Love and Death Among the Cheetahs

by Rhys Bowen

  “We don’t,” Darcy said. “But I don’t want us to miss the experience of a lifetime. If we don’t go we’ll regret it. But now we’ll be vigilant. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He pushed back his dark curls from his forehead. “I can’t believe last night had anything to do with Jocelyn or Mr. Van Horn,” he said. “Neither of them would know about the danger of leopards and leaving shutters open. And Cyril? What would he have to gain? He doesn’t even know us. He hated Cheriton. He’d be glad he was dead.”

  “But why would anyone want us dead, or at least terrified?”

  “Obviously someone thinks we saw or know more than we do, since we were the ones who found Cheriton’s body.”

  “What could we possibly have overlooked?” I said. “And anyway, nobody from this part of the valley could have been involved in his murder. We saw that no vehicles from this direction had come down the road after Bwana. We saw the tire marks. The only identical motorcars we saw were down at Idina’s, weren’t they?”

  Darcy was frowning. “If Inspector Windrush’s theory is correct and Angel paid a disgruntled worker to finish off her husband, then that same native could have come over from their estate and opened our shutters.”

  “But again it comes down to: why want to harm us?”

  “I don’t know,” Darcy said. “Come on. Drink your tea and get dressed. Don’t forget the stout shoes and trousers!” He chuckled.

  As we were dressing I stopped and asked, “I suppose this can have nothing to do with you?”

  “What do you mean—with me?” Darcy had just come out of the bathroom, carrying his toilet things.

  “You finally told me that you had been sent out here because of Lord Cheriton’s connection with Hitler. Is it possible that someone else is also part of that plan and wants to make sure we don’t poke our noses any deeper?”

  Darcy shrugged. “That would be Mr. Van Horn, wouldn’t it? But we saw how he reacted to an encounter with a wild animal. He was terrified of that elephant.”

  “I was pretty terrified myself,” I confessed. “It was rather alarming, wasn’t it?”

  Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “You might have a point. People like him are good at playing the part that is called upon at a particular moment. Yes, I suppose he would want us scared away, or even killed.” He hesitated, holding his shaving kit in his hand instead of putting it into the overnight bag. “If you don’t want to go, I quite understand. Presumably we can arrange for a safari later.”

  “But you want to go, don’t you?” I said. “You want to keep an eye on Van Horn.”

  “Ideally yes, since Freddie is not coming along.”

  “Then we should go. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say.”

  He took me into his arms. “You’re a cracking girl, Georgie. I made a good choice when I asked you to marry me.”

  I felt all warm inside and it took me a while to remember that we were going off into the middle of nowhere with an unknown person who might want to kill us. Hardly a comforting thought. Then I reasoned that Cyril was responsible for us. He’d make sure we were safe.

  We finished packing the overnight bag and went to find the others at breakfast. Given the early hour there was toast and cold meat and fruit. Frankly I was still so shaken from the night before that I found it hard to swallow anything. Mr. Van Horn was wearing a safari bush jacket that looked as if it came straight from the stage set of a play about a great white hunter. It had certainly never been near the dust of a real adventure. I remembered what Darcy had said about playing the part required of him. Cyril looked quite different in his work clothes—no longer the man-about-town but the genuine bushman.

  “Have you given Samuel your luggage?” he asked. “Oh good. You are only bringing a small bag. We’re tight on space. He’ll make sure it’s safely stowed.”

  An elderly Kikuyu was standing by the door and took our bag from us. Diddy came into the room, still in her robe and looking rather washed out and worried. “You’re all set, are you? Georgie, I insist that you take my hat. Yours is very nice but it’s not nearly big enough. There is no shade on the savanna. I don’t want you dying of sunstroke.”

  “Very well. Thank you,” I said, accepting it from her.

  “You will take good care of them, Cyril?” she said. “I don’t want to have to contact the royal family and inform them that one of their members has been eaten or trampled.”

