“Is it not possible, Miss Drummond, that Mr. Parrymore was caught in flagrante delicto by a jealous spouse and was dispatched as a result of sexual jealousy?”
I decided to cut straight to the still-beating heart of the matter. “That is not possible, Inspector. I’m afraid Kit was not capable of pleasuring another woman yesterday afternoon.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Drummond?”
“Let us be frank, Inspector. Kit’s talents in the bedroom were quite satisfactory, but he had his limitations. He had been with me twice between two and four-thirty. He would have been entirely incapable of rising to the challenge again.”
The inspector flushed a little. “I am not quite certain I am—”
“Shall I speak even more plainly? Kit could not have achieved an erection then. After our time together he would have slept heavily. He certainly didn’t stir when I left, and I made no effort to be quiet. Whoever murdered him most likely snuck in when he was still sleeping and helped himself to Kit’s gun. Kit wouldn’t have heard anything.”
The inspector hesitated. “Well, Mr. Parrymore’s posture in death would indicate he had been surprised while in repose.”
“Another hole in your crime passionnel theory,” I added brutally.
The inspector gave me a thin smile. “As you say, Miss Drummond. But if Mr. Parrymore was killed as you suggest, by an intruder who came upon him as he slept, then this murder takes on an altogether more sinister cast.”
“How so?”
“Premeditation, Miss Drummond. To kill a man when you have apprehended him making love to your wife is sometimes excusable. To kill a man with his own gun when he is sleeping is the foulest crime. Whoever did this will swing for it.”
He paused. “Of course, premeditation speaks to resentment, deeply held emotion that has festered. Do you know of anyone who held a grudge against Mr. Parrymore?”
“No. The very notion is absurd. Kit is—was—the sort of man who glided through life, Inspector. He made friends easily, of both sexes. He had the gift of ease with people. Men liked investing in his art. Women liked investing in the man. I think they believed they could domesticate him.”
“Did you?”
“I’m not looking for a husband. Kit suited me just as he was. I can’t speak for other women.”
“No, of course not. But was there anyone who might have rested their hopes upon Mr. Parrymore and found him a rather unreliable vessel?”
“Perhaps. But Kit and I never discussed such things. I assume he was sleeping with other women. In fact, I hoped he was. But who they were was of absolutely no interest to me.” I didn’t see the point in mentioning the others by name. If Gilchrist was any sort of investigator, he’d find them himself. And if he didn’t? Well, that wasn’t my problem.
The inspector paused in jotting his notes and gave me a slightly slack-jawed stare.
“How extraordinary,” he murmured. “In my experience women tend to be curious about such things.”
“You have no experience of me,” I reminded him.
To my surprise, he flushed a little. “Quite,” he said, his voice clipped. “You have no knowledge of who Mr. Parrymore’s other special friends might have been. What about his politics?”
I shrugged. “The same as most colonists. He favoured independence.”
His brows peaked. “Strongly?”
“I haven’t the faintest. Kit and I seldom discussed such things when we were together. In fact, we didn’t talk much at all.”
This time the blush crept all the way to his neck and he tugged a little at his collar. “I see.” He changed tactics then, and when he spoke, his voice was smooth as silk, suddenly warm and insinuating, as if he meant to coax a confidence. “I have heard that you are quite often seen in the company of one of the Masai. A fellow named Gideon.”
I blinked slowly. “Oh, you mean Ryder White’s tracker. Of course. He’s a helpful fellow.”
The inspector sat forward suddenly, angling his body so that his shoulders blocked me into the sofa. Why had I thought him slight? “Miss Drummond, I have reason to believe this Masai was there. I believe he was involved in Kit Parrymore’s death. I want you to tell me why.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s madness.”
“Is it? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman has been the cause of trouble in this colony,” he told me, his expression grim.
“You think Kit and Gideon quarreled? Over me? That’s too absurd for words.”
“I don’t know what to think yet, but I know where to look and I know whom to ask. But right now, I want the story from you.”
“I have no story to give you, Inspector. Gideon is in Ryder White’s employ and occasionally helps out here at Fairlight. Kit was my lover. As far as I knew, the two were barely acquainted. If you think I know anything else, I can only say you are barking up entirely the wrong tree.”
“Am I?” I shifted and the white silk slipped a little off one shoulder, showing a bit of flesh that was every bit as smooth and white as the fabric itself. The inspector’s eyes dropped to my skin. He leaned nearer still and I caught the smell of tobacco and bay rum and hair oil. “I want the truth. Are you and the Masai known as Gideon lovers?”
I miscalculated the slap a little. I wanted to hit him squarely on the cheekbone. If you aim it just right, you can actually split the skin on the ridge of the bone, leaving a spectacular mark. But I rushed it and caught his temple. My ring cut into his hairline and a bright line of blood appeared, marking the path of my hand like a river on a map. His head snapped back, but his body didn’t move. He must have been expecting it, which was a dangerous thing. It meant he was far more experienced in these matters than I was and he was willing to risk a minor assault to get what he wanted.
