by Marie Moore
I turned to find Brooke Shyler, my one truly glamorous friend and sometime-client from New York. Brooke is in her late seventies or early eighties, though no one knows for sure. She doesn’t look it and certainly isn’t sharing that information. Brooke lives in an East Side penthouse, has heaps of money, and knows everyone interesting in the City. She is slender and always beautifully dressed, and her hair is even redder than Jay’s.
“Brooke! How wonderful to see you. This is amazing. What on earth are you doing here? Jay and I are here on a fam trip for the agency, checking out a new tour. But what about you? What brings you to Cape Town?”
“Well, you know, darling, it’s really cold and dreary in New York right now, and it’s all warm and lovely here. So I decided to slip on over for a few weeks to soak up some sun. After I leave Cape Town on the twentieth, I’ll be cruising with friends to the Seychelles and on to India. I’ll be on a very special Empress Lines ship, Sidney, The Rapture of the Deep. Remember that ship? I wonder who the captain might be this time.”
Her beautiful blue eyes sparkled. She loves to tease me about a certain ship’s captain. That last cruise hadn’t been all bad, for it had resulted in quite a passionate relationship with one Captain Stephanos Vargos.
“I don’t know, Brooke. I haven’t heard from any ship captains lately. I don’t know what assignments he’s drawn. Things were a little rocky between us the last time he was in New York.”
“Really? Let me guess. He’s ready to take you to Athens for good and you are not ready to commit.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, the captain of this particular cruise could turn out to be short, fat, and ugly, I suppose, but if he is a tall, handsome Greek, I’ll be sure that he knows you are in the neighborhood, darling. The ship will dock here on the nineteenth.”
She smiled, but her eyes were serious.
“I wouldn’t let that one slip through my fingers, Sidney. Men like that don’t come around very often. Now come and meet my friends.”
Brooke has many, many friends all over the world, and they range from movie stars and tycoons to ordinary people like me. As I said, she is an amazing woman.
* * *
I had such a good time with Brooke and her pals that I lost track of time … and of Jay. When I realized how late it was, I said my goodbyes and started looking for him.
I didn’t see him in the bar, or on the terrace, but someone said he might be in the garden, so I went down the steps into the fragrant, moonlit night to find him. The enormous ivory globe of the African moon rose over the trees and flooded the path with light. That moon made the discreet pathway lights, thoughtfully placed by the garden’s designers, almost unnecessary. The moon was as yet only half full, but it shone brightly. I could only imagine how beautiful it would be in the nights to come.
I looked down one empty path, and then another, and saw three men beneath the trees at the far end with their backs turned, deep in conversation.
It was too dark to tell at a distance if one of them was Jay or not, but one guy was about Jay’s height and the white pants he wore stood out against the dark shrubbery. The other men were short and stocky, like George, wearing dark clothing. One of the short men left the group, striding away out of sight, into the trees. I started down the path toward the two who remained, smiling and waving, thinking that it had to be Jay. No one else in the bar had been dressed like Clark Gable in the John Ford classic, Mogambo.
From the looks of it, the two men seemed to be having an argument, though they were speaking in low tones and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I was just a few feet away when they stopped talking and turned to stare at me.
Pretty embarrassing.
It was not Jay. I had never seen either of them before. The great-looking man in the white pants was Jay’s height, with shoulders just as broad. His hair was dark instead of red and much longer, brushing the collar of his dark coat. His strong jaw, unlike Jay’s, was clean-shaven. Even in the darkness, I could see that his handsome face was contorted in rage. His companion was a short, sturdy black man, with powerful shoulders and a grim expression. He wore an expensive dark suit and a large diamond ring.
Their reaction to my arrival was odd. Each man just stared, then turned abruptly and walked quickly away from me and from each other, in opposite directions, without another word.
I just stood there in the moonlight. Jay was nowhere in sight.
I shivered. I was alone in the lush, tropical garden. There were no sounds except for the faint melody of a piano coming from the hotel and the crunch of gravel receding as the two men retreated.
The moon drifted behind some clouds, making the night even darker, and the deep shadows of the overhanging trees suddenly made me feel very lonely indeed.
I hurried back toward the hotel, getting pebbles in my sandals, but I definitely wasn’t stopping in the deserted garden to empty them.
In my haste, I tripped over something, a broken tree limb, maybe, and went sprawling. I didn’t investigate. I jumped up, brushed myself off, and jogged off as fast as I could go toward light and people. My dress was okay and I wasn’t hurt, just shaken.
As I neared the hotel, I was glad to see George, leaning on a railing, smoking a cigar.
“Hello, Sidney. Isn’t this a great hotel? Don’t you wish you could just check in here for a year or two and paint or something?”
“Yes, I do,” I laughed, “but my budget won’t allow one night, much less a couple of years. What are you doing here, George? I thought you were going to a disco.”
“Changed my mind when I heard you and Jay had headed here. Thought I might as well have a look. I’m glad I did. This place is impressive.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Where’s Jay? Why isn’t he with you? Were you out in the garden all by yourself?”
I wasn’t about to tell George about my embarrassing encounter with two strange men in the garden.
