2 Game Drive

by Marie Moore

  Jay went on, “I don’t take anywhere near as many photos as Wendy, but I like to take random shots with my camera, too. So I was checking back through mine this morning to see if I might have caught anything unusual.”

  Confession time. “Jay, I know of at least one guy who would like to have her pictures erased.”

  He stopped pacing . “Who?”

  “Well, I don’t know his name, but ...” And I told him about seeing the man from the Nellie garden walking in the dry riverbed. I told him about Wendy taking the man’s picture, and what his reaction had been.

  “There,” he said, with a told-you-so expression. “You see? That’s just what I mean. There may be a perfectly legitimate reason why the guy didn’t like being photographed. Maybe he was having a bad hair day. Maybe he thinks photos steal his soul. Or maybe there’s a real reason why he can’t afford to be identified.”

  I leaned back, massaging my temples with my fingers. My headache was returning with all this. “Did you find anything in your camera memory?”

  “No. But I’m not really sure what I’m looking for. Maybe you should click back through it to see if you can spot that guy you saw. I’ve never seen him, remember?

  He took the camera from around his neck and handed it to me. “Another, thing, Sid,” he said, sitting down beside me, “thinking about this today led me to consider what you said last night about this place and our host’s income stream. Then I thought about Dennis, and again about the camera and the monkeys. That’s when I decided that something funny might be going on, something strange. Maybe I’m being overly suspicious. Maybe it’s nothing, just a feeling. But I think we need to keep our heads up from now on, babe, and discuss anything odd that we notice. Not with the others. Just us. There’s no need to freak out about it. Don’t mention it, don’t talk it up. Just be observant and careful until this tour is over. That’s all I’m saying.”

  I watched his eyes, usually so merry and now so somber and serious that it ramped up my own uneasiness. “I have to tell you, it freaks me out to hear you say that, Jay. I’m usually the suspicious one, not you. If you’re worried, it’s huge.”

  Jay ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up all over. Another bad sign. He does that when he’s upset. “I wouldn’t call it worried, exactly,” he said. “More like cautious. I’m just saying, Sidney, don’t let all this funny stuff or what I think spoil your trip. Just keep your eyes and ears open. That’s all. And, more importantly, your mouth shut. This whole safari operation may be a big fake. This place could be an elaborate front for something else, at the very least, a money-laundering scheme.”

  “Jay, do you know something you’re not telling me? Don’t keep secrets.”

  He squeezed my hand. “No, babe. No secrets. At this point it’s just a feeling I have. I have absolutely no hard evidence and I’m not sure I want to find any. Not my job. Not our job. We’re only here for a few more days; then it’s out of the bush and back to Cape Town and civilization.”

  “True,” I said. “But don’t you think we need to alert Silverstein to check this deal out further before we go bringing any High Steppers in here? Remember what he said, ‘No slipups.’ And the part about holding us personally responsible? I’m pretty sure that if we end up with another mess on our hands, we’ll be out of a job.”

  Jay ran his hands through his hair again before he answered. It looked as if it had been electrified. I knew he was thinking about how dire his financial situation would be if he was unemployed. “You bet we should,” he said. “We should absolutely tell Silverstein, and time is short. He’ll be signing a contract and printing brochures soon, if he hasn’t already. We need to get the word to him if we can, as soon as we can, though that may not be possible until we return to Cape Town. We’ll tell him to take a long look before he signs anything with these people. He doesn’t have to cancel his safari plans. There are lots of other good lodges he can use. I just think it might be better if he steers clear of this one.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think we’ll be able to call New York for a few days, Jay. It will be tough to connect with Silverstein from here. We’re ‘isolated from the cares of the world,’ remember?”

  “Yeah, but not really. We can’t be. Van der Brugge doesn’t seem to have any problems communicating. You might have to sneak back into his house and make a phone call.”

  “What?”

  He raised his hands in protest. “Just kidding, just kidding. Don’t have a hissy. I’ll figure something out. There’s the breakfast bell. Let’s go. Lock that door up tight, babe, and check it. We don’t want any monkeys in here.”

