Treasure of the Golden Cheetah (6 page)

Cynthia swept her right hand gracefully, dismissing all concerns and obligations. “Certainly not. My responsibilities are here. I’m sure that Mr. Dimwald will escort the body home and see to a proper burial. We won’t have to wait then. You’ll take care of everything, won’t you, Otto?”

The look she gave her husband’s assistant hinted that he had no choice. Jade surmised that the two had not gotten along in the past and that Cynthia felt she was well rid of him.

Finch hadn’t budged throughout the entire conversation. When he finally spoke again, everyone including Jade started visibly. They’d all forgotten he was in the room. “Since no one else has anything
useful
to add to my inquiry, you should all leave. Mrs. Wheeler?” he called to the actress.

“Please, Inspector. I have always answered to Cynthia Porter, so I’d prefer you’d continue with that.”

“Yes, quite. Well, since you are the
bereaved
widow, I feel it is my duty to inform you that your husband’s body has been taken to Dr. Mathews’ offices. You should contact him to make arrangements with a mortician when the time comes.”

“As I said earlier, my husband’s assistant will take care of Graham’s remains. Otto has followed after my husband and seen to all his concerns in the past. I see no reason why he should stop now. I’ll recompense him very well for his trouble.” She turned to Dimwald. “And, Otto,
I
won’t be needing your help when I return home, so once you’re there, you might want to look for another position. Of course, I’ll give you a sterling recommendation.”

“Is this case closed, Inspector?” asked Wells. “Did you catch the murderer?”

Jade was surprised no one else had asked that. She’d witnessed the end of the tragedy, but nothing had been said to any of these people except that Wheeler had been stabbed. Everyone, with the exception of Wells, who stood by Bebe’s side, seemed unnaturally callous. It made her flesh crawl, and she rubbed her arms to dispel the feeling.

“Very likely so,” replied Finch. “The attacker stabbed himself afterwards. He’s dead. So you will all be quite safe when you leave . . . now!”

“If you have no objections, Inspector,” said Wells, “I’d like to go with Miss Malta to the doctor’s clinic. She knows me better than she does Miss del Cameron or any of these ladies and might feel more comfortable.”

“I want to go to my hotel room,” Bebe whispered. “I’m fine now. Hank can take me there,” she added with a nod to Wells. “But I’ll need to speak with Mr. Hascombe later.” She turned to Harry. “You will come by, won’t you?” Harry nodded dumbly.

“That’s entirely up to the doctor,” said Finch.

Dr. Mathews nodded. “Miss Malta has suffered no physical injuries, and she appears to have recovered from her shock.”

Jade turned to Sam. “I guess we should go, too. I came in a motorized rickshaw, but I’m not sure how easy it will be to get one now. Most of the guests are gone, so the drivers will probably assume the dance is over.”

“I rode my motorcycle,” Sam said. “You’ll have to travel back with Bev and Avery.”

“Are you going to their house?” she asked, surprised that he’d dismissed her so quickly.

Sam shook his head. “Going back to the Thompsons’.” Ignoring Harry, who was still standing nearby, Sam leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’ll find you tomorrow, but if I don’t, please take care of yourself.”

“Remember, the train leaves at noon,” she said.

Sam nodded, took two steps to the door, hesitated, and left.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked Harry from behind her.

“Shut up, Harry.”

 

 

JADE ROSE BEFORE dawn in order to complete her own last-minute packing. Now that the Dunburys were home to stay, she’d moved back into the separate two-room stone building that they’d built for her use. She scanned her list, checking off all the items, including her Winchester, ammunition, canteen, Kodak, rolls of film, a fresh notebook, a leather pouch stuffed with jerky, flashlight, first-aid kit, and a compass. Developing film would wait till her return.

She reached down to her boots and felt the knife hilt poking from the hidden sheath, and put a smaller, folding knife in her left side pocket. She put everything but her Winchester in her day pack. She’d cleaned and reloaded it the night before, after the Muthaiga social. It kept her from thinking about Sam and the upcoming good-byes.