  “Diddy, you know they will be perfectly safe,” Cyril said in an exasperated voice. “Now don’t worry and let us get started. We’ve a lot of ground to cover.”

  We were led around the house to the outbuildings at the back where Cyril’s vehicle was parked. It was something resembling a lorry, with a roof but open sides. At the front were three rows of wooden seats and behind them the equipment was piled. Samuel stood patiently beside it, ready to help us on board. At that moment there was a shout. We turned to see Joseph, followed by Rupert and Rowena.

  “Hey, wait for us,” Rupert called.

  I looked at Diddy. “Did you know they were coming?”

  Diddy shook her head. “Angel said something to me the other night at dinner about wanting the young people to experience a safari. I suppose she must have asked Cyril.”

  Joseph reached us first. He was laden with various pieces of equipment, which he carried over to the vehicle. Rowena and Rupert looked ridiculously out of place, both dressed in light linen slacks and cardigans. Rowena was wearing a jaunty little straw hat and Rupert a panama hat.

  “Don’t you have better hats than that?” Diddy asked. “You’ll die of sunstroke.”

  “All we’ve got, I’m afraid,” Rupert said.

  “Joseph, run back quickly and find them a couple of real hats,” Diddy said.

  “I try to tell them, memsabu.” Joseph shrugged. He ran back and appeared in a short time with two large bush hats.

  “These are awful,” Rowena said, trying to reject hers. “No thank you.”

  “You’ll need them if you’re coming with me.” Cyril came to join us. “And on the safari you understand that you do what I say at all times. It can be a matter of life and death.” He moved closer to Darcy and me. “I tried to dissuade them from coming but Angel said they were distressed about their father and she wanted them well away from the investigation.”

  Interesting, I thought. Either Angel wanted them out of the way or one of them was not keen on coming under police scrutiny. How convenient to be out in the middle of nowhere. If it weren’t for the transportation problem my money would be on Rupert. Clearly he had little love for a father he had never known and now had inherited quite a large fortune. But then . . . another little thought came to me. If Angel was indeed the person who had planned her husband’s demise, she would also have a good reason to get rid of Rupert, who was now the legal heir to an estate she had poured a lot of her money into.

  “All right. Load up!” Cyril called. Mr. Van Horn was assisted up onto the front seat beside Cyril. I was given the place next to him. Darcy, Rowena and Rupert sat behind us with Jocelyn, Joseph and Samuel bringing up the rear. I remembered what had been said about guards. Weren’t there supposed to be plenty of guards to take care of us? Instead we had one elderly Samuel and one Joseph. I didn’t like to ask Cyril about it. He was, after all, giving up his time to entertain us. But the thought that Joseph was coming along reassured me somewhat. He seemed like a competent young man.

  We set off, heading out of the valley in a northerly direction. The road deteriorated after a mile or so and the wooded mountains gradually became hills. Then we struck out to our right and bounced along a sort of track. It was really most uncomfortable and we had to hold on to the bar in front of us for some kind of stability.

  “Thank God I didn’t eat much breakfast,” Rowena complained from behind me. “It would all be coming back up by now.”

  For once I had to
agree with her. Mr. Van Horn kept sliding into me and the alarming thought struck me that if he wanted to get rid of me one good push would send me out of the vehicle. I held on extra tightly. Then we were no longer among cultivated fields and trees. This was scrubland, with occasional flat-topped trees, but mostly low bushes alternating with dry grass. Then suddenly someone gave a shout. Ahead of us stood a herd of buffalo, heads down, still and defiant. Their snorts came out like dragon breath in the cold morning air.

  “Nasty creatures, buffalo,” Cyril said cheerfully. “They are the one animal that is totally unpredictable. Give me a lion or a leopard any day. If they charge it’s never a bluff and what’s more they won’t give up. They’ll keep on until they gore you and stomp you to death.”

  “And you say we shall be sleeping in small tents tonight?” Mr. Van Horn asked, his voice trembling. “Then what is to stop some animal from stomping us to death?”

