“Did you see markings on it?” asked Jade.
The man shook his head. “No, memsabu, but why else would a night animal attack during the day? The laibon is angry with the bwana. You must stop him.” Before Jade could respond, the man ran back to the fields.
Madeline returned. That was when the breeze picked up, and Jade noticed a rank smell. She looked around and spied a vulture landing a few hundred yards away in the citrus orchard.
“Maddy, let’s go see what’s causing that smell.” They remounted their ponies.
Madeline grimaced but followed Jade towards the trees. The smell of rotting meat became stronger, and Jade wondered if one of Colridge’s goats had gotten loose and died here. Suddenly she reined in her pony and held up a hand, warning Madeline to stop.
“Stay there, Maddy.” Jade took her rifle from its saddle bag, slid off her mount, and listened for the sound of a predator hiding in the other grove. Nothing but the sound of a vulture scrambling about. She sidestepped lightly around another tree and stopped abruptly. Madeline, who had followed her anyway, gasped. The vulture hopped away into the open and took off.
Buzzing flies covered an elongated form in a seething mass before them. Jade kicked the swarm, and the flies lifted momentarily, bringing a fresh stench up with them. “Sweet heaven,” she murmured and picked up a torn, bloody shoe. A rotting foot fell out at her feet and hit the rock with a sodden thud. “I think we just found the remains of Godfrey Kenton.”
Madeline promptly disposed of her lunch behind the nearest tree.
Jade stood next to her car and watched the native askari put another body part into a wooden box. So far they’d found his head, both arms, and most of the torso in addition to the booted foot. Scavengers had disposed of the rest. After discovering the corpse, Jade had informed Colridge, then ridden with Maddy back to her farm. There, Jade had left the horse behind and taken her car into town to fetch the commissioner.
“We’ve combed the area, Miss del Cameron,” said the commissioner “and there’s no sign of a weapon, no spent cartridge, no knife. Of course, the doctor will have a look at the, er, remains, but all the marks appear to be made by teeth. No question in my mind, he’s a victim of an animal attack.”
Jade was less than impressed. She scowled. “How did he get out here? Where’s his car?”
“What do you mean?” asked the commissioner. His voice indicated he didn’t care to be questioned by this American female.
“I heard Kenton tell his wife that the Woodards would drive her home, so presumably he wanted his car for himself. Where is it?” The commissioner frowned and rubbed his chin. When he didn’t speak, Jade continued. “His wife said he had a business meeting. I heard him tell her that, too. Who was he meeting? Where are they?”
“Miss del Cameron,” said the commissioner with a patronizing smile. “You’re a young lady, inexperienced perhaps in the ways of the world. Mr. Kenton was well known to be a ladies’ man. It is highly likely that he had business of a different sort, an assignation, if you will.”
“He was a rounder and cheating on his wife,” said Jade bluntly.
“Exactly. And if this was a married woman he was meeting, she wouldn’t want her husband to know.”
“This doesn’t look like the place to have an affair,” Jade said, pointing to the orchard.
“It’s rather obvious he was attacked on his way home,” retorted the commissioner.
“Which brings me back to the fact that we haven’t found his car abandoned nearby.” Jade’s voice rose with increasing impatience. “His Lordship said he heard no car.”
“His Lordship,” countered the commissioner, “was probably sound asleep. Besides, wild predators frequently drag their kill back to a lair. His car could be a mile away.”
One of the askaris brought a bundle of bloodied and torn clothing to them. “These are the victim’s clothes not associated with his body, Commissioner.” Jade recognized the silken scarf among the scraps.
“Put it in a sack and then add it to the body box,” ordered the commissioner.
Jade held up her hand. “Kenton wore a diamond stickpin on that scarf,” she said. “You might look for it. His wife would surely want it back.”
The commissioner sighed with evident impatience. “Miss del Cameron, I have your statement and His Lordship’s. There is no further need for you to be here.”
Jade recognized the suggestion as a curt dismissal. She plopped onto the running board and sat there a moment, thinking. Pili came from the house and joined her.
“Do you need help, miss, with cranking the car?”