She had looked forward to this safari at first. Finally, a chance to see the “shining mountain” up close, to touch it. And it seemed like an easy job, too. Perhaps shoot a little game for the cooking pot, and keep three American women and one maid from wandering off; what could be simpler? Watching these people make a motion picture would be icing on the cake. Of course, she’d seen Sam make his documentation of a coffee farmer’s life, but
African Dreams
, as he called it, was different. There were no trained actors, no elaborate costumes, no scripts or sets.

And no cold, heartless jackals
. Inspector Finch had shown more humanity over Wheeler’s death than did most of his crew, including his widow. Well, Jade didn’t have to like them.

Her essential gear now packed, she turned her attention to her few personal items. She rolled up a second pair of trousers, two spare shirts, a clean camisole, and several pairs of linen underdrawers. Five pairs of heavy woolen socks went into the valise, along with a box of Keating’s powder to kill chiggers, one box of aspirin, a bar of soap, and a tube of Colgate Dental Cream. Knowing the nights on the mountain would get cold, especially the higher they climbed, she added a set of Aertex cellular long underwear, a pale green wool sweater, and finished with a fleece-lined coat and a knitted muffler.

Someone knocked at her door. Jade opened it to see Beverly wearing a loose, low-waisted dress in powder blue linen. Jade invited her in, led the way through her sitting room into her bedroom, and closed the valise.

“Is that everything?” Beverly asked. “I understand packing light on safari, but . . .”

“We have enough gear to carry without my adding more to it. Everything must be under thirty pounds, remember? I’ll have my day pack myself.”

Bev nodded as she perused Jade’s list. “What soap did you pack? Nothing perfumed?”

“No, nothing to attract insects, or other pests.”

Bev giggled. “Like Harry?”

Jade rolled her eyes. “Please don’t say that around Sam.”

Beverly leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms across her chest. “You could put his worries to rest by simply accepting his proposal before you get on the train.”

“It isn’t that simple, Bev.” She pulled out her pocket watch and wound it, hoping to avoid further discussion by appearing to be in a hurry.

Bev didn’t take the hint. “Explain it to me.”

Jade plopped into a chair and picked up her felt hat, playing with the brim. “It’s difficult.” Beverly’s soft snort informed Jade that she didn’t believe it. She sat down on the bed. “Do you love him?”

“I think so.”

“You aren’t
sure
? Let me ask you this. Can you imagine your life without him?”

Jade took a deep breath. “Yes. But I think it would be a lot more . . . empty.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Beverly said.

“No. Because I can also imagine life
with
him and it’s more confined.” Jade locked her emerald green eyes onto Bev’s wa tercolor blue ones and held the gaze for a moment, long enough to convey the unspoken thought,
Like your life is now.

Beverly looked away first. Except for Sam, very few people could meet Jade’s gaze for long. “You can’t leave without breakfast.” Bev led the way back to the main house and into the dining area and asked Farhani, her Somali in charge of the household, to serve. “Are you seeing Sam today?” she asked Jade once they were seated.

“Maybe. Thank you, Farhani,” she added as the tall man, decked out entirely in white from his turbaned head to his gloved hands, poured coffee into her china cup. He bowed and set the silver pot on the table. “Right now I need to get this valise to the depot and rouse those three actresses and their maid.”

“Who
is
their maid? Did they bring someone with them?” Farhani returned with the toast rack, and Beverly helped herself to a slice and the pot of marmalade.

“No,” said Jade, buttering her toast. “Well, they did, but she took ill after two days here and had to go back. I hadn’t been hired yet, but Harry found this young woman from Zanzibar, a Swahili. Lwiza’s her name.” She leaned back as Farhani placed a large plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of her. “She speaks English well enough and seems to understand what she’s hired to do, getting the women in costume, tending their hair, that sort of thing. Very pretty. I photographed her a few times while she was working.”

“Arab Swahili or native Swahili?” asked Bev. “You know the Zanzibar Arabs consider themselves to be the only true Swahili.”

“I doubt she’s an Arab, at least not pure-blooded,” replied Jade. “If that were the case, she wouldn’t have been allowed free of the women’s quarters in whatever household she came from. Her features are delicate, but her coloring is a creamy brown with a golden tint.” Jade tasted her eggs, added salt and pepper, and dug into her breakfast.

“Hmm,” mused Bev. “Perhaps the child of a slave woman.”

