SCUM 2
Three days ago.
The cold wind of the harmattan dawn whipped their faces as they ran. The two men were alone on the dusty road stretch that ran through the bushes spotted with farmlands.
“Time out,” Paul raised a hand.
Ace looked back and slowed to a stop. His almost brother-in-law was bent at the waist, panting.
“Are you alright, man?”
“Yeah, I just need a minute.”
“I thought you said you do this every day?”
“Running, yes. Up a never-ending hill? No, sir.”
Ace laughed. “Alright, take a minute.”
He popped the cap on his water bottle, sitting beside him on the dewy grass. “I used to come here as a kid. My friends and I would steal oranges from there. It’s funny looking back now. Most of them never made it out of here, you know?”
Paul nodded, staring into space.
“What’s on your mind?”
“What?”
“You’ve been spacing out since we set off. You’re not nervous, are you?”
They had a civil relationship and had barely spent any time alone, but Paul had never been shy around him.
“No, I’m …well…” he averted his gaze.
“Spit it out. “
Paul sighed. “It’s just, I found out something about someone…”
“What?”
“Good morning,” a farmer held up his machete in greeting as he passed them by.
Paul waited till he passed, then pushed himself. “Let’s go.”
“What about…”
“It’s nothing.” He stretched out a hand to Ace. “It can wait.”
“Are you sure?”
***
Present day
Faith stared out of the car window seeing nothing. Her eyes hurt from gazing at her phone, at Paul’s last words. It was all she could do to keep from thinking. To keep her mind blank so she could stay sane. She was going to see Paul. Only this time, they would be no mischievous glances. No talking or touching. No forehead kisses. There would be no warmth to be found in his arms, only the icy cold shell of a soulless body.
The Best Man was driving in silence, thankfully. Faith could only assume Maurice was grieving the loss of his friend in his own way: deep in thought, worry lines creasing his forehead every five minutes. Ace and their mother, however, had not stopped chattering since they left the church. She closed her eyes. Did they really think they were being helpful in any way, or they just didn’t care that they were coopting her tragedy as their own?
“You can’t blame yourself, Kwabena,” Theodora consoled her son.
“How could I not? I’m the one who showed him that bush path. And if I hadn’t left for my trip, he wouldn’t have gone there alone this morning.”
“Hmmm. God knows best, ehn? He does everything in his time.”
“And what I did this morning? The things I said? What am I even going to say to Divine when I see him?”
“You couldn’t have known. Nothing like this has ever happened in this town. God knows best. Who knows what would have happened if this marriage had taken place?”
Faith’s eyes fluttered open. Before she could lose her last ounce of control, her phone pinged. She held the screen up. There was an email from her office. She tuned out the noise from the backseat. It was an update on a case she’d been working on for the past six months: the Dubai girl. Faith ran her thumb over the words, then swiped to the tweet. She stared at the words again. Closely.
“We’re here,” Maurice announced.
Faith looked up, scanning the compound of St. Anne’s hospital. The last time she was here, she’d spent the night by her father’s side as he breathed his last. Mortuary arrangements, buying coffins, Funerals. She was going to have to do it all over again. Without Paul by her side. This time, it would be for him.
God.
“Maurice, some of my sisters have arrived at the station. Go and pick them up and come back for us, okay?” Theodora said.
Maurice exchanged glances with Faith. Normally, she’d step in to save him from such situations, but she couldn’t find the strength. Not right now.
“Um…I wanted to go back to the hotel and change into something casual.”
“Oh, you can do that after, please. It’s the same place where you picked up my friend. The driver will be back soon, wai?”
He nodded. “No problem, Maa.”
“Thanks, Maurice,” Faith made an effort to smile and opened her door.”
“Maame, where are you going?”
Faith ignored her brother, dialling into her phone. She was still in her wedding dress, shoulders bare, hair extensions haphazardly strewn about her face.
“Hello,” the voice was accompanied by a dirge playing in the background.
She cleared her throat. “O.T, where are you?”
