by Kwei Quartey
Miriam broke away and went to stand at the window, breathing unsteadily with her arms folded and her back to her children.
Oko was in shock. “Araba,” he said, “is this some sort of joke?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Oko sat down, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “No,” he groaned. “This can’t be.”
At the window, Miriam, palms to her face, was weeping. It was a terrible sound.
Oko went over to her. “Mama.” He tried putting his arms around her, but she pushed him away. Oko raised his palms, then let them drop in a gesture of helplessness. Araba stayed where she was, unmoved.
Oko looked at her again. “I mean . . . how can it be true? Daddy did that to you?”
Araba nodded. “Yes.”
“There’s no way. Our father?”
“None other than Reverend Fifi Tagoe.”
“How could you not tell me?” Oko looked devastated. “I would have done something.”
Araba looked down. “I was only six when it started, Oko. And what could you have done?”
There were tears in her brother’s eyes. He seemed to shift his focus to Miriam, taking her by the arm and guiding her to the sofa. “Come, sit.”
“Can you get me some water?” she whispered, eyes closed.
“Yes, of course,” Oko said.
Araba stood. “I’ll get it.”
When she returned from the kitchen with a glass of water, Miriam was leaning back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
“Mom,” Oko said. “Here, have some water.”
She took a few sips and rested the glass on a side table.
“Are you feeling better?” Oko asked. “Mom, answer me.”
Miriam nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Is this true? What Araba is saying, is it true, Mom? I want to know the truth. Did you know? No, of course not, because if you’d known, you would have stopped it, right? I’m right, aren’t I?”
Miriam didn’t respond, so Araba did. “She knew.”
Oko’s head whipped around. “How could you know that?”
“She used to come around in the hallway,” Araba said. “Maybe she thought about stopping him, but she never did. My door didn’t close completely, and she almost got caught once when Daddy left my room.”
Appalled, Oko asked Miriam, “Is it true?” When she didn’t respond, he muttered, “Jesus,” and got off the sofa to pace the room with his hands on his hips. He stopped to stare at his mother, who had resumed crying.
Oko lost his temper. “Oh, stop, please! You don’t get to cry now. What about back then?” He went to Miriam and put his face right up against hers. “Did you try to stop it?”
“I should have!” she cried out. “I know I should have.”
“But you didn’t,” Oko said, pulling away. “Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.”
He ran to the kitchen, and Araba heard him retch, then run the tap. “Araba,” he said. “Can I talk to you in here for a second?”
She joined him. He leaned against the sink, head down, arms crossed. Araba waited.
“Have you confronted Daddy?”
“I have. I went to talk to him last Sunday.”
“What did he say?”
“He was furious. Claimed I was making the whole thing up.”
Oko stared at her. “Look, is there any chance that . . . I’m not trying to devalue what you’re saying, but is there any chance you’re misremembering? Or . . . I don’t know.”
“No, Oko,” Araba said. “I know what happened. And look at Daddy and Mama’s reactions.”
“Sis, why not come to me first so we could team up and approach them in a more delicate way? Why so brutal?”
“A delicate way? To talk about how I was raped as a child? Would you even have believed me, Oko?”
“Of course, I would! I would have even when we were kids.”
“You barely believe me now,” Araba said. “Oko, you were perfection in Daddy’s eyes—a brilliant student and all that. You looked up to him with such admiration, and you still do. There’s no way you would’ve believed me when we were children.”
Oko broke down and wept, but briefly. “I suppose you’re right. What are we going to do now?” Before she could answer, he rushed on. “Araba, we must heal as a family. This is like a cancer on us.”
“Daddy will have to admit what he’s done before we can start to heal,” Araba said, “but he continues to lie. What I am going to do is move forward on my own to help others who’ve been through this. I want to prevent this hell from being inflicted on other women and girls who believe they have to be silent. I must speak out publicly. I have enough of a platform now that my words will carry weight. It’s a new lease on life, Oko. I already feel cleansed, like a load has been lifted.”
Oko regarded her with a new wariness. “Wait a moment. You don’t mean you’re going to air this out in the media?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Oko was aghast. “You’re going to talk about Daddy doing this to you?”
“I can’t do this halfway,” Araba said. “Everything must come out.”
“Araba, please,” he whispered fiercely. “Let’s think this through. Think of his reputation, his profession. For God’s sake, please don’t be so hasty.”
“This may seem hasty to you,” Araba said, “but for me, it’s been a long time coming.”
FORTY-EIGHT
Twelve months after
When Walter and Gideon returned to the Seezas’, only Augustus was home, sitting on the back porch reading a large book titled Africa: A History. He looked up in surprise as the houseboy brought the visitors through.
“You again,” Augustus said, looking surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Good morning, sir,” Walter said.
“Bring two chairs,” Augustus said to the houseboy.
Walter and Gideon sat down when the chairs arrived. The backyard was pleasantly green and shady with a border of shrubs around it.
“How may I help you?” Augustus asked them. He looked better than when they’d last seen him, having put on some weight.
