Death at the Voyager Hotel (7 page)

Paula didn’t want to wait until the evening to talk to
Thelo, so she drove to his office in
East Legon
, calling him to
let him know she was on her way. It took her more than an hour. The
Tropical
Expeditions
building was a single story with a glass façade revealing a
spacious seating area for customers, and a floor-to-ceiling carved map of Ghana
with a different color wood assigned to each of its ten regions. Of the four desks
supplied with laptops, three were occupied with agents and their clients. The
youngest travel agent, who was dressed smartly in a white shirt and black tie,
stood up respectfully as Paula entered. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Djan. You are
welcome.”

“Thank you,”
she smiled at the young man, who was one of Thelo’s best workers. She continued
to the rear of the room where Thelo’s office was located. She knocked and put
her head in.

“Oh, there you
are,” he said, getting up from his desk. “Did the traffic monster swallow you?”

“Whole,” she
said, and then she held up a copy of the
Ghana Herald.
“Have you read
John Prempeh’s article about High Street Academy?”

“No,” he said,
taking it from her. “You know I don’t read this horrible paper.”

She joined
Thelo on the sofa and gazed around the office while he began to read. Her
husband liked sleek, clean designs, and it showed in his uncluttered, airy office
space and ultra-modern furniture.

At intervals, he
grunted as he went through the article, but as he got further, his exclamations
became more expressive.

“This is
disgusting,” he said, shaking his head as he finished. “I’ve never liked that
man Prempeh. Have you called him?”

“I’ve tried,
but he doesn’t pick up. He’s probably avoiding me. Thelo, we have to do
something. He’s ruining the names of both Heather and the school.”

“Beyond protesting
to him about it, what can we do?”

“We need to get
to the truth to prove Prempeh wrong. Not only him, the medical examiner as
well. It’s simply not possible that Heather went swimming drunk and in the nude
and then drowned accidentally.”

“Maybe being
drunk was the reason for the nudity.”

“You’ve met
her, Thelo. You know she wasn’t some crazy party girl.”

“So, what are
you saying? That someone killed her and threw her in the pool?”

“Or drowned her
deliberately, yes.”

He was
skeptical. “But how can you dispute the laboratory results showing a high blood
alcohol level?”

“It must be an
error,” Paula said firmly. “I know it is. Can’t we call the medical examiner or
Chief Inspector Agyekum about it?”

“And say what?
Order them to reopen the case? And he’s just going to say, ‘yes, massa?’”

“What about
your friends at CID?”

“What friends?”
he asked, flipping his palms up. “I was done with that place long ago.”

“You still know
quite a few people there.”

“Paula, I can’t
tell them to revisit the case any more than they can tell me how to run
Tropical
Expeditions.
”

“No, no, no,”
she said, shaking her head vigorously. “It’s not that you can’t call them, it’s
that you can’t be bothered. You can do anything you want to, Thelo. You
recovered from your leg injury with sheer willpower, and you built all this”—she
gestured around the room—“with determination alone, but you can’t call your
guys at CID? Has running this business changed you so much? What happened to
the detective I married who cared so much about justice and doing the right
thing?”

He started to speak,
but apparently found himself at a loss. She saw his mind working as he wrestled
with what she had just said.

“We just can’t
let this go,” she pressed, sensing momentum. “If Heather’s death wasn’t really
an accident, we’re doing her a great injustice, and as an ex-detective, I
expect you to appreciate that.”

“Okay, okay—you’ve
made your point.”

“So you’ll call
someone at CID?”

“I didn’t say
that. I have to think it through first.”

“Thank you. Now,
you’re looking more like the man I married.”

“But in the meantime,
Paula,” he pleaded, “don’t start calling people up, asking questions and
snooping around, okay?”

“All right, I
promise.” She looked at her watch and stood up. “It’s getting late. Do you want
me to pick up the kids?”

“No, it’s okay.
I’m leaving in a few minutes. We’ll see you later at the house.”

As Paula sat in traffic again, her certainty that Heather’s
death had not been accidental grew even stronger. “I’m going to find out who
killed you, Heather,” she murmured. “And I won’t give up until I do.”

On her way home, Paula passed through a section of town
called Adabraka. As she waited at the wide cathedral intersection for the light
to change, she reflected that the Voyager Hotel wasn’t far away, and she wondered
if Edward Laryea was there. Maybe she could drop by to talk to him. She had
just promised Thelo that she wouldn’t go snooping around, but this would really
only be a friendly visit. She hadn’t seen Edward in quite some time and it
would be a nice gesture on her part to stop and say hello. As the light turned
green, she called his number and he answered.

