Both suddenly noticed Jade standing just behind Finch. The red-faced reporter pounced. “Miss, were you in the car at the time?” he demanded. “Tell us what happened!”
“All I can tell you,” said Finch, “is that a motorcar did go off the bridge last night. The driver is dead. Everything else is purely speculation and I refuse to speculate to the press.” He tugged on Jade’s arm. “I’ll take you back myself. Miller!” he called to the constable. “Stay here with Singh. I’ll send some men to help get the car. And don’t let any of these civilians down there. Arrest them if they try.”
Miller saluted. “Yes, sir, Inspector.”
Finch pulled Jade towards the Crossley. “Do you mind stopping at headquarters again, Miss del Cameron? I’ll see that you get home right enough.”
“I suppose not. But what else do you need me for?” She fidgeted with her hands and rubbed her arms, feeling her skin prickle.
Finch started up the car and drove them back to town. “You’ve got a sharp eye and a clear mind. You raised some interesting points back there. I’d like to discuss them with you. By now, one of my men should have found our deceased friend’s rooms and been through them for any information. Your insight may be useful.”
Jade rubbed her arms again and nodded. What was it about sitting in the car with Finch that made her skin crawl? He wasn’t accusing her or her friends.
“Are you cold?” Finch asked.
“No. It’s nothing.”
“I’m not going to ask you to see the body again, if that’s what is troubling you.”
“I’ve seen bodies before,” Jade replied, looking out the window. Government Road was still fairly empty at this hour, only the usual settler or two doing business at White-away and Laidlaw. Finch parked in front of the dilapidated-looking galvanized-tin structure that still served as the police headquarters. While the rest of Nairobi was growing into dignified stone structures, Jade thought the police headquarters looked more like a place where a crime might take place rather than where it would be solved.
“Yes, I know you have,” said Finch. He held the door to the headquarters open for her, then ushered her into his office.
“Smith!” Finch called. “Bring the Limuru Bridge case materials in here.”
A young constable, looking to be no more than eighteen and gleaming with all the spit and polish that a fresh face and a clean uniform could give, dashed into the office with a box. “Will there be anything else, Inspector, sir?” he said, saluting.
Finch waved him out with a flip of his hand, his attention on the box. Jade pulled her chair closer to the desk, finding herself more than a little curious. She waited, however, for Finch to begin.
“Seems our man was a Mr. Clyve Stockton, recently arrived in the colony. His motorcar was hired locally. Usual belongings one would expect: shaving kit, assortment of clothing for roughing it, suit, watch, that sort of thing.” As he spoke, he extracted a worn, thin leather case.
“A man’s pocketbook?” asked Jade. “I presume he had some papers. Did you find any letters from a mother, a bank?”
“A sweetheart?” added Finch. “Here’s his pocketbook but there are no letters. If Mr. Stockton had any relations, he didn’t carry any tokens of them. No lock of hair or any other such treasures. He had money. Not much, but enough to get by until he found a position somewhere.” He looked up at Jade, measuring out his next statement. “We did find something unusual.”
Jade waited, playing his game by showing equal patience. Finch shrugged slightly and reached into the box. “We found this.” He pulled out a small ring-sized box, opened it, and took out a gold nugget the size of a small pea.
Jade whistled, long and low. “Saint Peter’s bait bucket! That is gold, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It is. And we did find one paper in his pocketbook. It seems our Mr. Stockton had become a secondary partner in a gold mine up in the northern territory.”
“There’s gold up there?”
“If there is, it will be news to a great many people, including the commissioner of our own Land Department.”
“Well, there’s a motive for murder,” said Jade. “If he talked about this with anyone, someone might have killed him to steal his gold.”
“Perhaps.” Finch replaced the nodule of gold in the ring box. “Judging by your surprise, you haven’t heard anything of this before today.”
“No,” said Jade. “Did you think I might have? Are you trying to get me to do your work for you again?” she asked, referring to the time when he’d tricked her into solving the murder of a local businessman.
