a blow to his head that cut his scalp open?”

“That’s why you’re here in my house in the middle of the night?” Ayitey spluttered. “It was just an accident! What, you think I was trying to hurt the child?”

A middle-aged woman appeared at the bedroom doorway in a colorful dressing gown. “What on earth is going on, Gussy?”

“This Detective Inspector-Dawson, is it?-says he’s here at this time of the night because of the minor incident we had yesterday at the clinic. You know, the boy who bumped his head while we were washing him.”

The woman came up to Dawson. “Detective Inspector? I’m Penny, Mr. Ayitey’s wife. What exactly is the problem? Perhaps I can help.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“We don’t understand what you are doing here, Inspector,” she said more sharply. “My husband has done nothing wrong, and why in heaven’s name could this not wait till daylight?”

“Augustus Ayitey, I am Detective Inspector Dawson. I’m arresting you for assault and battery, abuse of a minor, and fraudulent medical practice.”

Ayitey gasped. “What?”

Dawson touched his arm. “I’m going to be handcuffing you. Turn around with your hands behind your back, please.”

“Look, I don’t know who in hell you are or what you think you’re doing here,” Ayitey snapped, “but I’m an upstanding citizen and you don’t have any authority to come barging into my house in the middle of the night.”

“Turn around, please.”

“I will not.”

“Gussy, Gussy please,” Penny said hastily. “Mr. Dawson, who is in charge of your division?”

“Chief Superintendent Lartey.”

“But we know him so well,” she said sweetly. “Perhaps we can go to him in the morning and discuss the whole problem with him. I’m sure we can work it out.”

“Turn around, please, Mr. Ayitey. Hands behind your back.”

Penny’s tone changed abruptly. “You are going to get in trouble for this. We know the chief superintendent, we know members of Parliament, we even know the president, and so you’d better think carefully about what you’re doing.”

“I am.” Dawson gritted his teeth. He had been patient, but his restraint was dwindling like water draining from a kitchen sink. “Turn around, Mr. Ayitey.”

Penny squeezed her husband’s arm. “It’s okay, Gussy. Don’t fight it. Just go quietly. I’ll have you out by morning’s light. Mr. Dawson, you don’t need to handcuff him. He won’t give you any problem.”

Dawson weighed the options. “You agree to that?” he asked Ayitey.

“Yes, yes, all right,” Ayitey said, but he was seething. “I need to put on some proper clothes.”

Dawson had not planned on all this fuss. He should have walked in, cuffed the man, and marched him out in his pajamas.

“Bring him something to wear,” he said to Penny. “Stay right here, Mr. Ayitey.”

She brought him a shirt and a pair of trousers.

“I would like to change in there,” Ayitey said, pointing to the washroom.

Whether Ayitey was stalling for time or just demanding special treatment, it was getting on Dawson’s nerves.

“No. Change right where you are.”

He watched as Ayitey sullenly put on his clothes over his pajamas.

“Don’t worry, Gussy,” Penny said. “I’ll take care of everything. Mr. Dawson will regret he ever stepped into this house.”

“Let’s go,” Dawson said, falling in slightly behind “Gussy.” What an annoying name. Everything about the man annoyed him.

“Three o’clock in the morning and you come to my house to disturb me,” Ayitey muttered truculently. “If the stupid child had just behaved properly, he would not have wounded himself.”

Dawson’s emotional wire, already stretched to its limit, snapped. He grabbed Ayitey by the neck and kicked his legs out from under him. The herbalist went down like a felled tree, as heavily and just as loudly.

Penny let out a shriek. Ayitey was dazed as Dawson rolled him onto his belly and snatched his hands up behind his back. The cuffs clicked them in place. He grabbed Ayitey by the collar and dragged him to the toilet.

“What are you doing?” his wife screamed. “What are you doing?”

“Dose of his own medicine,” Dawson said.

Ayitey began to struggle.

“Kneel in front of the toilet,” Dawson said.

“No, please, I-”

“I said kneel.”

Dawson straddled Ayitey, lifted his shoulders to the rim, and pushed his head into the bowl until his face touched the water. Ayitey bellowed like a wildebeest in the jaws of a crocodile, and Dawson felt a surge of satisfaction.

“You almost drowned my boy,” Dawson said, raising his voice. “This is what it’s like.”

He flushed the toilet and held Ayitey’s head underwater as he bucked and kicked like a goat.

Penny ran to the front door and began to scream. “Watchman, help! Watchman!”

The watchman came running in.

“He’s trying to kill him!” Penny shrieked.

Dawson let Ayitey’s head up for a moment and allowed him to catch his breath.

The watchman seemed paralyzed.

“Do something, you fool!” Penny yelled at him furiously.

“Madam, he’s a policeman,” the watchman said helplessly. “What can I do at all?”

The water in the toilet reservoir had replenished itself.

“One more time,” Dawson said.

He flushed again as he held Ayitey’s head down in the bowl and the torrent of water engulfed it to overflowing.

“Okay. Get up now.”

He helped Ayitey up, moaning and choking and staggering while his wife screamed uncontrollably.

“Let’s go,” Dawson said. “We’ll find some room at the jail for you.”

As Dawson marched him out the door, Penny ran after them like a small flying insect.