Murder at Cape Three Points - страница 3
Christine went to the other side of the bed to be closer to him. “What is it, sweetie?”
“I’m hungry.”
She exchanged a smile with Dawson. That was a good sign. She kissed Hosiah’s forehead. “They’re going to bring you something soon.”
“How hungry are you, Champ?” Dawson asked.
Through his sleepy haze, a smile played at the corners of Hosiah’s lips. He had a little game with his father. “I’m very, very, very, very hungry.”
“Hungry enough to eat twenty balls of kenkey?”
Kenkey, made from fermented corn, was a staple particularly among the Ga people.
Hosiah began to laugh, then winced. “Daddy, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“Dark,” Christine said reproachfully.
“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly.
Hosiah turned pensive. “Daddy, did they really fix the hole in my heart?”
“Yes, they did.”
“So, now I’ll be fine? I can play soccer and do everything?”
“If the operation went the way it was supposed to and you heal up well.”
“And how is my favorite patient?”
One of the nurses had arrived with Hosiah’s lunch on a tray. She smiled at him. “Are you ready to eat something?”
“He’s more than ready,” Dawson said.
Christine and Dawson helped Hosiah to sit up. Dawson watched the boy’s face to see how much discomfort he was having, but his son registered little. Over countless visits to the hospital, Dawson had observed just how tough sick children could be. Hosiah could take any injection or tolerate a large-bore intravenous catheter with barely a ripple of concern. Dawson, on the other hand, was afraid of needles.
The meal was light-two slices of tea bread with honey, and a bowl of Tom Brown, a popular cereal made from lightly toasted corn. Hosiah attacked it ferociously.
“Slow down,” Christine said, laughing. “Breathe in between mouthfuls.”
The boy took a rest. “When is Sly going to be here?”
“I’ll pick him up from school later and bring him to spend time with you,” Dawson said.
He had first met nine-year-old Sly on a previous case. For a while, the boy had disappeared, surfacing later as a homeless street kid. Neither Dawson nor Christine could leave him to that fate, especially after they’d learned that Sly did not even know who or where his parents were. They began adoption proceedings, and months later Sly was officially a Dawson. Two years older than Hosiah, he was protective of his younger brother and anxious to visit him in the hospital after school.
Dawson’s phone buzzed, and he went out to the corridor to take the call. It was his junior partner, Detective Sergeant Philip Chikata.
“Where you dey?” Chikata asked in fashionable pidgin.
“I’m at the hospital.”
“How is Hosiah?”
“Fine, so far. He’s a strong boy.”
“He is. Can I visit him tomorrow?”
“For sure, no problem. He’ll be happy to see you.”
“How long will they keep him?”
“They say he can go home on Tuesday.”
“Okay.” The sergeant paused. “Listen, my uncle will be calling you soon.”
Chikata was the nephew of Chief Superintendent Lartey, Dawson’s boss. Lartey doted on his nephew, who sometimes acted as a messenger between him and Dawson.
“What’s going on?” Dawson asked.
“He wants you back at work on Monday.”
Dawson’s eyebrows shot up. “But I’m on leave,” he protested, his voice sharpening.
“I know, but he says an urgent case has come up.”
“Do you know what it’s about?”
“Not exactly, but I know it’s in Takoradi.”
“Takoradi!”
“Yah. I wanted to let you know before he calls you, so you won’t be too shocked.”
Dawson heaved a sigh. “Okay. Thank you for warning me.”
He ended the call and returned to the ward. Hosiah had finished lunch and gone back to sleep. At his bedside, Christine looked up from her romance novel.
“You don’t look too happy. Who was that on the phone?”
Dawson sat down, reaching over to tilt her novel up so he could see the cover. “Honestly, what do these men have that I don’t?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Christine said enigmatically. “So, who called you?”
“Chikata. He says Lartey wants me back at work on Monday.”
She stiffened visibly. “Why? For what?”
“A new case. In Tadi.”
“Takoradi!” She put the book down and dropped her voice to a sharp whisper. “No, you can’t do this. Hosiah needs us both right now.”