  * * *

  When we started down the steps, I saw that the path outside Hut No. 1 had been neatly swept with a twig broom, as it was every morning. Even so, fresh animal tracks had already marked the sandy soil.

  A pair of Thompson’s gazelles watched us from the small meadow as we reached the main path. They broke into a run, leaping as they disappeared into the brush.

  “Buon giorno,” Fernando said, stepping out of his hut as we passed. “It is a beautiful morning, eh? I am hungry for my breakfast. I think sleeping in fresh air causes such hunger. I must stop eating like this or I will get very, very fat, like an opera singer.”

  Admiring his spare, muscular frame, outlined through his tight T-shirt, I thought there was little chance of that. My cousin Earline would say his body was “mighty fine.” And Earline, I thought, would be correct.

  He joined us on the path as we marched on toward breakfast.

  A sudden movement caught my eye. I looked back toward Fernando’s hut just in time to see Winsome slip away from his door, carrying her twig broom. She looked a bit furtive and disheveled as she disappeared into the thicket behind the hut.

  I wondered what she was doing, and where she had spent the night.

  George joined us from the path his hut shared with Fernando’s. We all continued on in that fresh morning air, looking forward to the good meal that awaited us in the huge thatched lodge.

  We were not disappointed. The breakfast was lavish, beginning with ripe mango, melon, and pineapple, followed by omelets, crepes, and big baskets of muffins and toast.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” David trilled, tapping on his glass with a spoon. “I hope you weren’t too disappointed with the cancellation of our morning game drive, because we have a marvelous treat in store for us today. Mr. van der Brugge himself will be here soon to announce it. Enjoy your breakfast, my dears. I shall not spoil the surprise, not even with the tiniest hint, but I can assure you that we may all look forward to his announcement with great anticipation.”

  “What do y’all think it is?” asked Connie, buttering another scone. “I hope it’s something different. I’m getting tired of all these animals. I mean, they were awesome at first, but I’m ready to move on.”

  “Me, too,” said Chase. “I’m ready for something new.”

  Rick looked at Chase like he wanted to smack him. “Chase,” he said, “the only animals you’ve even glimpsed on this entire trip are the ones at the waterhole by the swimming pool. You haven’t been out on either of the game drives so far. Before we signed up you promised you would go on at least one.”

  Chase shrugged. “Well, I was going to go on that one today, Rich, but they called it off. That’s not my fault, obviously. I was all ready.”

  Chase must have been telling the truth, for the magnificent and expensive safari clothes he was wearing put Jay’s in the shade. Sadly, that fact was not lost on Jay.

  “I think this whole operation is a big waste,” Mabel screeched from the next table. “Useless. I don’t believe in squandering valuable time like this, lolling around a pool with no purpose. I believe in action. True ecotourism. There’s work that should be done here. Problems that need to be ferreted out and corrected. My people would never come to a place like this. Never.”

  “Thank God for that,” Jay muttered. “I expect the Leopard Dance fo
lks will be relieved to hear that.”

  “Yeah,” said Connie. “I mean, why did she want to come on this fam with all of us in the first place? This whole deal was described in the brochure and on the website. Honestly. Is she really a travel agent? I wish I’d brought my mink along on the trip to show her. That would really send her over the edge.”

  “Your mink? A real fur coat? Do you really have a fur coat?” Chase asked.

  “You bet your sweet ass, I do,” she said, sitting a little straighter. “Full-length. My first husband bought it for me after I caught him in the backseat of his Cadillac with a cocktail waitress. I didn’t stay married to him long after that, just long enough to get the mink and stock up on the latest makeup. Then it was bye-bye, Bubba.”

  “You said your first husband,” Rich said. “How many husbands have you had?”

  “Three,” Fernando said.

  “None of them were worth a damn,” said Connie. “I told y’all I’m on the lookout for a new one. Maybe I’ll get lucky this time.”

