The Secret Rival

by Rachel Woods

  The doctor explained that he’d been on the phone with a colleague who wanted to bring a group of medical students to the clinic. “I agreed to his request, but I worry if the students are up to the task. They are used to Western medicine. Western facilities. How will they deal with having to operate in unsanitary conditions without a scalpel?”

  Deciding that the doctor’s question was rhetorical, Vivian glanced at Leo and said nothing.

  After a resigned sigh, the doctor invited them to sit, and asked, “How may I help you?”

  Leo introduced them as friends of Wes and explained the reason for their visit.

  The doctor knew Wes and was impressed with the foundation’s work in the village. “He is a very dedicated individual, and his support has helped many villagers,” said Dr. Farmer.

  Vivian removed the HemaCube device from her bag and sat it on the desk. “Does this belong to you?”

  “Where did you get that?” asked the doctor, reaching across the desk to pick it up. “I’ve been looking for it for days.”

  “I thought one of the staff had stolen it to sell it,” said the doctor, staring at the HemaCube. “Unfortunately, it happens more often than you think, which is why I make a habit of labeling all of my equipment.”

  “That’s how we found you,” said Leo.

  “This is one of my most important detection tools,” said the doctor. “As you can see, the hospital is lacking all but the very basic supplies. This helps me to analyze and diagnose blood disorders.”

  Leo said, “We found it in the personal belongings of one of the workers at the foundation. Francine Xarras.”

  “Did you know her?” asked Vivian.

  “Oh, poor Francine. I heard what happened to her.” The doctor shook his head. “So tragic. I did not know her personally. We met once. You said my HemaCube was found in her things? How could that have happened?”

  Leo asked, “Did you ever travel to the organization’s compound, maybe to the onsite clinic there?”

  “I did go to the compound, once or twice, but not to see patients. I went to visit one of the workers, Matilda Ross.” The doctor stroked his chin. “Do you think Matilda took my HemaCube?”

  “Why would she do that?” Vivian asked.

  “Well, the last time I spoke to Matilda,” the doctor began, “it was a strange conversation. She wanted me to show her how to draw blood, but she didn’t say why and when I pressed the issue, she dropped it and then ‘distracted’ me.”

  Leo asked, “Distracted you, how?”

  “With sex,” said the doctor, shrugging.

  Vivian sneaked a glance at Leo and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  “Matilda was very distracting to many men,” Dr. Farmer confided, with a conspiratorial wink in Leo’s direction—a wink Vivian caught and which irritated her.

  “No, I was not Matilda’s only lover, unfortunately,” said the doctor, “and I didn’t have her heart. No, her heart belonged to Yves, who also worked at the foundation. But, Yves’ heart belonged to another—Francine. Much to Matilda’s chagrin and consternation. You know, once she asked me if I knew a shaman or a witch doctor. She wanted to put a spell on Francine to make her go away, she said, though she didn’t tell me why. I suspect she wanted to get rid of her rival so she could have Yves to herself. I doubt Matilda is shedding any tears for poor Francine.”

  8

  Instruct-Africa Compound

  Bingu Village, Rural Malawi

  “You really think Matilda Ross planted evidence to make Francine appear to be a vampire?” asked Leo, leaning against the door frame of Matilda’s small cottage.

  After leaving the Good Hope Village Clinic, Leo had thought they would head back to the capital before sunset, in about three hours, but Vivian wanted to return to the cottage to search Matilda’s room.

  “That’s exactly what I think,” said Vivian, searching through the clothes in the third drawer of Matilda’s bureau. “She stole the HemaCube, a technological device that would make any superstitious villager suspicious, and put it where she knew the maid, Lily, would find it—in Francine’s dirty clothes hamper.”

  Not sure about Vivian’s theory, Leo said, “Seems sort of a stretch, to me.”

  “How is it a stretch?” asked Vivian as she closed the third drawer and opened the second from the top. “You heard what Dr. Farmer said. Matilda was asking him about drawing blood.”

