The Crocodile's Last Embrace (24 page)

THE ANNOUNCEMENT STUNNED EVERYONE, resulting in a disjointed moment when no one moved, no one so much as breathed, followed quickly by a flurry of activity, as though nature rushed to fill the void.

“You cannot mean it?” said Beverly. “Surely . . .”

Farhani entered with a tea tray loaded with little sandwiches and cakes.

“The devil with tea,” said Avery. “What Neville needs is a good gin and soda.”

“No,” said Neville, raising his hand, “tea will be fine. I need to keep a clear head.”

“As you wish,” said Avery, but he poured a drink for himself and downed it in one gulp while Beverly ordered a glass of milk for the Thompsons’ adopted son.

“Tell us what happened,” said Jade.

Maddy set the twenty-two-month-old boy on the floor with a cheese sandwich in his hands. Biscuit, who always seemed intrigued by the little fellow, lay down beside him, a deep raspy purr rumbling from his throat.

“It happened today,” said Madeline. “Neville and I had gone to the little prayer meeting at Thika. We left Cyril at home in the care of Samuel.”

“He’s watched Cyril many times while we were busy on the farm,” added Neville.

Beverly and Avery both nodded. Jade knew that hiring a trusted Kikuyu servant to act as a yaya, or nanny, was very common, especially on the farms. Samuel, the son of their head Kikuyu worker, Kimathi, had been with the Thompsons for years as a general house servant.

Neville and Maddy looked at each other, as though they sought in each other’s eyes confirmation that they had done nothing wrong in taking care of their child.

Beverly added her own assurance. “Samuel is a fine young man.”

“Thank you, yes,” continued Maddy. “We returned home and found Samuel positively frantic. It seems that there was a fire in the grasslands behind the coffee orchard. No one knows how it started. Terrible commotion. Samuel put Cyril in his crib and went to help. The fire didn’t go far, thanks largely to the longer rainy season we’ve had. Much of the grass was still fresh. But when Samuel returned, the boy was gone.”

“We returned home not long after,” said Maddy, her voice breaking. She put her hand to her face, hiding her eyes as she fought back tears.

“There, there,” cooed Beverly. “The little tyke is here and safe.”

Maddy pulled a white kerchief from her dress pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Yes, thank you. It’s just that . . .” Neville stood behind his wife and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Where
did
you find him?” asked Jade. “Why do you think someone tried to take him rather than him simply climbing out of his bed and toddling off?”

“We called and called,” said Maddy, “and found him curled up asleep inside . . .” Her voice gave way here and she broke into a sob. Cyril, noticing the sound, turned around and offered his half-eaten sandwich to his mother. Maddy scooped him up and hugged him close.

“Point of fact,” said Neville, “we found him asleep inside of the coffee dryer.”

Beverly gasped and Jade found herself grinding her teeth in fury. The dryer had held a corpse when the Thompsons had first purchased it. Whoever had put the child in there knew the significance of that dryer drum.

“It’s actually not the same dryer,” said Neville. “We couldn’t abide the first one and we sold it up-country. This is a replacement. Still . . .”

“Quite,” said Avery. “Damned despicable trick.”

“Praise God that whoever did it left the lid open. It’s not airtight, of course, but it could have been an oven in short order,” finished Neville. Maddy choked back another sob and Neville patted her on the shoulder. “There, there, my dear. He’s safe. That’s what matters.”

Cyril protested the tight embrace and Maddy gradually eased him back down onto the floor. The remains of the sandwich stayed behind, crushed into her dress front. Beverly handed him a slice of sponge cake when he noticed the sandwich’s absence.

“Has he told you how he got in there?” asked Jade.

“No,” said Neville, “but that’s only because he was asleep and, well, we came straight here, too upset to even question any of the workers. Not that anyone had anything to add when we had them all looking for the boy.”

“Everyone loves Cyril,” protested Maddy. “You know how the Kikuyu dote on children. They’re forever giving him some sticky sweetmeat or other.”

“Which is why,” said Neville as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather cord, “it wasn’t much of a surprise to find this in Cyril’s hands when we found him.”

Jade reached out and took the item. It was a necklace of sorts with a spent shell casing hanging from it.