  She gave Fernando a smoldering look and a wink and stuck out her chest. Everyone laughed.

  * * *

  “May I have your attention, please?”

  Henrik van der Brugge had entered the room and stood in front of the fire pit, clapping his hands for attention. He looked as handsome as ever and none the worse for wear after the violent nocturnal arrival of his bride, or ex-bride, whichever she was.

  I wondered what had become of her. Since he was standing before us, he had clearly not been a passenger in the little airplane I had heard leaving in the night. Her car was certainly not drivable, so maybe she had left in the plane. I hoped she had. I didn’t want any more quality time with that nutty woman.

  Van der Brugge’s eyes took in the whole room as he began to speak, although he never looked directly at me.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It is a beautiful morning here at Leopard Dance, yes? Today, I have a surprise for you. Unfortunately, Willem tells me that we must shut off the water here in camp after breakfast for about twelve hours, for some routine maintenance to the pumps. So, I am announcing a change in plans, a slight departure from our normal routine. It is my gift to you, a special treat.”

  Tilda and Wendy clapped and started whispering and giggling to each other, speculating on what the surprise might be.

  Van der Brugge paused until they settled down.

  “Please, continue to enjoy your breakfast,” he smiled. “Take your time, and when you have finished, I would ask that you return to your rooms. There, on your beds, you will find a small cloth bag. In it, you may pack whatever you need for one night and bring it along with you to the reception pavilion by ten o’clock. Only that bag, the bag I have provided, please. Nothing else. At ten, you will board the usual vehicles. You will not be returning to the lodge until tomorrow morning. We are going camping.”

  Hands shot up with questions. Wendy and Tilda, Mabel, Chase, and Rose each wanted to ask something; everyone was excited and curious. But van der Brugge just smiled even more and headed for the door, saying over his shoulder, “Our destination is a surprise. Please be prompt. We leave at ten.”

  After his exit, we bombarded David with questions, but he claimed to know nothing about the plans, not even our destination.

  “I say, this is thrilling, what? A splendid surprise for me, too. Mr. van der Brugge called me aside just before the breakfast bell and told me he had something special in store for us. Quite exciting, isn’t it? No, I don’t know where we are going. He didn’t say. That is all part of the excitement, not knowing where one is going. Now hurry along, my dears, and pack your things. Remember now, only the little bags on your beds. Nothing else will be allowed.”

  Chapter 21

  Choosing what to pack for the overnight was tough for Jay. Not much fit into the small, native-print cotton tote bag he found on his bed. Sleepwear, a change of underwear, a fresh shirt, and basic toiletries quickly filled it. He’s a big guy, and his clothes are big, too. Everything Jay owns—clothing and personal care items—takes up more room than mine. Plus, I don’t plan my clothes in ensembles.

  “I could sleep commando and have room for my D&G slacks, Sidney. Would that be okay with you?”

  “No. It would not. You don’t need fresh pants tomorrow, Jay. We’ll only be gone for one night. Just take a clean shirt and underwear and wear the same pants you have on now tomorrow. That’s what I’m doing.”

  His face fell. “Then it won’t match. I had my outfits all worked out. This is going to goof it all up.”

  I extended my hand. “Give me the pants, Jay. I have a little room left in my bag. I think I can cram them in with my stuff.”

  After all these years of traveling, I can totally pack a bag for a trip. I plan my outfits with the itinerary, laying them all out on the bed, taking the weather predictions into consideration. I pack my bag in layers, placing my underwear, sleepwear and swimsuits in zip-top plastic bags on the bottom. I put shoes and belts around the edges, roll up everything else, and jam it in as tight as I can. Folded jackets, dresses, and dressy pants go on top.

  A tight bag, with clothes carefully folded or rolled, prevents wrinkles. That seems crazy, but it’s true. When things are loosely packed, they move around in the bag and end up really rumpled. I always add a sheet of copy paper, printed with my name, cellphone number, and address, into the top inside pocket in case the bag goes astray with the tags torn off. You wouldn’t believe the stuff I can cram into a bag. My bag is like a magic hat.

