by Susan Harper
A Nairobi officer attempted to stop Pauline on her way into the embassy. The man spoke to her in Swahili, so Pauline just shrugged. “Sorry, I only speak English,” she said to him as a few other officers approached her. “Easy, boys, you’re getting a little close for comfort.” She could tell they were questioning her about Lil. “Hey! Back off! I don’t know what you’re saying!” she shouted, drawing attention to herself from both people in the street and a handful of men in suits on the other side of the gate. Pauline then started screaming, probably making herself seem a little insane, but so long as everyone was looking at her rather than the goofy woman climbing a tree planted along the sidewalk…
Two men exited the embassy, one appearing to be Kenyan while the other was American. The American man smiled at Pauline. “Ma’am, is everything all right?” he asked.
“These officers are harassing me!” Pauline shrieked. “I don’t even know what they’re saying!”
The Kenyan man in the suit smiled and looked at the officers, questioning them. The Kenyan diplomat then smiled and looked at Pauline. “They seem to think you have come from Giraffe Manor? Apparently, there was a young American woman who got herself into some trouble out that way?”
Pauline crossed her arms, but she smiled. “Well, I appreciate being called young, sweetie, but do I match the description?”
Dot began barking loudly, yelping and growling from her purse. The Kenyan and the American both laughed slightly and offered for Pauline to come inside to sit and get herself some tea. “What gentlemen!” Pauline called and then scooped her arm into the Kenyan man’s arm so that he could escort her.
The American and the Kenyan man both laughed and spoke in Swahili to one another on their way onto the embassy grounds. Just as they entered the main entrance, Lil came crashing into a bush. “What was that?” the American man yelped as a number of guards swarmed Lil.
“That would be your young American woman who got herself into some trouble at Giraffe Manor,” Pauline smiled, still walking arm in arm with the Kenyan man. “Her name is Lillian, and I believe she could use some help.”
“I think I twisted my ankle,” Lil moaned as men swarmed around her like she was some terrorist threat. Lil sat up and held up her hands. “Hello,” she said politely as she was pulled to her feet.
The men searched her, and once they realized she was unarmed, they were much more willing to listen to her. Lil was a little skittish at this point, so Pauline did most of the talking and explained how she had been arrested by Nairobi officers but fled when they realized they were not going to conduct a proper investigation. The kind Kenyan man who had greeted Pauline at the door escorted both of them inside and immediately set Lil up with an American consular officer. Pauline smiled. “You are just too sweet,” Pauline said to the nice Kenyan man. “Who are you? I don’t think I caught your name?”
“Jomo Kenyatta,” he said, smiling. “I’m very disappointed to hear how some of Nairobi’s officers have treated this case. I’m going to call the station personally to make sure that this does not happen again.” The man shook Pauline’s hand and then headed deeper into the building to make a phone call.
“Jomo Kenyatta,” Pauline said, grinning. “What a nice man.” She then turned to Lil, who was still seated on a nice, leather bench out in the hall next to her consular officer. She was looking a lot less stressed than when they had first left the manor. “Looks like you’re all set up.”
“Yes,” the consular said. “From what your friend is telling me, we could possibly get this case dismissed. She won’t be in Nairobi long if I have anything to say about it.”
Lil smiled from where she sat. “Thank you so much, Pauline, for getting me here.”
Pauline nodded. “Of course, dear.”
The American man who had first greeted Pauline arrived back in the hall. “Ma’am, Mr. Kenyatta has called for a taxi to take you back to the manor. He’s already paid the gentleman.”
“My goodness!” Pauline said, smiling. “What a kind person that Jomo boy is.”
The consular laughed. “You know who he is, don’t you?”
“Yes, he told me his name was Jomo Kenyatta,” Pauline said. “Such a nice young man.”
The consular smiled. “Yes, he is. But, so you know, Jomo is the Kenyan president’s son.”
“Oh my goodness!” Pauline shrieked excitedly. Lil laughed.
“Yes, you tend to meet some interesting people at the embassy,” the American man said. “I’ll walk you back out, Miss Pauline.”