  “It’s a legitimate question,” said Leo. “Farmer’s a doctor, so he would know, and maybe Matilda wanted to know because …”

  “Because she wanted to draw blood, put it in a bottle, and hide it in Francine’s bathroom,” said Vivian, closing the second drawer. “Don’t forget what Officer Shenango told us. He informed both Francine and Matilda about the vampire rumors about two weeks before Wes got the orders to evacuate the compound. But, Matilda made it sound as though the first she’d heard about the vampire rumors was from Francine when they were in the Range Rover leaving the compound.”

  “Matilda lied,” agreed Leo. “But there’s still no proof that she stole the HemaCube and set up Francine to look like a bloodsucker.”

  “Then how do you think the HemaCube got in Francine’s hamper?” asked Vivian. “Lily said she found the ‘little red box with the blinking red eye’ in Francine’s bathroom and when we opened the hamper, what did we find?”

  “The little red box with the blinking red eye,” said Leo.

  “Someone must have put it there.”

  “I don’t dispute that,” said Leo. “But, there is no proof that Matilda put the HemaCube in Francine’s hamper.”

  “Maybe not,” conceded Vivian. “But, Matilda had a reason to steal the HemaCube. Dr. Farmer said that Matilda was jealous of Francine because of Yves, the accountant. Matilda saw Francine as her romantic rival, and she wanted to get rid of her. She asked Dr. Farmer about a witch doctor.”

  Leo debated making a corny joke about the homonyms witch and which, but Vivian didn’t look like she was in the mood for juvenile humor at the moment, so he said, “According to Dr. Farmer.”

  “You think he lied?”

  Leo shrugged. “Probably not. Okay, let’s say you’re right. Matilda stole the HemaCube and put it in Francine’s hamper so Lily would find it and assume that Francine was a vampire? How could Matilda have known that the villagers would kill Francine? How did she know Lily would tell the men about Francine? What if Lily wasn’t a superstitious villager?”

  “Instead of standing there poking holes in my logic and maligning my speculation,” said Vivian, “why don’t you help me search?”

  “What do you think we’re going to find?” asked Leo. “A secret diary with Matilda’s methodically journaled diabolical plans to get rid of her rival by making her look like a vampire?”

  Vivian gave him the evil eye.

  Leo sighed, pushed away from the door frame and entered the room. Like Francine’s cottage, Matilda’s was also a one-room studio with a living area, sleeping bunk, and a door that opened to a tiny bathroom.

  “We need to find evidence that Matilda set up Francine to look like a vampire,” said Vivian, disappearing into the small bathroom

  “Whatever the hell that is,” Leo mumbled under his breath as he walked to the writing desk and half-heartedly glanced at the items on Matilda’s desk. Not surprisingly, Matilda’s step by step outline to thwart her romantic rival was not among the documents. All he saw were a few bills, a magazine, some sort of schedule, and—

  “Come and check out what I found,” said Vivian.

  Glancing toward the bathroom, he asked, “Let me guess. Matilda’s diary?”

  “Something even better,” promised Vivian.

  Leo joined her in the bathroom, where she sat on the closed toilet lid, balancing a shoebox on her knees.

  “What’s inside?” he asked.

  After Vivian lifted the lid, Leo took a look.

  Two small empty glass bottles, very similar to the bottles found in Francine’s
hamper, and several small tubes of red food coloring.

  “You still think there’s no proof that Matilda set Francine up to look like a vampire?”

  9

  Instruct-Africa Compound

  Bingu Village, Rural Malawi

  “I’m going to call Wes and ask him to set up a meeting with Matilda,” said Leo, locking the door to Matilda’s cottage. “Shouldn’t you be calling the cops?” asked Vivian, clutching the shoebox under her arm as she headed toward the courtyard.

  Falling into step with her, Leo removed his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “Don’t you think we should see what Matilda has to say for herself before we have her hauled away in handcuffs?”

  “What do you think she’s going to say?” asked Vivian as they crossed the dusty dirt yard, angling toward the SUV. “You think she’s going to admit that she put food coloring in glass bottles to make Lily believe that Francine was a vampire?”