The hotel was a unique rusty pink that Paula had always found
appealing. She didn’t know another building in Accra quite that color. Neatly clipped
shrubbery lined the borders of the car park. A khaki-uniformed watchman sitting
by his sentry box watched her as she pulled into a perfect spot in the dappled shade
of a Flamboyant tree.

Background
music was playing as she entered the lobby, where a receptionist was busy with
a guest at the curved front desk. A white couple was sitting on red faux leather
armchairs in the seating area filling out forms. Stacked on the wall rack were
magazines and tourist brochures, including some from
Tropical Expeditions
.
The Voyager was a favorite with backpackers and other tourists on a limited
budget, but the hotel now had three upscale chalets for customers who could
afford them.

“Yes, madam,”
the receptionist said to Paula after she had introduced herself. “Mr. Laryea is
expecting you. You can go through to his office and I’ll let him know you’ve
arrived.”

Paula walked
down a short corridor, made a right, knocked on the door with Edward’s name,
and entered. He was at his desk in front of the computer. In his early forties,
he was a mountain of a man. Paula and Thelo had known him since secondary
school.

“Paula, dear!”
He jumped to his feet, towering over her. “Welcome, welcome. How unfortunate to
meet under these circumstances.” He bent down to give her a quick hug and guided
her to a pair of upholstered chairs, where they sat opposite each other.

“It’s been a
tough five days,” Paula said wearily.

“Terrible. Awful.”
Edward’s brow creased. “Are you bearing up okay?”

“I think so,
but the morale at Street Academy is low—very low.”

He was
sympathetic. “Here too. We’ve all been wondering if there was something we
could have done to prevent this tragedy. As general manager, I’m ultimately
responsible, so it’s been weighing heavily on me.”

“I’m in much
the same position,” Paula said in commiseration. “I keep asking myself if I
missed some signal from Heather. Did you read that article by John Prempeh in
the
Ghana Herald
?”

Edward made a
noise of contempt with his mouth. “I saw it, but I don’t believe a word of the
bad things he said about you and the school.”

“He claims he
had a source who told him that Heather was depressed and having problems
sleeping,” Paula said. “If that’s true, the source has to be someone closely
associated with her. Did you ever see Prempeh here at the hotel talking to
Diane Jones—or anyone else, for that matter?”

Edward turned
his lips down at the corners. “No, I didn’t, but if I hear something, I’ll let
you know.”

“Thanks.”

“What else can
I help you with, my dear?”

“Thelo told me
to mind my own business but I can’t rest until I’ve asked a few questions,”
Paula said. “The police have rushed to close the investigation of Heather’s
death, but I feel I simply have to look into it more closely. The official
report says that she had a high level of alcohol in her blood and that the
cause of death was accidental drowning. From what I know of Heather, none of
this adds up.”

Edward sat
forward with interest. “What do you think happened?”

“I think she
was murdered.”

“Oh!” He
stiffened visibly. “That’s shocking. Why do you think that?”

“Heather did
not drink heavily, and as for her swimming naked—have you had any guests,
including Heather, who were in the habit of nude bathing?”

He shook his
head. “Absolutely not, and I can’t imagine Heather doing that either. But why
aren’t the police taking that into account?”

“Caseload,”
Paula answered simply. “I know how it goes because Thelo told me about it many
times when he was a detective. To be able to close a case quickly and label it as
an accident or suicide is like receiving a Christmas present. The CID feels
pressure when open homicide cases pile up. So when the medical examiner says
Heather accidentally drowned because she was drunk, the investigators are only
too happy to accept that.”

Edward appeared
uncomfortable and worried, and Paula realized that if he had to choose between
the two evils, from his perspective the death of a hotel guest from accidental
drowning was preferable to murder.

“Do you mind if
I see the pool?” she asked.

“No, of course
not,” he said. “I’ll take you. We can get there directly from here.”

She sensed his
reluctance but as an old friend, he couldn’t very well refuse her request. She
followed him as he unlocked the back entrance door of his office and stepped
into the rear courtyard of the hotel. The warmth of the evening hit them like a
blast from a furnace. March was one of Ghana’s hottest months.

“We’ve drained it
and closed it down temporarily,” Edward explained to her as they approached the
pool. “We’re going to renovate it and make it only one meter deep the whole
length. I know you can drown even in a bathtub, but at least one has a better
chance of finding one’s footing if the pool isn’t too deep. I plan to put an
extra guard on duty to patrol at night.”

The area was
barricaded with bright red
Keep Out
tape, and without the allure of cool,
turquoise water, the pool was an uninviting crater. Its gradually increasing
depth was indicated along the sides to a maximum of 2.5 meters. The deck was constructed
of textured concrete ending on either side in varnished wood trellises mounted
with pool lights. Four chaises lounges and three sets of table-and-chairs,
shaded by umbrellas, were distributed around the deck. A bar with a shade
awning stood on the right hand side.