  “We’ll have a big fire going and keep guard all night. You’ll be quite safe. You have to understand that all animals won’t bother you if you don’t annoy them. Like this lot. We’ll give them time to move on.”

  After fifteen minutes it was clear the buffalo had no intention of moving on, so Cyril sounded the horn. They snorted, then, as the lorry came toward them, they took off. “Round one to us,” Cyril said.

  After that we saw zebras and wildebeests, a warthog and all sorts of birds. It was quite enchanting and I forgot to be afraid or uncomfortable. Then Cyril slowed. “Look over there,” he said. “That’s a sight you don’t see too often.”

  We saw a group of small, dainty antelope standing beside a water hole. Then we saw what he was pointing at. I thought it was a leopard, creeping stealthily through the tall grass.

  “Cheetah,” Cyril said, nodding with satisfaction.

  The antelope were alert now. The cheetah suddenly broke from cover and dashed toward them and they took off, springing over the ground at amazing speed. But the cheetah was faster. It ran so fast it was a blur of gold. It sprang onto the back of an antelope and brought it down. We couldn’t see what happened next but Cyril told us it would bite the throat until it suffocated the antelope. That part was rather horrid but it had been exciting to see the chase and I had to remind myself that in the animal world it was always a balance of predator and prey. After all, I ate meat every day. I just didn’t have to chase an animal to get my diet.

  “I hope I managed to get that on film,” Darcy said. “It will probably be all a blur.”

  We drove on. The countryside became open and drier, with hills rising in the distance and above us an enormous arc of blue sky, bigger than any sky I had seen before. Then Cyril stopped again and pointed. Over to our right we saw dust rising and I strained my eyes, expecting to see more animals. Instead a group of men came toward us, running at an even pace. They carried spears and wore cloaks around their shoulders. Having just seen the cheetah, I was now witnessing humans moving with equal grace.

  “Maasai,” Cyril said. “I wonder what they are doing here. Their nearest settlement is usually to the west of here in the Rift Valley. Do you know, Joseph?”

  “I do not,” Joseph said. “I do not recognize these men.”

  They came closer and then were going to pass right ahead of us. But they showed no interest in us at all, not slowing their pace, as if we didn’t exist. Joseph shouted words to them in a strange language and a short reply came back without any of the men turning their head to acknowledge us. We could hear their costumes jingling and the pounding of their feet, but then they were gone, leaving only a cloud of dust behind them.

  “They go to a ceremony,” Joseph said. “The creation of new moran—new warriors.”

  We drove on for about another half hour then came to a halt near a small river. “This is where I usually camp,” Cyril said as Samuel sprang down with great agility, considering his years, and started unloading the lorry. We climbed down, all stretching our legs gratefully. Joseph helped and in no time they had three small tents set up and a campfire going.

  “You can sleep with us beside the fire,” Cyril said to Jocelyn, handing him a blanket.

  “Out in the open? Unprotected?” Jocelyn said, a look of alarm on his face. “What if wild animals come in the night?”

  “You’ll be quite safe. We’ll build up the fire and that keeps them away,” Cyril said.

  “I’d much rather be in a tent, if you don’t mind.”

  “Very well, the boy can share with me,” Mr. Van Horn said. “I understand his apprehension. I too would not want to sleep by the fire.”

  They carried their belongings to one of the tents. The twins took another; Darcy and I, the third. “I don’t think this exactly gives us as much protection as Jocelyn hoped,” he said with a grin. “A charging rhino or elephant would knock it down in a second.”

  “Thank you for that encouraging thought,” I replied, making him laugh.

  “First we need lunch,” Cyril said when we had all assembled again. “Who wants to come and shoot meat with me?”

  I didn’t really want to but Darcy shook his head. “I think we should all stick together,” he said. We set off on foot. The day was now baking hot and I was glad of Diddy’s large brimmed hat. I glanced across at Rowena and Rupert. They looked red faced and uncomfortable.

  “My God, this is hard work,” Rupert said as we slogged up a small hill. “I don’t think we would have come if we had known. Whose idea was this anyway?”