“Not at all. But you are an astute young woman and you do travel in a wide circle of people. Of course, if you do hear anything—”
“I’ll let you know. I would be interested in learning how he died.”
“As will I. I am sorry to say that those reporters will likely have recognized you, Miss del Cameron. I might suggest that you make yourself unavailable for the time being. Visit Mombassa, perhaps. That is, until we need your testimony for an inquest.”
“I’m afraid leaving is not possible. I have to be at Mrs. Postlewaithe’s garden party tomorrow, of all places. The Girl Guides are giving an archery demonstration. Perhaps they can shoot the reporters.”
“Indeed. At times I’m inclined to agree with you. Let me get one of the constables to take you home.”
Jade rose and Finch stood with her. “That won’t be necessary, Inspector,” Jade said. “I think a walk will do me good. Help me clear my head.”
Jade initially intended to turn north towards Parklands. Then she remembered what Emily had said about the rest of the mail being ready today. Maybe there’s a letter from Sam. She turned south to the post office and set off at a brisk pace, hoping to lose some of her on-edge feeling.
The postal clerk told her that someone had already come by that morning to pick up the mail. Suddenly she felt the need for haste and decided to find a taxi to get back sooner.
“Thank you,” Jade said. “Sorry to bother you for nothing.”
“Wait a moment,” called the clerk as Jade turned. “Miss del Cameron, right?” Jade nodded. “Ah, good. I do have something for you. The package must have fallen into some mud, because the address was barely legible. However, after some brushing, I was able to make out the name Cameron. Only finished cleaning it now.” He handed over a very dirty parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine. As the clerk had said, “Cameron” and “Nairobi” were the only words clearly readable amid the grime and the blurred letters. If there had been a return address, it was obliterated.
As soon as the package touched Jade’s hands, she shivered. A nauseating fear gripped her and her heart pounded. Beads of sweat broke out on her brow. For nearly a minute, she stood rooted to the spot, unable to will her legs to move.
“Miss, are you all right?” asked the clerk. “This is yours, isn’t it?”
Jade nodded and noticed two businessmen staring at her. “Thank you,” she murmured, and went outside. The sun’s heat and the noise of the now bustling city helped to chase away some of the dread that had struck her. She found a quiet bench down the street and attacked the string with her knife as though she were attacking someone intent on harming her.
Get a hold of yourself. It’s just a package. Probably something from Mother.
It wasn’t.
Inside was a silk neck scarf, the sort that aviators wore, only this one was splattered and stained rusty red with dried blood. A note written in David Worthy’s elegant but masculine hand read: I won’t let you go. You belong to me!
A cold sweat broke out on Jade’s arms. Her hands shook, and her heart hammered in her ears as she dropped the packet to the ground.
CHAPTER 4
The Athi River teems with fish and many of them are not only tasty
but make very good sport for the fisherman.
—The Traveler
BY ALL APPEARANCES, Beverly was chatting with Mrs. Archibald and Lady Northey, but
Jade knew that her friend was also keeping an eye on her. Ever since Madeline had found Jade sitting on the post office bench, the silk scarf lying at her feet, they’d all been worried about her. Madeline had come into Nairobi as she’d promised, bringing Biscuit to the house before going into town to shop. After she saw Jade, Maddy escorted her back to the police headquarters and insisted on having the scarf and the paper it was wrapped in fingerprinted before taking Jade home. Since then, Bev hadn’t let Jade out of her sight. Now, a day later at Mary Postlewaithe’s birthday garden party, Jade could feel Bev’s eyes on her back as she gave the girls an impromptu lesson on observing footprints on Mrs. Postlewaithe’s lawn.
“Gwendolyn, Clarice, you girls pick someone at the party and see if you can follow where they’ve been,” Jade said. The girls set off, searching out their quarry, leaving the other girls behind. Jade, in deference to Beverly’s position in the colony, had worn a loose, calf-length walking skirt over her trousers and boots, as she’d done in the ambulance corps. If the skirt wasn’t fashionable, it at least hid the pants and her knife and suited the approved attire for a Girl Guide lieutenant. Of course, the slender cheetah standing beside her caused more of a stir than her costume. Jade watched the first pair of girls for a while, eavesdropping on Beverly’s conversation with the governor’s wife while she waited.