To save time and effort, Walter had pre-written the interview questions on a legal pad. As Augustus began reading them, there was a rustling sound to his left and he looked up, turning his head as a man came into view, dragging a bunch of dead tree branches behind him. He got to work cutting them with his machete into more manageable pieces.
“Wait a minute,” Walter said, exchanging a dumbfounded look with Gideon. “Did you see that?”
“I saw it,” Gideon replied.
A slow smile came to Walter’s face. “Mr. Seeza, you can hear. You’re not deaf at all, are you?”
Augustus looked confused. “What did you say? Please write it down.”
Walter shook his head. “No, no. It’s too late, sir. You’ve already exposed yourself. The sound of those dead branches came before your gardener appeared.”
“I can read your lips now,” Augustus said. “What you’re saying isn’t correct. I saw him from the corner of my eye.”
“Impossible,” Walter said. “Not from that angle. He was in your blind spot. That’s why you turned around.”
Walter and Gideon stared in silence at Augustus, who became increasingly flustered.
“Call Citi-FM,” Walter said to Gideon. “Tell them Augustus Seeza has been running a scam. Just think what the thousands of donors to his recovery fund will say.”
“Yes, boss,” Gideon said, fishing for his phone.
“No, no, wait!” Augustus said. “Don’t do that, please. I’ll tell you everything, but please don’t call the radio stations.”
“You’re a fraud, sir,” Walter said, his voice tightening with anger. “Have you no shame?”
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Morosely, Augustus looked away. “It wasn’t my idea,” he said finally.
“Whose, then?” Walter snapped.
“My parents. They more or less forced me,” Augustus said, whining now. “My time in the hospital, especially intensive care, cost us thousands. My father’s a judge, yes, but that doesn’t mean he has all the money in the world. The fees needed to be paid. My mother told us she knew of nerve deafness as a rare complication of pancreatitis, for which the only cure is a costly cochlear implant.”
“Go on,” Walter said.
“So, we did some YouTube videos showing me in my situation, and set up the fund.”
Augustus seemed to wither under Walter’s glare.
Gideon wrote on his pad and passed it to Walter, who read it, nodded, and said to Augustus, “You said you were struggling for money. Mr. Seeza, were you the one who stole Araba’s jewelry?”
“Oh, please!” Augustus exclaimed in disgust. “I would never do such a thing.”
“Really?” Gideon said sarcastically.
“If you were in the course of stealing the jewels that night,” Walter said, “but Araba woke up and caught you in the act, there easily could’ve been a struggle, and even if you hadn’t planned to, you could’ve ended up killing her.”
“What?” Augustus cried. “Why would I kill the woman I loved for a few pieces of jewelry? You’re out of your mind.”
“You tell us the truth, or we call Citi-FM,” Walter said.
Augustus denied it repeatedly, though pleading with them not to call. Neither Walter nor Gideon trusted the man, and for good reason. He had lied before.
And then Justice Julius Seeza emerged from inside onto the porch.
“Papa!” Augustus stammered. “You’re back early.”
“Yes,” Julius said, approaching. “What are you two doing here?”
“Conversing with your son,” Walter said. “Without having to write anything down for him because, all of a sudden, his hearing is back. It’s a miracle!”
Augustus cast his eyes down. “They know, Papa. There’s no point in continuing the charade.”
The elder Seeza let out a gasp.
“So,” Walter said to him, “your son tells us your wife invented this scam, which you went along with in order to pay his hospital expenses. You, Justice Seeza, a High Court judge taking part in an illegal act; your wife, a doctor, engaging in medical fraud—”
“But you don’t understand,” Augustus interjected with a sudden flash of anger. “It’s not about that! My parents have cared about me, given me unconditional love and drained every single one of their resources for me despite all my many failings. And whatever you may say about my mother, she has supported me and defended me through all of this without reservation and without the kind of criticism I was handed day and night from Bertha Longdon and Araba Tagoe, in whose eyes I could do nothing right.”
Augustus stopped, looking away sullenly. Perhaps he had said too much.
“You did bear quite a grudge against Araba, then,” Gideon said pointedly.
“Look, I didn’t mean it that way,” Augustus snapped.
“Why don’t you tell the truth for once?” Walter said. “When we last spoke, you told us that you and Lady Araba were together and happy in the six months before her death, but that’s not exactly true, is it? For weeks, the relationship was stumbling on rocky ground, and we know that as Lady Araba was returning from a party on that Sunday evening, you called her not once, but twice, harassing her and pressuring her to let you see her that night—”
“Who told you that?” Augustus snapped.
“—but she didn’t want you to come over, right?” Walter continued. “That must have angered you, did it not?”
“All right, yes!” Augustus barked. “We were arguing that night after a couple of bumpy weeks. So what? We still loved each other.”
“So, you lied to us,” Walter said.
“How dare you interrogate him like this!” Julius bellowed. “Why all these probing questions that are none of your business? Please leave now. We don’t ever want to see you again. And if you write anything disparaging about any member of my family, I will see you in court.”
