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.