“The wedding reception,” Oteng said. “Crowd control duty. People are trooping in from every which way.”
“Oh…” Of course, the wedding reception was now … something else. She turned back to the car. Her family was watching her, probably afraid she’d fall apart again. “I just got an email about Dubai…”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Teye and Caleb joined the call. We’ve got it covered.”
“Great. I left the file in my desk drawer. It’s not locked.”
“We got it covered, detective. Why did you call?”
“I need you to go to the place where they found Paul.”
He seemed to be moving away from the noise. “Okay. What do you need?”
“I just think one of us should be there. I’ll ask someone to show you.”
“No, don’t sweat it. I’ll find my way.”
Ace turned his gaze to the entrance. Divine was coming out of the hospital towards them.
“Okay. Thanks, O.T.”
Ace and his mother were frozen in place. Faith felt the shame too, but she shoved it aside. They were going to need each other to get through this day.
“I’m so sorry,” she said when Divine reached her. With his tie undone and streaks of dirt on his soaking white dress shirt, he was the picture of a broken man.
He wrapped an arm around her. “You didn’t know.”
“I should have known he would never….”
“No, don’t do that to yourself.”
Faith pulled back. “Did they say what happened? I mean the doctors.”
“They said he was um… he was gone before we got here. So we’ll have to wait for the autopsy.”
“Did you see him?”
He nodded, looking down at his shoes. He, too, was struggling to hold it together.
“They took him to the um…the place.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t have to say it. “I want to see him.”
“Sure.” Divine shrugged. “We couldn’t find his phone. His Fitbit too. Maurice checked. It’s not in their room. That’s why I thought… knew he went running. He left the hotel so early. I was still sleeping, and he was there alone…”
Faith reached out to him, but Divine shook his head and took a step back. “I’m going to send someone to search that place. Maybe they’ll find it, you know?”
“We’ll do it. My colleague can take a look around.”
“And we’ll take care of the hospital arrangements,” Ace joined in. “If that’s okay with you.”
Divine offered a pointed stare, then nodded slowly.
“Faith, are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to bother your guests.”
“It’s not a bother.” She smiled. “He’s on his way there now.”
***
Inspector Oteng stood beneath a Teak tree where Paul’s body had been found. He didn’t know yet what had caused his death. Apparently, no one did. An autopsy would take two weeks or a month. A heart attack was possible. He’d seen an aneurysm once or twice. A stroke couldn’t be ruled out. But what were the chances that a healthy thirty-three-year-old suddenly dropped dead on the morning of his wedding in an obscure part of town?
The man he’d been waiting for arrived now.
“Yes, sah. Good afternoon.”
“Agya, maaha o,” Oteng replied in Twi. There was no need to burden the old man with the Queen’s language.
“Oh sah, I am speak English good.”
Oteng did not hide his smile. The man reminded him of his late uncle, after whom he was named. “Very well. I’ll speak Twi, but you can give it to me in English, okay?”
“Okay, sah.”
“Good.” he flipped a page on his notepad. “I was told you found the body.”
“Yes sah. I am go farm in the morring. Very early and the darkness. My son he wan go to tiafi at the back of the big tree. I am wait for him. Five minutes, I hear shouting. He tell me he find man who has die. I check the man, check everything. Then we call nnipa mmra o to take him go hospital.”
“Where’s your son?”
“He dey come. I call am for you.”
“Do you remember what position the man was in? Facedown, looking up, on his side?”
“I no see well before. But we take the palm tree branch away then we look am. Eyes dey open. He dey look up like that.”
Oteng stopped writing.
“So you put the palm branches on him then took them off?”
“No, sah. The branch e dey on top of him.”
“You found the body covered with palm branches, is that it?”
“Correct sah.”
Oteng felt a surge. That ruled out a sudden death unless a dying Paul had taken the time to cut off palm branches to give himself some privacy.
Oteng cast his eyes around now. This was not the best of crime scenes. Too many footsteps on the path. The body was gone, so no first impressions. Or maybe…
“How old is your son, Mr. Mintah?”
