Treasure of the Golden Cheetah (7 page)

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Authors: Suzanne Arruda

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

BOOK: Treasure of the Golden Cheetah
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She left Lwiza and headed up the stairs to where the actors were staying. On the way, she met several of the men coming downstairs to breakfast. All were dressed in crisp Huck shirts and jodhpurs, looking like models for the well-dressed hunter. Beyond giving them a friendly good morning, she didn’t concern herself with them. They were Harry’s problem.
Neither Miss Zagar nor Miss Porter was awake yet. Jade knocked loudly on their doors until both of them opened. The women were still in their nightwear, or at least Cynthia was, since the white gown showed from beneath her blue robe. The way Pearl’s silk robe clung to her suggested she’d slept in her altogether. Neither of them appeared very delighted to see Jade. “Down to breakfast in half an hour,” she ordered. She met Lwiza coming upstairs with a tray of oatmeal, toast, and tea for Miss Malta.
It took Cynthia and Pearl longer than thirty minutes to get their faces on and their hair arranged. When they finally showed up for breakfast, they wore close-fitting versions of the men’s garb, except they’d added colorful scarves around their throats. Jade waited outside the hotel, watching the few early risers walk by on their way to open shops. When she decided her group had had enough time to eat, she rousted them out of the dining area to finish packing. She intended to reinforce the fact that she was in charge. She also wanted to be at the train station early enough to say good-bye to Sam.
As she’d predicted, the women hadn’t even begun to pack their personal belongings and had managed to put their new safari clothing in disarray. Jade noted that Pearl had no sleepwear.
“You can freeze your acting talents off at home, if you choose, but on this safari, you’ll need something more insulating than air,” Jade announced. “Where’s that long underwear I bought for you?”
“I don’t know,” said Pearl. “I might have tossed it out.”
Jade muttered under her breath. “Fold those clothes. I’ll be back with another set.”
After a fast trip to Whiteaway and Laidlaw to buy the replacement, she took charge of their packing. Both Pearl and Cynthia assumed that Lwiza would pack for them, and kept interfering by removing first one item, then another that they felt they needed before they left. Jade eventually chased them out of the rooms and repacked the boxes to her own satisfaction. Then she directed them all to be taken down to the truck. Harry stared in openmouthed surprise when she said two of the crew were ready. He still hadn’t finished with the men. Jade owned that he had more people to deal with and drove her part over to the railroad station to be loaded.
When she returned at ten, she found Sam waiting for her by the old thorn tree near the New Stanley, and a smile came unbidden to her lips. It was checked almost instantly by a nervous twitter in her stomach when she wondered if he’d chosen that spot for a reason. They both knew the tree’s history as a message board in the earlier days before the telegraph and telephones.
Well,
she thought,
if he has a message to give me, I’ll wait and listen for it.
She greeted him with a truly happy “hello.” He responded by slipping his arm around her waist and kissing her lightly on the cheek. Jade asked if he’d eaten breakfast yet.
“Yes, but it feels like ages ago.”
“Then we should go inside and find a quiet table to ourselves,” she suggested. “I’m hungry, and it will be a long run to Kiu and our next meal.” They walked into the lobby together and headed for the dining area. They nearly collided with Lwiza coming out with a pot in one hand and a small pitcher of cream in the other.
“Is that for Miss Malta?” Jade asked. The girl looked slightly harried, and Jade felt sorry for her, having to fetch and carry up the stairs.
“Yes. She will not have tea. She will have
bunna
and cream.”
“A bun?” Sam asked.