Jade shook her head. “No, thank you, Pili. I’ve done it many times. I suppose the commissioner talked to you, too?”
Pili nodded. “I was in attendance on Bwana Colridge all evening.”
“And you heard nothing, either?” she asked. Pili shook his head.
Jade thought aloud. “The body parts were scattered, but small scavengers would do that. There were a lot of remains, too. More than I’d expect if a big predator killed Kenton for food.”
“So you do not think it was a predator, miss?”
Jade shrugged. “The rip on the throat certainly looked like a killing bite. I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t know enough about African predators to make a fair conclusion.” She sighed and rose. “We’re scheduled for a safari in a few days. Maybe I’ll learn something about them there that will help me make more sense of this.” And, she thought, more sense of what happened to Gil.
CHAPTER 16
“The hyena is generally thought to be a cowardly brute, incapable of anything but scavenging. A few keen observers will tell you otherwise. It is curious that humans treat wild scavengers with such disdain. It’s actually an activity that the colonists raise to an art form with every piece of construction made from old debes or other cast-off items.”
—The Traveler
BEVERLY ARRIVES TODAY WITH AVERY. JADE hopped into the Ford and drove into Nairobi. Her mellow contralto voice broke into song as she neared the station.
“It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go . . .” To hell with witches and hyenas. For the first time since the war began, she felt truly excited and happy. She was a child on Christmas Eve, and Beverly’s friendship, complete with all its brusque, open mannerisms, was her gift. “Good-bye, Piccadilly, farewell, Leicester Square, it’s a long, long way to Tipperary and my heart lies there.” She pulled in at the railway station and waited for the train to arrive.
While she waited, Jade studied the people on the platform with a writer and photographer’s eye. The same cluster of African women she’d seen when she first arrived still hugged the same section of the platform and hawked their chickens and fruits. Jade took her Graflex out of a canvas shoulder bag, inserted a film sheet, and waited. She caught the dangling, squawking chicken just as it targeted a succulent papaya and lunged for it.
Rickshaw boys arrived with their carts and jockeyed for position. A small troop of King’s African Rifles dressed in khaki shorts, shirts, and fez hats lined up smartly to receive some expected dignitary. Various Happy Valleyites strolled about arm in arm and discussed the prospects of a good cricket match later. Jade had just finished photographing them with a handsome Maasai in the foreground when she heard the whistle blast from down the track.
The small locomotive with its unique front bench seat hissed into the station. Lord and Lady Dunbury sat like royalty in the open air on the bench dressed in unpretentious bush clothing, including a split skirt for Beverly. Both were nearly free of the ubiquitous red dust that assailed everyone in the cars behind them. Beverly spotted Jade and waved furiously.
“Darling, here we are.” Her husband, afraid she would leap from the bench in front of the still-moving locomotive, took a firm grip on her arm when she tried to rise. “Avery, please let go of me,” scolded Beverly. “I want to see Jade.”
“Yes, and I daresay she would like to see you, too, but in one piece and n
ot mangled under the engine.” Beverly sat down again until the train stopped, then leaped off, ran to Jade, and hugged her.
“Jade, darling, you look wonderful.” She pulled back and held her nose. “But you smell a trifle ripe. I hope that isn’t a new cologne you’re wearing.”
Jade removed her hat and held it out for Beverly to see and sniff. “No. It’s a magic potion. It keeps witches away.”
“Oh?” said Avery as he strolled up. He kissed Jade on the cheek. “Perhaps we should get some, Beverly. Maybe it will keep your sister, Emily, away.”
“Avery, dear,” said Beverly with a rippling laugh. “She said it keeps witches away. You are confusing witch with another, very similar word. Emily is a b—”
Jade interrupted her before a respectable-looking woman next to them could be shocked by such language from a lady. “You both look wonderful. Avery, you’ve grown a mustache since I last saw you. Beverly, you cut your hair.”
Beverly shook her short blond curls and laughed. “How could I not after you paved the way? Besides, I do think it will become the latest rage, and you know how I love to set a style.”
