Her phone rang—Courage calling. She debated whether to answer, and against her better judgment perhaps, she did.

“I’m checking on you,” he said, his voice much softer than she’d ever heard it. “I heard the American guy’s body was found. And in terrible condition.”

“I’ve never seen anything so horrible,” Emma said.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am. Well, I will be. Thank you.”

“I know this is hard.”

She appreciated his sympathy.

“Do you want any company?” Courage asked. “I’m available.”

“Perhaps another time,” she said without much interest reflected in her voice.

“I would love to see you again,” he said.

She hesitated.

“Can I?” he pressed.

“Courage, I don’t think we’re a good match.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding so crushed she felt sorry for him. “But we had fun together.”

“That’s true, but—”

“But what?”

She sighed. “Let’s talk another time, okay? I’m very tired.”

“All right, then. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“No, it’s okay, really.”

“Good night, Emma.”

Just as Emma was hoping she could get a little rest, the phone rang yet again. This time it was Sowah.

“I just received some more bad news,” he said. “They arrested Yahya Azure on Saturday and now they’ve charged him with the murder of Gordon Tilson.”

By 9 a.m. the following day, Sowah and Emma were at the charge office on the ground floor of the CID building to look for Yahya. Sowah explained to the charge officer why they were there. He looked a little uncertain, but Sowah’s senior, authoritative demeanor had a lot of pull. The officer yelled back for the prisoner to come up to the front. A motley crowd of arrestees were packed into the jails behind the charge desk.

Yahya came forward. He looked scared and even smaller than when Emma had met him. When he saw her, his expression lit up. Emma feared he might be thinking she was here to secure his release.

“Good morning, Yahya,” she said.

“Good morning, madam.”

Emma introduced him to Sowah.

“How do you feel?” Emma asked, although it was already clear. He was despondent, frightened, and bewildered.

He shook his head. “I don’t understand what is happening.”

Given the racket in the place, there wasn’t much chance of their conversation being overheard, but Sowah nevertheless beckoned Yahya farther down the counter to put some distance between them and the charge officer’s station.

“Who arrested you on Saturday?” Sowah asked Yahya.

“The policeman Quaino and the woman, Damptey.”

“About what time was it?”

“Around ten in the morning, please.”

“When they arrested you, what did they say?”

“First, they ax me regarding the jacket. They stand one on my right side and the other on my left side, shouting on me with the questions and then Quaino was slapping me too.”

“Slapping you?” Sowah repeated.