Read Online Murder at Cape Three Points by Kwei Quartey - Free Book Online Page A

temporarily stalled, but I’m hoping to finish everything by the middle of next year.”
    “Why did you call it Chapel Hill?” Dawson asked.
    “That’s the name of this part of town. The street we came on used to be called Chapel Hill Road, but it was renamed Shippers Road.”
    He opened up the padlocked gate, revealing a neat, square bungalow on a generous plot of land with a smattering of banana trees and two blooming jasmine bushes that lightly perfumed the night air. Abraham had not yet installed exterior lighting, but the street lamp on the corner provided a little illumination.
    “It only has the primer coat of paint,” Abraham said, unlocking the front door. “In the end it will be a sun-yellow color.”
    Dawson followed him in as he switched on the overhead light of the kitchenette to their left. It had a new house smell.
    “I don’t have the cupboards up yet,” Abraham said. “But everything is connected and ready for use—stove, refrigerator, water …”
    He lifted the tap handle and after a cough and splutter, water began flowing.
    “This is nice,” Dawson said, looking around. “It will be beautiful when it’s finished.”
    “Thanks,” Abraham said, smiling.
    They went on into the small dining area, which was bare exceptfor three boxes of unpacked materials in one corner. The recessed ceiling lights were in working order and missing only their trim.
    “I will bring a table and two chairs for you to sit down and eat on,” Abraham said.
    “Don’t worry about that, cousin Abe,” Dawson said. “I can do without.”
    “It’s no problem. I’ll get them tomorrow.”
    The bedroom contained a wardrobe and a narrow bed.
    Abraham snapped his fingers. “Oh, I forgot curtains for the window. I’ll bring some tomorrow as well.”
    “The house is in better shape than I thought it was going to be,” Dawson commented in appreciation. “I was imagining just the wood frame.”
    Abraham laughed. “No, not as bad as that. Are you okay with it? Sorry I don’t have the AC connected yet.”
    “No worries at all. I appreciate this very much.”
    “Call me if you need anything—even tonight. I don’t mind.”
    Once Abraham had left, Dawson hung his clothes up in the wardrobe and then remembered what he had meant to do earlier. Sly had unwittingly given him an idea about how witchcraft might have some connection to the Smith-Aidoos’ murder.
    Dr. Allen Botswe, a professor at the University of Ghana, specialized in African criminal psychology. His landmark book, Magic, Murder, and Madness: Ritual Killing in West Africa , was the authoritative text on the relationship between homicide and traditional West African culture, particularly in Ghana. Botswe had helped Dawson out during his last case.
    He dialed the professor’s number, but no one answered. He redialed, a trick that often worked, and this time Botswe picked up.
    “Mr. Dawson! How nice to hear from you. I hope all is well?”
    “Yes, thank you, Doctor.” He got down to business. “I’m investigating a case in Takoradi of a murdered man and his wife who ended up in a canoe out by an oil rig.”
    “The Smith-Aidoos—the man who was decapitated?”
    “You know about it?”
    “Only the bare elements.”
    Dawson summarized the most important points. “My older son,”he continued, “who accidentally saw the photograph of the severed head said he believed witchcraft or juju was involved.”
    “Possibly. Could I see the photograph?”
    “I’ll text it to you. Please call me back once you’ve had a chance to look at it.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    Dawson opened up the docket, took the clearest possible picture of the severed head with his mobile, and sent the image to Botswe, who called back a few minutes later.
    “Gruesome,” the professor said. “Some of the features here suggest a ritual killing, which is a murder committed in connection with the powers of gods, spirits, or ancestors. That often involves taking the victim’s