Death at the Voyager Hotel Read Online Free Page A

over the years.
    The physical
scar was ultimately not as deep as the psychological one. Thelo grieved for his
dead fellow officers. He felt guilty that they had died while he had escaped
with his life. He had repeated nightmares of the crash. When he returned to
police work, he found he had a difficult time concentrating. He was physically deconditioned,
and at times his right leg flared up with red-hot pain.
    He was also
frustrated by having to stay in the office; going out to the field had always
been his means of escape from the stifling bureaucracy of the CID. Depression
hung around his spirit like a damp mist off the Atlantic. At the time, Paula
was pregnant with the twins and she found herself despairing of Thelo’s
downward spiral. Then, one day, in a flash of inspiration, he turned to her and
said. “I have to leave.”
    “Leave? Leave
what?”
    “The police
service. God has been sending me a message, but I’ve been ignoring it.”
    What was Thelo planning
to do? He had been following the 2007 discovery of substantial oil reserves off
Ghana’s coast and the promise of potential prosperity. He founded Tropical
Expeditions , a full-service tourist company. In the early days of Thelo’s
business when revenue was barely trickling in, life was a struggle, particularly
with two small children.
    Now, however, he
was doing very well with an office in Accra and a second one in Takoradi .
He and Paula owned a four-bedroom house and two cars in the upscale airport residential
area, and their daughters went to one of the best private schools in Accra.
    Paula could
have lived a life of leisure, shopping and dining all day the way many of her wealthy
friends did, but she suffered from consumer’s guilt, as she called it:
acquiring much from the world but not giving anything back. She had to do
something besides merely indulging herself. Four years ago when she’d heard that
the High Street Academy was looking for a director, she interviewed for the
post and got it.
    Thelo threw his
jacket aside in the sitting room and yanked off his tie. He had been slim as a
detective, but now his belly bulged as a result of too much rich food and too
little exercise. He shaved his head clean instead of displaying the hair loss
that had begun by the time he had reached thirty.
    Earlier in the
afternoon, Paula had called to give him a short version of the shocking news.
    “Have they
found out anything more?” he asked her, plopping down onto the sofa beside her.
    “Chief Inspector
Agyekum said they think it was a tragic accident,” Paula said, “but that
doesn’t sound right to me. What was Heather doing in the pool naked? She would
not have gone swimming without her clothes on.”
    “I agree,”
Thelo said. “She didn’t seem to be that type of person.”
    Relieved to be
home, Paula leaned forward, closed her eyes, and pressed her throbbing temples.
    Thelo gently
rubbed her back. “You’ve had a terrible day. Did you tell the students the news?”
    “I had to. I
didn’t want them to hear it from elsewhere.”
    “How did they
take it?”
    “Very badly. They
all loved her. You remember Ajua, the one who was especially attached to Heather?
She was hysterical—almost collapsed.”
    “Poor thing.”
    Paula’s eyes
misted over. “This has been the worst day of my life—except when my father
died.”
    Her phone rang,
showing an overseas number. “Oh, this might be Mr. Peterson,” she said, sitting
up quickly. “Hello?”
    The male voice
was gravely. “Is this Paula Djan?”
    “Speaking.”
    “This is Mr. Peterson,
Heather’s father.” He paused. “I’ve already heard the news. The detective in
charge of the case got in touch with me by phone—Inspector Adgie-something. I’m
not too clear on his name.”
    “Agyekum,”
Paula prompted. “Mr. Peterson, I don’t know how to express how very sorry I am.
All of us at High Street Academy are in a state of complete shock.”
    “Yes,” he said.
His tone was flat.