Lwiza shook her head. “I forget the English word.” She paused and thought. “Coffee.”
Ah
, thought Jade. A woman after her own heart, excepting the cream.
Lwiza left to manage the steps with her long skirt and full hands. Jade and Sam found a table towards the back and ordered chicken sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs.
“I suppose you’re all packed,” Sam said.
Jade nodded. “Got two of the women packed, too. Lwiza will see to Miss Malta.” She saw Sam’s frown and reached for his hand. “We won’t be gone long, Sam. Two weeks tops. Every day out costs them money. We’re taking a train to the foot of the mountain. It’s all very . . . civilized now.” When he didn’t respond she added, “I’ll talk to Mr. Julian about your film. Maybe he’ll have some ideas or know someone who’d be interested.”
“That’s not what concerns me now,” Sam said. “I don’t like this group. Watch yourself.”
Jade slid her hand back and leaned forward. “What are you driving at, Sam?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “But something about last night has set my teeth on edge.”
“You’re referring to the fact that they seem cold and self-centered? I know that already.”
“That’s not it. It’s Wheeler’s death. It’s not . . . It doesn’t make sense.”
“Death rarely does. But it seems obvious, doesn’t it? This man saw Miss Malta and tried to attack her. Wheeler stepped in and got killed for it. The man took his own life rather than face prison or perhaps execution.”
“But Wheeler was already out there with Miss Malta when the attack happened. That man wasn’t going after a lone, helpless woman. Hell, he may not have been going after
her
at all.”
Jade took a bite of her sandwich, chewed, then swallowed. “So it was a robbery attempt.”
“But that doesn’t feel right either. Why the Muthaiga, for heaven’s sake? The good doctor thought the killer was drugged. So how would he get all the way out there in that condition without someone noticing? If he was just looking to rob someone, why not try one of the darker side streets or shops in town?”
“Because he’d be more likely to get caught?” Jade suggested. “Or he thought that he’d get more money at a rich man’s club than in town?” She set her sandwich down. “Really, Sam. You’re starting at shadows here.” She picked up an egg and salted it.
Sam shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think that man was lying in wait out there. Maybe waiting for Wheeler. Why didn’t he attack
me
when I came in? I saw someone else leave earlier. Why not them? Why wait for Wheeler?”
Jade paused midbite. “Are you suggesting that Wheeler was
intentionally
murdered?”
Sam shrugged. “Could be. And considering the people you’re working with, it could have been any one of them. Maybe that director didn’t like how Wheeler was taking control. Maybe one of the actors had a grudge.” He poked at his sandwich for emphasis. “Maybe that less than mournful widow wanted his money!”
“And maybe you’ve been reading Maddy’s books, Sam. Sounds like one of her embellishments. How did she describe my old nemesis, Lilith? ‘She was as cold as the greed and envy that coursed through her veins.’ ” Seeing Sam fold his arms across his chest and scowl, Jade sighed and set her egg back down on the china plate. “I’ve told you, Sam. I’ll be fine. You . . .” She paused and collected her thoughts, getting her emotions under control before saying something she’d regret. “I don’t feel . . . comfortable with this kind of talk from you. You’re trying to get me to quit. To stay behind.”
“I’m trying to get you to think about the possible danger.”
Once again, she placed a hand gently on his. “Sam, you have to learn to trust me.”
They finished eating in awkward silence. Sam stayed around after lunch, sometimes waiting silently in the background, sometimes pitching in to help load the remaining boxes in the trucks. When the train finally pulled out, Jade waved good-bye out the window. Sam waved once, but her last sight was of him standing alone on the platform, his arms folded across his chest.
Harry Hascombe stole up beside her. “He doesn’t look too happy, does he? Worried I might steal you away?”
“Shut up, Harry!”
 
