Kuma dismissed Emma and she went away surprisingly uplifted because there might have been something to Kuma’s idea. She was lost in thought as she sat down, her work temporarily forgotten. Commander Seidu, the head of the Kumasi Regional Headquarters, had always liked and respected Daddy and had been deeply affected by his death. Emma made the decision to call Seidu.

But in the months that followed, nothing seemed to result from contacting Commander Seidu. He had said he would see what he could do for her and Emma knew him well enough to know he had meant it, but in retrospect she realized she had set her hopes too high. Slowly, she was becoming accustomed to the grind and tedium of the CCU, and her desire to become a detective constable in Homicide, albeit still there, began to wane. The reality that it wasn’t going to happen sank in. The question she had begun to pose to herself now was whether she wanted to remain with the Ghana Police Service at all.

Near closing time, Kuma called Emma to his office. “Report to DCOP Laryea’s office,” he said curtly.

“Please, now?”

“No, next week. Of course, now!” he thundered. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Yes please. Sorry, sir.”

Emma nearly tripped over her own feet as she made haste out of the unit.

EIGHT

Deputy commissioner of police (DCOP) is among the top ranks in the GPS, and so for Emma it was nerve-wracking to face Cleophus Laryea in his expansive, fifth-floor office chilled by an efficient air conditioner high up on the wall. Receding, patchy hair and a face lined with creases confirmed his seniority. A pair of spectacles perched halfway down his broad nose, and when he looked up over them, his eyes were intense and piercing.

“Be seated, Constable Djan,” he said quietly, pointing at one of a pair of chairs in front of his desk. She sat down without a word and waited, her heart in her stomach. She suspected this was about her request to move to Homicide, but was it going to be good news or bad?

“I have heard from Commander Seidu in Kumasi on two occasions now,” Laryea began, his voice as deep as a village borehole. “He informed me of your interest in working in the Homicide Division.” He looked over his spectacles. “Is that still the case?”

“Yes please, sir,” Emma said.

“He spoke very highly of your father.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Why do you want to work in Homicide?”

“Please, as I followed my father’s work until the day he died, I came to learn the ways of working as a detective, and I liked it very much. I have wanted to do it for a long time. I feel the connection with people is stronger and more important than . . .”

Laryea removed his glasses. “Than what?”

Emma squirmed. “Than what I’m doing now,” she said in barely a whisper.

His eyes sliced through her. “Are you having any kind of conflicts or difficulties in the CCU you wish to tell me about?”