SIXTY-ONE

Derek opened the door of his hotel room to Emma and Sowah.

“Hello, Derek,” Sowah said. “May we come in?”

He must have read their expressions because his face fell. “Yes, of course.”

They sat in a triangle.

“As I told you,” Emma began, “I asked some fishermen on the Volta River to look out for anything strange. Today, I heard from one of them, who told me that they have found a sack with a body floating in the river.”

Derek nodded. His face was neutral. “Okay.”

A short silence fell over them, then Emma cleared her throat. “I’m not saying it’s your dad. But to investigate this fully, we must ask you to view the body to either confirm or deny the identity. We’ll be going to the mortuary up there in a couple of hours. Can you come with us?”

Derek said, “Yes, of course.”

The Volta River Authority Hospital was relatively well funded with proceeds from the hydroelectric dam, but it still lacked resources. The morgue was overcrowded with more than one body per refrigerator drawer. Only two autopsy tables were available. Dr. Anum Biney, who had been the chief medical officer there for decades, met Emma, Sowah, and Derek at the front entrance.

He had a startling white mustache curled at its tips and shocking white hair to match. Accompanied by a police officer from the Akosombo Police Station, they followed Dr. Biney along a verandah flanking long, low-profile wards. The sky had opened and let loose a torrent that nearly soaked them as they crossed the uncovered space between the wards and the morgue.

Emma loathed the typical morgue smell—human decay mixed with bleach and formaldehyde. She felt nauseous with it as they entered the building. Before they went into the autopsy room, Biney stopped to address them. He had a calm, baritone voice, which gave the impression that no situation, no matter how dire, could ever fluster him.

“We have now washed the body of dirt and other river debris,” he said. “Nevertheless, I must caution you it is still a severe sight—among the worst I have ever seen. The odor also, some of which you might already be detecting, is very powerful and penetrating. That is why I suggest you all put some Mentholatum underneath your nose. We have some for you.”

A morgue attendant brought them a small jar of the thick, pungent ointment that Emma’s mother often used during her relentless asthma attacks. The odor brought back a flood of bad memories.

“Okay,” Biney said when they had all applied the stuff, “let’s proceed now.”

He held open the door and they filed in. The body on the autopsy table was covered with a stained, gray sheet. The Mentholatum did not cut the odor much, in Emma’s opinion. She felt unwell and steeled herself for a sight she knew would be hard to bear.

The attendant rolled back the sheet and Emma saw it was even worse than she had imagined. Had not a head and outstretched arms been present, Emma would not have thought it human. Eyes popped out from a blue-green face that had become slimy, bloated, and pushed off to the side like a badly fitted mask. The mouth was open with the lips forming an oval as in a silent scream for help. Some of the skin on the arms and chest had turned deep purple and had sloughed off—or was about to.

Emma shuddered and averted her eyes. Derek retched, turned, and ran out of the room. Sowah looked at Emma and they both went after Derek. He was outside the building leaning against the wall in the rain. “Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t take it in there. That’s the most revolting thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Yes,” Sowah said quietly, his own face contorted with revulsion. “Come this way out of the rain.”

“It’s not Dad, though,” Derek said as they took shelter along the corridor. “Thank God.”

“It’s not,” Emma said, half question, half statement.

“No way,” he said, shaking his head.

“Okay,” she said, but she doubted the question was settled. “You’re sure?”

He frowned. “Of course, I’m sure. If that’s the guy you say got dumped over the bridge that night, it’s not my father.”

They watched him for a while. He was hyperventilating and not making eye contact with them.

“Derek,” Sowah said, “did your father have a wedding band?”

“Yes. He never took it off, even after Mama died. Why do you ask?”

“Would you be able to identify his ring?”

“Of course. It’s white gold with three inlaid diamonds. But why, though?”

“The person in the morgue has a wedding ring.”

Emma was startled. How had Mr. Sowah noticed that in such a short space of time?

“If I take a photo of it and show it to you,” Sowah continued, “would you be able to say whether it belongs to your father or not?”

Derek shrugged. “You can if you want, but it won’t be Dad’s, I can tell you that right now.”

“Okay, sure,” Sowah said. “Just to double check and make it official.”

He went back in. Emma put her hand on Derek’s shoulder and rubbed it lightly. “I’m sorry.” Tears pricked her eyes. She felt sick with a heavy sense of doom.

He smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

Sowah returned, phone in hand. Emma was dreading this moment, even more so as she saw how grim and sorrowful Sowah appeared. He exchanged a glance with her that told her that the worst possible nightmare was unfolding.

Sowah went to Derek’s side. “Can you please take a look at the photo?”

Derek looked at the image of the wedding band almost nonchalantly, as if there was no point but he would oblige. The ring was shiny, despite its presumably long period of immersion in water, and it had three inlaid diamonds.

Derek snorted. “Someone with the same ring as my Dad’s? That’s ridiculous.”

He looked up at the sky. “Ah, this is so stupid, the whole damn, fucked-up situation.”

“Yes.” Emma took his hand in both of hers.

His legs began to quiver. Sowah grasped his arm and guided him to sit against the wall.

Emma sat beside him, watching him closely.

“What I don’t understand,” Derek said, his voice shaking, “is why he had to do any of this. The whole coming to Ghana thing, trying to track down who did this to him, and it was all so unnecessary, right?”

Emma nodded.

“And I told him, I said, ‘Dad, just come home. We might have had differences, but I still love you, Dad. I still do.’ And I don’t know if he believed that. I don’t know. But I do. I love you, Dad.”

“Yes,” Emma said. “I know you loved him very much.”

“It’s him in there, isn’t it?” he said, looking up at her. She nodded.

Derek crumpled and shrank, as if trying to disappear inside himself. Emma put her arms around him and brought him closer as his sobs came one after another like wave upon stormy wave.