by Kwei Quartey
Also by the Author
The Inspector Darko Dawson Mysteries
Wife of the Gods
Children of the Street
Murder at Cape Three Points
Gold of Our Fathers
Death at the Voyager Hotel
Kamila
Copyright © 2017 by Kwei Quartey
This is a work of fiction. The characters, dialogue, and incidents depicted are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Soho Press, Inc.
853 Broadway
New York, NY 10003
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Quartey, Kwei.
Death by his grace / Kwei Quartey.
A Darko Dawson mystery ; 5
ISBN 978-1-61695-708-7
eISBN 978-1-61695-709-4
1. Police—Ghana—Fiction. 2. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Title
PS3617.U37 D45 2017 813’.6—dc23 2016057007
Interior design by Janine Agro, Soho Press, Inc.
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Joana
What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound?
—Romans 6:1
PART ONE
Chapter One
Katherine would never forget the day she married Solomon. The wedding was immense, glorious, and the talk of Accra. Solomon’s father, Ezekiel Vanderpuye, a wealthy ex-member of parliament, spared no expense. Clem Howard-Mills, one of Ghana’s most prominent bishops, officiated the service at the Power of God Ministry Church in La Paz on the outskirts of Accra.
Four hundred guests flocked to Unique Floral Palace for the reception. The enormous space dazzled in white and gold, with Queen Anne’s lace, white calla lilies, and pink gardenias decorating the guests’ tables. Lights cascaded from ceiling to floor, sparkling like a South African diamond.
Caterers in crisp white uniforms served up a large spread of food, from palm nut soup to kung-pao chicken. Champagne, wine, beer, and hard liquor flowed while the DJ played loud hip-life. Weddings and funerals—no difference: eat till stuffed; imbibe till drunk. And the first commandment: thou shalt not run out of food or drink, or you will tarnish your name forever.
Solomon and Katherine observed traditional Ghanaian nuptial customs the day after. With gifts of alcohol and yards of cloth, Solomon’s family paid an official visit to Katherine’s. The elders on both sides poured libation and performed the necessary rites.
Katherine felt joy and pride whenever she looked at Solomon, so slim and tall in a dark, embroidered smock. Already, she could picture her future life with her husband and two or three kids in a happy home. Katherine wanted a little girl first. After that, she would be perfectly happy with either gender.
For a moment, Katherine watched her parents, Nana and Ransford. She could tell how elated they were. Both of them liked Solomon and admired his intelligence and educational accomplishments. He was a young, up-and-coming lawyer. Ezekiel, Solomon’s father, was also pleased. Every so often, he beamed at Katherine and his eyes moistened behind his spectacles.
Solomon’s mother, Maude, was a different matter. She had welcomed Katherine into her family with reluctance. Status was critical to Maude. Vanderpuye, her husband’s name, had been tied to the Ghanaian upper class for generations, since the seventeenth century when Dutch colonists and indigenous people produced mixed offspring. Katherine’s Yeboah family, on the other hand, was of working class stock, and in Maude’s view, fell below a certain “essential” threshold. But to Katherine, her mother-in-law’s preoccupation with caste was a pointless contrivance.
Always at Maude’s right hand was her daughter, Georgina. She looked and behaved like her mother—down almost to the gesture—and sided with Maude over everything. The two women felt Solomon had rushed into marriage. He had met Katherine a few months before he went off to the University of Virginia to study Business Administration. While away from Ghana, Solomon kept in touch with Katherine by phone, WhatsApp, and Skype. They were in love. Some nights Katherine would stay up until three or four in the morning talking to Solomon. Not long after his return to Ghana, he proposed to Katherine. Thrilled, she accepted.
Maude and Georgina had been dead set against Solomon’s engagement to Katherine, but Ezekiel had prevailed over his wife and daughter. He told them Solomon had every right to marry the woman he loved.
In the midst of the laughter, drinking, and dancing of the after-wedding party, Katherine stole a glance at her mother-in-law. Maude’s mouth was hard, her jaw set, and her eyes cold.
Chapter Two
Late one Wednesday afternoon in February when the rush of the wedding had subsided and the Harmattan weather had become insufferable, Katherine and Nana were preparing a meal in the kitchen.
“So will I be a grandmother soon?” Nana asked her daughter with a sidelong glance.
“Mama, it’s only been a month since the wedding,” Katherine said with a short laugh.
Nana searched her face. “I hope you’re not waiting, are you?”
“Waiting? What do you mean?”
“Well, you know,” Nana said, wrinkling her nose, “your generation sometimes has a notion to wait awhile before having children, for whatever reason.”
“My generation?” Katherine said with some amusement. She shook her head. “Not us. Solomon and I want kids as soon as possible, and we’re not wasting any time getting to it.” She hesitated. “In fact, I thought maybe I was pregnant last weekend, but the test was negative.”
