by Rhys Bowen
I WATCHED AS Darcy talked with the operator, asked for Freddie, got a reply then put the telephone down in disgust.
“He’s already left. That was his house servant. He’s going to see if he is still picking up Van Horn at the hotel and he can stop them before they leave Gilgil.”
At that moment Jocelyn came bursting into the room. He too looked rather wild, with bloodshot eyes. I wondered if he might have joined in the festivities after we left or this was just a result of testing the various cocktails. “Your boy said it was an emergency, Idina. Are you all right?” he asked. He was buttoning his shirt as he spoke, then looked around and reacted with surprise as he saw us. “Good heavens. You’re already up and dressed.”
“They were on their way home, but they came back because Bwana met with an accident,” Idina said.
“Oh crikey, is he all right?”
“He’s dead,” Darcy said.
“Dead? Lord Cheriton is dead?” Jocelyn stared at Darcy, his mouth open. “Are you sure? He’s not just passed out after too much . . . you know.”
“He’s been half-eaten by an animal,” Darcy said. “I’d say I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”
“Oh crikey.” Jocelyn looked as if he might be sick at any moment.
“And it’s imperative that we get in touch with the district officer, Freddie Blanchford,” Darcy went on. “He’s driving up from Gilgil at this moment.”
Idina stroked Jocelyn’s cheek. “So what I need you to do, my darling, is to take my motorcar and drive it to where the road from Gilgil joins our road and intercept Freddie as he comes past.”
“Golly. Suppose he’s driving fast and doesn’t see me?” Jocelyn said.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Jocelyn.” Even Idina sounded frazzled now. “Use your initiative for once. That spot is quite open. Stand in the road. Wave something at him. He’ll see you.”
“I hope so.” Jocelyn didn’t look too sure about this, as if he could picture being mown down by a speeding motorcar. He sighed. “Righty-o, then. I’ll be off. Did you leave your car keys in the ignition?”
Her expression softened again. “Of course, sweet boy. Here. Take a cup of coffee with you. And grab a jacket. It’s freezing at this time of the morning.”
She thrust a cup of steaming coffee at Jocelyn, who tried to carry it without spilling as he hurried out.
“Such a willing child,” she said. “I rather think I might have to give him a few lessons—show him the joys of what he’s been missing until now.” She gave her wicked little smile. “But my dear beloved Chris might not take kindly to a live-in rival.”
“This Chris is your new husband?” Darcy asked.
“Chris Langlands, darling. The new love of my life. But we’re not actually married. I decided to live in sin this time and it works well as Chris hates being tied down. He’s a pilot, you know. They are quite flighty in more ways than one. I had to promise he could come and go as he pleases when he moved in.”
“And when will he be back?”
She shrugged. “I’ve no idea. He appears. He disappears. It’s really quite fun. And between you and me I was rather glad he was away last night. He gets touchy about certain things.”
That was interesting, I thought. She had spent the first part of the night with Bwana, before he had been summoned home. What if her current lover, Chris, had returned unexpectedly, found Bwana in her bedroom, then followed him and killed him in a fit of jealousy? At least we now had one motive, if it did turn out to be murder.
Chapter 20
AUGUST 12
AT CLOUDS, LADY IDINA’S HOUSE
I think I must be suffering from delayed shock. I can’t stop shivering. It was awfully cold out there, but I can’t seem to get warm again. And I can’t get the vision of that body out of my mind.
In a way I hope it was an animal, and not a person, who killed Lord Cheriton. That would be tragic, but so much simpler.
One by one the other visitors appeared in the great room, moving like silent ghosts, pouring themselves coffee and huddling around the fire for warmth. Some of them were still in pajamas and dressing gowns; others had dressed hastily. They all looked pretty haggard and sleep-deprived. I was amused to notice that married couples now stayed close together and scarcely acknowledged other couples, with whom they had presumably been cavorting all night.