Pauline said her farewell to Lil, wishing her luck on her way out. There was indeed a taxi waiting for her outside. “Do tell Mr. Kenyatta I said thank you!” Pauline said to the American man. He nodded as Pauline loaded up. She instructed the driver to take her back to where she had left the manor’s stolen jeep, figuring it was probably best she returned that to their kind hosts.
She said farewell to the driver, loaded up into the jeep, and headed back to the manor. When she pulled up to the manor around noon, lunch was being served out on the patio while the abundant number of officers watched her pull up. “Where have you been!” one of the newer officers shouted.
Pauline frowned. “I’m sorry. What do you mean?”
“We’ve been looking for you and your friend!” the officer shouted.
Dot started barking, and Kendell scurried over to the jeep. Jina was close behind her. She smiled at the officer. “Sir, Miss Pauline, I believe, is just a little confused,” Jina said, covering for them.
“Oh, did I wander off again?” Pauline asked, then smiled at the officer. “I forget where I’m at sometimes. It’s this old mind of mine.”
The officer grunted. “Where is the suspect?” he demanded.
“She is with Jomo Kenyatta,” Pauline said.
“Crazy old bat!” the officer snarled and then walked off, shouting in Swahili at his fellow officers.
“Who’s Jomo Kenyatta?” Kendell asked.
Pauline smiled. “A nice young man I met at the US Embassy. He’s making sure that your friend Lil is well taken care of.”
“So, you made it to the Embassy!” Kendell said happily. “I’m so relieved.”
“Believe me,” Pauline said. “So was Miss Lillian.”
9
Kendell was so glad to see Pauline again. Being in a foreign country on her own made her a bit nervous, and there was just something about having someone more experienced around. Pauline, albeit a little senile at times, had a way about her that just made Kendell feel more relaxed. The two of them sat down to lunch with the rest of the Giraffe Manor patrons. Everyone was on edge now after having had their rooms searched by the local officers. Now that Pauline had come out of hiding, Kendell was sure that they would search their room again. They suspected that Pauline had helped Lillian get off the manor’s property, but she had done such an excellent job of playing the part of the confused old lady that it left the men discombobulated about the whole ordeal.
Jahi and his family walked around the table, dropping off a homemade dessert for everyone to enjoy, and again reminding everyone that the giraffe-friendly dishes were in the blue bowls if they wanted to share. Some of the younger giraffes were making their way over even as he said it. Kendell and Pauline remained quiet, not wanting to say anything about Pauline’s adventure to the embassy just yet since everyone was acting strangely. Kendell was certain the quiet, discontent behavior was mostly because they were being detained until Lil was found. No one was speaking with them since they had been the ones to arrive at the manor with the accused. It was like everyone at the table was angry with them for ruining their vacation plans.
The Duffeys were whispering to one another at the end of the table. Mrs. Duffey had her nose turned up and kept rolling her eyes. Kendell listened carefully. Her French was incredibly rusty. She picked up that they were talking about African animals, recognizing the word elephant at one point as well as what she believed to be the word for rhino. Kendell nudged Pauli
ne, who was sitting happily as she snacked on the pie and acted like nothing was wrong. “Yes, dear?” Pauline asked.
“What animal was it that Zachariah was talking about hunting while he was in Africa?” Kendell whispered.
“A rhino, I believe,” Pauline said.
Kendell nibbled on her slice of pie, trying to act like she wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. They’re definitely talking about Zachariah, Kendell thought. Mr. Duffey and Mrs. Duffey seemed to be arguing about something. Then, one phrase stood out to her. Mrs. Duffey spoke plainly and a bit loudly, probably forgetting that someone at the table other than her family spoke French. “Je suis content qu ‘il soit mort,” she said in an annoyed tone.
“Oh, really?” Kendell smirked, turning her head to look straight at the woman. Mrs. Duffey’s face turned red, probably now recalling how Kendell had spoken a bit of French during their first meeting. “You’re glad that Zachariah is dead? Why?”