  Jay knows how to do that, too, but has a harder time because his stuff is so enormous, and because he just can’t stand breaking up his carefully coordinated outfits. I guess that would be hard for me, too, if I spent all my paycheck and then some on expensive clothes and fashion magazines.

  “Don’t wad them all up. Those pants are new, and they’re really nice.”

  Please.

  I took out all my stuff and started over, repacking the little cotton bag. To accommodate Jay’s long pants, I switched the long-sleeved white cotton shirt I had planned to pack for a skimpier, thin cotton knit in smoky gray. Jay’s pants, carefully folded, went on top.

  The big baby’s mood was a lot sunnier once he realized that he would still be able to bring the pants he needed to complete his look.

  “I’m glad you switched shirts,” he said. “I like that gray shirt on you, Sidney. It’s almost the exact color of your eyes.”

  I gave him a long look. “You are just saying that because I had to ditch my other shirt to make room for your pants. The last time I wore the gray one you said I looked like a burglar.”

  “Well, you do, because you insist on wearing it with those black jeans.”

  “Whatever.”

  Jay may not have had room enough for his pants, but he somehow managed to force a bottle of wine and a corkscrew down into his bag.

  I wasn’t going to let him get away with that. “I thought you were worried about wrinkles and space,” I said. “Why are you taking that bottle in your bag? They’ll surely have wine wherever we’re going.”

  “Well, we don’t know that, do we? So I’m coming prepared.”

  I zipped up my bag. “Well, that’s good, I guess. You know, I think this little mystery outing might really be fun, although I question van de Brugge’s motives in offering it. Do you think he’s trying to distract us with this outing so we’ll stop thinking of the bad things that have happened in the camp? That would make sense. After all, he invited us here to boost his business. He’s trying to emphasize the positives in the safari experience at his lodge, and death by leopard is about the biggest negative I can imagine.”

  “Yeah, or he just wants to get us away from the lodge tonight for his own reasons.”

  “Like what? What reasons? Why do you think he planned this overnight away from camp, Jay? Arranging all this has to be a lot more trouble and expense for him than to just let everything rock on as planned.”

  “E
xactly,” Jay said, “and when I try to think of why he might be doing this, none of the answers that come to mind seem to stem from kindheartedness or generosity. There’s the bell. Move it, babe. Let’s go find out where your boyfriend is taking us.”

  I didn’t answer that. My grandmother says that if you can’t say something nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all.

  Chapter 22

  “Crocodiles,” said George, peering anxiously through his big red glasses down into the river as we wound our way slowly along its edge. “I do not do crocodiles.”

  There were certainly lots of them.

  Scores of crocodiles lay bunched together, sunning themselves on a sandbar at the edge of the river. Huge, fat crocodiles.

  “Look how big they are,” Connie said. “They look like they’re sleeping. They must have just eaten. Wonder what they ate?”

  “Wonder who they ate,” George muttered.

  George had been nervous and fidgety all morning. The move from camp had clearly taken him way out of his comfort zone.

  After Dennis’ tragic demise, George finally had his hut all to himself. He was gleeful about it and happy to tell anyone who would listen that his life was much better now that Dennis was gone. Jay declared that any remorse George had exhibited over Dennis’ passing was completely fake. I agreed. The only remorseful words I could recall George speaking was when he said he was sorry that Dennis was eaten.

  George had settled comfortably into the rhythm of life at the safari lodge, almost as if he had always lived there. He loved his luxurious little hut, and the idea of an overnight expedition did not please him one bit. He did not like being uprooted, so he was griping about every little thing.

  Jay said the campout was all Connie’s fault. “They probably overheard you, Peaches, complaining with Chase about being bored. You made them think we needed some excitement.”

  Jay had renamed Connie “Peaches” because she had let it slip over cocktails that she was once chosen Peach Queen in her home state of Georgia. Jay loved the nickname. “Peaches” she would be to Jay forevermore.