  “Have you considered that the shoe box with the bottles of fake blood might not be Matilda’s?” asked Leo.

  “Then why did we find the shoebox in Matilda’s room?”

  “Maybe she didn’t put it there,” suggested Leo.

  Vivian glanced at him and frowned. “You think someone is trying to frame Matilda?”

  Leo shrugged. “Maybe someone else wanted Francine dead and decided to make it look like Matilda orchestrated the murder.”

  Vivian shook her head. “Who would go through the trouble?”

  At the rear of the SUV, they parted. Vivian went to the driver’s door, and Leo headed around to the passenger’s side. Waiting for her to unlock the door, he dialed Wes’ number and considered Vivian’s question. The idea of someone framing Matilda for Francine’s murder was a bit far-fetched, but Leo could imagine that Gus Stewart might be willing to go through the trouble. Gus’ account of Francine’s murder still bothered Leo. The director’s ability to avoid being slaughtered along with the driver and Francine was still suspicious to him.

  Leo was still considering the possibility that Gus had killed Francine.

  “Door’s open,” Vivian called out.

  Leo grabbed the door handle.

  “Why are you here?”

  The voice, from somewhere behind him, was a deep tenor, overflowing with mistrust and aggression.

  Turning, Leo ended the call to Wes before it was answered. His gut clenched as his heart started to pound.

  Four men, two with machetes, two holding rocks the size of a grapefruit, glared at him with suspicious eyes.

  “I know what you are,” said one of the men, a tall, lanky villager with red-rimmed eyes. “I know why you are here.”

  “Listen, I don’t want any problems, okay,” said Leo. “I’m leaving now, so—”

  “What's going on?”, asked Vivian, her voice coming from inside the SUV through the window Leo figured she'd rolled down.

  “Start the car and leave,” Leo told her, his gaze focused on the men as they advanced toward him.

  “What do they want?” asked Vivian, ignoring his instructions. “What did they say?”

  “I know what you want,” said the leader, his dusty jeans and dirty t-shirt hanging off his gaunt frame. “But you will not get our blood to sell!”

  “Wait a minute!” Leo demanded, side-stepping to the right, toward the hood of the SUV, desperate to draw the crazed men away from Vivian. “I’m not here to—”

  “Anamapopa!” the men shouted, rushing toward him.

  Leo turned and ran toward the nearest cottage, hoping the men would chase him so Vivian could leave and get help.

  “Anamapopa!” The shouts grew louder.

  Leo glanced behind him.

  A stone hurtled toward his face.

  Ducking, he executed a spinning turn, kicking up red dust, and—

  The rock slammed against his back, a powerful hit that would definitely leave a bruise.

  A gunshot rang out.

  Leo flinched and ran faster. Did the villagers have guns? That didn’t make any sense. He remembered machetes and stones, not—

  Another gunshot.

  Heart slamming, he dove behind a large bush planted on the side of one of the cottages. Taking several deep breaths, he fought to get his bearings. Crouching low, he stared toward the courtyard. Standing outside the SUV, Vivian fired shots from a gun.

  Screaming, the men scattered, running for their lives in different directions.

  “Leo!” Vivian shouted.

  “Over here!” He cried out, standing.

  “Stay there!” Vivian hurried around to the driver’s side. “I’ll come get you!”

  Minutes later, in the SUV, Leo winced as he touched his back where he’d been stoned.

  “You okay?” she asked, wiping away a tear as she sped down the dusty, narrow road, away from the village.

  Giving her a wink, hoping to reassure her, he said, “Nothing a whole lot of sex won’t cure.”

  10

  Lilongwe, Malawi

  “What the hell is that?” Matilda Ross recoiled, leaning away from the lidless shoebox Vivian held toward her.

  “You sure you don’t know?” asked Leo, his tone harsh and accusing, even though he wasn’t quite sold on Vivian’s theory. He wasn’t sure that a woman who looked like Matilda—gorgeous with flawless skin and a tumbling mane of red hair she seemed to take pride in tossing over her shoulder—would need to get rid of a rival.