“Was she found
at the deep end?” Paula asked.

“Right,” Edward
answered. “Mr. Miedema, one of our guests, discovered the body when he came to
do his early morning laps.”

“He’s the one
who tried to revive her?”

“Yes, he did
CPR until a doctor we had staying here arrived and pronounced Heather dead.”

“Is the doctor still
around?”

“No, he checked
out the day before yesterday, I believe—went back to the UK.”

 “What about
Mr. Miedema?”

“He’s staying
until next week Wednesday. If you’d like to talk to him after we leave from
here, we can check if he’s back from work. That’s his chalet over there. But
he’s one of our most valued guests, so please be diplomatic. What am I saying?
You are always diplomatic.”

Paula beamed at
her old friend. “Yes, I’d like to chat with him. And I will do my best not to
embarrass you.” She turned her gaze in the direction of his pointing finger. About
200 meters away, an earth-red, thatched cottage was nestled in a thicket of bougainvillea
bushes.

Returning her
attention to the pool, she noticed a large, partitioned blue-gray slab on the
roof of the structure that housed the bar. “Those look like solar panels.”

“They are,”
Edward said. “Mr. Miedema works for a solar installation company and he put in a
small system for us last year. The large enclosure at the right is the control
station containing the battery and the inverter.”

“Impressive,”
Paula said, trying to sound interested, but she was preoccupied with the haunting
image of Heather drowning and the vain attempts to revive her. She shuddered.
Naked and drunk? Impossible.

“Do you have
CCTV installed anywhere?” she asked Edward hopefully.

“Ah, if only,”
he said, shaking his head in regret. “
I’m
going to have it put in now that this is happened. I’m sorry it’s too late for Heather.”

“She stayed on
the second floor of the hotel, correct?”

“Yes.
Two-sixteen.”

“I’m curious
whether anyone might have seen her go to the pool that night,” Paula said. “Has
anyone reported that to you?”

“No one has
said anything to that effect—not to me, at least. Behind the lobby, there’s a
private hallway for hotel guests that leads to a locked rear exit. It opens out
to the back garden and swimming pool. To get back in, they can use their hotel
keycard. So, very late at night when there are no guests around and there’s
only one attendant at the desk, she could have easily slipped out unobserved.”

“I see.” She
paused. “Edward, do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Heather?”

“Not at all,”
he said, looking mystified. “Everyone liked her and that’s why it’s hard to
imagine anyone hurting her, let alone killing. She was so friendly—maybe even a
little too much.”

That piqued
Paula’s interest. “What do you mean?”

“I worried when
I saw her chatting with everyone from the housemaids to the gardeners and the
security guards. You know, sometimes our people try to take advantage of
foreigners who are kind to them.”

“Did you ever
express that to her?”

“On one
occasion, yes,” he said, with hesitancy.

“What was her
response?”

“She just
smiled and thanked me—said she would be okay.”

But Paula was
still curious. “Was there someone in particular you were concerned about?
Someone she was friendly to?”

“I didn’t like
the way Amadu, one of the security guards, used to stare at her and go out of
his way to engage her in conversation,” Edward said, his distaste showing. “It
wasn’t his place to do so, and I warned him to stop.”

Good, Paula
thought. I may be getting somewhere. “Do you think there was anything more? I
mean, something between the two of them?”

Edward seemed repelled
by the idea. “No, I don’t.”

“Is Amadu here
today?”

Edward shook
his head. “I sacked him.”

“Oh,” Paula
said in surprise. “Because he was being forward with Heather?”

“Not that. I’ll
explain. The guards are mostly occupied at the front of the hotel—they sit near
the sentry box and keep an eye on who comes and goes—but they’re also supposed
to patrol the rear of the hotel at least once every two hours during their
shift.

“Amadu came on
duty as usual at nine that Sunday night. He admitted he went to the back around
ten but not after that. If he had, he might have found Heather before it was
too late, or maybe even before something happened. That’s why I sacked him.
Neglect of his duties.”

An idea leapt
into Paula’s mind. “Is there any way I could get in touch with him?”

“I suppose,”
Edward said, clearly taken aback. “I can text you his number if you want,
Madame Detective.”

She smiled at
his playful jab. “Thank you. Again, I’m sorry for being so nosy. I’m still so
troubled by Heather’s death, and I really want to understand.”

“No, I understand
completely,” he said, nodding vigorously as he scrolled through his phone
contacts. “I’ll send you the number now, and then we’ll go to see Mr. Miedema.”