“What’s this all about, Idina?” Harry Ragg demanded. “Your boy was babbling some kind of nonsense about Bwana being eaten by an animal.”
“True, darling, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t tell me a leopard got into the house somehow. Don’t you have guards?”
“Of course, but . . .”
“But wasn’t he with you?” Pansy glared at her.
“He was, but he was summoned home by She-who-controls-the-purse-strings, claiming she had become very sick and needed him. So he went like a good boy.”
“And was attacked on the way home?” Pansy asked. Of all of them she looked the most upset. “An elephant?”
“We don’t know yet,” Idina said. “These young people were on their way back to Diddy when they found his motorcar abandoned on the road.”
“Door open. Engine running,” Darcy said. “And his body in the bushes some feet away.”
“How extraordinary,” Chops Rutherford exclaimed. “That doesn’t sound like Bwana. He’d never get out of his motor in the middle of the night. Bloody stupid.”
“Unless some animal leaped down onto him,” Idina suggested. “It was apparently at that narrow part where the road passes between the rocks.”
“Have the authorities been called yet?” Mr. Atkins asked. He was now dressed, his hair combed with its neat central parting so that he looked quite respectable. “A death certificate will be needed.”
“I’ve sent the boy off to intercept Freddie Blanchford, who is on his way up to Diddy’s house.”
“Blanchford?” Chops demanded. “The damned government chappie? What’s he got to do with anything? He has no authority over a body. He’s not the doctor or the police, is he?”
“You know very well that the nearest policeman is that dim-witted constable in Ol Kalou, and he couldn’t get here because Bwana’s car is blocking the road. And the district commissioner is actually the final law around here.” Idina looked uncomfortable. Presumably her sentiments about district commissioners were the same as her neighbors’. “If we needed to have a senior policeman sent out from Nairobi, he’d have to put in the request.”
“Police?” Atkins snapped the word, looking up from his coffee. “What have police got to do with some damned man being attacked by a damned animal? It seems quite simple to me. He was drunk, he was careless and he didn’t take the usual precautions one might when driving alone at night.”
Others were nodding agreement.
“That sounds exactly right,” his wife said. “Of course that’s what happened.”
“All things considered, I think my wife and I should head home before this damned district officer chappie takes it into his head to ask too many questions,” Atkins said. “One can’t be too careful in my position with the present governor being so holier-than-thou.”
At that moment the Tomlinsons came in. Mrs. Tomlinson looked as if she had been crying.
“We’ve just heard the shocking news,” Mr. Tomlinson said. “I couldn’t stand the chap myself but that’s no end for a man who practically built this colony. And I’m afraid I’d better take the wife home straight away. She’s pretty cut up about it, as you can imagine.”
Sheila Tomlinson nodded. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I never thought, in a million years . . .” Then she put her hand to her mouth, shaking her head.
I noticed that Pansy Ragg looked equally distraught. Had Sheila Tomlinson once been a mistress of Bwana? I wondered. And why did he seem to have that effect
on all the other women when I had found him so repulsive?
The slim Mrs. Atkins grabbed at her husband’s sleeve. “I just want to go home. I knew it was a mistake to come here in the first place. Drive me home now, Pixie.”
“You were the one who was so keen on coming, old girl,” Mr. Atkins snapped at her. “You wanted to see your bloody Prince of Wales again.”
“Oh, I seem to remember that you were the one complaining about how our life needed a little spice in it and actually angled to get this invitation,” Mrs. Atkins replied, glaring at him.
“This is all totally irrelevant,” Mr. Atkins said. “The point is that we are in no way connected with this man’s death and I think it the wisest possible course of action that we leave immediately.”
Darcy stepped between them and the door. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you should leave until Freddie Blanchford gets here,” he said.
Mr. Atkins’s face flushed bright red. “What are you talking about? And who the devil are you anyway?”