“That’s not what she said!” Mr. Duffey yelped.
“That’s exactly what she said,” Kendell countered.
“It’s not like it sounds,” he said, changing his direction entirely.
Mr. Ashley put down the blue plate he had been holding up for one of the young giraffes. He turned his chair slightly and looked back at the Duffeys. “She said she’s glad Zachariah is dead? Why don’t you explain that?”
Mr. Duffey practically snarled his response. “She was just very upset about the way he had been talking during the safari. About hunting the rhino.”
“Yes, that was a bit troubling,” Mrs. Ashley said, crossing her arms. She then glared at Mr. Duffey. “And she was very upset about that, wasn’t she? I bet you were too. You are the animal rights activist, right? Would you be so angry about Zachariah’s plans for illegal poaching that you’d kill him?”
Mr. Duffey didn’t miss a beat. He rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and slumped in his chair. “Shows how much you all know. You don’t get how this works, do you?” he asked. “I was fine with Zachariah hunting a rhino because he was going through a legitimate hunting company to do so. My company. Now that he’s dead, I’m out nearly two hundred thousand dollars!”
Kendell raised a brow. “I’m sorry, a hunting company?” she questioned. “I thought you were some animal rights activist?”
“I am!” he snapped. “It’s complicated… Well, not really. Here’s how it works. I run a wildlife sanctuary. We have rhinos, elephants, zebras, lions, all sorts of animals. We’ve helped rescue and rehabilitate dozens of animals this year alone. One of the ways we fund our sanctuary is through legitimate, legal trophy hunting. Old males who can no longer mate, or young animals who can’t be saved due to various complications, or even animals who pose a threat to other animals in the sanctuary because of territorial attitudes, we let people hunt them. We charge hundreds of thousands of dollars for creeps like Zachariah who get off on it. That money goes toward wildlife rescue efforts. Zachariah was a creep who wanted to shoot himself an animal to make him feel like a big man, I’ll give you that, but that bigshot attitude makes the sanctuary the money it needs to feed and aid the animals we rescue.”
Well, that information certainly blew Kendell’s mind. “So…by killing animals…you save other animals?” Kendell asked slowly.
“It helps stimulate the economy here in Nairobi too,” Landon said, coming to Duffey’s defense. “By allowing trophy hunting in sanctuaries, it provides more jobs for locals. Someone has to be out there monitoring the hunters and taking care of the animals. You see this sort of thing all over Africa. It’s one of the few successful attempts at actually saving endangered animals. Let a few guys shoot five or six animals that were going to be put down anyway for one reason or another, and you save twice that many and provide additional jobs for people in the community. Didn’t realize you ran one of those operations, Mr. Duffey. A cousin of mine lives out in Nigeria, and he works at a wildlife sanctuary that does something similar.”
“That’s so…weird!” Mrs. Ashley exclaimed and looked at her husband. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
“No, and I don’t buy it,” Mr. Ashley said, glaring down the table at Mr. Duffey.
“Of course you don’t, you stupid American,” Duffey said. “Americans think they can fix problems by picketing in the streets and making laws as though people will actually follow them. Poaching by locals is the real problem, Mr. Ashley. They mass murder elephants to sell tusks to people who believe they have healing qualities. But you Americans are only concerned about image. You cry animal rights and picket in the streets when you hear of one of your own killing a lion or whatever creature you love so much to keep in a cage at a zoo. But real change happens when money is thrown at the problem. We let people like Zachariah do their hunting so long as they pay, and I have enough money to feed an entire herd for months. So, no, I did not kill Zachariah. Why would I if he was going to write my company a check for two hundred thousand dollars so that he can chase around a rhino that killed another endangered rhino last week because he got antsy? We were going to put him down anyway, got it?”
Kendell crossed her arms. She wasn’t sure if she was buying this just yet. She spoke up and nodded toward Mrs. Duffey. “If Zachariah was going to be making you so much money, why is she so uptight about it?”