“As you can see,” said Neville, “it looks like the sort of trinket that the Africans pick up and wear for an ornament. Heaven knows hunters leave enough of them about. This one looks to have some design scratched onto it, but I couldn’t quite make it out. A circle or some such thing. I thought it might help us identify the owner.”

Jade didn’t reply. Instead, she turned the unlikely charm over in her hands, studying it and the simplistic etching. The hairs on her arms stood on end and tingled at the sight of one circle overlapping another.

“Then you think a native took Cyril?” asked Beverly. “Surely someone on your farm would recognize that necklace and identify the man who did this.”

“I know who owned this,” said Jade. “A man from Jelani’s village named Mutahi. He ran off from the village after being accused of witching one of the other villagers.”

Cyril, spying the necklace, reached for it. Jade handed it to Maddy.

Maddy gasped. “How horrid! But why would he do it?”

“I have no idea,” said Jade. “But before we jump to conclusions, I think we should ask your son.”

All eyes turned towards the little towheaded child. Jade hoped he’d be able to tell them something about his abductor. Presently, he sat giggling as Biscuit licked the remains of smashed cheese and sponge cake from his fingers. “Kitty,” he exclaimed. “Biscuit big kitty.”

Maddy slipped off her chair and sat on the floor beside her son. “That’s right, darling. Biscuit is a big kitty.” She dangled the necklace to the side, attracting the child’s attention. “Sweetheart, Mummy wants to talk to you about something. Who gave this to you?”

Cyril looked at the scratched and battered casing hanging from the dirty strap, then turned his attention back to Biscuit. “Nice man,” he said.

“A man?” echoed Maddy. “Can you tell Mummy about this man? Was he dark like Samuel?”

Cyril shook his head.

“Not a native then,” Avery said. “Was he big?”

The boy shrugged.

“I suppose everyone looks big to a little chap like that,” said Avery. “Perhaps he can describe his hair. Does he know his colors?”

“Cyril,” said Maddy. “Was his hair the color of my hair? Or your aunt Jade’s hair? Or Aunt Beverly’s hair?”

Cyril’s head swiveled back and forth as he looked at each of the grown-ups. His little brow furrowed in puzzlement until he looked at Biscuit. One chubby hand slapped Biscuit in the flank. The hand rested mainly on the cheetah’s golden brown base coat, though two fingers touched a dark spot. “This color,” he said with a slight childish lisp. The toddler giggled and poked Biscuit’s chin. “Biscuit has fuzzy chin!” He giggled.

“Did the man have a fuzzy chin, too?” asked Jade. Cyril didn’t answer.

“What color were his eyes, Cyril?” asked Beverly. “Did he have blue eyes?”

Cyril shook his head. “Big, big, big black eyes.”

“ ‘Big, big, big’?” repeated Avery. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“But it was a white man,” said Neville. “This was no native prank.”

Madeline reached up one hand and grasped her husband’s as it rested on her shoulder. “Oh, Neville, who could it be?”

“It could be any number of men,” said Beverly. “Nairobi has gotten very large of late and so has the rest of the colony. It might be someone from Thika or Fort Hall or anywhere.”

“But why?” asked Neville. “Do you suppose someone is envious of our new coffee washer going into production?”

Avery headed towards the door to his study. “Whoever it was, this is a matter for the police. I intend to ring them up now.”

“Jade, you haven’t said much,” said Maddy. “What do you think?”

Jade reached for the necklace from Maddy and turned it over in her hands. “I think Avery has the right idea. You need to talk to the police.”

Beverly studied her face from under partly lowered lashes. “Jade, I believe you are withholding something from us. Tell us what you know. Why do you keep looking at that necklace?”

In the background, Avery spoke to the operator, summoning the Nairobi police. Jade could tell that he’d reached a particularly chatty operator. She held up one hand as a signal for patience and gave her attention to Avery’s conversation.

“This is Avery Dunbury. I need for you to ring up . . . Oh, hello, Nancy. I would like for you to ring up the Nairobi police. Yes, of course I remember you. Quite. No, I don’t want the Parklands police. I want the . . . Yes, it was most exciting. I’m well aware that I reside in . . . The baby is just fine.” He rolled his eyes.

