“Not many books, but about what one would expect a missionary doctor to have, I suppose,” she said. Or were they chosen for that very reason? She longed to flip through them and see if there were any hidden notes tucked in the pages. “His other medical books must be in his office. The album might hold a clue to his family.”
“Gardner,” barked Finch to the constable, “see to that album.”
“Sir!” said Gardner. He opened the case and pulled out the book.
Jade looked over his shoulder long enough to see that there were only photographs of India in it. She peered into the second room and saw, in the gloom, a plain-looking bed, a washstand with an old-fashioned pitcher and ewer, and several open-fronted shelves of clothing. A small door near the washstand led to a tiny lavatory. Stepping in, she noted a dressing gown hanging on a hook, but left checking any pockets to Finch. She didn’t want to risk being tossed out before finding out anything she wanted to know.
Instead, she scanned the clothing on the shelves, noting several pairs of trousers and socks on the bottom shelf and a large assortment of shirts on the upper next to a stack of men’s drawers and undershirts. A shaving kit sat by the ewer. There was nothing in this room to give any insight into Dymant’s personal life. Both rooms were windowless and dismal. Jade rejoined Finch in the parlor and found him rummaging systematically through the desk.
“Have you found anything?” she asked.
“Such as?”
“I believe you said you were looking for the names of relatives.” When Finch didn’t answer, Jade tried another approach. “Perhaps he kept addresses and other information like that at his office. There aren’t any medical supplies here, so he must not have been operating out of his parlor.”
Finch slammed a drawer shut. “Thank you for that sterling bit of detective work, Miss del Cameron. I can assure you that I intend to go there as soon as I am finished here.” He glared at her as though daring her to interrupt him again. Jade leaned against the doorframe and waited, her hands in her pockets.
But her eyes and mind weren’t idle. She watched Finch’s face as he leafed through every folder, journal, box, and book. The man was fairly inscrutable. Other than showing some impatience, he gave no evidence of surprise or interest.
“His personal calendar is all but blank,” Finch said, slapping it shut. “Engaged to dine with Reverend Wright in two days. Nothing more. I suppose I should notify him. At least to say prayers at his burial.”
“How far away is Dymant’s office?” Jade asked.
“A mere walk around the corner,” said Finch. “Valjee rented out two rooms in a building just behind the store. Mathews should be finished. We might as well go there now. There’s nothing here.”
Leaving Gardner to lock up the flat, Jade and Finch hastened to the office. The door opened as they arrived and they were met by Dr. Mathews. Jade thought he looked more drawn and tired than when she’d last seen him. She noticed that he was meticulously dressed, including a pair of white gloves, lightly soiled from examining the corpse.
“Ah, Mathews,” said Finch. “Finished with the examination?”
“Yes. I was just on my way to your office to relay my report. Too tired to sit and type it myself.” He yawned. “The mortician has taken the body away in a coffin. All that can be done for him is to put him in the ground as quickly as possible before he becomes—how shall I say it?—unbearable.” He looked at Jade. “I can’t say that I approve of your bringing a young lady here, Inspector, even one as inquisitive as Miss del Cameron. She should not be subjected to the smells inside there.”
“Is he contagious?” asked Jade.
“No, Miss del Cameron. He is not, nor is the room. Plague is carried by flea bites, or in the case of pneumonic, it seems to go by air. This man had the septicemic variety.”
“What is the difference?” Jade asked.
“Any form can become septicemic if it enters the blood, but in his case, it began there. Most likely either from a knife wound I found in his thigh or one on his forearm. The former was a deep enough stab to make it very hard to wash clean. But in any case, he had no fleas on him to leave behind. You are both quite safe, though I would advise burning the rug in the surgery. There looks to be old blood on it.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly.
“You look like hell, Mathews,” said Finch. “Time to stop galloping all over the colony and leave that to the younger men.”