“The girls are going to give an archery demonstration later, Lady Northey,” Beverly said. “I’m sure you’ll agree that archery is splendid physical exercise for young ladies. Even our late and beloved Empress Victoria practiced archery.”
“Indeed,” said Lady Northey. “I’m certain you would never allow the girls to do anything improper.”
Jade smiled. No, but she’s worried that I might. She looked at the girls in front of her, who were practically quivering with excitement while they awaited instructions. She gave them. “Now see if you can follow their tracks.” They skipped off in the direction that their friends had taken, slowing to a walk as they studied the ground.
“Then if you’ll excuse me, Lady Northey, Mrs. Archibald, I’ll just see to the girls,” said Beverly. Bev hurried to Jade’s side and grabbed her by her sleeve. “Oh, that woman is an insufferable snob. Her attitude towards single women in the colony is positively antiquated.”
Jade didn’t ask which of the two women Bev meant. Everyone had read Lady Northey’s scathing article in the papers, decrying single women trying to farm or work on their own. Only women of means or married women had a right to live here, according to her.
“How are you feeling?” Bev asked Jade.
“I’m well enough,” Jade answered, avoiding Beverly’s eyes. Bev could spot her in a fib in an instant. “I can’t seem to shake this feeling that my skin is crawling and that someone is watching me.”
“I’m watching you.”
“Besides you, Bev.”
Beverly scanned the attendees, an assortment of adults related to the Girl Guides. “Well, several men have had their eyes on you, love, despite that horridly outdated skirt you have on.”
“It’s what I wear to church, Bev. And I thought as Girl Guide leaders we weren’t supposed to dress to attract attention.” She nodded at Beverly’s own costume, a pretty but simply cut buttercup yellow dress with only a touch of lace at the collar and at the ends of the elbow-length sleeves. Compared to Lady Northey’s rose-colored silk, it was definitely plain but far more becoming.
“We are, but I’m telling you that even in that outfit you look quite fetching to the men and that explains this feeling that you’re being watched. It’s common gossip that Sam left, and you know there are several eligible gentlemen in the colony. Shall I tell you who is looking?”
“No! Introduce them to Emily.”
“I have, but don’t be surprised if Steven Holly comes over.”
Jade made a low growling noise. “Can’t your sister keep him occupied?”
“Emily’s busy with that new missionary gentleman, Dr. Landrake Dymant, and the postmaster, Mr. Hamilton. We could join them if you like.” Beverly nodded towards her sister, who wore a powder blue linen dress and a wide-brimmed straw hat trimmed in matching satin roses. She was speaking with a middle-aged man with hair the color of wheat. His bushy beard bore traces of gray strands amid the golden brown. He matched Emily’s height of five feet, five inches, but looked shorter because of his disproportionate build. Somehow his legs looked unable to support his expansive chest.
Bev led the way and Jade followed, preferring to stay by her friend and have some hope of intelligent conversation rather than risk Mr. Holly’s silly, self-centered attempts at repartee. She gave a slight tug to Biscuit’s leash and the cat immediately fell in step beside her. They joined the group as Dr. Dymant was explaining his reasons for coming to Kenya Colony.
“I spent several years in India and have acquired a certain respect for the Hindu,” Dymant explained. “But I felt I should look to those Indians who have made their home here in this colony. I have heard that they are not as well looked after as one might hope, but I intend to take care of that dreckly,” he said, slipping into an old dialect.
“Their houses and shops are atrocious,” declared Hamilton. “Do you realize that there were four more instances of plague in the Indian district last month? It’s shameful.”
“So much disease in Africa,” said Emily. “Although I understand that Kenya Colony is much healthier than the interior. Why, I read that leprosy still haunts parts of the Belgian Congo.”