He never took his eyes off mine. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief as a few bright drops of his blood fell into my lap. I watched him press it to his temple as a slow smile crept over his face. He rose then and took out a card. He dropped it on the table.
“I will be in touch, Miss Drummond.”
When he left it was with a bit of a swagger, and I lit a fresh cigarette, wondering how much damage I had just done.
21
The next morning a council of war was held at Fairlight. I had sent out a summons, asking Tusker and Rex and Ryder and the Halliwells to come. Rex was in Nairobi making funeral arrangements for Kit, but Tusker and Ryder appeared with Jude in tow. Dora came with Mr. Halliwell, although Evelyn stayed behind to mind the school. Helen was there, looking older and more fragile, a damp handkerchief clutched in her hand. We convened in the drawing room to compare notes. Ryder was the last to arrive, hollow-eyed with fatigue and shaking dust out of his hair.
“Where’s Gideon?” I asked him.
“In the barn. He couldn’t stay in his village. The police have already been there again asking questions. We’ve been one step ahead of them for the last day and night. It’s only a matter of time before they find him.”
“We cannot let that happen,” I said flatly. I turned to the others. “I wanted you to come because we must devise a plan to protect Gideon.”
Helen spoke up, her voice sharp with emotion. “We can’t take him. That’s far too obvious. Ours will be one of the first farms they search, as will Nyama.” Tusker nodded. Jude said nothing, and Halliwell frowned. Dora was busy passing out sandwiches, although no one ate. I turned to Halliwell. “Can you keep him for a little while at the school?”
He gave me a sorrowful look. “I’m afraid not. He was a student there. It’s only logical that they would search the place, and I cannot let that happen. I have the children to consider.”
I thought of Helen pounding drinks back with both fists as Halliwell leered at her cleavage and I stared him down. “What about friends of
yours? I know the mission has connections all over Africa. We could put him in touch with one of them and send him out of Kenya altogether.”
He hesitated and I pushed forward. “We just need time. I talked to the inspector yesterday and I think he is fixed on Gideon because he’s the easiest suspect. Once he finishes his inquiries and doesn’t turn up another suspect, he’ll stop looking. He will bring a case against Gideon and he will make certain Gideon hangs. Can you live with that? Because I can’t.”
Halliwell’s eyes slipped away from mine as Ryder spoke up. “The inspector hasn’t fixed on him because he is easy. He has evidence.”
“What evidence?” I demanded.
“They found a bracelet at the scene, a Masai piece, and the colours indicate it came from Gideon’s village.”
I opened my mouth in astonishment, but before I could say a word, Jude broke in.
“I’ll take him.”
“The hell you will,” Ryder cut in. “You heard what Helen said. Nyama is one of the first places they’ll search. Besides, Anthony already thinks Gideon is guilty. If you take him home with you, Anthony will shoot him on sight.”
“Not if—”
“Jude, leave it,” Tusker instructed firmly. “Ryder is correct. Anthony would either shoot him or turn him in for the reward.”
“What reward?” My voice was hollow and Ryder jumped to his feet swearing.
Helen wiped at her eyes again. “The news came out of Nairobi this morning. There’s a reward for Gideon’s capture. Every white and half the blacks in Kenya will be looking for him now.”
“But it should have been days yet,” I began. Tusker waved me away.
“Things can happen quite quickly out here when people have a mind to make them. It’s a frontier, child. With frontier justice. Just be glad they specified he was to be taken alive.”
Ryder swore again and I sat down. Even Dora put down the damned sandwiches and looked stricken. “There must be someone loyal enough to him to resist the money,” she said quietly.
“There is,” Ryder said. He exchanged a meaningful look with Tusker.
“Excellent plan, my boy. But you’ll have to go with him to make sure he’s protected.”
“Of course.”
“What are we talking about?” I demanded.
Ryder flicked a glance towards Halliwell. “Nothing I would care to get specific about.”
Halliwell flushed. “Now see here—”
Dora cut in sharply. “He’s right, Lawrence. It’s best if none of us know.” I raised a brow at her. Things must have gotten quite cozy at the Halliwell establishment if she was on a first-name basis with the master of the house.
He nodded. “As you say, Dora.” Of course he would agree, I thought bitterly. The less he knew, the faster he could wash his hands of the whole thing. He was staring at Dora intently and she blushed a little. I thought with a pleasurable little shiver of how much I would enjoy telling her about his antics at Helen’s last party.
“When will you go?” Tusker asked.
“Now. The sooner the better.”
“I’m coming with you,” Jude said. Her chin was set and Ryder nodded slowly.
“Jude,” Tusker began, but Jude took a step forward, her fists balled.
“It’s my decision, Tusker. If Ryder will have me, I’m going. I’m a better tracker than Ryder and a better shot than Gideon. They can use me.”
I went to the rack over the door and took down the Rigby and handed it to her. “Take this. It’s a better gun than yours.”
She gave me a long, level gaze, then put out her hand. “Thank you.”
“Just don’t shoot it any more than you have to. Those bullets are damned expensive.”