FORTY-NINE
Twelve months after
Jojo related to the team how he and Ismael had gone up to the terrace outside Lady Araba’s bedroom. “I asked him about Lady Araba, trying to get him to admit that he’d lusted after her, but he just said he used to bring her flowers from his shop, sometimes at a discount but also as gifts. It seemed like he cared about keeping her reputation intact.
“I brought up Araba’s beauty, which he seemed happy to talk about, and I finally asked if he had ever seen her through her window. I could see he wanted to tell me something. That’s how it is sometimes—you just want to unburden yourself on whoever is willing to listen. Ismael then told me the truth. He used to climb up to Lady Araba’s bedroom when it was dark outside to watch her.”
“Aha!” Gideon exclaimed. “Emma was right.”
“He confessed to doing this either late at night or before dawn,” Jojo continued. “That Monday morning, he got to Trasacco around five and went to spy on her. The light was still on in the bedroom, and lying across the bed was Lady Araba’s corpse with blood all around it.”
There was a unified outburst from the room.
“Wow,” Gideon said. “What did he do?”
“He tried the door,” Jojo said, “and it was open. Lady Araba—or somebody else—had left it unlocked.”
“The murderer, maybe,” Walter said.
“It could be,” Jojo agreed, “but anyway, Ismael went into the room, and for sure Araba was dead. He says her body was cold. It pained him to see her that way, and I think this was because, in fact, he really did love the woman. Seeing her body defiled and just left there to rot away was deeply offensive to him, so he moved Araba into a sleeping position, put her head on the pillow, and covered her with the duvet.”
“What then?” Gideon asked.
“Well,” Jojo said, “let me pose the question to all of you: What would you do next?”
“Report it immediately,” Emma said.
Walter smiled. “I knew you would say that.”
“Why, Emma?” Jojo asked.
She shrugged. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“But not the best thing,” Gideon said. “Where is Lady Araba’s body going to go again? It’s less than one hour before daylight. Whether they find her at five, or six, or even eight o’clock, what difference does it make?”
“But it might make a difference in the calculation of time of death from the body temperature—” Emma tried.
Her colleagues drowned her out with their objections.
“You’ll even be lucky if the Crime Scene Unit even has a thermometer to get the core temperature of the corpse,” Jojo said, laughing.
“The way I see it,” Gideon said, “it’s a matter of self-preservation. If you go and report this to the police now, they’ll hold you for questioning and might well accuse you of the murder, because what are you doing snooping around Lady Araba’s bedroom in the dark? If I’d been in Ismael’s shoes, I would have done what he did.”
Jojo nodded. “Me too.”
“That is, assuming we believe him,” Gideon added, “which, by the way, I don’t.”
“I do,” Jojo said. “I was there talking to the guy.”
“There’s no proof he’s telling the truth,” Gideon said.
“No proof he isn’t,” Jojo shot back.
“The story he told is ridiculous,” Gideon declared.
“How is it ridiculous?” Jojo said, gesticulating.
“Are you done with your report, Jojo?” Sowah asked him quietly.
“Yes please. That’s all, sir.”
“Well
done. I think the story is credible. But now, let’s hear what Emma has been up to. You went to meet with Samson Allotey at Lady Pizzazz?”
“Yes, sir. And later, Susan Hayford arrived.”
Emma gave the full story, ending with Hayford’s admonition that Emma pursue Araba’s family members.
“That could be Hayford trying to shift suspicion away from herself,” Gideon observed.
“Yes,” Emma said, “but I didn’t feel like she had anything to do with Lady Araba’s murder, even if the motive was quite strong. Susan talked about relishing competition with Lady Araba, not wanting to eliminate it.”
“I think women would prefer to make their female rivals suffer,” Walter put in, “rather than killing them.”
“Oh, is that so?” Emma said in mild amusement.
“Yes,” Walter said with certainty. “Much more satisfying. And I agree, actually.”
“What about Samson, Emma?” Sowah asked, shifting the subject.
“Well, again, I don’t see how much he would benefit from killing his boss,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be better to stay with Araba’s successful company than to join Susan Hayford’s less-established one?”
“But you never know,” Jojo said. “Hayford or Samson might not have done anything as individuals, but sometimes when people get together, they feed off each other and can get up to all kinds of bad things.”
“I hear you,” Emma conceded.
“Thank you, Emma,” Sowah said. “Now, Walter and Gideon, your turn. What happened yesterday with the Seezas?”
Walter led off with, “First of all, Augustus Seeza is not deaf.”
The others said, “What?”
“We sat outside on the porch with his back to the garden,” Walter explained. “Without thinking, he reflexively turned to see something that had made a noise behind him. It was the gardener. He’d heard him coming before he saw him.”
Walter and Gideon bathed in the glory of their discovery for a moment.
“Augustus claims the hospital fees during his illness left his father completely broke,” Gideon said, “so they looked for a way to make some money.”
Jojo made a rude noise with his mouth. “Justice Seeza isn’t broke, he’s greedy—all his millions are in banks abroad.”