“Leprosy is the least of the Congo’s troubles,” said Hamilton. “I fear they’ll never recover from Leopold’s rule. He encouraged every villain to brutalize and torture the natives in order to extract the last ounce of gold that he could wring from that land. Some of the atrocities! And not all from Belgians either. I heard tell of an English overlord who routinely cut off the ears of the laborers and branded them—”
“Ahem,” said Dymant. “Such topics are probably not appropriate for a lady’s ears.” He nodded towards Emily, Bev, and Jade.
“That is what is most curious,” persisted Hamilton. “Some claim that it was an Englishwoman in charge—”
Emily gasped and Hamilton blushed. “My apologies. I forgot myself.”
“You are forgiven,” said Emily. She beamed at Dr. Dymant. “It is so good of you to come, Doctor. I’m sure Kenya can use a fine medical man such as yourself.”
Before Dr. Dymant could reply, Hamilton chimed in again. “The colony is a splendid place, to be sure, but it seems to be attracting a considerable amount of riffraff,” he said. “Er, not meaning yourself, Doctor. I was speaking of this latest news in the paper. Death on the Limuru Bridge, no less. The medical examination said that the man had consumed far too much alcohol. That smacks of an accident due to overindulgence.”
“Most tragic,” said Dymant. “Perhaps a suicide?”
“That is what the Leader hinted at,” said Hamilton. “Of course, the police have been very closemouthed about it. But the Leader even suggested there was a woman involved. One was spotted at the bridge with the inspector but he bundled her out before anyone could speak with her. All they could say was that she wore trousers.” Hamilton looked pointedly at Jade when he said this.
“If you are implying that Jade was the female, Mr. Hamilton,” said Emily, “then you should remember that she’s never without her cheetah, and the paper failed to mention seeing one of those.”
“But did you hear what they found?”
Everyone turned to the new speaker, Steven Holly. The banker wore a belted jacket in a pale brown plaid with a golf-style cap, and looked every bit the dandy he was. Jade stifled a groan. Holly, a notorious womanizer, had pursued her on several occasions, and more frequently since Sam had been gone.
“Yes, Mr. Holly,” said Beverly. “They found a pea-sized piece of gold. Hardly a fortune.”
“No, indeed,” said Holly, “but it wasn’t the nugget that was important. It’s what it represents. I know, because I’m a part of
it, too.”
“Part of what?” asked Hamilton and Emily simultaneously.
“Part of a gold mine in the northern territory, of course,” said Holly. He wore a big grin plastered on his face and rocked up and down on his toes as he watched their reactions.
“A gold mine?” asked Beverly. Skepticism riddled her words.
“Yes, Lady Dunbury,” said Holly. “I shall be a rich man.” He smiled and winked at Jade. “But I doubt this was any more than an accident,” he continued. “Dr. Mathews performed an autopsy and could find no obvious cause of death aside from hitting his head in the accident. The man was quite gassed, you know.”
“Dr. Mathews, did you say?” asked Dymant. “I knew a Mathews in medical college. A year ahead of me. Pleasant fellow. Wonder if it’s the same man.” He threw one arm across his broad chest and balanced the other on it, his fingers tapping his lips as he thought. “Can’t remember his first name, something biblical. Peter?”
“Paul?” suggested Emily.
“Yes, I believe it was.”
“Then that’s your man,” said Hamilton. “He does a good bit of work for the police department, when he’s around. But he’s gone extensively, visiting the military outposts and some of the native villages.”
“Yes, quite,” said Holly, impatience edging his voice. “But as I was saying, I’m sure this dead Stockton chap had shares in the same mine that I have. It would be too much of a coincidence to have two such mines up north, wouldn’t it?”
“Indeed,” said Inspector Finch, who’d just arrived. “Pardon me for intruding, but I’m trying to find out more about our friend Stockton. I’m making the rounds of several social functions in the hope of speaking to as many people in one place as possible.” He gestured with one hand towards Mrs. Postlewaithe. “I’ve asked our hostess and she’s agreed to let me disturb the party for a few moments, provided I don’t let the children hear about this.”
“Perhaps I’d better see that they keep out of the way,” said Beverly. “Jade, will you come with me?”
The Crocodile's Last Embrace Page 5