  “Not mine,” Rowena replied. “Angel’s, I believe. Wanting to cheer us up.”

  “I was quite cheerful sitting in her living room and drinking champagne,” Rupert replied.

  I studied the back of their heads as they went in front of me. Why was Angel so keen to get them out of the way? Did she suspect that they knew something incriminating? Had one of them overheard the telephone call summoning Bwana home? I didn’t know how we’d ever find out. In fact I thought that Inspector Windrush had little chance of solving Bwana’s murder. If Angel had paid a native to do the dirty deed then he was well away hiding in a distant village by now. I fell into step beside Joseph.

  “You must be quite upset at the death of Lord Cheriton,” I said.

  “It is strange,” he said. “It is almost like a dream, as if it didn’t happen. This morning I expected to hear his voice, yelling for me. I don’t know what will become of me now.”

  “Would you go back to your own people if Lady Cheriton decides to sell the estate?” I asked.

  “Maybe, but that is a waste of an education, is it not? I will have to think carefully. At the moment I cannot think clearly.”

  “You speak the language of the Maasai well,” I said. “Did you ever actually live among them?”

  He smiled. He had a warm and friendly smile. “My mother spoke the language to me when I was a baby. But yes, I did go back to my people for one year, when I wanted to become a man. It was important to my mother that I learn the skills of the warrior.”

  “Does your mother live among your people? Do you see her often?”

  “She does. I do not see her often now,” he said. “I miss her wisdom.” And the smile faded. I thought how lonely it must be, being the only Maasai in a house of spoiled white people. I wondered how old he was. No more than twenty, surely. And he was different from the other house servants—with his English education and of a different race—poised between two worlds. He stopped to help me up a rocky outcropping. We stood as a group, most of us huffing and puffing after the exertion, and surveyed the scene. At first I could see only scrub and occasional trees, but then I picked out a group of zebras, blending in perfectly with the tall grass. In the distance a giraffe was eating at an acacia tree.

  “That will do nicely,” Cyril said. He indicated a group of large antelope with curved horns. “Kudu. Good eating. All right—anyone who wants to come with me must move silently and know how to sh
oot.”

  “I will come,” Mr. Van Horn said.

  “Oh rather,” Rupert agreed. “I’m quite a good shot, actually.”

  I glanced at Darcy. I knew he had been on plenty of shoots. But he shook his head. “We’ll watch, thank you.”

  “I think I’ll come too,” Rowena said. “I’m just as good a shot as my brother.”

  “Very well.” Cyril nodded to Samuel, who handed each of them a rifle. “Only understand you do exactly as I tell you. You don’t say a word and you stay close to me. I don’t intend to rescue anyone who has been gored.”

  “I think I should probably stay up here,” Jocelyn admitted. “Knowing me I’d shoot myself in the foot.” He gave an embarrassed grin. “But it will be jolly exciting to watch.”

  They set off, Samuel and Cyril going ahead, followed by the others. I felt relief as they moved farther away from us. Could it really be one of them who had opened our shutters in the night? But then again Jocelyn was standing right beside us and he had also been sleeping at Diddy’s. That was ridiculous, I told myself. If Jocelyn had come into our room to unlatch the shutters he would have tripped over something, knocked over a lamp.

  They were crouching down behind some bushes. There was an explosion that echoed across the countryside. All the animals in the vicinity took off, running. One of the animals was down. Samuel and Joseph were left to butcher the meat as the rest returned.

  “Well done, Mr. Van Horn,” Cyril said. “A clean shot through the heart.”

  “I must be lucky,” Van Horn said.

  A clean shot through the heart, I thought as we walked back to camp. He might well be a trained German agent and want Darcy out of the way. Again I found myself wishing we had stayed safely behind.

  Chapter 32

  AUGUST 13

  AT A SAFARI CAMP

  Is it just me or do I sense an atmosphere of tension? I keep telling myself not to be silly. The others are having a good time. I should too.