He slipped her a few cedis, which brought a big smile to her face before she hurried away and left the other three to continue to Ponsu. They walked uphill between houses. Grazing goats and chickens in their path moved out of the way. The fragrant, reddish soil was soft from a recent rain shower and it appeared another was about to unleash itself.

Labram labored somewhat from the upward climb, no doubt thankful when they reached a path oriented in a different direction and much less steep. From this vantage point, they had almost a bird’s eye view of Atimpoku all the way down to the river.

As they walked, Sowah looked at Emma. “I’m glad you were there for Kafui,” he said. “You established a good rapport with her, and I saw her look at you with admiration a couple of times.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Emma said.

“It’s situations like this where a woman’s finesse can be so helpful,” Sowah said. Emma had never felt so pleased.

Ponsu’s home was indeed at the top of the hill. It wasn’t shrouded behind a high wall and electric fence as Emma had imagined. With easy access to the sprawling area, Ponsu’s three separate buildings were in plain view. Two of them were long, single-story structures painted cream and brick red. The third was two stories and under construction. The land in front of the buildings was rough and unpaved. Ghanaians love big houses but don’t care if it’s a potholed road that takes you there.

A small crowd buzzed around five parked SUVs and a sedan as a two-person camera crew filmed and interviewed Ponsu showing off his vehicles. He was dressed in turquoise embroidered robes and layers of jewelry. Now he was demonstrating the beauty of the silver Escalade.

“Dis one,” he said, waving his horsetail whisk, “I get it straight from America, you understand me. Very powerful! Look at the engine.” He directed one of his minions to pop the hood and open it up. “You see? V-8; four hundred and twenty horsepower. What! No joke!”

“Massa, no joke!” one of his groupies echoed, laughing. “Dis no be for small boys.”

“Where do you get all your money?” the interviewer asked.

“My money?” Ponsu said, hitting his chest. “My money? I earn it! People come to me for salvation, for healing, for blessings. You understand me. They pay me because it is worth it.”

“But is it true that sometimes you order ritual killings?”

The priest turned down the corners of his lips and shook his head. “Never! Those who say that are just trying to destroy me because of their jealousy.”

“What about your enemies and rivals? Do you order them killed?”