Angry. Very angry. A side of Gladys that Dawson was seeing for the first time. She was found dead two days later, on Saturday morning, but she was most likely murdered on the evening of Friday, the twenty-first, the day she’d wanted her lover to meet her at the forest path.

Timothy was staring at the floor with arms tightly folded across his midriff. He was rocking gently back and forth. Dawson came to his side and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Timothy Sowah, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murdering Gladys Mensah.”

MR. BOATENG HAD REQUESTED permission to visit with his son Samuel in his jail cell, but Constable Gyamfi was busy at the police desk, so Boateng had to wait. No one could visit a prisoner without an escort.

Finally Gyamfi beckoned to Boateng to follow him back.

“Tell your son to eat,” Gyamfi said. “He’s not taking anything, and that’s foolish. His bones are beginning to stick out even more than before.”

Boateng saw the evidence for himself. A plate of rice lay untouched on the floor, not far from the filthy plastic bucket into which Samuel was supposed to empty his bladder and evacuate his bowels. The place stank, and the small barred window high up on the wall did nothing to improve ventilation.

Samuel was lying on his side, facing the wall with knees drawn up.

“Samuel, you have a visitor,” Gyamfi announced.

No movement.

“Samuel.”

He stirred and lifted his head.

“Get up. Your father is here to see you.”

As his son slowly stood up, Boateng’s stomach swooped. Samuel had changed drastically. His cheeks were sucked in, his eyes were bloodshot, and his ribs were sticking out like the slats of a louvered window. The boy was starving. He didn’t move to the jail bars in one easy stride as he normally would have. He took three shuffling steps, holding on to his trousers so they wouldn’t slip off his sparse hips.

Gyamfi stood discreetly to one side.

Samuel leaned against the bars, and his father tried to smile at him. The bars weren’t far enough apart to admit a full hand, so they shook fingers.

“How are you?” Boateng said softly.

“Fine, Papa.”

“They say you’re not eating.”

“Mm. Not hungry.”

“You have to eat something. What about if I bring some food for you?”

Samuel shrugged. “If you like, Papa.”

Constable Gyamfi spoke up. “No outside food allowed. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay, sir,” Boateng said.

“Papa, have you talked with Inspector Fiti?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

“Try to talk to him today,” Samuel said weakly. “Ask him when he will let me go.”

Boateng swallowed. “Samuel, have you told them everything? Have you told the truth?”

“Of course.”

“If there’s something more to tell, you should tell it.”

“There’s nothing more.”

“They said you were talking to the girl near the forest. That evening, I mean.”

“Yes, but I went away and left her alone. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

“All right.”

It seemed Samuel had all of a sudden grown up into a man.

“Time up,” Gyamfi announced.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Boateng said. “But you have to eat, Samuel. Please. Look at your bones. They are poking out like sticks.”

Just before noon, a visitor arrived at the police station. Gyamfi knew Osewa Gedze fairly well. She was quiet and law-abiding, attractive in a full-blooded, mature way-not like some of the young girls these days who relax their hair and bleach their skin.

Mrs. Gedze asked for Inspector Fiti, and Gyamfi told her he wasn’t in the office.

“Maybe I can help you with something?” he offered.

“It concerns Gladys Mensah, Constable,” Osewa said.

“You can report it to me and then I’ll tell the inspector.”

He saw her appraise him quickly, and then she nodded. “All right, that’s fine. Maybe what I have to tell you is not important, or maybe it is. The evening before Gladys was killed, I saw something.”

“Go on.”

“I was collecting firewood to take home. First I saw that boy Samuel following Gladys. They started to talk, and then Isaac Kutu the healer came and he and the boy started to quarrel. He told the boy to go away, and after some time Samuel obeyed him. Then Kutu and Gladys conversed before he went back to his house. At that time, Gladys began walking back to Ketanu.”

“Yes? Continue.”

“I was finishing up tying the firewood, when I saw Samuel come out of the bush and again he started to walk and converse with Gladys.”

“And then what happened?”

“He tried to hold her hand and put his arms around her, but she didn’t let him. But after a while he went into the bush with her.”

“Did he force her?”

“No, she just followed him.”

“And you? Did you follow them?”

She looked puzzled. “Why should I follow them, Constable?”

“I’m just asking.”

Gyamfi looked up, and Osewa turned around as Inspector Fiti came into the station. He stopped when he saw her at the desk. “Mrs. Gedze,” he said. “It’s been a long time. How are you?” “I’m fine, thank you, Inspector.” “She has something you should hear, sir,” Gyamfi said.

TIMOTHY SOWAH WAS BOOKED into the Ho Central Prison. Dawson tried several times to reach Inspector Fiti on the phone. The line was busy until his seventh attempt, when he got through and told Fiti about Timothy’s arrest.

“You’re making a mistake, Inspector Dawson,” Fiti said coldly. “Why would Mr. Sowah do such a thing?”

“Because he was having an affair with Gladys. She wanted it to be more serious than he did, and she began to threaten him.”

“Inspector Dawson, that happens every day. It doesn’t make him a murderer. I’m warning you, okay? Sowah knows people in Accra. You could get in big, big trouble.”

“So be it.”

“You sound so confident. Maybe you won’t be when I tell you your aunt Osewa has just come and told us she saw Samuel and Gladys going into the forest together that evening. That may have been the last time anyone ever saw Gladys.”

Dawson was momentarily stunned. “Auntie Osewa told you this?”

“Yes, sir. I tell you, this boy Samuel is guilty-no one else. He has done the thing. Mark my words, he will confess.”

“Inspector Fiti, I hope you remember that you can’t hold Samuel longer than forty-eight hours without charging him.”

“He will confess today, and he will be charged today And my advice to you is to release Mr. Sowah before-”

At that point, the connection was lost.

At the other end of the line, Fiti shook his head as he hung up.

“They say we need someone from Accra to help us investigate,” he muttered, gesturing at the phone as if Dawson was still there, “and this is the fool they send. Forty-eight hours. Okay, you will get your forty-eight hours.”

Constable Bubo, who was manning the desk while Gyamfi went on an errand, said, “What’s wrong, sir?”

“Never mind,” Fiti said. “Bring Samuel up to the interrogation room and lock him inside until I’m ready to question him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Inspector Fiti went back to his office and studied Osewa’s signed statement. Gyamfi had written it out for her, and she had signed her name to it. Fiti had never had any problems with the Gedzes. They were honest, hardworking people.

The statement was very detailed. The most important item was that Osewa had seen Samuel return to Gladys as she walked along the pathway toward Ketanu. Samuel had tried to embrace her or something like that, and then they’d disappeared together into the bush. This was crucial. Osewa didn’t use a watch, but the description of the sun’s position in the sky put it at around a quarter to six. Osewa had even described what the two had been wearing. Fiti believed her. She had stuck to the facts and had not changed any of the details, even when questioned repeatedly.