“He have complete secondary school last year.”
“Does he have a phone?”
“Yes, sah.”
Oteng nodded. There was one thing you could count on when a teenager with a phone encountered a newsworthy incident.
“There he is coming.”
The men waited for the boy to join them. Besides his lanky form, Malik was the spitting image of his father.
“Good morning,” he saluted.
“Yes, Malik, you did good this morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you have your phone with you when you found the man?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Show me the pictures.”
Malik turned to his father. “Pictures?”
“You took pictures when you found the body, yes?”
“No, sir.”
Oteng took a step forward. “Malik, I’m a police officer. Right now, my team is scanning every electronic device in this area, including your phone. So if you’re lying to me, you know what will happen, right?”
Malik swallowed.
“Now, I’ll say this one more time.” He put an arm around his neck. “Show me the pictures.”
***
An hour later, Faith’s car pulled up along the path. Oteng waved at Maurice as she got out. She had changed into jeans and a baggy T-shirt, her hair swept up in a ponytail.
“Did you find the phone?”
He shook his head.
Faith sighed. “You think someone stole it when they found him?”
Oteng shrugged. “Maybe.”
He took a step forward. “Faith, you just lost your Fiancé. Common sense tells me I should not be discussing this with you, but I also know that you sent me to the scene for a reason, so I’m just going to give it to you straight.”
“You found something.” It wasn’t a question.
“I got pictures.”
He waited.
“Show me.
Oteng handed her the phone and she swiped through.
“They found him like this? Covered?”
He nodded. “Look at his forearms. Red sand. And I think I see scrapes. I’ll have to see the body to be sure. But he’s lying in grass, covered with sand and palm branches. Two theories: his phone and watch are gone, so we can assume it’s a robbery. Some ruffian saw a city guy with shiny electronics and wanted it for himself. It’s likely, but the dragging off the road part doesn’t add up. Or this was premeditated. Someone knew Paul would be here. They waited for him and killed him. Then, they took the items to make it look like a robbery, which suggests a level of planning that makes me a little concerned we’re not dealing with a simpleton.”
Faith nodded. “You’re right. Paul was murdered.”
Oteng’s face registered surprise. “I expected some pushback, that you’d ask why anyone would want Paul or go to this length to kill him, unless…” he nodded. “You knew. That’s why you asked me to go there.”
She nodded.
“What tipped you off?”
“The email.” Faith held up her phone. “Look at Paul’s tweet. There’s no punctuation.”
“What?”
“Starts with a lower case, no punctuation. That’s not Paul.”
“Well…”
“He would call me if he saw I posted something with a semicolon where a colon should be. But yes, it wasn’t enough to on. I needed more. You found more.”
“You’re saying whoever killed Paul typed this.”
“They wanted us to think he ran out on his wedding.”
“Why?”
“To antagonize his friends and family, make sure we didn’t look for him.”
Oteng made the connection. “Like Dubai girl.”
“Exactly.” Faith clenched her teeth. “And we… I fell for it.”
Oteng waited.
“So, what’s our next move?”
“We find whoever did this, today.”
“We?”
Faith raised an eyebrow. “Yes, we.”
***
Maurice walked past the reception of Palace hotel and ran up the stairs. Knowing what they knew now, it was only a matter of time before they searched through Paul’s things. He swiped the key and opened the door to the room they’d shared the night before. Paul’s bed was meticulously made, his shoes polished, suit ironed and laid out.
He headed for his friend’s suitcase and popped it open. Paul had slid the envelope into his bag the night before. He had seen him. Maurice stopped. There it was. He picked it up, checked the contents and slipped it inside the inner pocket of his suit.
“I’m sorry, Paul,” he whispered.
And then, he broke down.
©2021 AMA POMAA
Photo by Khalid Boutchich on Unsplash
Thanks for reading. I stayed up last night to round up part 2 and get it to you this day. Let me know your thoughts down there in the comments. And if you don’t want to miss part 3, I could always notify you of updates.
Same time next week.