“I’m a visitor from England and I know I’ve no right to suggest anything, but I have had some experience with crimes and it seems to me this must be considered a suspicious death until we have actually proved that Lord Cheriton fell victim to an animal attack.”
“Well, of course he did,” Atkins snapped, glaring at Darcy. “We were told the body was half-eaten. Do you think there are cannibals in this part of Africa, then?”
“I just expect that Blanchford needs to rule out human involvement,” Darcy went on. “He may need to call in the police.”
“Absolute bloody rubbish,” Atkins blustered now. “Human involvement. Wasn’t every human for miles around at this very house?”
“Every white human,” Chops Rutherford reminded him. “Plenty of Kukes all over the valley.”
“Surely the Kikuyu are not known for their violence, are they?” Mrs. Atkins asked. “Our neighbors always say how gentle their houseboys are.”
“I don’t think Bwana was known for being particularly kind to his workers,” Chops added. “A hard taskmaster. I’ve seen him whipping a man for knocking over a can of milk. He had a foul temper. But if they were going to set upon him they could do so on his own estate, couldn’t they? And the Kikuyu are innately lazy. They wouldn’t walk all that way to ambush him.”
“Even the natives have their share of rogues and criminals,” Harry Ragg pointed out. “Those who have broken tribal laws and been kicked out of society.”
“Robbery, are you suggesting? Bandits?” Atkins glared.
“It wasn’t robbery,” Darcy said. “Nothing was disturbed on the seats of the motorcar.” He hesitated, looking uncomfortable. “Look, as I said, I’m an outsider here. It’s not for me to make assumptions. I think someone in authority should take a look, and since there is no policeman within easy reach I just think it’s up to your district officer to decide whether the case looks suspicious and the police should be called in.”
“I can’t see what it could do with us. We’re not even local,” Atkins said. “Visitors from Nairobi, that’s what we are. We don’t even know the man and have nothing to do with this whole business. So if you don’t mind . . .” He tried to push past Darcy, who was a good six inches taller and much broader.
I don’t know what might have happened after that but there were sounds outside the front door and Jocelyn bounded in, rather like an overgrown Labrador puppy, full of enthusiasm. “I found him. I managed to wave him down and he’s just coming,” he said.
“Well done, clever boy,” Idina said, making him beam. He really was rather endearing, I thought. I could see why Idina had taken to him. It must feel like rescuing a stray.
Jocelyn held the door open and Freddie Blanchford came in, followed by a scowling Mr. Van Horn.
“How long is this business going to take?” he demanded in that strong accent. “I was promised a safari. It may be my last chance before I go home.”
“There’s been a suspicious death, I’m afraid,” Darcy said. “And Mr. Blanchford is the government official in these parts, so I think your safari will have to be postponed. Besides, you can’t get through to Diddy’s at the moment. Bwana’s car is blocking the road.”
“Bwana? You mean that big chap at the polo field the other day—Lord Somebody?” Van Horn sounded surprised. “He’s the one who has been killed?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“But this is most disturbing,” Van Horn said. “Do you have native uprisings here? We travel with armed guards to keep natives in their place at home. Didn’t the man have a gun with him?”
“Mr. Van Horn, why don’t you help yourself to a cup of coffee? The kitchen boys should be getting breakfast started soon,” Idina said. “And thank God you’ve come, Freddie. We were about to have mutiny on the Bounty with my various guests wanting to go home.”
“You’re dashed lucky, Idina,” Freddie said. “We were held up behind an oxcart on the road going up the hill for a good fifteen minutes, otherwise we’d have been long gone. I promised Cyril we’d be at Diddy’s place by six thirty. I’d better telephone and explain.”
“You probably shouldn’t telephone anyone right now,” Darcy said. “Lord Cheriton’s family haven’t heard the news yet and I think you should take a look at the body for yourself and be the one to break it to them.”
Idina was frowning. “That’s odd, isn’t it? Angel telephoned him around midnight and wanted him home right away, but she hasn’t rung up again to find out where he got to?”