“Because she’s like one of you stupid Americans,” Mr. Duffey said. “Wants us to find a solution that keeps people like Zachariah from killing rhinos. But, like I’ve explained to her a thousand times, one dead rhino equals twenty living ones. That’s how this system works, and until we find something better, this is how the people of Nairobi and other organizations will continue to handle it. Kids, let’s go to our room. I’m done discussing this with these people.” Mr. Duffey stood abruptly, and his wife and two children followed after him.
Kendell and Pauline decided to return to their suite as well so they could have some privacy to talk. While Kendell pulled up information on trophy hunting on her phone, Pauline gave her the rundown on her and Lil’s adventure through the city. She told her about how they had woken up with a lioness sleeping on the hood of their jeep, and Kendell nearly had a heart attack at the thought. She imagined that Lil was going to have words for her next time they saw one another—probably something about introducing her to a crazy southern white lady. Kendell smiled when Pauline told her all about the native village they had visited, and Kendell was sorry that she had missed it. And, finally, Pauline told Kendell how they snuck past police into the US Embassy.
“It was just wonderful,” Pauline said. “And your friend Lil is quite a trooper. Thankfully, she has an American consular officer to help her now. She will be stuck in Nairobi for a few days at least dealing with legalities. But she probably won’t see any jail time. The consular officer thinks that with the right lawyer, they could get the whole thing dismissed.”
“Thank goodness,” Kendell said. “But they’re still going to need to narrow down a suspect.”
“Have you found anything about this so-called legal trophy hunting operation?” Pauline asked.
“A little bit,” Kendell said. “And what Duffey said checks out. That really is a legitimate way that some wildlife organizations run things. One or two dead animals a year can fund the entire organization, depending on how large they are. So, it’s definitely possible that Duffey’s company participates in this. I’ve just never heard of such a strange way of operating. I guess I see why he and his wife would argue about it. Talking about killing animals for sport, especially endangered animals, is bound to strike someone’s nerves.”
“Enough to kill Zachariah?” Pauline asked.
“Maybe,” Kendell said, thinking about Mrs. Duffey. “I just find it hard to believe that someone as little as Mrs. Duffey could take on Zachariah, even if she got him by surprise. I think something else is going on here. If Zachariah was really using Duffey’s company, then… Wait… Zachariah said he had paperwork, remember?”
Pauline smiled, and so
on the two of them were sneaking into Zachariah’s room. They were very cautious to put everything back into place, but sure enough, there was paperwork regarding his trophy hunting permits inside his briefcase. Kendell skimmed through them, and eventually located the name of the wildlife preserve that had issued the permit allowing him to shoot and kill a specific rhino. “Mr. Duffey’s story checks out,” Kendell said after looking up the name of his sanctuary online. “Zachariah really was paying him so that he could shoot a rhino on Duffey’s sanctuary. There is no way Duffey killed him if he was going to be making that kind of money off him. And, I really don’t think Mrs. Duffey could have physically hurt Zachariah like that.”
“So that leaves the photographers, the Ashleys, and the manor’s owners,” Pauline said. “But I don’t really have any idea what sort of motivation any of them could possibly have for killing Zachariah.”
“The Ashleys did get into a confrontation with Zachariah, and they were competing for a company here in Nairobi,” Kendell said. “That’s definitely motivation. And they were former partners who split on not-so-very-nice terms. And the Ashleys lied, telling me that the confrontation at the train museum was the first time they had met him. So, they’re lying, and they have the motive.”
“You think you found your perp?” Pauline asked.
“Maybe,” Kendell said. “But we need to find out for sure.”
10
Kendell headed outside after putting everything in Zachariah’s room back into place. Pauline, stuffed from overeating at lunch, headed back to the suite to rest with Dot. Once Kendell made it outside, she saw that there were some new officers. One of them was out of uniform, but he had his badge and gun on his hip. The man was dressed in a clean button-up and trousers; he was clean shaven, and just something about him told Kendell that he was in charge and would be conducting himself professionally. She approached him, crossing her fingers that he spoke English.