“Yes,” I said, trying to quell the faint tremor in my voice. “I just strolled out from the bar for a moment to get some fresh air.” I thought back to the men in the shadows of the deserted garden. I couldn’t quite shake the notion that I had seen something clandestine. Maybe it was that look of rage in the face of the handsome man ...
“It’s really beautiful, isn’t it? See anyone you know in the garden? Did you take any pictures?”
I shrugged and held up my hands to show that they were empty. “No, and I didn’t bring my camera with me tonight. Travelling light. I’m not sure how well pictures would turn out, in any case. Low light, you know.”
“Yeah, depends on how good the camera is, I guess. Where’s Jay? Did he go in the garden?”
“I think Jay’s inside. It’s getting late.” I started walking toward the hotel. “I better find him, grab a cab, and head back to the Waterfront. Want to share a ride?”
“No, thanks. I haven’t been here long. I think I’ll stay awhile. Good night, Sidney.”
He turned back, facing the steps, puffing on the cigar.
“Good night, then, George,” I called, “See you in the morning.”
I had just stepped into the bar when I saw Jay, the real Jay this time. There was no mistaking that red hair in the lights of the bar. In the dark, all colors just wash out.
“Jay! I’m so glad to find you. I’ve been looking all over the place. I almost grabbed a perfect stranger out there in the bushes because I thought it was you. Then I ran into George, who asked about a million questions about it. He has so much curiosity, maybe even more than I have.”
Jay smiled down at me. “No one has more than you, Sidney.”
I sat down on a chair to fish the pebbles out of my shoes, shaking my head at how many I had managed to accumulate. “I walked all over that garden looking for you, Jay. I did a little dance, too, when I tripped over something on the path. I almost fell on my face.”
“Well, I’ve been looking for you, too, babe, because that plane ride fro
m hell is beginning to catch up with me. I hate to admit it, sweetie, but Big Jay is tired.” He stifled a yawn. “What do you think? Have you had enough fun? You look like you have.” He brushed a stray lock of hair back from my face. “Were you dancing? Your crowning glory is a mess.”
“I told you I tripped over something and fell in the garden,” I said. I pulled the remaining pins out of my hair and shook it out, letting it fall loose onto my shoulders.
“You okay, Sid?” He stared at me. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, but I am also ready to go back to the Commodore. You’re so right. It’s late, and we have to be at David’s breakfast seminar in a few hours.”
We walked down the steps and climbed into a waiting cab.
“Did you see Brooke?” I asked Jay, as we rolled away into the fragrant night. “How funny to run into her here, halfway around the world.”
“Yes, I did,” he said, leaning back on the lumpy old car seat, his eyes half-closed. “She told me how she just decided to pop over and grab some sun. Now wouldn’t that be nice? Don’t you wish you could do that? Just go wherever you want, whenever you want? I think she should adopt me, Sidney. You can adopt adults, you know. Then I would never have to work again and I could live like that all the time. Why don’t you speak to her about that idea, Sid, the next time you see her? Tell her she should adopt me. It’s the least you could do for me, after all I’ve done for you.”
I laughed. “Great idea, Jay. I’ll get right on that.”
Honestly. I couldn’t believe the way Jay’s mind worked. And the thing is, he was only half-kidding. He would let Brooke adopt him in a heartbeat and never look back.
I know Jay. He is my best friend. I know him well.
Chapter 4
The next morning, over scrambled eggs, toast and marmalade, we met with our tour leader, David, and the rest of the group.
David was dressed in a white linen suit that looked as if he might just have a panama hat around somewhere to go with it. I’m sure Jay approved, and was more than a little envious. David brought a bundle of local newspapers, which he handed to George to pass around. George looked as if he had had an extremely late night. He must have stayed at the bar long after we left.
David tapped on the little podium with a pointer. “Ladies and gentlemen! Today we will be embarking on a splendid adventure, which promises rare excitement to all of our thousands of international visitors, but particularly to those of you right here in this room.”
Along with lots of extra emphasis, David rolled the Rs on “rare” and “right” and “room.”
“South Africa is a captivating land of amazing beauty with an astonishing variety of flora and fauna.”
He tapped on the table with the pointer and then tucked it under his arm like a swagger stick.
“Now please direct your attention to the first of the brochures in the information packets I have prepared for you. We begin our adventure this morning with ...”
Jay passed me a note during the introductory speech:
Bleh. David claims to have a missus somewhere, but he is gayer than I am, and he is not English, either. That accent is faker than my Rolex. He is probably from Jersey.
I had my own doubts about David’s British authenticity, but I didn’t care in the least. The itinerary he was describing sounded great, phony accent or no phony accent. I looked over the printed itinerary as he filled in the details.
The day’s plan called for us to have a short presentation on Cape Town and South Africa, followed by a city tour, lunch included, and an afternoon boat ride to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for so many years. Then we would be driven back to the V&A Waterfront for dinner at a lovely Belgian restaurant called Den Anker.
On the next day’s schedule was a tour to Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope, then lunch with an afternoon tour of Simon’s Town and Kirstenboch Gardens. The following morning we were scheduled for an early flight to a tiny airport at Hoedspruit, near our private game reserve on the edge of Kruger National Park. Drivers from our safari lodge would pick us up in Land Rovers at the little airport and drive us into the game reserve.
