Dawson stood with arms akimbo and looked around.

“That’s about it, I think,” he said. “Not much to search, really. Can you think of anywhere else?”

Mrs. Ohene shook her head. “No, I’m sorry I don’t have any brilliant ideas.”

Dawson was rubbing his chin.

“To your knowledge,” he asked her, “did anyone besides Gladys’s brother and aunt come to this room after her death?”

“Not that I know of.”

“I signed in at the reception desk. Do all visitors do the same?”

“Because it’s a women’s hall,” Mrs. Ohene said, “I instituted that process for the security of the residents, and everyone is supposed to sign in, but I know people slip through from time to time.”

“Can I see the book?”

“Of course.”

They went back down to reception, where Susan was busy at the computer. She jumped up and came to the counter, eager and willing.

“Hi, Susan,” Mrs. Ohene said. “We need to look through the sign-in book.”

“All right, madam.”

The pages were much longer than wide. Each was headed by the date, with columns for name of visitor, time in, destination, purpose of visit, time out. Most were garden-variety family or friend visits, a few were to Mrs. Ohene.

“The room number is K-sixteen, correct?” Dawson asked. He had noticed the number on the door.

“Correct,” Mrs. Ohene said. “K is Gladys’s block.”

Dawson ran his finger down the page and stopped at his target. “Here’s Charles Mensah’s sign-in. Tuesday, eleven thirty in the morning. Let’s go to the day before.”

Susan was watching with interest, and Dawson suddenly realized how stupid he was not asking for her help.

“We’re looking for visitors who went up to Gladys’s room Sunday, Monday, or very early Tuesday, the twenty-fifth,” he explained to her. “It would have to have been before Charles and Elizabeth arrived. Do you remember anyone in particular?”

“Tuesday, I was off,” Susan said. “Monday I was here, but… no, sorry, I can’t think of anyone.”

“Any kind of visitor that seemed out of the ordinary,” Dawson persisted.

She pondered again but drew another blank.

“All right,” Dawson said patiently. “Let’s try something else. How about any unusual visit to any part of the residence, not necessarily to Gladys’s room? Anyone, going anywhere.”

She shrugged, taking a stab. “The only thing I can think of was the man from the Ministry of Health who came on Monday, but Mrs. Ohene knows about that already.”

Mrs. Ohene’s head snapped around. “What man from the Ministry of Health?”

Susan froze. “Didn’t you ask for someone to come and take care of a rat problem?”

“Rat problem! What rat problem? What are you talking about? We do not have rats in my hall, young lady.” Mrs. Ohene was appalled. “Someone came from the Ministry of Health and you didn’t notify me?”

Susan’s eyes went wide with something approaching terror. “Madame Ohene, I’m so sorry. He said he had already talked to you about it earlier in the morning and that I didn’t need to bother you.” Her voice was shaking.

“The Ministry of Health does not handle this sort of thing, Susan,” Mrs. Ohene said witheringly “They deal with serious national problems, like AIDS and malaria control, not campus rats. The campus has its own pest control. Isn’t that something you should know?”

“I do know that, I do, Madame Ohene,” Susan said, “but this man, he said he was from the Pest and Parasite section of the Ministry of Health.”

“Pest and Parasite!” Mrs. Ohene exclaimed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

Dawson knew they were onto something now. “You say the man was here on Monday, Susan?”

“Yes.”

Two days after Gladys’s body was found and the day before Charles and Elizabeth had been here.

Dawson went back a couple of pages to Monday and quickly scanned the sign-ins.

“Here it is. ‘H. Sekyi, oh-nine-twenty, K block, MoH Pest and Parasite.’” He looked at Mrs. Ohene. “He went to Gladys’s section.”

She stared at Dawson, mystified. “Who on earth is this man? What did he want?”

“Did he show any identification?” Dawson asked Susan.

“Yes. A badge that said ‘Ministry of Health’ and his name. He said there were complaints about rats in several rooms in the wing. He was very convincing.”

“Pest and parasite indeed,” Mrs. Ohene muttered.

“He asked you for a key to Gladys’s room specifically?” Dawson asked Susan.

“Yes,” she said, looking anguished. “He told me that’s where the complaint had originated and that he would send the rat catchers out with special equipment.”

Mrs. Ohene cringed. “Rat catchers? Oh, my goodness gracious me. Now I’ve heard it all.”

“Do you remember what this Sekyi man looked like?” Dawson asked Susan. “Tall, short, slim, fat?”

“Not tall, but slim. And quite young. Boyish.”

“Clean-shaven?”

“Yes.”

“Wedding ring? I’m sure you noticed.”

“Yes,” she said a little sheepishly. “He did have one.”

“Any distinguishing marks? Tribal scars on the face, for example?”

“No. Completely smooth skin.”

“Glasses?”

“No glasses.”

“One more thing. Try to picture him in your mind signing the logbook. Think carefully before you answer. What hand did he use to sign?”

“That’s easy-I know it was his left because that’s how I saw his wedding ring.”

“You’re brilliant,” Dawson said. “Completely brilliant. Thank you.”

“I am?” She was both relieved and incredulous, while the warden looked utterly unconvinced.

“Look at it this way,” Dawson said. “If you’d called Madame Ohene, this man probably would have bolted, but instead now we have a name, and-I’m praying-I can find him at the Ministry of Health.”

DAWSON’S DRIVE BACK TO Accra was painfully slow, with traffic particularly heavy on Independence Avenue. Lost in thought about the case as he inched along, Dawson paid little attention to the opulent buildings in this part of the city-the excessive presidential palace glittering in the sun like a diamond, the Mormon temple with its golden statue atop the tower, and the luminous College of Physicians and Surgeons.

He came back to earth as he turned left on Liberia Road and then left on the Kinbu extension to the ministries. He found parking next to the Ministry of Manpower and crossed the lot to the Ministry of Health, a cream-colored building with peculiar faded mauve trim. He started his search at the front lobby. If he had thought he would have an easy time looking for someone in a large government office, he would have been mistaken. Fortunately, he had readied himself mentally and physically. He went to a total of six departments looking for an employee by the name of H. Sekyi, each section directing him to the next.

He ended up in some kind of personnel office-or one of several, he wasn’t sure. The bulky man at the desk was tapping away at a computer keyboard.

“Good morning, sir,” Dawson said.

“Good morning,” the man said, giving him a quick glance and returning to his screen. Apparently he was finishing up some pressing document.

“I need some information, please.”

The man finished typing and looked up. “Yes? What kind of information, sir?”

“I’m trying to find an employee by the name of H. Sekyi.”

“And you are?”

“Detective Inspector Dawson, CID.”

“Let me check for you, Inspector.” He changed the window on his screen. “Is that Sekyi with k-y-i or c-h-i?”

“K-y-i,” Dawson said. The other spelling would be the anglicized form.

The man shook his head and got up.

“Let me try here,” he said, pulling a large ring binder from the shelf. “You don’t know what department he is?”

Dawson resisted the temptation to say “Pest and Parasites.” “No, I don’t know.”