Jade laughed, her smooth contralto contrasting with Beverly’s airy soprano. “Yes, your combination of cocoa powder and coffee was quite the trend in the unit.” She looked at them both and decided they made a very handsome couple. Avery’s blond hair tended more towards a sandy shade while Bev’s shimmered like liquid sunshine. He stood six feet to her five feet, six inches. Both had watercolor blue eyes that reminded Jade of the Mediterranean.
On an impulse she decided to take their photograph and hustled them back onto the engine’s front bench to pose. They sat seriously for the first photo, then relaxed for the second. Beverly leaned against her husband, who gazed down at her with a look of intense devotion. A sudden feeling of loss welled up inside Jade and blurred her vision. She choked it back down, took the picture, then turned her back to wipe her eyes before Beverly detected anything amiss.
Beverly noticed anyway but determined not to subject her friend to questions here on the platform. “Avery, darling, what do you suppose we do about our luggage?”
“There are plenty of young native boys here only too willing to hire on to carry it,” said Jade. “My car’s over there.” She pointed to a cluster of carriages and a few other motorcars.
“Well,” said Lord Dunbury, “let’s find ourselves some likely lads and let them have at it.” He picked out two and, with Jade’s help translating, sent them racing for a stack of luggage farther down the platform. “Just what do they do with this money?” he asked. “I can imagine them spending it all on some sweets like any other boys.”
Jade shook her head. “Many of them are saving for a future wife. In the old days, before the colony outlawed tribal warfare, they could raid a village and steal some goats to pay a bride-price. Now they have to have rupees to buy goats.”
“Shocking,” said Avery. “Why we should interfere with a perfectly good system is beyond my comprehension.”
“It’s even worse for the Maasai and some of the other more warlike tribes,” replied Jade. “A young Somali wouldn’t think of courting a bride without first killing another warrior.” She remembered Corporal Gideon. “Now they join the army to do that.”
Beverly looked at her husband and shook her golden hair. “How hypocritical. To think we send our own young men off to slay the enemy and then marry the returning heroes, but won’t allow others to do the same. What is civilization coming to?”
The two youths returned hauling first one batch of suitcases, then another, and took them to Jade’s made-over Model T. The boot had been removed in the makeover and an open bed surrounded by wooden sides put in its place. A narrow wooden bench served as a backseat. Lord Dunbury stowed the goods in the back. “Will they come with us,” he asked, nodding to the boys, “to help unload at the hotel?”
“I’m sure they will,” she said, “as long as they aren’t attached to a rickshaw. We’ll create quite a scene, though, driving with them in the car. These colonists are very class conscious.”
Avery’s eyes twinkled. “A scene, you say? Sounds like ripping good fun. We’re game, aren’t we, love?” He looked across at his wife. Beverly smiled and nodded.
Jade’s Swahili had improved markedly since her arrival due to constant practice at the Thompsons’ farm. She asked the youths if they would like to come and help unload. After receiving an affirmative answer, Lord Dunbury grinned and pointed from them to the top of the luggage. The two young boys scrambled up to perch on top of the suitcases with delight spread in wide smiles across their faces. Avery assisted Beverly into the car and then got in himself after cranking the machine for Jade.
“Good heavens, Jade,” called Beverly from the backseat. “Even out here you still manage to find a flivver to drive. Which reminds me, I heard the most marvelous joke the other day. Do you know the difference between a Model T and a wheelbarrow?” She waited for Jade to reply, savoring the moment. Jade merely arched one thick black brow and waited. “A wheelbarrow only has one wheel,” said Bev. “Isn’t that a scream?”
Jade removed her hat, reached back, and slapped her friend on the head with it as she drove down the wide dirt road to the hotel. “You’d be surprised at how many American cars there are in Nairobi. I’ve seen several made-over Fords and one Dodge. But,” she added, “you’ll be pleased to hear that Lord Colridge now owns a new Willys-Knight Overlander.”
“Old Colridge still alive, is he?” asked Avery. “I suppose I’ll have to visit the old man. He and my father were rather thick at one time.”
“He’s expecting you,” said Jade. “Actually, he was supposed to go on safari with us but just broke his leg. Seems a jackal ran straight towards his horse, and he was thrown.”