 
THE RIDE TO Moshi passed uneventfully. Jade spent much of the trip to Voi thinking about what Sam had said. Without believing that Wheeler’s death was anything more than a bad attempt at robbery or an attack on a lone woman, Jade amused herself with studying the actors’ reflections in her window glass. Miss Malta, Jade decided, did have a decent reaction to Wheeler’s death. She fainted. That made sense if she’d been having an affair with him.
Rex Julian, Jade thought, appeared more concerned about the loss of money stopping his movie. Now that Miss Porter had the bills covered, he was all business again. As for the two young cameramen, Budendorfer and Brown, they probably just wanted to work and get paid. The same likely went for the minor actors: Hank Wells, Woodrow Murdock, and the extra man, Roland Talmadge. Jade considered Wells again. He’d shown a lot of concern for Bebe. Did he love her? Could he have been jealous of Wheeler? She dismissed the idea.
What about Conrad Hall? Could he have hated Wheeler? Possibly, but at this point she had no way of knowing. The women? Had Wheeler made a pass at Lwiza? No, she had spoken of the “money man” without any shudder of revulsion. Miss Zagar? The woman struck Jade as loose, but that was all.
Unless she wanted more than what Wheeler was giving her.
Finally there was the ungrieving widow. Cynthia Porter was the most obvious suspect by far. She had the most to gain. But perhaps Wheeler wasn’t supposed to die, just get scared? Or maybe Miss Malta
was
the real target? Jade chuckled at her imaginative scenarios, closed her eyes, and dozed until the train stopped at Voi.
After transferring their gear to another train, they spent the night sleeping in a worn-out passenger car parked along the siding. Early the next morning the locomotive to Moshi hooked up and took them on their way west.
Harry joined her early on, his muscular frame settling with ease into the seat next to her. He smelled of fresh air, soap, and witch hazel. “You certainly outshine these actresses, Jade.” He held out a hand, palm out, when she opened her mouth to comment. “And I’m extremely grateful to the powers that be to have you under, er, as second in command with this lot. They promise to be a handful.”
“Was it your idea to be deceptive about who was in charge?”
“Oh, let’s just call it confusion on the part of our employers, shall we?” He opened a roll of magazines and handed them to her.
Cinema Talk
with its cover photograph of Conrad Hall topped the stack. “There are some articles on the movie and some of the actors and actresses in these. You might want to read them and see what we’re up against.”
Jade took them. “Thanks, Harry.”
“Think nothing of it, Jade. Say, as I understand it, your friend Featherstone made a motion picture. Better watch out. He’ll be turning daft, too, like these people.”
“Shut up, Harry.”
He chuckled and left her as Jade opened a magazine and tried to pass the time reading. She worked her way through one interview with the director in which he spoke of the adventure that he’d capture on location. He praised all his star-ring actors but waxed particularly eloquent over the beautiful Miss Zagar, a rare pearl of beauty in name and fact.
Reading that one article in a rocking train gave Jade a headache, so she settled for thumbing through the remaining pages, marveling at the wealth of beauty ads. The Pompeian ads won hands down over Pond’s and Resinol. Their motto, “Don’t envy beauty—use Pompeian and have it,” came through on full-page picture ads for beauty powder, cold cream, and vanishing cream. She remembered seeing a jar on Bev’s vanity, which was surprising, since the product was made in Cleveland, Ohio.
Jade thumbed past photo displays of Pearl in a harem costume holding a boa and another of Hall’s new California home in someplace called the Hollywood Hills. They were followed by yet another ad, this time for Pond’s massage cream, guaranteeing an end to the double chin and sagging skin. Jade turned the page and saw a final article about the producer, Graham Wheeler, shown astride a horse, his entourage just behind him. The caption described him as making a research journey through Abyssinia. Jade set the magazines aside to look at later and closed her eyes, hoping her headache would disappear. She felt, rather than heard, someone slip into the seat beside her.
“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but I felt I had to talk with you.”
Jade opened her eyes and sat up straighter. “What can I do for you, Miss Porter?”
“Please call me Cynthia. I just wanted a friendly ear, that’s all.” She fiddled with her hands, twisting them in her lap. “I suppose you think I’m horrid.” Jade said nothing, giving the woman time to speak. “The truth is, I don’t know how I can face
anything
now that Graham is gone. I did . . . I still do love him.” She pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Making this picture seemed to be the most fitting tribute I could give.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Miss, er, Cynthia. But if there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
“Just listening and believing me are enough,” said Cynthia. “I know I couldn’t say any of this to Bebe.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I knew he was having an affair with her. He did have them, but he always came back to me.” She opened her eyes, moist with tears, and turned to Jade. “I’ll leave you alone now. Thank you.”
Cynthia returned to her seat just as the sun set and the train turned north on its last leg to Moshi. It was as if a magician had covered his stage props with a black cloth, building the suspense before his final trick was revealed. The last Jade saw was forest and garden. What would be revealed when the cloth was pulled away? The expected? Or this time, would the magician amaze his audience with something new and startling? Whatever the outcome, this trick would demand her patience, for Ngai, the Maker, had no intention of revealing it before dawn.
The train stopped at Moshi, and everyone exited the car. Harry’s headman, Nakuru, and their cook met them. Harry immediately secured the help of several natives to unload the gear while Jade gathered the movie crew onto the platform. Her efforts were interrupted by Harry’s sharp swear, followed by his call.

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