“After four days of drrrrrinking in the magnificent flora and fauna of the camp, some of you will return to Johannesburg and then onwards home. Others will have a tour extension, allowing additional time back here in Cape Town to see other sights and discuss business arrangements and future bookings.”
Jay and I were booked for the extension. After the safari, we were scheduled to remain in Cape Town for a few days to meet with hotel people and other travel vendors. In those meetings we would finalize the specific venues and arrangements for the custom tour our agency was promoting.
We heard a lot of housekeeping details about the next day’s departure, received thick packets of handouts and brochures, and viewed a video of different properties offered by David’s company. Finally David dismissed us for a short break before the City Tour.
I stretched. “I’m going up to my room to dump all of this junk and get my camera, Jay. Need anything?”
“No, thanks,” he said, stuffing a newspaper in his man-bag. “I’m going to get some more rand out of the ATM and grab some water. I’ll meet you at the van.”
* * *
The housekeeper’s cart was at the door of my room as I came down the hall, and the door was partially open. I could hear someone rumbling around in the bathroom, apparently cleaning. I didn’t linger, just dropped all the stuff on the desk, grabbed my camera, and headed back to the elevator.
I almost bumped into George, who was making a few selections from the maid’s unattended cart.
“Ha! Caught you, George. Bet you didn’t think anyone would see you pilfering.”
He stiffened in self-righteous indignation. “I am not pilfering. This stuff is for the guests and I am a guest. Want some of this bath gel?”
“No, thanks,” I laughed. “There’s plenty in my room.”
I caught the elevator back down, joined by George, whose pockets were bulging with maid-cart booty.
I saw only strangers in the lobby, so I walked straight through and out the front door to the parking area where the tour vans were waiting. George followed. Heading toward my assigned van, I jammed my key card into the back pocket of my shorts. Those shorts were beginning to get a little too tight ... too much great food already on this trip. Unfortunately they were all I had, and the day was predicted to be hot. I could feel the glances at my rear end, even from George. I ignored the suggestive comments I overheard from the bell stand.
It might seem strange that I did not carry a purse, but I gave up purses on trips some time ago. Huge purses look great, but they are also a huge pain. They just weigh you down and make you a target in sketchy situations. Also, people like Jay constantly give you stuff to carry for them.
“Here,” he’ll say, handing me some trophy he’s snagged, “Just stick this in your purse.” Eventually my bag would be overflowing with junk he didn’t remember handing to me in the first place.
It didn’t take me long to lose the purse habit and develop a new method. That was quite a change for me because girls in my hometown are born with purses in their hands. Southern women go all the way to their graves clutching handbags. Now, after years of lugging junk around, I am free. My serious money and stuff like passports and credit cards go in a neck purse under my shirt or in the room safe. My little walking around money goes in my pockets. That way, my hands are free and I’m less of a target for theft.
Outside in the bright morning sunlight of the hotel entrance, cars and trucks constantly arrived and departed. Motorcycles whizzed by, and people and luggage moved in and out in a sort of controlled confusion. We headed toward a line of vans from David’s tour company waiting at the hotel entrance. Our group was already loading. I found my van and waved bye to George, who was assigned to a different one.
Jay was seated in front, next to the driver’s seat, reading one of the local new
spapers that David had distributed.
I climbed into the second row next to two sisters, Gwendolyn and Matilda, who were travel agents from a British agency in the Midlands and could almost have passed for twins. Both of them were middle-aged, round, and cheery, and had straight, short, blond-going-gray hairstyles, sturdy shoes, fanny packs, and blue eyes. They chattered nonstop to anyone who would listen, finishing each other’s sentences.
“Why, hello, Sidney, it’s so nice to meet you, please call me Wendy—”
“And I’m Tilda. We’re from—”
“Birmingham. And you are from New—”
“York? We went there last year for the first time—”
“And we just loved it, didn’t we, Tilda?”
“My yes, Wendy, and everything had such—”
“Energy! That’s what we both noticed, wasn’t it, darling?”
Giggling in agreement, the sisters beamed at me, blond heads bobbing.
“Check this out,” Jay said, handing me the front page of the newspaper, folded in half.
“ ‘Body Found in Garden of Landmark Hotel,’ ” I read.
“They found a dead guy right after we left last night,” he murmured, “and after that, no one was allowed to enter or leave while they investigated. We were lucky to get out when we did, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, scanning the story.
“Oh, my goodness, Tilly, look at this!”
One of the sisters was leaning over me, reading the headline.
I was finished with the story so I handed the paper over to her. Its contents launched them into a frenzy of speculation.
I didn’t hear a word. I was thinking back over the evening and my brief venture into that garden, wondering if I should call someone and describe the men I saw. “Jay—”
“Forget it, Sidney. I know what you are thinking, but you didn’t really see anything. You just saw some guys talking. They could just as easily describe seeing you. Don’t get involved. Don’t call anyone. It could totally screw up our trip. Fugetaboudit, sweetie, unless you think that limb you tripped over was really a foot.”