“That sometimes happens at the beginning,” Nana reassured her. “Don’t worry. As long as you and Solomon continue trying to conceive, I’m sure it won’t be long now.”
“I’m not worried, Mama,” Katherine said. She added more salt to the pepper stew that would accompany the rice, which the guests would enjoy later on in the evening after Bible study. Katherine had made it a tradition to provide a meal whenever she and Nana hosted a bussell session. It was Bishop Howard-Mills who had introduced the concept of bussells to his congregants. Held in the homes of church members, these meetings provided an opportunity to worship the Lord if and when one could not make it to church. This was especially helpful to working professionals.
Katherine and Solomon had been participating in the bussell program since before their marriage. No more than ten members attended a session, and although the proceedings were less formal than regular church, the Bible discussions still needed some direction. That duty usually fell to one of the junior ministers. Young Reverend Atiemo had customarily officiated at the bussells Katherine and Solomon hosted, and Bishop Howard-Mills’s assistant, John Papafio, often accompanied the reverend to notify members about upcoming community events.
Around eight, the first of the church members began to file in. Katherine greeted them with hugs and kisses. She was profoundly happy, with enough love and warmth to fill an ocean as far as the horizon. After thirty minutes or so, Reverend Atiemo led the group of seven in prayer, following it with a discussion of Psalm 139: “‘I can never escape from your spirit! I can never get away from your presence.’”
John arrived late, slipping in as quietly as he could. Solomon pulled up a chair for him.
“Welcome, John,” Atiemo said.
John flashed an easy smile. In his late twenties, he had a boyish face and a relaxed manner. He was tall but rather round and soft. Efficient, he seemed to pull off church events with little effort, an
d his sense of humor could belie his competence. Once the discussion was over, John made a few announcements, and then it was time for the best part: the meal.
After dinner, the church members talked and laughed among themselves as they straggled out to the courtyard. Gabriel, the faithful little watchman who had worked for the Yeboahs for years and who was related to them in some way, was at the front gate ready to bid the guests good night.
As Reverend Atiemo was preparing to leave, Katherine pulled him aside and asked if he would stay for a few minutes. He joined Nana, Katherine, and Solomon in the sitting room. Glancing at Solomon every so often, Katherine asked the reverend to pray for them as they sought to conceive a child together. Atiemo listened with patience and understanding, and then the group joined hands and bowed their heads as the reverend led them in a heartfelt prayer.
“I felt blessed as he prayed for us,” Katherine confided to Solomon later as they were getting into bed. “Did you feel it too?”
“I did,” he said.
“He’s a caring soul, Reverend Atiemo,” she observed. “Everyone in the church is—the bishop, the reverend, even John.”
“John thinks the world of you,” Solomon said, as Katherine snuggled up to him. “You should see the way he stares at you sometimes.”
“Oh, come on,” Katherine said.
“I’m not kidding.”
She lifted her head off his chest to look at Solomon with a smile. “Are you jealous?”
He snorted. “Not at all. John has a pure heart.”
“He does seem to,” Katherine agreed.
“So, when you become tired of me,” Solomon joked, “you’ll know where you can turn and to whom.”
Katherine gave him a mock slap. “Silly boy.”
He laughed.
“Honey?” she said after a moment. “I think we’ll be successful tonight. I can feel it.” She reached down to touch him. “Seems like you do as well.”
Afterward, Solomon turned over and went to sleep, never one to cuddle. Katherine always felt lonely after sex when he moved away from her like that. But it mattered less to her tonight because she was confident that this time, a tiny Vanderpuye was about to form within her.
Chapter Three
One year later
The nurse showed Katherine into the obstetrician’s consultation room. She sat in front of a large, polished desk and gazed at the framed degrees and diplomas on the wall.
She turned as the obstetrician entered from a side door. He was a short, graying, bespectacled man who reminded Katherine of one of her professors in college. After taking his seat on the opposite side of the desk, he got straight to the point with barely a social pleasantry.
“I believe you may have polycystic ovary syndrome,” he told Katherine.
Katherine stiffened. She had spent hours on the Internet reading up on causes of infertility, and PCOS was one she feared most.
“Besides your irregular menstrual periods,” the obstetrician continued, “you get pimples and facial hair every once in a while. These may be manifestations of excess androgens from polycystic ovaries.”
“But what causes that, Doctor?”
“Causes what?” he said with a hint of impatience.
“The polycystic ovary syndrome.”
“The details are a bit complicated,” he said, “but the condition can cause anovulation, which means the egg doesn’t come out of the ovary. I’m quite confident that’s why you’re not getting pregnant.”
“What can we do about it?”
“First, you need an ultrasound to confirm my suspicion. I know you brought images from the doctor you saw before, but the study is suboptimal, and we need to repeat it.”