  After meeting Wes and bringing him up to speed on the previous day’s events at the compound in Bingu, Vivian decided that during the meeting with Matilda, which Wes orchestrated, Leo would play the “bad cop” and she would be the “good cop.” Usually, when they questioned witnesses together, Vivian got to be the suspicious smartass, but she’d wanted to, hopefully, throw Matilda off. As Vivian explained, a good-looking woman like Matilda was used to men fawning over her, and would likely think she could charm Leo if he played softball with her. With Vivian in the sympathetic, caring role, Matilda might slip up, as she seemed like the kind of woman who didn’t get along with other women.

  “Isn’t that your shoebox?” Leo asked, arms crossed, glaring at the redhead.

  Stammering, Matilda shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Sitting next to Matilda on the couch, Vivian asked, her tone soft and compassionate, “The box is for a pair of Ferragamo flats. Do you know if you have a pair of shoes like that?”

  “Seems as though she’s wearing those very shoes,” observed Wes from five feet away, where he leaned against his desk.

  “Why did you put glass bottles and red food coloring in a Ferragamo shoe box?” asked Leo.

  Matilda shook her head. “I don’t think I did that.”

  “That’s your shoebox, right?” asked Leo, taking a step toward the couch.

  Nodding, Matilda said, “I think so.”

  “Do you think someone else would have put the bottles and food coloring in your shoebox?” asked Vivian.

  “They must have,” said Matilda, shrugging. “I don’t think I did it. I don’t remember doing it, and I don’t know why I would do something like that.”

  “Well, I think you did put the glass bottles and red food coloring in that shoebox,” said Leo. “And, I’ll tell you why you did: you put red food coloring in those bottles to make it look like there was blood in them.”

  Her expression aghast, Matilda said, “Why on earth would I do that?”

  “For the same reason you stole the HemaCube from your … friend-with-benefits … Dr. Farmer,” said Leo.

  “Hema … what?” Matilda widened her eyes and shook her head. “What is that? And who is Dr. Farmer?”

  “Dr. Farmer works at the Good Hope Village Clinic,” explained Vivian. “We spoke to him, and he indicated his belief that you might have … taken … his HemaCube, which is a medical device that analyzes blood.”

  “Why on earth would Terry say that I took his … Hema-whatever?” asked Matilda.

  “So, you do know Dr. Farm
er?” asked Leo, catching Matilda’s slip.

  “What?” Matilda looked chagrined for a moment. “Oh, well, yes, I know him. We are friends, but I don’t think of him as Dr. Farmer. I know him as Terry, so when you said Dr. Farmer, I was confused.”

  “Okay, now that you’re no longer confused,” said Leo, “explain to us why you stole his HemaCube?”

  “I thought you were going to explain it to me,” said Matilda, chin lifted, tone haughty.

  “Oh, yeah, I was,” said Leo. “You stole the HemaCube, and you put food coloring in the glass bottles as part of your sick plot to make Francine Xarras appear to be a vampire.”

  “A vampire?” Matilda let out a short, shrill laugh. “Are you serious? That’s ridiculous! Why would I want Francine to look like a vampire? How would I even do that?”

  “Dr. Farmer … Terry,” Vivian began as she put the shoebox on the coffee table. “He told us that you and Francine Xarras were involved with the same man, Yves, the foundation’s accountant.”

  “That’s absurd!” said Matilda.

  “Dr. Farmer said you asked him about a witchdoctor who might be able to cast a spell on Francine to make her go away so you could have Yves to yourself,” said Vivian. “Do you know why he would say something like that?”

  “Wes, what is going on?” Matilda stared at the founder, her gaze beseeching. “What are these people accusing me off?”

  “We’re trying to get the truth,” said Leo.

  “Well, I don’t have to answer your damn questions,” said Matilda. “And I won’t.”

  “Will you answer my questions, Mattie?” asked Wes. “Will you tell me if you planted evidence in Francine’s room to make Lily think that she was a vampire?”

  “Wes, how could you ask me something like that?” Matilda gasped. “Why would I do something so horrible?”