“Perhaps you are right, Inspector,” Mathews said. He looked at Finch. “But that is not for me to determine. You know how superiors are. I merely go where I am told to go, when I am told. I’m glad that they didn’t need me at Fort Hall and sent me home earlier than usual.”
Finch snorted. “Indeed. Well, I shan’t call on you again today. Go home.” The inspector held out his right hand, but Mathews merely made a lazy salute instead of taking it. “Are you certain you won’t reconsider, Miss del Cameron? I could see you home, or call for a rickshaw for you.”
“I’ll be fine, Doctor.” She smiled to reassure him.
Mathews bowed briefly to Jade, took two steps, paused, and turned back. “I nearly forgot. I suppose that’s an indication of just how tired I am. But I recall Miss del Cameron telling me that this Dr. Dymant thought he knew me. Before I left for my recent tour of the native villages, I perused my albums from my medical school days. I found a Dymant listed a year behind me, but this wasn’t him.”
Jade stifled the urge to question him, knowing it would only rile Finch, and she didn’t want to risk being sent home.
“You’re quite certain?” asked Finch.
“Absolutely,” said Mathews. “Mind you, this man had bled a great deal under the skin, so he was quite blackened in spots and very nasty to look at. But the Dymant in my album was taller and more slender. He might have put on weight, but unless this man found a way to shorten his height, it’s simply not the same Dymant. Perhaps a cousin? I only tell you this because I thought I might be able to help with your search for living relations. But I’m afraid I cannot.”
Finch and Jade stepped inside the office, and Jade immediately winced at the stench of death unalloyed by any cleaning. The front room of the two-room suite was a waiting area with three plain wooden chairs lined up along one wall. In front of the chairs lay a threadbare carpet, once brightly colored before countless dirty sandals and feet had ground it down to muted tones. The rest of the room was bare of decoration except the thin cotton cloth that served as a curtain over the lone window. Its saffron color lent a jaundiced glow to the room as the final rays of late-afternoon sun filtered through.
“Dymant was found in his examining room,” said Finch as he pushed aside a matching curtain separating the two rooms and turned on the single light. The putrid stench increased as the partition between the surgery and the waiting area was moved.
Jade soldiered on through, disturbed not so much by the odor as by the memories that it conjured: soldiers in muddy trenches side by side with horror. While she’d carried only the living wounded in her ambulance, she’d driven close enough to the front lines to become familiar with the sight and smell of rot that clung leechlike to the living. A stained throw rug told her that Dymant had not only fallen and died there, but lain there long enough to leave his mark. She ignored it and moved on to examining the surgery.
A bookcase matching the one in his parlor stood in a back corner, filled with medical books. Two chairs and a low, strong table occupied the room’s center, and a sturdy rolltop desk and chair dominated the other back corner. Dymant’s open medical bag sat atop the barrister bookcase. The side wall held a rudely constructed set of shelves, filled with chemicals, powders, bandages, gauze, and other medical accoutrements one expected to see. Jade studied each of the glass vials, looking for anything that resembled her poisoned tea.
“Right,” said Finch. “We’ll have at that desk, I suppose.”
The desk was unlocked, the key still resting in the lock. Finch heaved up the top, rev
ealing a jumble of papers and a leather-bound volume. “Doctor’s log,” he announced, reading the ledger. “ ‘Catarrh, catarrh, lesions, bad teeth.’ ” He flipped past the remaining blank pages and slammed the book shut. “Nothing of interest in there.” He riffled the loose papers, scanning them as he went. “Bills pending or receipts, mostly the former. Can’t say he was making a living as a doctor.”
Jade watched as Finch pulled open a drawer. She had no idea what to expect. Obviously no one would write, Kidnap Thompsons’ child or Poison Jade’s tea in an appointment diary. “Are all these handwritings the same?”
Finch looked up. “I have yet to find any letters addressed to him, if that is what you mean.” He continued looking at her, waiting for her to explain.
“Not entirely. Someone sent letters to me forged in the hand of a dead friend and also left notes forged in Lady Dunbury’s hand. If this man was behind it, then perhaps we’ll find evidence. Maybe an old letter he’d stolen to copy and practice.”