Katherine was annoyed. The obstetric and fertility specialists she had been consulting for several months were all in private practice. Their fees were hefty, as was the price of the specialized blood and ultrasound tests. Every exam or procedure on her internal organs had been uncomfortable or downright painful, especially the hysterosalpingogram she had had two months prior. It tested whether her fallopian tubes were patent, and according to the doctor who had performed it, they were.
Katherine wished Solomon were there with her, but listening to “all that female stuff” got him squeamish. She was always alone at medical appointments. Somehow, that didn’t seem fair.
When he came home from work that evening, Solomon was dead tired. He threw his briefcase onto the armchair in the sitting room and wrenched off his tie. Katherine made space for him on the sofa, and he plopped down beside her.
“Busy day?” she asked.
“Very. My client load is picking up—at last. And you? How was your day?”
“I went to the doctor.”
“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Which one is this—Doctor Opare?”
“No, that was the last. The one I saw this morning is Doctor Engman. He’s supposed to be one of the best.”
Solomon slumped back, eyes to the ceiling. “That’s what you said about the other six or seven specialists.”
“Four,” Katherine corrected.
“Seems like more,” Solomon said, sitting up. His jawline hardened. “What did this one say?”
“He thinks I have polycystic ovary syndrome,” Katherine said.
Solomon wrinkled his brow. “What is that?”
“It’s a bit complicated,” Katherine said, echoing Engman’s answer. “But it causes infertility. So the doctor wants to do an ultrasound.”
“But didn’t you have one before?”
“He says I need a new one.”
“These doctors must think money grows on trees,” Solomon said.
“Kind of like you lawyers?” she quipped.
They both laughed, although Solomon grew serious quickly. “I’ll have to borrow some more from Daddy because I’m broke. So many expenses in setting up the practice.”
Already, Ezekiel had given them the down payment on the house as a wedding gift. After the wedding, Katherine and Solomon had moved into their new home in Dzorwulu, one of Accra’s upper middle-class neighborhoods.
“I’m sorry to be causing you trouble,” Katherine said, her voice trembling. “If I had become pregnant, we wouldn’t be going through all this.”
He leaned toward her and pulled her to him. “Don’t be silly. We’re in this together, right?” He hugged her and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“We’ve tried everything, Solo,” she said in despair. “I’ve had procedures with names I can’t even pronounce. The only thing left is in vitro, but we just can’t afford it—even if we go to India.”
“I hear you,” Solomon said. “This is not easy for either of us or our families.”
She searched his face. “Your mom is upset, isn’t she? What has she been saying about me?”
“Oh, no,” he said, his eyes skipping away from hers. “Nothing like that. Don’t worry about Mama. Everything is fine.”
But Katherine wasn’t entirely reassured.
“When I get back from Takoradi on Thursday,” he said, “we’ll sit down together and plan out what we should do next, okay?”
“You’re going to Takoradi?” she asked in surprise.
“Honey, I told you last week. I’m talking to someone about setting up an office there.”
“You did? I don’t remember.”
“Because you’re stressed out. What I say to you goes in one ear and out the other.”
She laughed. “Silly.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”
He stood up without reciprocating. “I’m going to take a shower. What have you made for dinner?”
“I bought kenkey on the way home, and I fried some fish the way you like it.”
He brightened. “Great. I won’t be long.”
As she got the meal ready, Katherine
felt strange. Had Solomon seemed cold just now when she kissed him, or had she imagined it?
Chapter Four
After Solomon had left early Tuesday morning to catch the first flight out to Takoradi, Katherine dressed for work and ran out of the house to the car, hoping to beat the worst of Accra’s rush hour. If she could get on the road by 6:15, she would be okay. Even so, the commute to the Ring Road Provident Towers, where she was a junior accountant, turned out to be nerve-wracking.
When she got up to the insurance offices on the third floor, Katherine found two of her female coworkers scrolling through phone pictures. Katherine knew what they were gushing over.
“Come and look at Ama’s baby,” Ernestina called out.
Katherine felt her heart twist like wrung towel.
Ama swiped through dozens of images of her adorable, smiling infant.
“He’s such a cute baby” Katherine said.
“And I know you’ll have one soon,” Ama said.
“Oh, yes,” Katherine said.
“Baby on the way?” Ernestina asked her.
“I’m sure.” Katherine turned away and went to the office. Out of sight of the other two women, she leaned against the wall feeling ill. Her insides writhed and she thought she would throw up. Oh no, not here, please God. She hurried to the ladies’ room out in the hallway and locked herself in one of the stalls. Her hands on her thighs, she bent forward and waited. Nothing happened, and her nausea cleared.
Maybe I’m pregnant. Katherine’s heart leaped.
She took a pregnancy test as soon as she got home from work. While she waited the required two minutes for the result, her heart beat like a jackhammer. If only. If she were pregnant, she would have loved to have had Solomon there for this moment.
She squinted at the test, trying to will the second line to appear. It didn’t. She hurled the strip into the toilet bowl and leaned on the bathroom counter with her head down.