Jade shrugged. “I don’t envy her her job. Not taking care of those women.”

“Are you bringing Biscuit with you?”

“No. I left him with Jelani. If I try to leave him with the Thompsons, he’ll just break loose and go looking for the boy or for me.”

Jade finished her breakfast and gave her friend a quick hug. “Take care of yourself, Bev, and say good-bye to Avery and little Alice for me.”

“At least let Avery help you with your trunk. He’s with the horses right now. I can send Farhani to fetch him.”

“Don’t bother,” Jade said. “I can manage it.”

Alice’s soft cry kept Beverly from protesting, and Jade returned to her rooms to get her gear. She slung her day pack onto her back and her rifle over her shoulder. Then, clamping her hat on her head, she hoisted the valise. Newland Tarlton had loaned Jade the use of a truck, a made-over war ambulance, to help with loading. Avery had been watching for her even without Bev’s prompting and took the box from her shoulders as she tried to shut the door. They stowed her personal gear in the truck bed; then Avery cranked the engine. When it sputtered to life, Jade waved good-bye and drove off into town, heading for the New Stanley Hotel. She literally ran into Harry in the lobby. He wore khaki trousers, boots, and a Huck shirt with a frayed collar. The cuffs were rolled to his elbows, and the top buttons undone, making him the picture of easy strength.

“Good morning, Jade,” he said, steadying her with both hands on her waist. “Bright and early, that’s what I like. How’s my cat?”

“Mine now. You gave him up, remember?” said Jade, pushing him away. “I left Biscuit in care of Jelani at his village. Is anyone else up yet?”

“I knocked up the director and those two cameramen. Told them to wake the rest. Haven’t heard a peep from the women, but that’s your job. Maybe start with that Swahili girl. I think they’ve put her in one of those back rooms set aside for snooty people’s maids.” He rubbed a hand over his square jaw. “I did see Miss Malta last evening. Pretty shook up, as you can imagine. Maybe I should try her.”

“Suit yourself.” Jade asked the clerk for directions and found Lwiza where Harry had indicated. Her tiny, window-less room barely held a cot and a washbasin. A box and a valise, the same size as Jade’s, sat beside the cot. Jade knew what was in them; she’d purchased most of the woman’s clothes herself, since Lwiza had had nothing suitable for wearing to walk up a mountainside.

The woman seemed serene enough when she answered Jade’s knock. She was already awake and dressed in a white, short-sleeved tunic and an ankle-length white skirt. Beautiful red and yellow crisscross diamonds were embroidered on the bodice and ran down the front of the skirt. A long white cotton cloth was draped over her head and tossed over one shoulder. It hid only a portion of her black hair, which was parted in the middle and twisted into a bun behind each ear. Her oval face was a rich, creamy brown, like well-steeped tea with a drop of milk in it. Studying her smooth complexion, Jade guessed Lwiza couldn’t be beyond her twenties.

Jade peered past her into the Spartan room. Lwiza had managed to find something to eat, judging by a plate empty of all but a few residual crumbs. Jade inquired politely after her, then asked her if she was ready to begin her job.

“It has begun,
bibi
,” she said, addressing Jade with the Swahili word for “lady.” “Late last night I tended Missy Malta and left her something to help her sleep after the big bwana left her. I told her I would come to her in the morning with food.” She waved a hand gracefully, exposing her arm and the broad silver bangle she wore. The metal was stamped in a filigree, punctuated three times by an ornate cross-shaped design capped with a dome-shaped box.

“Good idea. There may be men waiting to talk with her.” Jade hadn’t seen the reporter from last night, but that didn’t mean another one wasn’t lying in wait. If they could keep Miss Malta hidden until it was time to leave, it would be better for all.

“So you know about what happened last night?” Jade asked.

“I heard that the money man was killed. So we will not go to the mountain now?”

“We are still going to the mountain,” said Jade. “Only the man was killed, not his money. Do not worry,” she added, reassuring the woman. “You will not lose your job. You will be paid.” She smiled. “Go and find food for Miss Malta first. Then help her pack her boxes. I will carry your box out for you.”

“No,
bibi
,” Lwiza said. “I will take it later. I have need of it yet.”

Jade nodded. “Then I will wake the other women and get their boxes.”