“My word. I hope it’s not too serious,” exclaimed Avery.
“Just a fracture. If I know His Lordship, he’ll order his leg to heal quickly.” She called back over her shoulder to Beverly, “Tell me all about the wedding.”
“Oh, never mind the wedding, darling,” scolded Beverly. “I want to know what you’ve been up to. Here you are dressed in trousers and those old corps boots stinking like a pen at the London zoo. I do believe you need a keeper.”
“I told you back at the train, the smell protects me from witches.”
“You’re not serious, are you?” Beverly tapped her husband on the shoulder. “Avery, darling, I can’t see her face. Tell me if she’s serious.”
“She looks serious to me, my love, but I don’t know her half as well as you do.”
“It’s simple. If she’s pulling my leg, she’ll eventually turn up one side of her mouth in a pert little smirk. If she’s serious, her lips don’t move.”
Jade started singing an old war ditty.
“I believe her lips are moving, Beverly,” said Avery, “but I can’t say that they’re smirking.”
“Oh, cripes. She’s stringing us along,” Beverly groused. “Very well. Two can play at that game.” She folded her arms across her chest for emphasis. “I won’t give you the gift we brought.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jade. “I promise I’ll explain everything, but not here.”
“If not here, then where?”
“Are you hungry?” asked Jade. “The train came in early today. Must not have been anything worth shooting at on the way. You could ask the Norfolk to pack a basket for you while you get settled. I’ll take you around, show you the sights, and give you all the gory details.”
The couple agreed. Jade saw to the lunch basket while Beverly and Avery went to their room followed by the two boys, still giggling from their ride atop the luggage. The desk clerk, used to many eccentricities, tolerated the outside youths better than he did Jade’s aroma.
“Miss del Cameron,” he said and wrinkled his nose. “How . . . good to . . . see you again. You aren’t staying with us again, are you?”
“No,” she assured him. “I’m a friend of Lord and Lady D
unbury. They would like a picnic basket packed, please. Some cold chicken perhaps, hard-boiled eggs, and fruit. Probably a nice white wine as well. Something simple will do.”
“Oh! For His Lordship? Of course.” He leaned forward to emphasize his assurances, but drew back as soon as he caught another whiff of Jade’s hat.
Jade enjoyed the entire scene. She’d grown used to the scent and, being a rancher’s daughter, didn’t find it half as offensive as some of these dandified Nairobi-ites did. She wondered where Mrs. Estes might be. I’d like to show her my hat, thought Jade with an evil grin.
“Er, would you care to have a glass of sherry on the veranda while you wait?” suggested the desk clerk.
“Actually, I still want to see that 1915 guest register. Do you have it?”
The clerk wrinkled his nose again, ran to the safe, and extracted the volume. Jade flipped the book open to January and ran her fingers down the list. She found Gil’s name first listed on the twenty-fifth. Next to that was a brief notation: Jan. 30, found dead in room. Few other names appeared, attesting to more people leaving rather than staying during the war. Jade took out her notebook and wrote down the names. One, she noticed, was a John Smith. He had taken the room next to Gil’s on the twenty-eighth, and left late on the thirtieth.
“Did you find what you need, Miss del Cameron? Couldn’t I get you that sherry on the veranda?”
“Coffee will do instead, please.” She went out before he fumigated the lobby.
As if thinking about trouble earlier now produced it, Cissy Estes appeared just as the Dunburys did. Her roving eye immediately landed on Avery’s handsome face and athletic figure.
“Jade, whoo-hoo,” she called as though they were bosom friends.
“Who the blazes is this floozy?” whispered Beverly in Jade’s ear.
The woman oozed up the stairs at a snail’s pace. “I was entertaining another acquaintance of yours last week.” Her words dripped slowly and dreamily. “You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. Roger Forster. Such a charmer, that one.” She closed her mascara-lengthened lashes with a deliberate languor to emphasize her pleasure. “Always adore seeing him. I believe he said he’s running your safari along with Harry.” She moaned with pleasure. “Mmmmm. You should have a wonderful time with those two. And thank you for the photograph. I adored it.”
Mark of the Lion Page 18