She gave me a faint smile and pocketed the ammunition. “One shot, one kill.”
I followed Ryder and Jude to the barn. Dora had collected food and Ryder took all the extra ammunition he could carry. I helped, my head buzzing. I itched to go and look in my jewel box to see if my bracelet was still there, but there was no chance. They say in a crisis everything slows down, like when you hold your breath and walk underwater. But that wasn’t true, not this time. Every moment was speeding by so fast, if I had stopped I would have fallen over from dizziness. So I kept on going, pushing through as things happened around me. My hands knew what to do even when my brain didn’t. When we reached the barn door, Ryder turned and kissed me hard.
“You will come back,” I told him. “That’s not a question.”
He kissed me a second time and unlocked the barn door. Gideon crept out of the shadows.
“Bibi?”
“I’m here, Gideon. You’re going to go with Jude and Ryder. Somewhere safe.”
He stood in front of me, tall and straight as a spear. “I understand.” He put out his hand. “I would like to shake hands with you, Bibi.”
I shook it, clasping that broad warm palm. I turned it over and looked at it. There was all of Africa in that palm. The line of the Mara River flowed across it, with the high plains where a man might be free and the deep ridge of the Rift where time stood still. I put the hand to my face and he held it there briefly before removing it.
“I cannot come back,” he said, putting into words what I already knew.
“I will not forget you,” I promised him. “As long as Africa endures, I will remember you, my friend.”
I could hardly see him then. The tears obscured his face, and my last view of him was watery and insubstantial as a ghost. Already he was fading. I made to go, then turned back again. “What is your name, Gideon? I want to know your real name, not the one the white school gave you. I want the one your people gave you. The name God calls you.”
He smiled. “I am Ole, Delilah.”
“Ole,” I said slowly. “Good. Because if I ever get to heaven, I want to know how to find you.”
“This is a thing that I know—you are my friend, Delilah.”
I turned then and walked to the door. But it was too late. The police had arrived.
* * *
The inspector emerged from his car with a selection of policemen and he smiled at me, lifting a piece of paper over his head. “I have a warrant for the arrest of the Masai known as Gideon. Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” I called out, “but you’re just in time to see where the foreman Gates assaulted my cow herder. The blood has been scrubbed, but you can still make out traces. Would you like to investigate that?” I asked, stepping forward. Tusker and Jude closed ranks behind me as Ryder casually shut the barn door behind him. There were few places to hide inside, and we would buy him only a few minutes at best, but I could not stand by and let them take him, not on evidence that could have just as easily implicated me. Dora and Halliwell appeared on the veranda and Halliwell put his arm about her shoulders.
The inspector came nearer to me, and his men formed a wall behind him. He smiled again. “I have something more significant than the assault of a native boy on the docket today, Miss Drummond. Now, this will all go a great deal easier if you simply tell us where he’s gone and let us get on with it.”
“Get on with what?” Jude demanded. “Hanging an innocent man? Tell me, Inspector, what sort of trials do black men get in this country? I think we both know the answer to that.”
His smile slipped a little. Bless her, I thought. Ryder had edged around to my left and I realised that between this action and Jude’s theatrics, the police might just be diverted long enough for Gideon to effect an escape through the far side. He could hide in the lugga if we could just keep them occupied.
Jude started yelling then, stepping right up until she was toe-to-toe with the inspector. It was a step too far. As soon as she got within arm’s length, the inspector shifted his attention to the barn itself. He signalled a pair of his men to ta
ke Jude and as soon as they moved forward, Ryder cocked his rifle.
“Try putting a hand on her,” he told them. “I’m begging you.”
They stood at a stalemate for a moment, the air charged as Jude refused to give ground and Ryder held the position at her back. The policemen drew their weapons, and all it would take was the slightest twitch and all hell would break loose.
“I did it.” The words were out of my mouth before I even knew I was going to say them. Every single person on that farm turned to look at me, and I stepped forward again, squaring my shoulders. “I killed Kit Parrymore.”
There was a moment of blessed, sacred silence before absolute pandemonium broke out.
Tusker started laughing, a deep belly laugh that was edged with hysteria. Dora collapsed straight into Halliwell’s arms, and Jude swung around to look at me, colliding with Ryder. He was staring at me, his eyes locked on mine, and he understood.
I turned back to the inspector whose mouth had gone slack again. I held out my hands.
“Did you bring handcuffs? Only mind you don’t put them on too tightly. I bruise easily.”
He shook his head. “Not so fast, Miss Drummond. I want a statement.”
“Fine. Here’s your statement—I went a little crazy and I shot Kit with his own revolver while he slept. I think I did. I mean, it’s all so fuzzy in my head. I can’t quite remember.”
The inspector’s eyes narrowed, and he gave me a smile as thin as paper. “I don’t believe you.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the blackness wash over me. I heard the howling of the rougarou, and I felt the warmth of Gideon’s hand in mind. I took one last deep breath and then I plunged.
A Spear of Summer Grass Page 28
