Emma was three hours into her work when she looked up to see a visitor who had just walked in and now stood at the door-frame. He was an oburoni, for sure. His greenish eyes got her attention. He was tall and very fair in color, with curly hair receding from the forehead just a bit. He had a rugged beard with rare streaks of gray. His waistline had expanded a little beyond bounds, but it looked good on him.

“Good morning,” the man said, his gaze settling on Emma. Beverly was out for the morning.

“Good morning, sir.” She stood up. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for”—he glanced at a scrap of paper in his hand—“Yemo Sowah. Is he here?”

He sounded American to Emma. “Yes please,” she said, approaching. “But he’s in a meeting at the moment. Is he expecting you?”

He smiled. “I don’t think so.”

The other investigators had looked up from their work with interest.

“Please have a seat.” Emma gestured at the chairs in the anteroom. “I will let him know you are here. Please, your name?”

“Sorry—I should have said. I’m Derek Tilson.”

Emma knocked on Sowah’s office door and opened it. He was meeting with a couple of clients. “Please, sir, sorry to bother you. A man called Derek Tilson is here to see you.”

Sowah raised his eyebrows. “Derek who?”

“Tilson. He doesn’t have an appointment.”

“Okay. I should be finished here in about twenty minutes.”

Emma went back to the anteroom, where the newcomer was glancing through the day’s newspapers on the side table. “Mr. Sowah will be with you shortly.”

He smiled briefly and nodded. “Thanks.”

“May I offer you some water?”

Derek declined.

From her desk, Emma stole a glance at Tilson as he waited. She wondered what the visit was about. Sowah came out with his two guests after about thirty minutes and escorted them out. Emma was waiting for him in the anteroom when he returned.

“Sir, this is Mr. Derek Tilson.”

The two men shook hands. “You can call me Derek.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Sowah said. “Please, come with me.”

He shepherded Tilson into his office and shut the door. A few minutes later, Sowah stuck his head outside the door. “Emma, please come. Bring your notepad.”

She hurried to join them, sitting in the second chair opposite Sowah and not knowing what to expect.

“Emma,” Sowah said, “Mr. Tilson is reporting his father missing. I want you to take notes.” He looked at Tilson. “So far, my understanding is that your father arrived in Accra three months ago supposedly to meet a woman called Helena, who we don’t know really exists or not, but strongly suspect she does not, correct?”