“Mr. Tilson told me he was on a mission to find the culprit,” Labram continued. “I felt a bit sorry for him because I didn’t think he would be successful. Still, I prayed that he would be. If we can apprehend more of these people, perhaps others will be discouraged from doing these criminal things.”

“It’s possible Mr. Tilson came here looking for Kweku Ponsu, a traditional priest,” Emma said. “Did he say something to you about that?”

“Yes,” Labram said. “He asked me if I knew anything about Ponsu. I said very little except that he stayed in Atimpoku, his hometown, from time to time. However, I advised Mr. Tilson not to get involved with such people unless someone in the know accompanies him. He said his driver knew his way around and would assist him.”

“You mean the driver Mr. Tilson hired for the trip from Accra?” Sowah asked.

“Yes please.”

“By any chance, do you have the driver’s contact information?”

“He gave his name as Yahya,” Labram said, taking out his phone, “but I didn’t get his surname.” When he had located the number, he reached over to hand his mobile to Sowah, who wrote the number down in his small notebook, old school.

“While Mr. Tilson was here,” Labram continued, “Yahya stayed at a hotel in Atimpoku. On Tuesday morning, he arrived here before seven to meet Mr. Tilson’s absence. He then called me to ask if I knew where Mr. Tilson had gone. I came down from my place and was very puzzled by his disappearance. Yahya and I went together to look for him at the Adome Bridge thinking he might have gone to take some photos. We even asked people in the Atimpoku area if they had seen an oburoni man early that morning or the night before, but no one had.”

“So, it means Mr. Tilson disappeared sometime between five on Monday afternoon and seven Tuesday morning,” Sowah said.

“Yes, sir,” Labram said.

“And we understand that Mr. Tilson’s luggage was also not in his room,” Emma said. “Is that correct?”

“Right,” Labram responded, his brow creasing. “That made us worry about whether it was a robbery attempt and he had been harmed. Or even killed.”

“Those are the fundamental questions,” Sowah agreed. “Could someone have heard something out of the ordinary overnight? Do you have servants’ quarters?”

Labram shook his head. “I have a house girl who comes to clean three times a week, but she lives in Atimpoku. If you want to question her, I can take you to see her.”

“We would like that, thank you,” Sowah said, smiling at how cooperative their host was. It wasn’t always such smooth sailing for a private investigator. “What about neighbors?”