Finch frowned. “Just because Dr. Mathews cannot place this man doesn’t mean he’s behind those . . . pranks played on you.”
Jade’s sharp and sudden intake of breath sounded like a hissing snake. Finch paused suddenly as he pulled open a drawer. “My apologies. Poor choice of words,” he said. “Ah, here’s something.” He pulled out a stationery box and set it on the desk. “Might have some addresses written down in here. Siblings perhaps.” He removed the lid and tossed it aside. “Looks like he’d begun a letter and never gotten around to posting it. ‘My dearest . . . ’ ” he began, and abruptly stopped.
“What?” demanded Jade. She didn’t wait for him to continue, hurrying to his side to see for herself. “‘My dearest Jade!’” she read aloud. “‘You won’t have long to wait before I come to take you to join me forever.’” Jade took a half step back and faltered. “And look at the hand, Inspector. It’s not the same as on these billings. This is David’s hand.” She reached for the letter, but Finch stopped her, grabbing her by the wrist.
“Don’t,” he said. “It will be taken in as evidence. And I owe you an apology.”
“What else is in this desk? Check the bottom drawer.” She no longer bothered to make herself unobtrusive. She wanted confirmation of what she already surmised.
“It’s stuck,” said Finch. He yanked at the drawer and it broke free of whatever had jimmied it in place. A small strongbox filled the drawer. Finch felt under the desk blotter and found a key. He let out one low whistle when he opened the box.
“Mining papers,” said Jade as Finch took them out one by one. “Maps, a claim, blank forms.”
“One of these maps is from the Belgian Congo,” said Finch. “And these forms are from the land office but they aren’t filled in.”
“Waiting for another victim?” asked Jade.
“You’re probably right. How he acquired them is what I’d like to know. Here’s a claim file with three names.” Finch held it up to see them better. “One is Stockton’s.”
“That’s the man I found dead at the base of the Limuru Bridge.”
“Yes, and the other name is Waters. He’s our first crocodile victim,” said Finch. “There’s a third name as well.”
“Pellyn,” said Jade without looking. “Mathers Pellyn.”
Finch looked up sharply from the paper. “Yes, Mrs. Worthy’s supposed lover, right?”
Jade nodded and sifted through the rest of the maps. She stopped suddenly, a worn photo in her right hand. “Inspector. I think we have our proof that Dymant knew Lilith Worthy.” She handed him the picture. It showed several Africans, naked but for loincloths, burdened under heavy loads. But it was the woman standing like a queen to one side that riveted Jade’s attention. Lilith. The woman held a chunk of ore in her left hand and, in the right, a panga knife.
“Nasty piece of work,” said Finch as he placed the picture on the desk. He picked up another stack of papers and read the top. “This appears to be some love letter. Most likely to this Pellyn, since the hand looks feminine. At least it begins with ‘My darling.’ After that it becomes rather business-like.” Finch read aloud, “ ‘I’m entrusting this task to you and I know you won’t fail me. You’ve never balked at an indelicate task before. Bring all your resources to bear. You know, of course, what I want the most.’ ” His voice trailed off as he turned the page over. As soon as he did, he gasped.
“What is it?” asked Jade.
Finch hesitated a moment before handing it over to her. “It’s a list entitled ‘Target and possible resources to use.’ Your name is at the top, underlined.”
CHAPTER 19
And yet another: “If you live by the river, make friends with the crocodile.” I
do not recommend this, but if you must, do not accept luncheon invitations.
—The Traveler
THE PAPER READ like an innocent list of invitees to a social: Jade del Cameron, Lady Avery Dunbury, Madeline Thompson. But the additional and brat under both Bev’s and Maddy’s names said otherwise. Following their names were Pili’s and Sam Featherstone’s. Both of these had question marks beside them.
“They don’t know where Pili and Sam are,” murmured Jade.