“Maybe she didn’t want to annoy him when he was having fun,” Harry Ragg said. “He didn’t like to be crossed, did he? She asked him to come home. She tried her best, but she wasn’t going to push her luck too far.”
“Was he the sort who could be violent?” Darcy asked. “With his wife, I mean?”
“He could be a bit belligerent when he’d drunk too much,” Pansy said, glancing at her husband. “He did give me a shove once. I fell and hit my head against the wall. Harry was furious. He was all set to give him a damned good hiding, weren’t you, darling?”
Harry just glared.
So Bwana could be violent, I thought. That might give several people a motive, including Angel. It was a pity that she had a cast-iron alibi. There were no tire marks coming from the direction of Bwana’s estate after his own motorcar. And anyway, did they have more than one motor?
Freddie stepped forward and clapped his hands. “So, ladies and gentlemen. I’m sorry to have to take up your time but this is a serious matter. So far I know very little and I hope you’ll assist me in collecting the facts so that I can make a decision about what is to be done next.”
“I don’t see why you are needed at all, young man,” Atkins said. “Wasting your time as well as our own. The blasted chap was attacked by some kind of wild animal and killed. He was driving home drunk, and not paying attention. End of story.”
“So all of you have spent the night here, is that correct?”
“We all stayed on after Idina’s party, yes,” Mr. Atkins said before anyone else could answer. “We come from Nairobi. It was too far to drive home in the dark. And damned dangerous too. So Lady Idina was gracious enough to offer us all hospitality.”
“Atkins, isn’t it?” Freddie held his gaze. “You work at Government House? Then you must have met my uncle, the former assistant governor?”
“Haversham was your uncle? Splendid fellow,” Atkins said, already looking less bellicose.
Freddie turned back to the group. “So let me get this straight. Lord Cheriton was attacked by an animal while driving home.” Freddie spoke the words slowly. “What time did he leave? Did anyone see him go? Was that earlier this morning?”
“No, it was only just after midnight,” Idina said. “And I saw him leave. He came to tell me.”
“Lord Cheriton did not stay the night, like your other gu
ests, then?”
“His wife did not come with him because she was under the weather,” Idina said. “He got a telephone call around midnight to say she was feeling worse and wanted him home. Being the dutiful husband he left immediately.” (There was a snort of amusement from one of the crowd at this statement.)
“And who discovered his body?”
“We did,” Darcy said. “Georgie and I were driving back to Diddy’s place when we found a motorcar blocking the road. It’s that place where the road narrows to pass between boulders and it crosses a little stream.”
“Oh right. About five or six miles from here, on the road north,” Freddie said.
“We slowed to cross the stream and there was this motorcar, with a door open and the motor running, blocking the road ahead,” Darcy said. “We hollered and nobody answered so we looked around a bit and found the body in the bushes a few feet away. There were vultures all over it and it had been clearly eaten by some large animal. We covered it with a rug and came straight back here.”
Freddie looked around the assembly, clearly trying to decide what his next move should be. This probably wasn’t the sort of thing he’d had to do before. Some of the guests were lounging on sofas, looking quite comfortable, while others were standing and impatient to get away.
“I suppose the first thing to do would be for me to take a look at the body and for us to call Dr. Singh to ascertain the cause of death.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” Harry Ragg said. “We don’t need the police to be involved. We don’t actually need you to be involved. It’s not a matter for police or government officials. All we need is the blasted doctor to take a look and say what killed him and we can all go home.” He got up, walked over to the wall and picked up the telephone mouthpiece. “Go on, then. Call the bloody doctor and let’s get this over with.”
“Very well.” Freddie hesitated, then took the telephone from Harry. “But I must insist that you all stay here until the doctor and I have viewed the body. I will need statements from everyone.”
“Damned cheek,” Atkins said. “It wasn’t as if any of us were involved. We were all tucked up in bed when the man left.”