Jade leaped up and snatched the handset from him. “Listen to me. No, this is not Lord Dunbury. He wants the Nairobi police and he wants them
now
. I don’t care if they’re busy. This is urgent. Now!” She passed the handset back to Avery. “You are too nice,” she told him.

Avery spoke with someone at the station before hanging up. “They are sending one of the constables around soon enough,” he told them. “It does appear that they are in a bit of a to-do over at the station. The game director just brought in the remains of another crocodile victim and—”

The telephone rang and Avery picked up. “Hello? Yes, this is he. Ah, good to speak with you, Inspector. Yes, she
is
here.” He motioned for Jade to come back to the telephone. “Finch wishes to speak with you.”

Jade took the handset again and listened intently without saying anything more than “Hello.” When she hung up, all eyes were on her, waiting. “It seems I’m needed at the station.”

Avery agreed to accompany Jade, at Beverly’s insistence, and for once Jade didn’t mind Bev’s overprotective attitude. Enough had happened recently that Jade was certain of nothing. Outside of her immediate friends, she didn’t even know whom she could trust. Finch was not one of her immediate friends. If he was Pellyn and this was a trick, then she would be grateful for Avery’s guarding her flank.

Avery parked the Hupmobile on Eighth Avenue. “Shall I go in with you?”

Jade nodded, expecting to see the inspector pacing outside his office, waiting for her. She wondered if he had new information regarding the murders or her packages, and she’d imagined both on the short trip into town. But whatever scenarios played through her mind, she wasn’t prepared to see Blaney Percival, Jelani, and Irungu, the latter two under guard.

“What’s going on!?” she demanded. “Why are these men here?”

Finch motioned for her to take a seat, asking Avery to wait outside in the waiting area. “It appears you were present recently at a native court,” Finch said. “You were a witness in something that rightly should have been determined by the police. As a result, I’ve got a mess on my hands.”

“As I recall, there was no crime committed,” Jade said. “Just one Kikuyu accusing another of witching him. Hardly anything that your courts need to bother with.”

“That should be for us to decide, Miss del Cameron. And it may be that you are correct, but because there was no show of the Colony’s interest in the matter, a crime may have been committed
after
the fact.”

Jade looked at Jelani, hoping to see some hint of what Finch was talking about. Instead, she only saw a veiled anger in the youth’s eyes, directed at Finch. Irungu, on the other hand, stood with his head bowed and his hands clasped before him in a posture of submission.

“What crime?” Jade asked.

“The man Mutahi, the one accused of witchcraft, has disappeared from the village, correct?” asked Finch. Jade nodded. “And you have no idea where he went?”

“None,” Jade said. She thought of his necklace and knew she needed to tell Finch about it, but not until she knew what was going on.

“We may have found him. Or rather, Mr. Percival found part of him.” He motioned for Jade to approach a table at the back of the room near where Blaney Percival stood. A dingy white cloth covered a short lump on the table.

Jade looked at Finch. “I take it I’m supposed to help identify him?”

Finch nodded. “Your word in this would be greatly appreciated and it seems only fitting, since you’ve been a part of his story.”

“I must protest, Inspector,” said Percival. “This is most unseemly.”

Finch held up his hand. “I understand your feelings, Mr. Percival, and I’m sure they do you credit. But Miss del Cameron is a most unusual woman. She’s seen her share of corpses and has always made it a point to become involved should one cross her path. I should hate to deprive her of this opportunity.”

Jade kept her eyes locked on Finch, returning his stare. If this was his way of teaching her a lesson, then she intended to beat him at his own game. And after seeing Waters’ corpse bob up out of the Athi, she didn’t think anything could be worse.

Finch motioned towards the table again. “If you please?”

Jade went to the table and waited, steeling herself for what she knew would be an unpleasant sight. Finch whipped off the cloth, exposing the head and torso of an African man, the legs and arms missing. The corpse was every bit as disgusting as she’d expected, but she recognized Mutahi by the broad scar across his chest. It showed as a tight line amid the swollen flesh and the places where fish had nibbled. But what sent a shiver down her spine was his head. One ear was gone, neatly sliced away.

“That’s Mutahi,” she said. “But when I saw him, he wore a tight necklace of leather and an empty shell casing. It’s missing. And he had two ears.”