“This next paper is rather curious,” said Finch. “It’s a map. Nothing is labeled but it’s fairly obvious that it’s the colony.” He showed it to Jade as well.
“Yes, that’s the railroad. There’s Nairobi, Naivasha, Mount Longonot to the west of the tracks. That looks like Ol Donyo Sabuk and Mount Kenya.”
“What do you make of the ‘x’s?” asked Finch.
“One is the Limuru Bridge; the other is on the Athi. That’s where I found the bodies. The ‘x’ near Mount Longonot could be an old farmhouse. I remember there being one there.”
“That was my guess,” said Finch. “The one farther north might be the alleged mining claim.” Finch folded the map and tucked it in his jacket pocket along with the letter. “More evidence against Dymant or Pellyn, if that was his name. But perhaps it would help me if you’d explain just why this Pellyn and his female companion are so bent on harming you.”
Jade explained in detail what she knew of Olivia Lilith Worthy’s past and ended with her not so recent escape from prison. As she spoke, her tone softened towards Finch. She’d suspected him for no good reason other than his age, gender, and the fact that he annoyed her. And while he didn’t know that, she still felt that she owed him some courtesy by way of a respect, a sort of unspoken apology.
“And you think this Lilith Worthy has come to the colony? Why?”
“Several reasons, Inspector. For one, her lover was here.” She gestured at the room. “For another, she can’t very well stay in England. Her business ventures were here as well.” She picked up one of the mining claims to illustrate the point. “She’s been involved with smuggling guns, drugs, and Roman gold in the past. Now it seems she’s involved with gold in the Congo and some scheme to steal from investors, not to mention murder. And finally, I’m here.”
“And she hates you,” Finch said. “That much I’ve gathered from what you’ve told me of your Moroccan encounter. But why this elaborate ruse with drugged tea and packages from the dead?”
“I’ve given that considerable thought,” said Jade. “I think Pellyn was supposed to get me out of the way before she arrived. I’ve interfered with her before, so she’d want to make sure I couldn’t do so again.”
“And if you weren’t frightened away, then you might be put away, is that it?” asked Finch.
“Possibly. Harry reacted very strongly to those drugs, from what I was told.” She shuddered at the memory of that night when she saw David’s ghost beckoning to her, his face melting into a skeletal nightmare. “I should probably thank Harry for providing an end to those hallucinations. Once he took sick, it was obvious to me that I’d been drugged, and that I wasn’t losing my mind. Pellyn had to try something else to drive me off: threats to my friends. If I were to leave the protection of my friends, I could be
dealt with and who would be the wiser?”
“Which is why young Cyril was only hidden away and not actually taken. It was a message, a warning,” said Finch.
“That’s what I think. If I leave Kenya Colony, then they won’t be harmed, but if I stay or try to interfere . . .” She let the consequences remain unspoken. “Or perhaps it was all Pellyn and not Lilith’s doing. He may have been afraid of my testimony in Stockton’s and Waters’ deaths.”
Finch opened the medical bag and pulled out a stethoscope. “So was this Dymant-Pellyn a genuine doctor?”
“Probably,” said Jade. “At least, he had enough medical training to pass for one.”
“As long as he didn’t treat the British colonists? I take your meaning,” agreed Finch. “He could manage well enough with the poorer class of Indians and no one would question him or where he actually came from.”
“And no one would really comment on whether he came or went,” added Jade.
Finch went back to the papers and picked one up. “It appears that your Pellyn was in business with this Waters fellow to bilk green colonists out of their money, investing in a mine. Take their money and then the investor conveniently dies in some accident.”
“Stockton at the Limuru Bridge. Then why kill his partner?” As soon as she voiced the question, she knew the answer. “Holly!”
“Steven Holly?”
“Correct. Mr. Holly told all and sundry at that garden party that he’d just invested in a gold mine. He bragged about it to anyone with ears,” said Jade. “He said Waters brought him into it.”
The Crocodile's Last Embrace Page 21
